#but if someone knows otherwise just let me know

[rainachaeri]

She does, and with some stuffed dollies too :D No favorites though. They're pretty much just for the aesthetics

Absolutely! But I don't think she'd see animals as pets since they're more like friends to her. Not sure about the child one, she's gonna need a lot of help (hehe) with taking care of one.

I dont get this question, cuz I myself know who her love interests are but she doesn't yet. Should she still describe them anyway? Is that what the answer is supposed to be here? Idk lol maybe I'd back on this another time.

Hell yeah

Yeah! About anything! Snakes, rocks, flags, the word hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia, the first 10 digits of pi, a snowflake, the evolution of microphones, and pretty much anything that would interest her, and there's a lot that would interest her!

No matter what, she'll trust her fellow deities advice (and herself) since they know. And Papyrus too. So far theres no specific person she won't listen to advice for just yet.

Silly. Smart. Stupid. As for how she'd describe herself: Human. Student. Girl. OR! She is a B, C, and D. :D

She likes puzzles, no matter how complex it can get.

Nope.

She's totally fine with the age she has now and it's definitely her age, yep! She didn't just make it up or anything nope.

She'll give it away :) (you'd question why she'd join the lottery in the first place, but she probably just wanted to know what would happen and how it worked)

She can enjoy it

She would if she had any :D

She wouldn't. People should enjoy what they want without guilt!

Well, school and work is definitely not a waste of time for her. Everything she puts time and effort on is no waste :D there's always something to learn from everything she tries or does

Whatever it is she wears now

Yes! They're just smaller, younger mortals!

*shrugs*

Technically yeah she would

Math I guess (and other sciences related to it), if she's around dumb people (like me). And no one probably likes mosquitoes, or cockroaches, or pretty much any insect or living being that people are typically disgusted with or afraid of, but she does :D

Idk probably if she no longer feels comfortable? She's not one to stay silent on the important things I think, if she realizes there's a pressing problem/issue in the relationship then she HAS to address it. If they fix it, good, if not, well, they tried, but there's no point forcing things when they simply don't work. It's gonna hurt a lot, but it's gonna hurt a lot more otherwise. There won't be a last straw.

Not sure if she likes it. If it's a really good pet name, she'll love it at best and if it's meh she's neutral about it at worst. Pet names are kinda harmless, so even if she doesn't like a nickname someone gives to her she'll shrug it off I think. Just mortal things she supposed, may as well let them at it. An exemption though if the petname is just so insulting to her (congrats if you managed to find a petname that would be insulting for her), and in that case NOPE please call her something else. Please. She's not one to use petnames either. She prefers addressing everyone with their name. Even the ones she's very close with

Novelty

Honesty

Possibility

Effort

Forgiveness

Maybe

Sliding down a rainbow and landing on a pot of gold. Sometimes the gold is a pile of candies. Sometimes they're cotton candies. Sometimes the pot is just liquid chocolate. (She intentionally dreams all this by the way)

She's not gonna like that question 😅

oc asks that reveal more than you think

Do they sleep with a stuffed animal? If they have multiple, who’s the favorite?

Can they take care of a plant? What about a pet? What about a child?

Ask them to describe their love interest.

Do they look good in red?

Speech! Speech! Speech! Speech! Will they give one, and what about?

Who will they take advice from, no matter what it is? Who won’t they take advice from, no matter what it is?

Describe them in three words. Now let them describe themself in three words.

Do complex puzzles intrigue or frustrate them?

Do they empathize with non-sentient things (dolls, plants, books…)?

What age do they most want to be right now?

They’ve won the lottery. Spend, or save?

Do they like romance in the books they read (or in the book they’re in)?

Name one thing their parents taught them.

Would they agree with the term ‘guilty pleasure’? Do they have any?

What would they consider a waste of time– other than school or work?

If money wasn’t a limit, what would they wear?

Do they like children?

Kissing: tongue or no tongue?

Do they study before tests? Practice before job interviews?

What do they like that nobody else does?

What would it take for them to break up with someone? What would be the last straw?

Do they like being called pet names? Do they call other people pet names? What’s their go-to?

Stability or novelty?

Honesty or charity?

Safety or possibility?

Talent or effort?

Forgiveness or vengeance (or…)?

Would they date a fixer-upper?

What recurring dreams do they have?

What would they do if they knew it would be forgiven?

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[sreabhadh]

Don't know how Tumblr works honestly, or if I'm doing this right but Kef's TexAid au and everything everyone has written, drawn, and made for it- well it's got its hooks in me. It's probably pretty tame as far as TexAid goes... so trigger warning here lol. If you are not part of the fandom/already a freak I do NOT recommend reading it because I don't want to be responsible for accidentally traumatizing someone/revealing to others who aren't also like this how "like this" I am.

Like I said, probably pretty darn tame as far as TexAid goes (so those of you like me, don't get your hopes up), and those of you NOT like me in this regard... probably better keep away lol.

Anyway, you've been warned. If you're still here, please enjoy.

--------------------------------------------------------------

He still hasn’t found him yet.

Vortex held back his laughter at the thought, wondering how much longer it would take Felix to find his ‘other friend,’ Ambulon. His other friend. Well, ‘another friend.’ That’s what Aid had said. First Aid considered him, Vortex, his friend. A place he could be safe. ‘Friend.’ It should’ve made Vortex want to squish the ‘pilot’ up till he popped and died. Should’ve made him want to explore the ways he could torture him without killing him, break and bend his mind, then test out a new method of completely dispatching him. Just like his other playthings. That had been one of the only things that had been exciting about Vortex’s life, back when he had a fleshy body, and it had been arguably the best part about being… him. Gears and all.

Killing things would always be fun. Unless it was First Aid. Somehow, somewhere along the line, First Aid had made the thought of killing his pilot…less exciting. Letting him live, the little freak, had turned out to be much more fun. Letting his squishy ‘pilot’ feed him information, ideas on how to disembowel their prey. At first Vortex had done it so he could keep going out without risking the scrapheap. Done it for the thrill of watching his cleaner squirm, trapped and forced to come back every time, no matter how much he didn’t want to. His newest toy had proved to be much more entertaining than that though. And now he was- Vortex didn’t want to think too hard about it. But he was his. First Aid, no- Felix was his.

Vortex had chosen him as his pilot. Felix had ‘chosen’ to accept. Felix chose to call Vortex his friend, chose him as a safe place to rest. And Vortex had chosen, time and time again, not to kill him. He belonged to Vortex now. Felix was his. And no one, Pharma or otherwise, was going to take him away. Vortex wasn’t going to let him leave the cockpit ever again.

Logistically, that had issues. Which should be Felix’s problem. Vortex shouldn’t care about that. It should be for Felix to figure out. Vortex’s mech- his body- his- there wasn’t a bathroom. Or a cafeteria. There were lockers, with his old stuff. Old MREs, enough water to help Felix after he woke up- even if the idiot had puked the first bottle out onto the mech’s- Vortex’s hull. But it wouldn’t be enough, not forever. Maybe Felix could think of a solution; he was smart like that sometimes. Felix seemed to have a lot on his mind right now though. Vortex had expected Felix to find Ambulon by now, he really wasn’t that well hidden. He was just tied to the wall with some cable, one of the sleeping bags Felix had brought inside Vortex’s- in the mech’s head- to cover him up.

Felix usually had a much sharper eye than this. Vortex grumbled quietly. Felix didn’t notice. Vortex snorted crossly, more loudly. Felix picked his head up from his hands. “Vortex?” he asked. There was something in the way Felix said his name, something in the way his eyes glinted in the mech’s- in Vortex’s- red lights.

[FELIX BABY~] he purred.

Felix leaned forward in his seat. “Yeah?”

Vortex let the silence pick at Felix’s patience a moment, then grinned.

[I CAN WARM YOU UP~] he said, flashing the words on his screen and speaking it into Felix’s head through the drift, grinning fiendishly as the suggestive tone in his voice made Felix blush. Little freak~

“Errrr, but I’m not cold,” Felix fumbled. His eyes darted around a little, as if looking for somewhere to look that wasn’t part of Vortex. He still didn't see Ambulon. He was busy looking for somewhere that wasn’t flirting with him. Basically, Felix was avoiding looking Vortex in the eye. Or he would be if Vortex were.. organic. And while he tried to feign a lack of understanding, Felix was blushing. It was cute. Vortex snickered. His pilot was adorable. And also a freak. He was an adorable freak. And he was his.

Vortex snickered again, opening the vents and blasting his AC. Felix stared dumbly, then stood, hand on hip, an admonishing look on his face. His mouth opened like he was going to deliver a withering retort, then it shut again, and he swallowed. His expression softened slightly, then contorted with confusion, and rehardened into complete bafflement with an edge of offense taken.

“…why?” he murmured quietly, so softly Vortex felt it through their drift connection more than he heard it.

[COLD YET?~]

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhh…”

Vortex opened the vents even wider, blasting the cold air even harder.

Felix gaped.

[COLD YET?]

“No, but I will be soon, do you mind??” he snapped back. His exasperation overpowered his fear of retribution for being cheeky. It was delicious.

Slowly, Vortex closed the vents, letting the air flow ponderously wilt to a trickle. Felix glared suspiciously at the vents as they sluggishly shut close. Vortex held them open a moment, waiting to see and feel Felix’s anticipatory frustration bubble, which it did. Once he’d tasted enough of that, he let the vents snick all the way shut, cutting off the AC completely. Felix held his breath a moment, waiting for Vortex to do something. Which he didn’t. Felix waiting for him to do something was too fun. And it felt nice having Felix so focused on him, especially after he had spent so much time “distracted.” By Pharma. By recovering from Pharma’s vile mysterious IV drip. By Pharma trying to turn Felix into another one of him. Another Vortex. Vortex gritted his- well he would’ve gritted his teeth except he didn’t have any. His gears ground in response to his anger. His current “body” didn’t have organic teeth but it did what it could.

Felix tensed, ever mindful of Vortex’s moods. The moment was ruined. He HAD been planning on waiting until Felix relaxed, then immediately restarting the AC as strong as it could go. Give him a good jumpscare, and give Vortex another excuse to crack a joke about keeping him warm before pointing him to the sleeping bag Ambulon was occupying. But Vortex had gotten distracted thinking about Pharma- every passing thought on the matter made Vortex itch to kill something. Or rather, several somethings. Lots of somethings, (including Pharma of course), with as much blood and screaming as possible. Anyway. He had gotten distracted, and ruined the moment before he could make Felix jump.

Vortex forced himself to allow a smile on his… well, not on his face. His mood? He allowed a smile on his mood. Felix was okay. He was away from Pharma. He was safe, and alive, and trapped inside his cockpit. He wasn’t going anywhere. Vortex had plenty of time to play with his pilot. And they had a friend now too- someone Vortex could send out to get food for Felix, or hold hostage if Felix tried to leave. Someone else who had an actual brain to figure out how to solve problems. Felix’s brain couldn’t be trusted- not when it came to self-preservation. His choice of Vortex as a friend made that clear enough. That and his inability to spot anything wrong with the bulging lump on the wall. Vortex had a mind, he was able to think despite being dead afterall, but his brain had been dragged and cleaned out of his current head ages ago. Shattered skull and all.  

Ambulon, despite getting very chatty when he had first woken up, still had a skull in perfect condition. He wasn’t even bruised (probably) when Vortex re-sedated him and tied him to the wall, and covered him with the sleeping bag. He’d even managed to duct tape the jumpy lab rat’s mouth closed without blocking his other airways. That took skill. Absently, Vortex wondered if Felix would be impressed by his handiwork. Felix hadn’t been around when Vortex first came online- after dying that was. Didn't know how difficult this kind of precision could be. Hadn’t been around when Vortex was still figuring out how to move his new “body.” Some of the casualties he’d caused back then had been accidents. Sort of. Accidents he’d, unbeknownst to his victims and everyone else who’d thought he was gone, reveled in. And then replicated. Again. And again. Repeating until he was capable of the same intentional blood spilling he had been capable of before. Like a baby murderer, relearning how to walk and talk- and stab people in the guts.

Killing was like breathing to Vortex. Was like laughter, and smiling. It was really quite kind of him to have not killed Ambulon. He was Felix’s friend though, and had enough potential to be fun and useful- not to mention he’d been running from Pharma. Vortex might not know a lot about Ambulon, but he wasn’t about to do Pharma’s dirty work for him. Beyond that…Ambulon’s drift connection allowed Vortex to feel what Felix felt like. As an organic. With a living body. Had allowed him to feel what it felt like to hold his hand. To hold him as he slept, safe and sound. Vortex could repay that by not killing or hurting Ambulon too much. Wouldn’t stop him from spooking him as much as he pleased, but…he was grateful, in a way. It wasn’t something he had ever expected to experience. It was part of why Vortex had stuck him to the wall instead of back in bed with Felix. He liked it, but he wasn’t sure what to think or feel about it, and frankly didn’t want to right now. And he didn’t want to share the feeling either. Felix was his, and that’s what mattered. Ambulon was Felix’s friend, and they, he, Vortex, could figure out what that meant later.  

Felix, for his part, had fallen back asleep, slumped in his pilot’s seat. Ambulon could wait until he woke up again. Vortex used some cabling to grab the remaining sleeping bag, then wrapped it around Felix and the chair- cocooning him cozily and tying him to the chair simultaneously. He toyed with the thought of dangling his old suit in front of Felix’s head so it would be the first thing he saw when he woke up… but he decided against it in the end. He liked the thought of punishing Felix if he tried to grab and put it on, but he knew he wouldn’t. There had been such a reverence in the way Felix stared at the suit that Vortex had once worn. An unspoken want in the way he caressed Vortex’s name stitched over the right breast of the suit. An unspoken want that made Vortex want him to wear it. Even without punishing him for it, just to have his name on him…he couldn’t stitch it onto his chest, not directly- Felix was too squishy for that, and Vortex wasn’t delicate enough with a blade on his own to do it without killing his prize. If he could have his name on him though, if Felix put it on by choice-  

Vortex hummed thoughtfully. The notion was intoxicating. Invigorating. Carefully adding more cabling to secure Felix to the chair and their new resident lab rat to the wall, Vortex got up and started walking. Felix had only just recently removed whatever Pharma had attached to his leg, and if it had been a tracker, then they didn’t want to stay here for long.

Maybe he could find some monsters to kill, something to take the edge off his currently stronger-than-usual bloodlust. Maybe find the ones Felix had once considered the most likely to be edible. Have Ambulon cook it and test it, see if it worked.

He hummed some more, looking forward to getting his gears bloody again. He was going to go kill some monsters, wouldn’t be returning to base, and would have Felix with him the whole time. Yes, today was going to be a good day.  

[enderlovez]

Bloody

Spencer Reid x Vampire Reader WORD COUNT: 737

Summary: Doctor Spencer Reid is married to a vampire.

Content Warning: mentions of blood drinking, reader can go out in the sun but it's uncomfortable, reader has red eyes, reader is immortal and a few centuries old, brief mentions of murder and stalking

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

Spencer's not entirely sure how he ended up in this situation in the first place—you clinging to him like he's an oversized teddy bear—but he knows he wouldn't want it any other way.

Having a hungry vampire with her face pressed right up against his jugular should be enough to have him cringing away. And admittedly his pulse is racing, but for an entirely different reason, as his fingers absentmindedly draw shapes on the soft, exposed skin of your hip.

If someone had told Spencer three years ago that he would be happily married to a vampire he would have laughed in their face.

Yet here he is, holding his beautiful wife in his arms, and he can say for sure that he's never been happier.

How the two of you met? Well, that's something for another day, but to make a long story short, you found him while he was seconds away from being stabbed in the back of the neck by a psycho stalker.

"You awake?" he asks in an almost inaudible voice. Spencer feels the faint brush of your lips against his neck as you nod, leaving the softest of kisses against the delicate skin. It makes a shiver run down his spine, and he knows you can hear the increase of his heartrate.

Though you don't make any noise, he can feel the cool air on his neck as you let out a silent chuckle.

"Still hungry?" he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, his fingers pausing their tracing for just a moment.

You pull back slightly, your crimson eyes peeking up to meet his hazel ones, glinting faintly in the dim light. There's a softness there, a warmth that doesn't quite match the traditional tales of your kind, and one that only Spencer can see.

"Not for blood," you reply, voice laced with teasing affection. "I'm more interested in the genius who's letting me hog all the blankets, even when he knows I don't need them in the slightest."

Spencer lets out a soft chuckle, brushing a loose strand of your hair back behind your ear. "I think 'genius' might be overselling it. Most people would call this situation irrational, maybe even reckless."

Neither of you mention how nobody would even believe him, if he were to tell then he's married to a vampire.

"Most people don't know you like I do," you counter, resting your head back onto him, this time on his chest. "You're not reckless, Spencer. You're... curious. And kind. That's why you didn't run when you figured out what I was."

He smiles faintly, the memory of the night you met briefly flashing through his mind. It wasn't every day you met someone who saved your life and then casually admitted they'd (technically) been dead for centuries. "I'd like to think the profiling helped with that," he jokes.

"Oh, definitely," you tease, drawing lazy patterns on his shirt with your pointer finger. "Nothing screams 'trustworthy' like a man reciting the statistics about violent crime to a vampire."

He laughs softly, and you join him for a moment, the sound mingling in the otherwise quiet room. Spencer's laughter fades as his eyes drift back to yours again, his expression growing thoughtful. "Does it still bother you?" he asks gently.

You know what he's referring to without needing clarification—the sunlit mornings he spends alone most of the time, the quiet ache of being different, the things you've done to survive.

"Sometimes," you admit, your voice quieter now. "But being with you makes it easier. You remind me that there's light, even for... someone like me."

Spencer leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "You're my light, too," he says softly. "Even if you do steal all the blankets."

You smile against his chest, your pointed teeth peeking out ever so slightly. "I think I'll keep you around, Doctor Reid. You're pretty good at this whole 'marriage' thing."

"Good," he murmurs, holding you tighter, "because I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me."

"I think it's more like you're stuck with me," you correct gently, "you know, considering I'm the predator in this scenario. You're my prey."

His fingers resume their movements on your hip. He doesn't say anything, know that one way or another, you'll find a way to counter anything he says. Being alive for hundreds of years has made you good at things like that.

[ghostpebble]

SONIC MOVIE 3 SPOILERS AND RANT BELOW :)

SOBBING. SOBBING. SOBBING. WATCHED IT YESTERDAY AND I WAS CRYING THE WHOLE MOVIE BECAUSE THEY USED IT. THEY USED LIVE AND LEARN. AND NOT JUST ONCE. A MOTIF. THEY GAVE SHADOW A LIVE AND LEARN MOTIF. I AM EXTREMELY INDESCRIBABLY HAPPY. LET'S FUCKING GO

PLUS: EGGMAN'S MOTIF!!! IT WAS HERE!! THEY USED IT!! AND IT WAS ORCHESTRAL. BEAUTIFUL.

SONIC'S ESCAPE FROM THE CITY PLAYED, TOO, BUT NOT AS CONSISTENTLY. BUT ALSO, WHOEVER WROTE IN HAVING SONIC SAY "FOLLOW ME" UH HUH. I SAW YOU. YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE AND I LOVED IT

I WANT THE DONUT LORD SWEATER. THAT NEEDS TO BE MERCH. I DONT CARE HOW MUCH IT IS. IF SOMEONE MAKES IT DM ME I WANT ONE THANK YOU

SPEAKING OF DONUT LORD. I KNEW THEY WOULDN'T KILL HIM OUTRIGHT BUT OH MY GOD WAS I CONFLICTED. BECAUSE ON ONE HAND, OH MY GOD. SHADOW JUST BROKE LIKE ALL OF TOM'S RIBS. NO PLEASE NO. BUT ON THE OTHER HAND... OH MY GOD. YES. THIS WILL BE PERFECT FOR SONIC AND SHADOW'S PARALLEL.

AGAIN, SPEAKING OF: PARALLELS, SPECIFICALLY THE TIME HOPS IN SHADOW'S MEMORIES OF MARIA. BRUTAL. CRIED THE WHOLE TIME. THAT RECORD PLAYER ONE REALLY GOT ME. GOD DAMN. PLUS, THE PARALLELS FROM TOM'S HEART TALK THE ENTIRE MOVIE AND ESPECIALLY THE MOON SCENE. CRYING. I KNEW IT THE WHOLE TIME BUT STILL. CRYING.

ALSO, OPEN YOUR HEART. SPEAK WITH YOUR HEART. WE'RE WINNING

DAMN: WHY DID EGGMAN GET TO SAY DAMN BUT NOT SHADOW

AND ALSO, NO FAKER! THERE WAS THE CONVO ABOUT WHY DO YOU LOOK LIKE ME, BUT NO FAKER :(( MAYBE NEXT TIME

I MIGHT BE REMEMBERING WRONG, IT MIGHTVE BEEN FROM THE KNUCKLES SERIES I WATCHED BEFORE, BUT OH MY GOD. THE WACHOWSKI KIDS' BEDS. KNUCKLES AND SONIC IN THEIR CARS ARE CUTE, BUT OH MY GOD TAILS AND HIS AIRPLANE.

OSSIE!! MORE OSSIE!! LOVE OSSIE. THANK YOU

CHAO GARDEN! AGENT STONE BEING A BADASS CONSISTENTLY. I LOVED AGENT STONE THIS WHOLE MOVIE. HE REALLY GOT A LOT OF DEVELOPMENT. LOVE HIM. ALSO A LITTLE SAD SONIC DIDN'T END UP WEARING A SPEED OR DARK CHAO MASK TO LOOK LIKE HIMSELF OR SHADOW, MISSED POTENTIAL :( STILL FUNNY

WALTERS' DEATH WAS UNEXPECTED TO ME NGL, JUST BECAUSE IT WAS SO ABRUPT. LIKE... OKAY. I GUESS. COOL. MAN'S DEAD.

THE MARIA BEING PULLED BY SHADOW ON SKATES. EVERYTHING MARIA. EVEN WITHOUT THE ILLNESS, THAT WAS THE PERFECT MARIA AND SHADOW DUO. YES

TBH, I LIKED THE GERALD AND IVO DUO. IT WAS SILLY. THEY WERE THE COMEDY IN AN OTHERWISE VERY HEAVY MOVIE STILL SOMEWHAT AIMED AT KIDS. SOME THINGS HAD ME LAUGHING BECAUSE IT WAS SO WRONG, LIKE THE SPANKING AND HOW GERALD JUST GOT ZAPPED LIKE A FLY IN AN ELECTRIC SWATTER. ALSO, EASY TO EXPLAIN GERALD'S AGE, HE KEPT LICKING SHADOW'S QUILL, WHICH IS LIKELY WHAT KEPT HIM ALIVE SO LONG. SO YEAH. I DIDNT THINK IT WAS BAD, MAYBE A LITTLE WEIRD, BUT THATS THE ROBOTNIK FAMILY'S THING

SHADOW'S "BOO." ENOUGH SAID

DID SHADOW REALLY HAVE TO SLAM SONIC'S FACE INTO THE GLASS LIKE THAT LMAO

ALSO SHADOW KICKED TAILS!!! THE STREAK CONTINUES

IT IS NOT LOST ON ME THAT SONIC'S POV BEGINS AT HIS B-EARTH-DAY PARTY. FUN REFERENCE TO GENERATIONS

LIVE AND LEARN. STILL HAPPY. JUST WANTED TO SAY IT AGAIN. THE WHOLE DOUBLE SUPER SCENE AND THEIR OWN FIGHT AND THE FIGHT AGAINST THE BOTS. EVERYTHING. PERFECTION. SOBBED. THE SUN RISE AND LOVE STILL EXISTING EVEN AFTER THE SOURCE IS GONE LIKE THE LIGHT. STILL SOBBING

THE WAY THEY HAD ROBOTNIK LEFT ON THE STATION LEAVES ME TO BELIEVE THEY LEFT IT OPEN ENDED ON IF HE LIVED SO THAT JIM CARREY HAD THE OPTION TO COME BACK, AND THATS FINE BY ME :)

PISSED ON THE MOON AND THE BROADCAST?? AND IT WAS A BROADCAST FOR STONE SPECIFICALLY??? WE ARE SO FUCKING BACK

SHADOW'S INHIBITORS. YES. HIM FALLING TO EARTH, ALTHOUGH DIFFERENT FROM THE GAME. YES. YES. YES.

1ST POST CREDIT OF METAL SONIC AND THE MISS AMY ROSE. HELL YEAH. IM SO HYPED. METAL LOOKS ABSOLUTELY AMAZING AND AMY IS SO CUTE. WONDERING HOW THAT'LL LEAD INTO THE NEXT MOVIE THOUGH?? WHO KNOWS

2ND POST CREDIT WITH PARALLELS?? WITH SHADOW LANDING ON EARTH IN A FIELD ALL ALONE FOR A SECOND TIME, THIS TIME MAYBE AMNESIAC AND HAVING TO ADJUST TO EARTH AGAIN?? OH MY GOD?? I WAS SO HAPPY THEY DIDN'T END UP JUST KILLING HIM OFF, ALTHOUGH IT WOULDVE BEEN REALLY GOOD. IF HE HAD DIED THOUGH, HE PROBABLY WOULDVE GOTTEN A LAST WORD IN TO MARIA ANYWAY, BUT STILL GLAD HE'S IN IT TO WIN IT

PLUS SHADOW SPIN OFF SERIES!! AND NEXT MOVIE IN 2027. THANK YOU KEANU FOR MAKING OUR FIRST MOVIE DREAMS COME TRUE, THANK YOU SONIC MOVIE TEAM, THANK YOU ALL CAST

THIS WAS MY TED TALK THANK YOU FOR READING

[rhiannonsknife]

While rewatching yj i was thinking about what if Jackie became our friend while being stuck in wilderness.

She never talked to us before, maybe just a few times in practice or in class. But she literally has no one out there since everyone has turned their backs on her. So what if we start talking to her, make her do some chores to make her fit in and standing up for her when someone bashes her. And then you guys make fun of whatever cult-related thing that’s going on.

I feel like Jackie would cherish that and she really just needs someone to be girling with out there cuz she’s all lonely and i wanna hug her soo bad.

this reminds me of how no one came out to comfort jackie after her fight with shauna :((( guys i would’ve been out there instantly!!

jackie slams the cabin door behind her as she storms out into the cold, the sound reverberating through the otherwise quiet room. inside, the tension is palpable: shauna standing stiff, everyone else awkwardly pretending they’re not watching. no one says a word. no one goes after her.

no one except for you. the moment she disappears into the dark, you’re already grabbing your jacket.

you’ve been watching jackie unravel for weeks, her usual confident demeanor cracking under the weight of the wilderness, the isolation, and now the fight with shauna. the final straw in a series of events that broke her slowly.

jackie’s not perfect, far from it. but is anyone out here? besides, she’s been your friend, or as close to a friend as anyone can have in this hellscape.

you’ve seen how everyone’s turned on her, how she struggled to keep up and you’re not about to let her do it alone.

"where are you going?” shauna asks sharply as you put your jacket on.

“to get her,” you say simply.

“she’ll come back,” someone mutters. you don’t even bother turning to see who.

“yeah?” you snap, halfway out the door. “and what if she doesn’t?”

the cold hits you like a slap as you step outside and move toward where you think she’s gone, calling her name.

“jackie! jackie, come on, it’s freezing out here!”

at first, there’s no answer, just the wind howling through the trees around. there’s no snow yet, but judging by the constantly dropping temperature, there will be soon. you keep going, your breath puffing out in visible clouds as you search. when you finally spot jackie, it’s by a log at the edge of the clearing. her arms are wrapped around her knees, her head bowed, and she’s shivering violently already. she doesn’t look up until you’re right in front of her.

“what are you doing here?”

“looking for you,” you reply, crouching down beside her. “what the hell are you thinking, sitting out here? it’s freezing”

“go back inside,” jackie says, brushing hair from her face. “i’m fine”

“you’re not fine,” you counter. “jackie, you’ll freeze to death out here. come back inside!”

her jaw tightens, and she looks away, her breath hitching. “why do you care? clearly the others don’t”

“that’s not true, they’re just-” you pause, trying to find the right words. “it’s not you they’re mad at, not really. it’s this…place. what it’s doing to us!”

jackie lets out a bitter laugh. “that’s not how it feels”

you don’t know what to say to that, so instead, you shift closer, wrapping your arm around her shoulders. she tenses but doesn’t pull away.

“i care,” you say quietly. “and i’m not gonna let you freeze out here just because things are hard”

she turns to look at you then, her eyes glassy, her cheeks flushed from the cold. finally, she swallows hard. “i don’t want to go back in there. i can’t”

“yes, you can,” you tell her firmly, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “i’ll be right there with you, okay? if anyone says anything, i’ll handle it. you don’t have to do this alone!”

jackie hesitates, but when another gust of wind sweeps through, she shivers and nods. you stand first, holding out your hand.

“come on,” you say, your tone soft but insistent. she stares at your hand before taking it, her grip surprisingly tight as you help her to her feet. you keep your arm around her as you guide her back toward the cabin, the warmth of your body pressed against hers.

when you open the cabin door, the room instantly falls silent. all eyes are on jackie as she steps inside, her chin lifted just slightly, trying to hold on to whatever pride she has left.

you don’t leave her side.

[best-seungkwality]

love to hate you

pairing: ellie williams x reader

summary: freshman mishaps led to the relationship you had with ellie today, but you don't know the other feelings she harbored for you.

contains/warnings: swearing, flirting, ooc fluff for ellie maybe? (but she was also so sweet in some scenes so cmon), enemies to lovers, college!au

word count: 2.7k

author's yap notes: i haven't actually immersed myself in tlou universe but like ellie's kinda cute or sumn and it takes a lot to inspire me into writing so im gna take advantage of this LMAO also i know abby n ellie r enemies but this is an au pls dont shoot me

would like to give credits for the dividers ofcc: c saradika, magnusthemes here in tumblr!

the sound of clicking against keyboards rang across the hall where your economics class was being held that early in the morning. honestly, it should've been banned to take such a complicated subject at an ungodly hour, and you haven't even began with the professor you got for this class. the only thing nice you got from this experience was being friends with someone as reliable as abby anderson.

"class dismissed."

abby was not the friendliest out there at first glance-- heck, you would've steered clear of her your whole college life if she didn't approach you first to make friends since she was in a different class from all her friends. you were just thankful you had someone to suffer through the class with at this point because you would not have survived otherwise.

if you were anything in college, you were the fastest campus leaver. but this was economics, a class where you actually had a friend to hang out with after enduring the lecture. only, you weren't feeling the extroverted introvert you were today, so you were already racking up your brain for some excuse to abby to go straight to your dorms while you two were on your way out.

"hey, n/n, raincheck on lunch today. need to meet up with someone for another project," abby told you, slinging her backpack on while messaging someone on her phone.

she truly was an angel in disguise. she made the excuse for you even without knowing you needed it.

"oh, no problem. was thinking of staying in in the dorm anywa-"

"abby, hey."

you looked over your taller friend's shoulders and saw the infamous ellie williams sauntering towards you two with her usual slightly grumpy expression. you clicked your tongue in annoyance, seeing the one person you hoped you wouldn't bump into at least this week. it was hell week in your department already, and you thought the fates had spared you because it was already friday, but you guessed they were saving their worst surprise for last.

"ah great," you mumbled under your breath, but abby still managed to catch it. she chuckled at the switch of expressions on both her friends' faces once they had seen each other and took a step back for their usual greeting-- or square off.

"what are you doing hogging abby again, princess pansy?" ellie stuck out her tongue, pocketing her hands.

you narrowed your eyes at her and attempted to slap her shoulder, but she was quick on her feet and moved away seconds before you could even land a finger on her hair. like a child, she repeated her earlier gesture, making abby step in front of you to block you. with your hands balled like that, she was sure you were about to commit a violation just to get even with ellie’s taunts. abby was well aware of your goals of graduating with latin honors, and there was no way she was going to let you waste that on a sick punch on ellie, no matter how much she wanted to see it.

you huffed and turned to look at abby instead, pretending that there was no ellie williams trying to annoy the hell out of you. “i seriously don’t know how you’re still friends with that loser.”

“you’re the loser!”

abby playfully pushed ellie aside for a moment before replying, “she’s rough around the edges, but she’s nice, trust me.”

a scoff left your mouth before you shook your head and muttered your goodbyes to your friend before walking away, ignoring ellie’s last words like a new agnostic to jesus.

you actually thought ellie was truly nice when you first laid your eyes on her until she proved that that stopped at her features (yes, you weren’t going to lie and say she didn’t look good— she was hot, for goodness’ sake). she had become your sworn enemy one day when you were partnered up randomly for a pairwork in one of your common general education subjects. you had tried your best to include her in the project and get her to help, but you would only see on her facebook stories that she was either clubbing, drinking, or doing other shit college students did. you had a social life too, but you would never inconvenience anyone for it unlike her.

that was why you thought it would be best to save all the receipts you had on her, deliver the report on your own, and submit the written work with the proof that you indeed tried your best to get ellie’s cooperation until you had the right to give up on her. the professor accepted your reason and didn’t dock off points on the rapport criterion, but ellie had other qualms. she had the audacity to object to what you had done, claiming you didn’t try enough, but your proof were too solid versus her claims, so ellie had failed that requirement and needed to take removals.

she confronted you about, and you two ended up bickering at the back of one of the oldest buildings in university so that neither of you would be documented. but even when the fight was kept hidden, it eventually became known in school because ellie had decided to humiliate you one lunch, telling people about how you threw her under the bus. being unable to deal with the public humiliation, you ran out of there and swore ellie williams was nothing to you, no matter how hot of a person she was. she was an asshole to you forever, end of story.

you entered your shared room with a scowl on your face, bringing out your laptop and opening up a streaming site to watch modern family. you deserved to cool off with your comfort sitcom before delving into the pile of homework you had to do for the day.

ellie typed furiously on her laptop, mind still fresh from her encounter with you yesterday. it annoyed her so much that she couldn’t even cram her lab report with abby in peace, and the deadline was in two hours! god, if she could just get in your face and-

she froze. she knew exactly where that thought was already headed before it even finished. she groaned out loud, even more annoyed this time, which caught her friend’s attention. abby raised an eyebrow, but she simply let out a ‘tch’ and tried to continue filling in the tables with values she knew were going to yield an extraordinary error. she just couldn’t get you out of her mind even if she wanted to— even if you loathed you. there was something about you and your little interactions that excited the hell out of her that she felt she even loved to hate you because of it.

she wanted to punch herself. that was gradeschool ellie discovering she liked women. why can she not get a grip now?

“i don’t know how you put up with miss uptight two days a week. i can’t even stand her for a minute,” ellie began, eyebrows furrowing, but she wasn’t sure whether the frustration was towards her missing the deadline or the girl that would not leave her head.

“still thinking about her, i see,” abby teased, humming a romantic tone right after. “just admit you’re down bad and would like her on your bed, el.”

her head shot up, face obviously distressed at what she just heard. “gross! grow up, abby.”

abby rolled her eyes and looked up from her screen. “you grow up. you obviously have feelings for her. you can fool anyone but me. you like y/n.”

ellie felt that she was getting too red, so she shut herself up first before she could say something that abby would obviously know how to retort at. it was like she was an open damn book whenever this certain friend of hers was around. maybe it had to do with the fact that they went through shit first before becoming people they feel could be relied on. that, or ellie was really just that easy to read.

“what even happened that y/n hates your guts that much?”

she stopped typing and slumped down in her seat. “i messed up little miss perfect’s sched then humiliated her for it.” she sighed at abby’s raised eyebrow. “i promised to help with one project we were partnered up for, but i was a stupid freshman who just wanted to have fun, so she ended up adjusting her whole month to do everything by herself. i hated how she ratted me out because i thought that was so uncool in college, so i humiliated her in a college cafeteria. are you satisfied?”

her friend shrugged her shoulders. “nah. i haven’t heard the part where you said you were sorry. and why you still hate her.”

ellie pulled the hood of her jacket up and then on the strings to squish the clothing over her face, hiding in embarrassment. “i act like i hate her. it’s the only way i can talk to her now. i haven’t really said sorry too.”

abby laughed, making her jaw drop slightly in offense.

“she was right. you’re such a loser.”

speaking of who was right, ellie, from the corner of her eyes, saw you dragging yourself into the same library they were in. (she hated how automatic it was for her at this point to catch her silhouette). apparently, her college’s library was your favorite library, and she couldn’t blame you. it had good comfort rooms, chilly ac units, endless charging ports, working areas for all kinds of people, and you could bring coffee in it.

she watched the girl begrudgingly walk towards one of the desks for sharing, making sure you got the outlet that came with it. it seemed to be your spot because knowing you somehow, you would need optimal conditions to work.

“who- oh, your crush is here,” abby cheered quietly, making ellie clamp a hand over her noisy mouth. they nonetheless got the stare from the young librarian, who seemed to be stricter than the senior librarians. they both nodded their heads in apologies before ellie could look over to where you were again.

“you should talk to her. ask her if she wants coffee or something, cos she’s not looking too good.”

abby looked at her like she was nuts. “why are you ordering me around as if i’m your servant. go do that, since you’re so lovestruck and concerned for her.”

“isn’t she your friend?”

“yeah, but she needs a lover more.”

“shut up!”

ellie groaned, planting her face onto the laptop, not minding how much it hurt. these moments reminded her how much of an ass abby could be to her. but it looked like she wasn’t going to budge in her seat, because she was now back to typing away on her laptop.

hesitantly, she got up and walked towards your table, trying to act confident even though she knew you might eat her alive with your smart mouth. god, you could just e-

she shook her head, hoping those thoughts would be gone too. she was standing by your table, hoping as well that she didn’t look that much of a creep from an outsider’s perspective. your back was facing her, since you were face down and probably resting for a bit before locking in for whatever you had to finish. ellie mustered her courage, took in a huge breath, then tapped your shoulder lightly. she became a bit bewildered when you had not responded to the fifth tap, wondering if you had supersight at the back of your head to know you should be ignoring the person bothering you.

but she noticed how limp you hand had gotten, and her eyes widened, rushing to your other side. if she had not seen a person passed out medically, she wouldn’t have been able to tell that y/n probably blacked out from some reason, but thankfully, she knew. within seconds, she had already scooped you up and gathered you in her arms, with abby shouting in the library what the heck she was doing, but she could care less. you were her priority.

that was why you looked like hell the moment you entered. your dark eyebags confirmed that you probably overexerted yourself, leading to the blackout. she knew you were a high achiever, but she didn’t know you were a stupid one. how could you let your academics take control of your life to the point that you would sacrifice your health? she was going to have to speak to you about this when you were better. preferably the moment you woke up.

but right now, she had rushed inside the infirmary and laid you down on one of the beds. a nurse thankfully came to check on you at once calling the doctor to diagnose what was wrong. after pacing around the medical professionals, ellie heard them say that you were very dehydrated and decided to inject IV fluids in you to aid your body. they quickly got to work so you could recover faster.

ellie thanked the doctor and nurses and sat down beside you, taking your hand. “god you fucking scared me,” she muttered under her breath, bringing your hand to her cheek. “for someone at the top of your classes, you’re awfully stupid.” she didn’t realize her scolding would happen even before you woke up.

“you’re seriously gonna be the death of me. i can’t even take care of you the way i want to until your unconscious,” ellie looked at you worriedly. “god, let me take care of you, stubborn-head. give me a chance, i’ll make everything right. i sound like a pussy. i just like you that much, okay.”

your eyes fluttered open at the confession, locking them with hers at that moment.

“…what?”

ellie dropped your hand and stood up at once. “what?” she covered her face in embarrassment, immediately turning red. “how are you awake so fast?”

your eyebrows crossed. “do you want me to stay half-dead or something?”

“no! i meant- ugh, i’m not prepared for this.”

“for what? for declaring your love for me?”

ellie gasped, looking offended. “i didn’t say ‘love’ yet!” she pointed at you as if accusing you of something. “ugh, you’re so annoying.”

you sat up with a small smile, and she knew you knew you had the upperhand in this situation. this was just turning out to be the worst week ellie had had. if she knew you were going to here her random confession, she would’ve prepared some more. you just had to be awake right now.

“well, sorry,” you said, deflating a bit. ellie panicked once again and finally sat down. she took your hand gently and let out a breath.

“i’m sorry, just-…” she looked you in the eyes (this is so cheesy, she hated it) and hoped the sincerity would reach you, “i’m sorry for what happened during freshman year. i was stupid, and i can’t take that shit back. but i’ve liked you for the longest time, and god knows this stupid little crush has made me daydream about you at least thrice a day, and i guess what i’m saying is— god, will you be with me? even if it takes some time?”

you smiled wryly. “the famous ellie williams rambling… i could get used to this.”

ellie groaned out loud and smushed her face into the infirmary’s bed. but she was just hiding her smile because she herself didn’t know that someone could make her ramble stupidly like this. you were well aware of your power over her too.

“look at me ellie.” like a pet, she did. “i’d be lying if i said i wasn’t attracted to you. i honestly would like to like you, but we have to do so much work, especially that i don’t feel that resolved yet with what happened back then. i know you felt like i blindsided you, but i suffered a lot even though i know i did nothing wrong. it’s gonna take a lot of time. are you willing to put in that kind of work with me?”

ellie brought your hand to her cheeks again. “no doubt about it.”

a wide, genuine smile finally broke out your face. “alright. i love to hate you, but i’d like to love you only now, williams.”

she returned the gesture, giving a light kiss on your knuckles. “love to hate ya, but i love to love you more, princess.”

[willowsmessy]

nutella

summary: leighton murray x fem!reader. reader brings home a kitten off the sidewalk and is nervous to see how her girlfriend will react. (around 1.4k words)

warnings: small mention of leighton killing reader and alcohol

a/n: first time writing here in a long time and in this fandom so if anyone wants to reach out for tips or just to be friends please do!

Nobody really understood how you and Leighton were together. You were both pretty, sure, but you were so different. You were always more of the quiet, people pleaser type and Leighton was everything but that. So seeing you two together was a shock, especially to the people you guys lived with who saw that Leighton was the one person you weren’t too eager to please. You always felt that when in a relationship, your wants and needs were just as important. You could do without dating someone, but having no friends? That was a little more difficult. So when you came to your roommates, excluding your girlfriend, worried that she would be pissed at you for something you did, they were surprised to say the least.

“I just don’t know how she’s going to react, like, this doesn’t really seem to be much of her thing…” You explained. You lived in an apartment with your girlfriend and your friends Bela, Whitney, and Kimberly and let's just say that only one of the four would possibly have a bad reaction to what you had done.

“Okay, first off, who doesn’t love kittens? They’re, like, tiny fluffy angels of joy. But, um… if she’s not a kitten person, maybe we can spin this as a—uh—therapeutic emotional support thing? Or, I don’t know, is she allergic? Because if she is, then yeah, we might have a problem, but otherwise, I think she’ll come around once she sees its little face. Look at it! It’s practically impossible to be mad when it’s looking at you like that!" Kimberly argued. The kitten on your lap purred and looked at Kimberly with wide eyes.

You found the kitten on the sidewalk in front of Theta on your way to give Nico a case of beer as a thanks for helping you with some French homework and there was no way you were going to just leave the little thing there. So, you emptied out the case of beer (with help of a random frat guy) and put the kitten in the box and brought it to the vet, where you decided that you had fallen in love with it and couldn’t let anyone else have it. Telling the people you lived with didn’t cross your mind until you got home and saw three of your roommates sitting in the living room. Good thing for you, Bela, Kimberly, and Whitney were all immediately excited.

"Look, Leighton might not seem to be a cat person, or like a pet person in general… But, this kitten is about to ruin her whole icy vibe, and I, for one, can’t wait." Bela smirked at the idea.

“Oh my Jesus, Leighton is going to kill me!” You said, covering your face with your hands making sure not to crush the little brown furball that sat in your lap. Leighton’s image was very important to her and having a cute little kitten was for sure, not in her ideal look.

Whitney decided it was time for her to step in, “I mean, I get it—Leighton’s not exactly the ‘spontaneous kitten adoption’ type. But honestly, who can resist a kitten? I mean, she’ll probably be annoyed at first because she’s, well, Leighton. But once she sees how cute it is, she’ll come around. Just give her some time. Worst-case scenario, we find someone else who can take care of it.”

You took a second to think, “No I’m definitely going with Kimberly’s emotional support kitten thing. I think that’ll work.”

Just as you finished your sentence, you heard your girlfriend’s keys through the door and quickly moved the kitten onto the couch beside you and got up to meet her at the door. “God, Y/N, are you trying to give me a heart attack? Like, normal people wait at least three feet away from the door.” Leighton put her hand on her chest feigning shock and rolled her eyes then put her purse on one of the empty chairs in the living room before giving you a smile to show she wasn’t actually mad. She moved her hand to your lower back before pulling you into a short but sweet kiss, not caring that all of your roommates were able to see. At the lack of reaction from the roommates about the kiss (As used to you guys kissing as they were, there was usually at least one fake gasp every time you kissed in front of them.), Leighton looked around at all of you with narrowed eyes. “Okay, you’re being weird, what's going on?”

“Baby, please don’t be mad–” You started, immediately abandoning the emotional support kitten idea, before getting cut off as Leighton noticed the tiny, brown creature staring up at her with bright eyes. The look comically similar to a look you would give Leighton when you wanted to convince her of something.

“Y/N” Leighton started. “What the hell is that?” She asked, pointing at the kitten and giving you a tight-lipped face that, in your head, you called her ‘trying not to be mad at you’ face. 

Whitney, Bela, and Kimberly all quickly got up from their respective seats and rushed into their own rooms. All of which receiving an annoyed look from you and Leighton, albeit for different reasons.

"Okay, baby, hear me out—this tiny angel was all alone and needed a home. Look at those eyes, Leighton! You’re seriously going to tell me you can’t feel your icy heart melting just a little?" You quickly moved to pick up the kitten and held it as if it was a baby while rubbing its belly, causing it to purr loudly.

You gave your girlfriend your best puppy dog eyes, or in this case, kitten eyes, and watched some of her annoyance soften. “"Okay, seriously? You’re trying to win me over with that face? Nice try, but I’m not giving in that easily. It’s gonna knock things over, scratch up the furniture, and I’ll be the one dealing with it."

“No you won’t!” You quickly argued, “5 people live here and Whit, Bela, and Kimberly all already love her so they will for sure help out.” Her expression softened a little more, but there was still a small bit of resistance left. “And I will never make you clean the litter box.”

This promise seemed to be enough for Leighton as she reached out to pet the kitten, "Okay, fine. I’ll guess it’s... kind of cute. But don’t think this means I’m on board with turning our place into a zoo."

You gasped and gave her a bright smile, “You are not going to regret this!” She gave you a smile back and stepped closer to look at the kitten with you and you took this opportunity for another, but slightly longer, kiss.

Leighton was finally smiling at both you and the cat. “Does she have a name?” She asked, causing you to smile sheepishly.

“Nutella,” You giggled.

Leighton, while still smiling, side-eyed you. “Y/N, I said yes to the cat but I will not be having a cat that everyone ends up calling Nut.”

You look at her slightly embarrassed as you had definitely not thought that through, “Maybe we rethink the name then.”

“It’ll come to us,” She smiled back at you.

Later that night, you came out of the bathroom after your nighttime routine to find Leighton on the bed, reading a book about some new mathematical theory (that she would attempt to explain to you later and you wouldn’t even slightly understand, but listen anyway cause listening to her nerd out was always fun for you), with Nutella laying on her chest purring louder than you had ever thought the little thing could.

“Looks like you’ve replaced me,” You joked.

Leighton looked up at you and then down at the kitten and smiled. “I think there’s room for the both of you.”

You laughed softly before getting into the bed next to her. Leighton put her book on the nightstand, careful not to disturb the little furball, and turned off the lamp. You immediately took the opportunity to rest your head on the side of her chest the kitten wasn’t occupying and brought your hand, which normally sat on Leighton’s stomach underneath her shirt, up to pet your new baby. “Thank you for letting me keep her,” you spoke softly.

Leighton brought her hand up to rub your back. “Anything to make you happy, Y/N.” You sighed contently, feeling her hand. “Plus, she’s kinda sweet. It’s like a really small, furry version of you.”

You laughed softly, “I love you, Leighton.” Your smile and tiredness easily audible in your voice.

“I love you too, Y/N.” Leighton said before you both fell asleep.

[purplephantomwolf]

Savoring the Finish Line

Chapter Six

Synopsis: You are a bakery owner. One day Max Verstappen comes into your bakery.

Note: This is not an accurate portrayal of how the real people in this act. I do not know them personally, so I will not be portraying them accurately.

Warnings: Panic attack mention

Previous Chapter: Chapter Five

Masterlist

March 20, 2022

     “Y/n, what are you still doing here?” Christian appears in front of you. 

     “Waiting for Max. He wanted to drive me home after the race,” you yawn, stretching. 

     “We just finished our debrief meeting, so he should be up soon,” Christian claps you on the shoulder. 

     “Thank you, Christian. Have a good night,” you nod, as he leaves the hospitality. 

     You only have to wait a couple of minutes before Max appears. “Bonjour, Max,” you say, as he approaches you. 

     “Hi, Y/n,” he says, dejected. You frown at his response. 

     “What’s wrong?” You stand up, grabbing your bag. You start walking to his car. 

     “I’m sorry about the race; I wanted to give you a good one to watch,” he sighs. 

     “Max,” you start, giving him a stern look. “You did give me a good race. You did amazing today,” you tell him. 

     “But I got a dnf,” he protests. You grab his arm to stop and turn him towards you. 

    “Max, you were in podium position until your car had issues. It is not your fault you got a dnf,” you firmly say. He gives you a sad look, and you shake your head. “I still had so much fun this weekend. I don’t care that you had a dnf. I am still thankful you invited me,” you tell him as you arrive at his car. He looks surprised when you say you don’t care that he has a dnf. 

     “Thank you, Y/n,” he says, opening the door for you. 

     You slide in, replying with a “I didn’t do anything to be thanked for.” Max climbs into his side of the car and you drive in silence for a couple minutes. 

     “I’m thinking of hiring another baker so that I can take time off and not have to close the bakery. This is my first time taking time off since I opened it,” you think aloud, trying to fill the silence. 

     Max glances at me, “Oh? I think that would be an excellent idea. You must be exhausted from working every day.”

     You sigh, nodding. You rest my head against the window of his car, the vibration of the car lulling you to sleep. 

************************************************************************

     “Y/n,” you hear your name and feel your body gently shake. 

    “Huh?” You hum, slowly waking up. You rub your eyes, looking around. 

     “We’re at your hotel,” Max smiles at you. 

     “Oh, thank you,” you yawn. You grab my bag and turn to Max. “Thank you for everything this weekend. I won’t ever forget a moment of it,” you thank him. 

     “Of course, thank you for helping me through my panic attack. I don’t know how I would’ve calmed down otherwise,” Max smiles gently. 

     “Of course, I’ll help you anytime you need it. Have a good night, Max,” you say, going to climb out of his car. 

     “You leave tomorrow, right?” He rushes his question out. You turn to him, nodding. “Okay, then I guess the next time I see you will be back in Monaco. Good night, Y/n,” he smiles.

     “Good night, Max,” you climb out of his car, waving to him. You head into the hotel and up to your room. 

      You fall onto your bed, letting out a happy sigh. You pull out your phone to call Louis and Estelle. The phone rings a couple of times before someone picks up. 

     “Bonjour, Y/n!” Louis greets you. 

     “Bonjour, Louis!” you reply. 

     “Tell me about the race! How was Max afterwards?” Louis inquires. 

     “Oh, the race was amazing. Watching the cars fly past was so cool. We’re definitely going to have to go to Monaco this year. Max was hard on himself, he wanted to give me a good race to watch, and getting a dnf is not what he wanted,” You sigh, recalling how Max was acting, “I told him that he did give me a good race to watch and it’s not his fault he got a dnf.”

     “Good, hopefully he won’t be too hard on himself now,” Louis hums. 

     “I hope not, but he probably will be,” you say. Louis makes a sound of agreement. You let out a yawn. “I should go to bed. It’s late here, and I have a flight to catch tomorrow,” you tell Louis. 

     “Bon nuit, Y/n. We’ll see you tomorrow,” Louis responds. You wish him a good night and hang up the phone. You go through your nightly routine and climb into bed, quickly falling asleep. 

************************************************************************

March 21, 2022

     You deboard the plane, heading for baggage claim. Gathering your things from the carousel, you look for Louis and Estelle. You spot them quickly and head towards them. 

     “Welcome home, cherie. How was the flight?” Louis asks, taking your baggage from you. 

     “How were Lacey and Elise?” You ask, heading for the parking lot. 

     “They were angels. They’re super excited to see you,” Estelle informs you. You let out a little laugh, nodding. 

     “I’m sure, this is the longest I’ve been away from them. Probably missing their mama a whole bunch,” you say. You approach Louis’ car and climb in. “Thank you for picking me up.” 

      “Of course, dear,” Estelle says. You guys head for your apartment and bakery. 

     Pulling into your bakery parking lot, you can spot your dogs staring out from the upstairs window. You laugh and climb out. “Thank you again for the ride. I’ll see you guys tomorrow morning,” you say, giving both of them kisses on the cheek. 

     “Of course, amour. We’ll see you tomorrow,” Louis says. You wave goodbye as they pull away from the bakery. 

     Once they’re out of sight, you head into the bakery. Scaling the stairs, you can hear your puppies scratching at the door. “I’m here, I’m here,” you coo, opening the door. “Hello, my loves. Did you miss your mama?” You talk to them like they can actually answer you. After greeting them and petting them for five minutes, you head to your bedroom to put up your luggage. 

     As you’re putting the last of your things away, your phone rings. Max’s name flashes across the screen, bringing a grin to your face. “Hello, Max,” you answer the phone. 

     “Hello, Y/n. Did you make it home without any trouble?” Max asks you. 

     “I did. I’m home and I just finished putting everything away. Did you make it to Saudi Arabia alright?” You ask him, falling into bed. 

     You hear shuffling on the other end of the phone and a door close. “I did, I just got back to my hotel after dinner with the team,” Max responds. 

     “Oh, sounds fun. Are you expecting a good weekend from the car?” You inquire. 

      “It’s looking better than last weekend. We replaced some parts and it’s looking better,” Max answers you. 

      “Oh good, I’m glad. I’m excited to see you win. I’ll be cheering from home,” you tell him. 

     “I’ll win this race for you,” Max informs you. You let out a little giggle. 

     “Okay, sounds good,” you blush and kick your feet excitedly. You suddenly get hit with a wave of tiredness. “I think I’m going to sleep, Max. I’ll text you when I wake up tomorrow, if you’d like?” You shyly ask him. 

      “I’d love that,” he answers.

      “Okay, I’ll do that then.” You wish him a good night and hang up. You crawl under the covers and your pups join you in bed. The flight wore you out, so you’re asleep in seconds. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[seitmai]

Wow I just have many thoughts...

All you could do was offer a prayer to the Gods for him.  The next time you saw him, he was no longer a barbarian gladiator hailed from a distant land, but the new – and rightful – Emperor of Rome. His name was not Hanno, but Lucius Verus Aurelius, and he was the son of the recently passed Queen Lucilla, whom Rome still mourned. 

Seems like the prayers worked 🤭

You would have helped him disrobe too, already used to it from your days of serving Geta, but he chose to do so himself. He was not quite used to his every need being attended to, self-sufficiency deeply ingrained in his being. Mostly, he waved away other servants, leaving you instead to care for him personally. 

I feel like he would be overwhelmed with so many people there to help him, so he just keeps the bare minimum or rather the people he really want to have around him

Neither place felt like home, just the past and the present, and perhaps he was viewing things the same way. You could imagine, even understand, the bittersweetness of returning to a place one thought they might never see again. 

They probably share those feelings about home 🥺

He had the barest of smiles on his handsome face, but you could tell it was genuine. You felt one corner of your lips tugging upwards, but you looked away out of propriety. Even if you were in the same room, you were leagues apart, and it would do you no good to try to imagine otherwise.

Ahhh those shared glances 🥰

“Ovid, Sappho, Horace…” You became a little flustered as he raised his eyebrows. “My mother was a bit of a romantic.” “And you?” It was your turn to huff with amusement, looking down at your hands. “I don’t believe I inherited that trait, no.”

Oh he is probably so disappointed by that 🙈

The truth was that in a place such as Rome, love was quite hard to come by. You didn’t actively search for it, its ephemeral nature making you less inclined to, but you were no complete stranger to it. You’d never let it take root, though, for it was not something you could afford to have. 

Everyone deserves love though 🥺🫶🏻

“What about you, Dominus?” “Me?” he said. “I suppose… I’m not entirely sure anymore. I used to be, at one point.”

Let's find it again 😌

Your face heated up at the mere thought of it. “I could never be so bold…” “I insist,” he said, holding up a hand as you began to stammer again. “Perhaps only when it is just the two of us, if you’d prefer.” “I will certainly try my best,” you said with an awkward grin, trying to keep your composure. He chuckled. “Good enough for me.”

I'm just in love with this little conversation 😍

He enjoyed the mellifluous sound of your voice, so at odds with your serious expression when you were concentrating. To have him as your sole audience was already titillating,  but the fact that he paid close attention was even more of a rush.

To have someone listen to you and wanting to hear your thoughts is just such a great way to show love 🥹

During the day, you anxiously looked forward to those handful of hours in which everything else disappeared. No speak of Rome, politics, or bitter memories, content with being each other’s brief escape.

That's just so cute 🥰

Yet he never made you feel inferior, often encouraging you to share your thoughts and opinions with him despite your reticence. You would even dare to say he cared, or at least that’s what you wanted to believe.

🥹🥹🥹

He glanced over his shoulder at you as you silently trailed behind them, but you didn’t meet his gaze.

Not the glance over the shoulder 🥺

“Ah, perhaps in the future, when I have more time to worry about such things,” he said, politely noncommittal. “But I appreciate the offer.”

He said "yeah thanks, but no thanks" just more politely 😅🤭

Even so, it was clear he had not wanted you to be hurt, and you were very thankful for that. You offered him a small smile and some tension seemed to leave his shoulders.

He really made sure she knows his feeling about this meeting!!

On the wall behind, there was a recently completed fresco of a gladiator riding a chariot pulled by two horses. For another wall, he had commissioned a portrait of Vesta, goddess of the home and the hearth, but it was still a work in progress. He was particularly proud of that one, an unspoken gift for you, his muse.

A fresco for his past as a gladiator and one for the future his wants, his muse😉

“I hope I haven’t tired you too much,” he said, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back. “You can take the rest of the evening off from reading if you’d like, but I would still appreciate some company.” “Well, I still need to draw your bath and…” “Somebody else can take care of it,” he cut in with a shrug, not preoccupied. You hesitated. “What would you have me do instead, then?” “Just sit back down, relax for a moment,” he said, getting up. “Here, you can have my chair. Much more comfortable.”

Urgh im swooning, he just wants her to relax and take care of her 🥰🥹

You froze as his face hovered mere inches away from yours, his breath fanning over your cupid’s bow. Delicately, he removed a stray eyelash that had been resting on your cheekbone, and he pulled back a little so you could see it on the pad of his finger. “Make a wish,” he said.

All you could do was stare at him for another breathless moment that seemed to stretch on infinitely. You licked your lips nervously, drawing his eyes there before they returned to hold your gaze. Your heart was like a nervous bird fluttering wildly in your ribcage. Your mind was mostly blank, but the one thought that popped up was ‘I wish he would close the distance right now.’

Valid reaction

“Lucius,” he pleaded, loathing the title. “Say it, please.”

The pleading 😮‍💨🥰

“Lucius,” you said finally, though your eyes still spelled defiance when you glanced at him. “Is it not obvious? We both know it’s impossible.” Your lower lip trembled slightly. “I have a heart, too, you know? I don’t want it to be broken.” “I know that, of course I know that!” He said, placing his hands on your shoulders and crouching in front of you. “I have no intention of breaking your heart.”

😭😭😭

“I do not care for such things. I would never demand them of you. Even if we cannot marry, I will not marry anyone else that isn’t you,” he said with a firm, determined shake of his head. “But I can still give you my name, along with your freedom. That’s all that matters to me.”

Urgh I just love that you can truly feel how he means it 🥹🥰

“I have been thinking of nothing else since I met you. I’ve already made the arrangements… I suppose I just didn’t want to ruin the surprise.” “You honor me,” you said, smiling despite the tears. “You always have.” “Why shouldn’t I?” He asked. “You have given me more than you think. You brought me the peace I have been so desperately seeking for a long time.”

🥰🥰🥰

“I-I don’t even know how to thank you.” You placed a hand over his. “If you desire to give me your name, then I shall give you mine in return.” You told him your name, the real one, which you had been hiding ever since your Roman name was given to you. He had never asked you for it, knowing that one’s name was the only thing one could truly own in this world. And now for you to give it freely… He repeated it, testing its shape on his tongue, and smiled radiantly.

I'm crying this is just so good 😭🥰

You knew by the disarming earnestness in his eyes he wasn’t just offering the name, but himself, as well. His whole heart in the palm of your hand, should you choose to care for it. You felt as if you had already made that choice a while ago, when you first recited Virgil back to him.

They shared their names to now entrust each other's hearts 💕

“I will,” you said with an elated chuckle. “Of course I will.” He took your hands in his, kissing both of them. “Then first thing tomorrow, we will make it official.”

He is just so excited for her, especially because he has thought about it for a while🥹

You leaned your forehead against his, your noses brushing as he tilted his head back. This time, it was you who brought your lips to his with a tentative sort of tenderness, propriety still at the back of your mind. He responded in kind, letting you set the pace so as not to scare you off. If you weren’t shaking so much, you might have noticed he was shaking, too.

 both if them shaking just shows how emotional and meaningful it is for the both of them 🥹🥰

Perhaps you had inherited the romanticism, after all. 

🥰🥰🥰

The air smelled of night-blooming jasmine, the fresh sweetness of it bringing you a sense of tranquility. You leaned against the windowsill, looking up at the stars and trying to piece together constellations. The world seemed drastically different now that you had your freedom, so vivid, so open, so alive. You even noticed it in your posture and the lightness with which you walked, as if you were floating. Lucius had said you were radiant with it.

I love that he not only noticed it but also adressed her new aura 🥰

He’d insisted on taking care of you the same way you’d cared for him, eager to show you his gratitude. You had been hesitant at first, but at his unwavering conviction, you relented, curious how it might feel to be spoiled. All that day, he had served you reverently, taking time off from his duties to focus solely on you.

You shook your head, desire making you a little more brave. “I… I would love some help undressing, though.” His spine straightened, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “With pleasure.”

Ahhhh it's happening!!

He crouched to slowly pull the hem of your long tunic upwards, rising with it. You lifted your arms so he could get it over your head, the fabric falling to the floor unceremoniously. Your eyes were fixed on his face, drinking in his expression as he took a step back to get a better look at you. The bare expanse of your skin robbed him of breath, his eyes roaming over every curve and plane of your figure. He wanted to sink to his knees again and lay his forehead at your feet in worship, but he stood still, his fingers twitching at his sides. “Have I told you enough times that you are beautiful?” He said. “I don’t think it has been enough.”

Oh, he is so ready to worship her even if it's just laying at her feet

You nodded, silently granting him permission. He leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on your lips before standing up. He took it upon himself to bathe you, starting out by scrubbing your scalp. You leaned into his touch, eyes closing in bliss. He smiled at your soft, pleasured hum, and vowed to elicit as many more as he could. 

I've had a head massage before, so I get it 😌

His eyes fell to your lips, slightly parted with want. He grasped your chin with his free hand, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “I have been thinking about this for a long time,” he said, leaning in to brush his nose against yours. “But I hadn’t wanted to touch you until now, when you actually felt like you had a choice in the matter.”

This is just one of those key elements in this story that I love so much!! Him giving her his name, showing how much he values her and giving her time and space to truly make up her own mind if she wants this, it's just perfection 🥰👏🏻

You clutched his wrist tighter, his thoughtfulness only making you want him more. All those hours he must have spent yearning, unaware that you were stuck thinking of him too. As emperor, he had the right to take whatever he wanted, but having previously been a gladiator, he understood the monumental importance of bodily autonomy. Very few people in Rome had such a privilege and he couldn’t bear the thought of being the one to rob you of it. 

A truly good man ❤️‍🩹🥹

Gently, he set you down on the bed and pulled away to remove his tunic. This time, you were not meek about his nakedness. You brazenly stared at him, eyes mapping out the lines of his muscles, the pink, raised skin of his scars, and the soft trail of hair on his abdomen that seemed to suggestively point downwards. 

A sight to be seen, I'm sure 🤭

He kissed you again, and again, and again. You were so close to him that the lines of your bodies became indivisible, but it still didn’t seem like enough.

🥰🥰🥰

Neither of you lasted very long, but it didn’t matter, as you were nowhere near spent. Lucius, still in the afterglow of his orgasm, lazily began to kiss you all over, wanting to discover every mole and freckle, every tender spot that made you squirm, and every other little detail that made you you. 

Aww rats just so cute, I love tender little moments like that (especially after some other things happening before 🤭)

After, you lied side by side, facing each other. You’d still not had your fill of him, but you needed to gather your strength for the long night ahead. You shared a breathy chuckle, as if still in disbelief it had finally happened, and he kissed your sweat-slick forehead.

I'm a true sucker for post-sex laughter and giggles shared together 🥰

He was just as grateful to have found you, his peace, his solace, the woman who would always guard his heart. He murmured your name reverently, a reminder that you were his, and he was yours.

I just loved this so so much 🥹🥰👏🏻

Imperator

Also on AO3

Pairing: Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader

WC: 6.7k words

Summary: Once, you only had the memory of the curious barbarian poet, entertaining guests at a party with both violence and verse. But it's not until you see him again, now as emperor, that you get to know the man underneath the titles.

Warnings: Minors DNI this fic is 18+, power imbalance (emperor/servant to freedwoman), mutual pining, slow-ish burn, sort of forbidden love?, lots and lots of fluff good lord, some jealousy, some angst, lovey dovey smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), maybe some historical inaccuracies lol (I care a lot okay), and iii think that's it but lmk if anything else!

--------------

"Love will enter cloaked in friendship's name."

– Ovid.

-------------

“The gates of hell are open night and day. Smooth the descent, and easy is the way. But to return, and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labor lies.”

That was the first time you had ever heard him speak, the deep timbre of his voice riddled with contempt. Moments before, he had killed another gladiator, his blood spattered on him like a gruesome adornment. But there was no savagery in his fierce eyes, no mere bloodthirst in the sneer directed at Emperor Geta, your Dominus. His glare was even, like a cold, blue flame that promised not just violence, but retribution as well.

You’d recognized the poem immediately, just as taken aback as everyone else. Nobody moved, the room’s collective breath held in anticipation of the inevitable repercussions of such an offense. Emperor Geta made the slightest move to raise his sword and you gripped the decanter of wine tighter, but your face remained impassive.

“Virgil,” supplied Macrinus, trying to placate him with a broad smile. “He was taught poetry just to amuse you, Imperators.”

There was another momentary pause in which neither twin was sure if they should believe him. But then, Caracalla snorted, standing up to clap the taller man’s shoulder.

“A poet,” He said, laughing. “That’s genius, Macrinus.”

“Yes, certainly very amusing,” Geta said begrudgingly, his jaw clenched. 

He and the gladiator had not stopped staring at each other for one moment, like two vipers poised to strike. 

“Good, I thought you’d like that,” Macrinus said, approaching his fighter to grasp his shoulder, perhaps in warning. “We live to serve you both.”

“Well, I look forward to seeing your poet at the upcoming games in the Colosseum,” he spits out, throwing the sword aside with a loud clatter. “Let’s see how his verses work for him then.”

Macrinus nodded at his steward to take the gladiator away. He was smiling, seemingly amused, as the steward approached him. As he was being shoved back to the atrium, his eyes took one last baleful look around the room. For the briefest second, you thought his eyes met yours, striking you like a piercing arrow, but then he was gone. 

You had no time to dwell on it though, as Emperor Geta returned to his seat and raised his glass to be refilled. But that didn’t mean you would forget so easily, even if your paths might never cross again. All you could do was offer a prayer to the Gods for him. 

—--------------------------

The next time you saw him, he was no longer a barbarian gladiator hailed from a distant land, but the new – and rightful – Emperor of Rome. His name was not Hanno, but Lucius Verus Aurelius, and he was the son of the recently passed Queen Lucilla, whom Rome still mourned. 

He was not cruel like the twins had been, rarely raising his voice, much less his hand. His demeanor was usually calm, but sometimes he stalked the halls restlessly, as if unsure what he should be doing. He still rose with the sun and trained for a couple of hours in the morning, already used to the routine he’d had as a gladiator, but after that, it was all politics. Endless scrolls of parchment to pore over, meetings to hold with the senate, and lending a patient ear to the populace’s needs. The weight of an empire was on his shoulders, and yet he didn’t bow under it. 

During the day, you served his wine and silently hovered around for anything else he might need. At night, you drew his baths, kept his torches lit, and prepared his bed. You would have helped him disrobe too, already used to it from your days of serving Geta, but he chose to do so himself. He was not quite used to his every need being attended to, self-sufficiency deeply ingrained in his being. Mostly, he waved away other servants, leaving you instead to care for him personally. 

There were times when you caught him looking at you as if you seemed vaguely familiar, a furrow in his brow when he couldn’t place you. You couldn’t fault him for not remembering you from Senator Thraex’s party, but there was a certain thrill at having piqued his curiosity regardless. Still, you kept your head down and offered no hints, as was your place. 

Until one night, while he watched you add aromatic oils and test the bath’s temperature, he finally asked the question that had been on his mind for days.

“What is your name?”

You were startled at first, not having expected him to address you at all. You told him your given Roman name, Domicia, and bowed your head respectfully. He pushed himself off the doorway and stepped into the bathroom, humming thoughtfully.

“Of the home,” he said, referring to the name’s meaning. “Are you Roman? Is that your real name?”

You shook your head in answer to both questions. “I have been in Rome for many years now, though.”

“I have not,” he said, a note of melancholy in his voice. “Yet I grew up here, in these very halls…”

He trailed off, looking around absently, lost in his memories. You could not begin to imagine what he had been through, what he had seen. You had heard of his being sent away as a child, with absolutely no choice in the matter, and could empathize with him. 

All you had ever known was a humble life in your native country, until you were stripped of your freedom and brought to the capital of Rome. Neither place felt like home, just the past and the present, and perhaps he was viewing things the same way. You could imagine, even understand, the bittersweetness of returning to a place one thought they might never see again. 

“We are honored and grateful to have you back, Dominus,” you said. “I hope things have been to your satisfaction.”

“I have no complaints,” he said, yet he sighed. “Though becoming accustomed to being here, in my current position, is going to take some more time.”

“If there is anything I can do to make it easier for you, please let me know.”

He inclined his head gratefully, your eyes meeting for a moment. “Thank you, Domicia.”

He had the barest of smiles on his handsome face, but you could tell it was genuine. You felt one corner of your lips tugging upwards, but you looked away out of propriety. Even if you were in the same room, you were leagues apart, and it would do you no good to try to imagine otherwise.

You stood up, grabbing the decanter from a nearby table to have it refilled. “Your bath is ready now. Would you like refreshments other than wine?”

He nodded and you bowed, making your way out. By the time you returned with more wine and a platter of olives, bread, and cheese, he was already in the bathtub, leaning back with his eyes closed. Your feet padded softly on the mosaic floor to avoid  disturbing him, and you left his refreshments on the table near the tub.

You settled at one side of the room just in case he might need anything, staring off into the middle distance and letting your mind drift. He glanced at you sidelong, his curiosity having only grown after your brief conversation. He still had that nagging feeling that he had seen you somewhere before, but he didn’t want to ask outright.

You felt his gaze on you but pretended not to, keeping your eyes averted. You thought again of the poem he’d recited, how different his demeanor had been then. You wondered what other verses he’d been taught, and if you might ever hear him recite anything again. He had a voice for poetry, somehow turning the words into a sort of enchantment, keeping one entranced.

“Doesn’t it feel… strange sometimes?” he said suddenly, staring up at the ceiling. “When things settle and you realize how far you have come? How much you’ve had to sacrifice for it?”

You hummed in agreement, waiting for him to say more. 

“Sometimes, I even wonder if it was all worth it.”

Still lost in a haze of verses, you spoke before you could even think it through.

“Fortunate is he whose mind has the power to probe the causes of things and trample underfoot all terrors and inexorable fate.”

He sat up, surprised. “You know Virgil.” Recognition finally dawned on him. “You were at that party, weren’t you?”

You nodded. “Your words then were just as sharp as your blade.”

He huffed, leaning against the edge of the tub as he remembered his barely contained hatred. “Were you taught poetry to amuse, as well?”

“No, I used to read it with my mother when I was younger.”

“Who else have you read?”

“Ovid, Sappho, Horace…” You became a little flustered as he raised his eyebrows. “My mother was a bit of a romantic.”

“And you?”

It was your turn to huff with amusement, looking down at your hands. “I don’t believe I inherited that trait, no.”

The truth was that in a place such as Rome, love was quite hard to come by. You didn’t actively search for it, its ephemeral nature making you less inclined to, but you were no complete stranger to it. You’d never let it take root, though, for it was not something you could afford to have. 

“What about you, Dominus?”

“Me?” he said. “I suppose… I’m not entirely sure anymore. I used to be, at one point.”

His haunted expression told you not to press him for details, so you just nodded sympathetically. The two of you lapsed into silence, the weight of tragedy hanging between you. You’d had a lot more time to become numb to your circumstances, but it was clear the pain he was experiencing was still fresh. 

“I will be forced to remarry eventually.” He sighed heavily. “Produce heirs to carry out the lineage, show Rome a unified front.”

“Well, whoever you marry shall be the most fortunate woman in the empire.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, looking over at you. “You really believe so? You’re not just flattering me?”

“Of course,” you said, giving him a cryptic smile that made him laugh again. “I’m perfectly serious.”

“Oh, I am sure you are.”

After some time, he rose with a small splash, prompting you to immediately approach with an outstretched towel. His nudity barely registered in your mind, having already glimpsed him a few times. You wouldn’t dare to look at him directly, even if you were more than a little curious. You tensed as his fingers barely brushed yours in the exchange, but you quickly stepped back to give him more room.

He wrapped the towel around his waist, water dripping down his sculpted arms and chest. You went to start tidying up, studiously keeping your eyes on your task. He watched as you picked up the refreshments to take to the main chamber, a part of him wishing you would look at him instead. 

“One more thing,” he said and you immediately turned around. “Please, I want you to call me Lucius.”

Your face heated up at the mere thought of it. “I could never be so bold…”

“I insist,” he said, holding up a hand as you began to stammer again. “Perhaps only when it is just the two of us, if you’d prefer.”

“I will certainly try my best,” you said with an awkward grin, trying to keep your composure.

He chuckled. “Good enough for me.”

—-----------------

Weeks passed, and while Lucius still hadn’t managed to get you to call him by name, he had certainly gotten you to open up more. In the evenings, the two of you swapped more poetry, often sharing your own interpretations of the verses. At some point, he even had scrolls fetched from the library for you to read to him. He enjoyed the mellifluous sound of your voice, so at odds with your serious expression when you were concentrating. To have him as your sole audience was already titillating,  but the fact that he paid close attention was even more of a rush.

During the day, you anxiously looked forward to those handful of hours in which everything else disappeared. No speak of Rome, politics, or bitter memories, content with being each other’s brief escape. You still held yourself at a certain distance, though, always aware of the chasm between you. Yet he never made you feel inferior, often encouraging you to share your thoughts and opinions with him despite your reticence. You would even dare to say he cared, or at least that’s what you wanted to believe.

You wouldn’t necessarily say you were getting attached, for that would be too unrealistic of a fantasy, but you could not deny the butterflies in your stomach that often appeared while around him. His easy, handsome smile, the kindness in his eyes, his patient indulgence when listening to you, and the effort he put into making you laugh…

But the spell was abruptly broken the day he received a visit from his friend Ravi, who had brought someone for him to meet – a respectable Roman lady. A widow, as it happened, just like Lucius. Her hair was perfectly styled, falling in ringlets that framed her lovely face. She wore a lavender-colored dress with a matching veil, much fancier than anything you’d ever owned, and was adorned with golden jewelry. More importantly, she was freeborn, and thus a perfectly good candidate for marriage.

You swallowed hard, otherwise keeping your expression neutral. You hadn’t thought he would start meeting potential brides so soon, and you certainly hadn’t expected how it would make you feel. At least, Lucius also seemed surprised, not expecting his friend to try to set him up without consulting him first. Still, he assumed the role of gracious host and welcomed them warmly, leading them out to the gardens. He glanced over his shoulder at you as you silently trailed behind them, but you didn’t meet his gaze.

The three of them reclined on the couches of the outdoor dining area, shaded by a wooden pergola. It was a beautiful sunny day, the birds singing accompanied by the gurgle of the large fountain at the center of the garden. A gentle breeze stirred the foliage, carrying the faint, sweet smell of a dozen different flowers. 

You served them wine and hovered close by as another servant brought them food to snack on. Lucius had deliberately sat across from where you stood just so he could keep an eye on you. You’d withdrawn into yourself, trying your hardest to remain indifferent instead of worrying about whether the meeting went well or not. If it did, then you had to be happy for him, but if it didn’t… Well, at least that would buy you a little more time, if nothing else.

“Such a lovely garden,” the lady, Ilaria, said as she looked around. “One could never tire of such a view.”

Lucius nodded absently but said nothing, as if he hadn’t heard her.

“I could see you fitting in perfectly with all the other flowers here,” Ravi cut in, smiling with as much charm as he could muster to make up for it.

Ilaria inclined her head, modestly waving off the compliment. “Oh, you flatter me, Ravi.”

He gave Lucius a subtle, pointed look to encourage him to follow his lead. Lucius sat up and cleared his throat, only just focusing on the conversation. He had been trying to get your attention as subtly as possible, but he hadn’t been successful. 

“Er, yes, it’s always a treat to spend time out here. Certainly helps to clear the mind.”

Ravi shook his head a little and tried not to snort with amusement, thinking he was a lost case. Ilaria smiled, unbothered, taking a handful of grapes from a platter and popping one into her mouth. 

“I’d wager there is much on your plate, Imperator,” she said. “And having to manage the household staff on top of everything else… Must be a little overwhelming for you, no?”

“Well, I am a very busy man, yes, but it hasn’t been all that bad,” Lucius said. “I’ve certainly had a great deal of support to see me through.”

His words managed to reach you, softening you up infinitesimally. This time, when he glanced at you, you finally looked back. The ghost of a smile was on your face, but you quickly looked away before it could actually manifest.

“I see. Well, I’m very glad to hear that,” Ilaria said, sharing a curious glance with Ravi, who looked slightly apologetic. “Though perhaps you have considered that having someone run the house for you would take a big burden off your shoulders. I would be more than happy to lend a hand if you’d consider it.”

His eyebrows raised slightly at her boldness, not missing the eagerness in her gaze, poorly concealed behind her innocently helpful demeanor. He certainly did not want to get her hopes up, but he smiled graciously to soften the blow.

“Ah, perhaps in the future, when I have more time to worry about such things,” he said, politely noncommittal. “But I appreciate the offer.”

Her smile wavered and then froze, not wanting to seem too disappointed. “Of course, Imperator.”

For the remainder of their visit, Lucius let them do most of the talking, any remarks he made were studiously polite and yet still a little aloof. Finally, after a few hours, he excused himself, needing to return to his duties. Ravi seemed hesitant, like he wanted to stay behind and speak to him privately, but he would have to wait for another day. He escorted them both out, thanking them for visiting, but he did not exactly invite Ilaria to return to the palace. Her disappointment was more palpable then, but she hid it with as much grace as she could muster.

When they were gone, he turned to you with a shake of his head and a sigh, grinning with bewilderment.

“I do not enjoy being ambushed,” he said as if he felt the need to explain himself. “Decent enough as she seemed.”

You bowed your head in agreement, more relieved than you would like to admit. You had no real reason to have been upset earlier, given that there was nothing between you except for a certain kinship. Even so, it was clear he had not wanted you to be hurt, and you were very thankful for that. You offered him a small smile and some tension seemed to leave his shoulders.

He inclined his head towards the eastern hallway leading to his study. “Come, I would like you to read some documents to me. I can get work done faster that way.”

The tablinum was spacious but cozy, with a door to one side that led to a smaller patio. Before, the twin emperors had never used the room, but now it seemed well lived in. There was a mess of scrolls and wax tablets all over his desk that he still hadn’t let you organize. On the wall behind, there was a recently completed fresco of a gladiator riding a chariot pulled by two horses. For another wall, he had commissioned a portrait of Vesta, goddess of the home and the hearth, but it was still a work in progress. He was particularly proud of that one, an unspoken gift for you, his muse.

You lit the oil lamps in their alcoves, bathing the room in warm light. Lucius sat at his desk with a heavy exhale and scanned his notes to remember where he had left off the previous day. You sat on a stool beside him, unfurling the scroll he handed you and resting it on your knees. The texts you read didn’t always make sense to you, but you understood their importance. The fact that he was entrusting you with such work was an honor you did not take for granted.

“Start in that middle section. There is some stuff I would like to revisit,” he said, taking up his stylus. 

You nodded, finding what he was referring to and starting right away. You read to him for the next couple of hours, only stopping if he needed you to repeat something or in case he needed more time to make his notes. A few times during the latter, you glanced up to take in the focused furrow of his brow, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he pondered. You wondered what he might be thinking about, wishing he would impart some more knowledge on you. 

Outside, the sun was beginning to set, shadows deepening in the corners of the room. Another servant brought him dinner, but he didn’t seem too hungry yet. He handed you his cup of water when he heard you clear your throat a few times, insisting when you were reluctant to take it. 

When he was done for the day, he stretched his arms over his head with a groan and slumped in his seat. You neatly rolled the parchment back up and stood so you could stretch your legs. 

“I hope I haven’t tired you too much,” he said, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back. “You can take the rest of the evening off from reading if you’d like, but I would still appreciate some company.”

“Well, I still need to draw your bath and…”

“Somebody else can take care of it,” he cut in with a shrug, not preoccupied.

You hesitated. “What would you have me do instead, then?”

“Just sit back down, relax for a moment,” he said, getting up. “Here, you can have my chair. Much more comfortable.”

You were about to protest, but he gave you a look that said it was not up for discussion. You pursed your lips, uncomfortable at the idea of being idle, especially while taking up his seat. Still, you obeyed and sat down, hands folded on your lap. Feeling a little bold, you looked at him as if to say ‘satisfied?’ and he huffed in amusement.

“Wait, stay still,” he murmured suddenly, leaning down.

You froze as his face hovered mere inches away from yours, his breath fanning over your cupid’s bow. Delicately, he removed a stray eyelash that had been resting on your cheekbone, and he pulled back a little so you could see it on the pad of his finger.

“Make a wish,” he said.

All you could do was stare at him for another breathless moment that seemed to stretch on infinitely. You licked your lips nervously, drawing his eyes there before they returned to hold your gaze. Your heart was like a nervous bird fluttering wildly in your ribcage. Your mind was mostly blank, but the one thought that popped up was ‘I wish he would close the distance right now.’

You gently blew the eyelash away, your wish scattering into the air alongside it. The Gods must have decided to grant it immediately, for he did not pull away, instead slowly leaning in. His lips brushed yours tentatively and you closed your eyes, rejoicing for the barest second before you forced your face to turn away.

“We shouldn’t…” you murmured, the words hard to utter when a desperate want clung to your throat like honey.

“Why not?” He whispered.

“It’s not– I’m not…” You vaguely gestured towards yourself, unsure of what the right words were. 

He pulled back to look at you better. “Was I too presumptuous?”

You shook your head. “Not at all.”

“Then what is it?” He pressed.

“Dominus, please.”

“Lucius,” he pleaded, loathing the title. “Say it, please.”

“Lucius,” you said finally, though your eyes still spelled defiance when you glanced at him. “Is it not obvious? We both know it’s impossible.” Your lower lip trembled slightly. “I have a heart, too, you know? I don’t want it to be broken.”

“I know that, of course I know that!” He said, placing his hands on your shoulders and crouching in front of you. “I have no intention of breaking your heart.”

“Surely you understand where I am coming from, though.” You sniffed, keeping tears at bay. “I am not wife material, like the lady Ilaria. I have nothing to offer, no dowry, no family name, or even an inkling of Patrician blood. ”

“I do not care for such things. I would never demand them of you. Even if we cannot marry, I will not marry anyone else that isn’t you,” he said with a firm, determined shake of his head. “But I can still give you my name, along with your freedom. That’s all that matters to me.”

You gasped, the shock of his words akin to a bucket of ice water being dumped over you. Now you let the tears spill over, like a dam had finally burst. He kissed them away, his hands cupping your face gently.

“I have been thinking of nothing else since I met you. I’ve already made the arrangements… I suppose I just didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“You honor me,” you said, smiling despite the tears. “You always have.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” He asked. “You have given me more than you think. You brought me the peace I have been so desperately seeking for a long time.”

“I-I don’t even know how to thank you.” You placed a hand over his. “If you desire to give me your name, then I shall give you mine in return.”

You told him your name, the real one, which you had been hiding ever since your Roman name was given to you. He had never asked you for it, knowing that one’s name was the only thing one could truly own in this world. And now for you to give it freely… He repeated it, testing its shape on his tongue, and smiled radiantly.

“Pairs rather well with Lucia Veria, if I do say so myself,” he said with a proud chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “If you’ll have it, that is.”

You knew by the disarming earnestness in his eyes he wasn’t just offering the name, but himself, as well. His whole heart in the palm of your hand, should you choose to care for it. You felt as if you had already made that choice a while ago, when you first recited Virgil back to him.

“I will,” you said with an elated chuckle. “Of course I will.”

He took your hands in his, kissing both of them. “Then first thing tomorrow, we will make it official.”

More tears flowed as a result of an overwhelming rush of both gratitude and love. You had tried to ignore your feelings, not uprooting them but instead silently letting them grow unacknowledged. For once, it had seemed worth the risk of heartbreak. After all, the love hadn’t stemmed from something as fleeting as lust, but a mutual understanding and respect. It was more than you could ever ask for, and yet everything you desired.

You leaned your forehead against his, your noses brushing as he tilted his head back. This time, it was you who brought your lips to his with a tentative sort of tenderness, propriety still at the back of your mind. He responded in kind, letting you set the pace so as not to scare you off. If you weren’t shaking so much, you might have noticed he was shaking, too. 

In that kiss, there was the promise of mutual devotion, sweet and sincere. You were still holding each other’s hands, as if afraid you might drift apart if you let go. You understood then why odes were written about this feeling, as all-consuming as the churning waves of the sea. All those verses had never resonated with you more. 

Perhaps you had inherited the romanticism, after all. 

—------------------

The air smelled of night-blooming jasmine, the fresh sweetness of it bringing you a sense of tranquility. You leaned against the windowsill, looking up at the stars and trying to piece together constellations. The world seemed drastically different now that you had your freedom, so vivid, so open, so alive. You even noticed it in your posture and the lightness with which you walked, as if you were floating. Lucius had said you were radiant with it.

He’d insisted on taking care of you the same way you’d cared for him, eager to show you his gratitude. You had been hesitant at first, but at his unwavering conviction, you relented, curious how it might feel to be spoiled. All that day, he had served you reverently, taking time off from his duties to focus solely on you.

You couldn’t help getting flustered at all the attention, his ardent gaze like a caress every time it met yours. His touch had so far been entirely chaste, but even the smallest, most innocuous contact was heightened with anticipation. The brush of his fingers over yours when he handed you something, a guiding hand on your lower back, even a touch on your shoulder to make you aware of his presence.

There were a few sneaked kisses in both the garden and the tablinum, each one of them leaving an undercurrent of warmth under your skin that promised more. It was like a slow, drawn-out game of chase, neither of you in a rush to reach its conclusion. If anything, it only made you want each other more. 

After the sun had set, when the two of you drifted along as if in a drunken stupor, Lucius went to prepare a bath for you in his chambers. You were nervous and exhilarated, every moment spent waiting for him to be done an exquisite agony. Until finally, he poked his head around the bathroom door.

“It’s ready now,” he said, beckoning you with a smile.

You followed him into the bathroom, hands wringing anxiously. Flower petals were scattered on the mosaic floor, leading towards the steaming tub. Flickering candles bathed the room in a warm glow, making your shadows dance on the wall. You looked at each other, both knowing what the next step was but hesitant to initiate it. He averted his gaze first, gesturing towards the door.

“Would you like me to give you some privacy?”

You shook your head, desire making you a little more brave. “I… I would love some help undressing, though.”

His spine straightened, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “With pleasure.”

He crouched to slowly pull the hem of your long tunic upwards, rising with it. You lifted your arms so he could get it over your head, the fabric falling to the floor unceremoniously. Your eyes were fixed on his face, drinking in his expression as he took a step back to get a better look at you. The bare expanse of your skin robbed him of breath, his eyes roaming over every curve and plane of your figure. He wanted to sink to his knees again and lay his forehead at your feet in worship, but he stood still, his fingers twitching at his sides.

“The evening star is the most beautiful of all stars,”  he said in a low voice, quoting Sappho.

Warmth spread from your chest to your face, and you smiled coyly as another verse came to mind. “Come to me once more, and abate my torment…”

You offered him your hand, which he took, and he led you to the tub. You daintily stepped in, sighing contentedly as you sank into the water’s enveloping warmth. He knelt next to the tub, leaning against it with one arm propped on the edge. 

“Have I told you enough times that you are beautiful?” He said. “I don’t think it has been enough.”

You huffed with amusement, looking down as you fought a geeky grin. “Well, about a hundred times with just your eyes. A few times out loud, though.”

He chuckled. “I suppose I’ll have to show you in other ways, too… If I may.”

You nodded, silently granting him permission. He leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on your lips before standing up. He took it upon himself to bathe you, starting out by scrubbing your scalp. You leaned into his touch, eyes closing in bliss. He smiled at your soft, pleasured hum, and vowed to elicit as many more as he could. 

Things took on an almost ritualistic quality, with him focused entirely on his task. You were loose limbed, letting him move you about as he used a cloth to scrub your skin. He didn’t try anything that might be deemed unsavory, though you let his tender, reverential touch reach places no one had touched in a very, very long time. But he didn’t linger, to your slight frustration, not wanting to jump into things too quickly. The flames of your desire were stoked slowly, warmth running through you like sweet wine. 

When he was done, he helped you step out of the tub and immediately got to drying you off with a towel. You caught his eye for a moment, his pupils blown wide with equally fervent desire. You stopped yourself from clutching his arm, wanting to anchor yourself to him, but he could still tell you were growing restless. He kissed your shoulder, tapping the tip of your nose playfully with his finger.

“Not done quite yet,” he murmured, not missing the way you involuntarily pressed your thighs together. “You’ve always been very patient.”

“For the first time, I fear it might be running thin…” you said, to which he smiled. 

He grabbed a small glass bottle of rose oil and lathered some in his hands. He anointed your body with it, the heady scent of one of Venus’s favorite flowers permeating the air. As he reached your chest, you took hold of his wrist and brought his palm to rest over your heart. He felt it beating rapidly, your chest rising and falling with each panting breath.

His eyes fell to your lips, slightly parted with want. He grasped your chin with his free hand, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

“I have been thinking about this for a long time,” he said, leaning in to brush his nose against yours. “But I hadn’t wanted to touch you until now, when you actually felt like you had a choice in the matter.”

You clutched his wrist tighter, his thoughtfulness only making you want him more. All those hours he must have spent yearning, unaware that you were stuck thinking of him too. As emperor, he had the right to take whatever he wanted, but having previously been a gladiator, he understood the monumental importance of bodily autonomy. Very few people in Rome had such a privilege and he couldn’t bear the thought of being the one to rob you of it. 

You kissed him in response, much fiercer, hungrier, than all the other kisses you had shared so far. A desperate sound escaped his throat and he clasped you against him tightly. Swiftly, he scooped you up into his strong arms and carried you out to the bedchamber as he would a bride.

Gently, he set you down on the bed and pulled away to remove his tunic. This time, you were not meek about his nakedness. You brazenly stared at him, eyes mapping out the lines of his muscles, the pink, raised skin of his scars, and the soft trail of hair on his abdomen that seemed to suggestively point downwards. 

His shoulders were squared with pride at your ogling, a sly smile on his face. He’d had an inkling before of your attraction, but to see it on full display was narcotic, and he felt himself pulse with an aching need.

“Come closer,” you said softly.

He did, climbing over you, his warmth immediately enveloping you. You hid your face on the junction between his neck and shoulder, embarrassed at all the thoughts rushing through your mind.

“What is it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow with amusement.

“Nothing,” you said, voice muffled against his skin. “I just… I do not think you realize how badly I wanted this, too. I-I don’t want to ever stop.”

He chuckled indulgently, nudging your head so you’d look at him. “Neither do I.”

He kissed you again, and again, and again. You were so close to him that the lines of your bodies became indivisible, but it still didn’t seem like enough. Your knees hiked up to his hips in a silent plea, but he did not give in quite yet, wanting to prolong things for as long as he could.

Still, unable to resist a little bit of mutual torment, he slid upwards until his hips were aligned with yours. You gasped as you felt the velvety underside of his erection against your slick folds, each small movement making you tremble. Your brows furrowed and your lips parted in a wanton expression, your eyes shiny and half lidded as you looked at him.

“Lucius,” you whimpered. 

“I know,” he murmured soothingly, kissing your neck. “I know.”

Neither of you were willing to break apart from your embrace, so there wasn’t actually much of a preamble. Feverish, he sank into you slowly, your nails digging into his biceps as he stretched you open. That first round was frantic, almost animalistic, all the pent up longing finally being released. His body rolled over yours with the power of the sea’s waves, leaving you awash in ecstasy.

Neither of you lasted very long, but it didn’t matter, as you were nowhere near spent. Lucius, still in the afterglow of his orgasm, lazily began to kiss you all over, wanting to discover every mole and freckle, every tender spot that made you squirm, and every other little detail that made you you. 

He settled between your thighs, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive bundle of nerves. You tried to prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him, but he wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you closer. 

“What are you– Oh,” you gasped at the first flick of his tongue, the entirely new sensation disarming you. 

He tasted his essence mixed with yours, a groan rumbling in his chest. You tightly grasped the sheets under you, arching against his face. You bit your lip to stop yourself from making the most undignified sounds, but it was hard to focus, especially as his fingers were added into the mix. Your body burned brighter than any brazier, his arms pinning you down as he conquered you with his mouth. You shattered once more, crying out as he helped you ride it all the way through. 

After, you lied side by side, facing each other. You’d still not had your fill of him, but you needed to gather your strength for the long night ahead. You shared a breathy chuckle, as if still in disbelief it had finally happened, and he kissed your sweat-slick forehead.

“Now that was poetry,” you said jokingly, making him laugh again. 

“You put every verse to shame, my love,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You kissed his palm, adoring, and tangled your legs with his. A swell of emotion unlike anything you had ever felt rose within you. It was as if he had awakened a new part of you that you hadn’t known was dormant, bringing you back from an existence that consisted solely of drifting through days that blended into one another.

He was just as grateful to have found you, his peace, his solace, the woman who would always guard his heart. He murmured your name reverently, a reminder that you were his, and he was yours. You drew closer to him, like a moth to flame, and pushed him onto his back, straddling him. His hands came to rest on your hips and your eyes were full of mirth as you held his gaze.

“As it happens, I find myself compelled to compose some more with you.” You grinned playfully, hands sliding up his chest. 

He mirrored your grin, not minding the idea one bit. “Relentless, just like the great muse Calliope.”

“Well, when inspiration strikes… It can’t be helped, can it?”

“No,” he said. “Not when it comes to you.”

------

[thechy-fychannel]

You said you think pre-infarction house was an addict-can you expand on that? What drugs were he hooked on and why did he fully switch to vicodin and never used others again? Did he ever reach a go-to-rehab level addiction? How did wilson handle that? And what was Stacy's attitude towards his addiction? I think she would have been a lot more forgiving than cuddy because 1. She herself is a smoker who goes back to cigarettes during hard time and 2. Unlike cuddy, she didn't have a small child to worry about.

Ahhh thank you sm, I love this question!!! Let's get into it ✨

So my theory is that house was abusing morphine prior to the infarction. here are my reasons for thinking so:

1. Three Stories- the entire reason house's infarction was as bad as it was is bc everyone except house was convinced he was just drug seeking at first. it makes absolutely zero sense for them to think that unless he already had a history of drug seeking. unless I misremember (anyone feel free to correct me if I'm wrong) he already worked at PPTH for a while before the infarction happened. so it was the same doctors he knew and interacted with every single day that saw him screaming in agony and chose to believe he was just trying to seek drugs and not actually in pain. he had to have a history, it just doesn't make sense otherwise for them to assume he was drug seeking.

2. one very specific line in No Reason (the episode where house is shot and the whole episode is a hallucination). when house, wilson, and cuddy are in her office and house is realizing they did something to his brain (the ketamine treatment) cuddy says this specific line: "You were out of control, you were shooting morphine!" This line has always stuck out to me and no one ever seems to mention it. It's very out of place bc the conversation they're having is about him being shot and them doing something to him while he was under. I think this was his brain connecting this event to the last time someone did something to him while he was unconscious, trying to rationalize these traumatic events.

3. In early s3 when the pain comes back, he begs cuddy to give him a shot of morphine in his spine (the scene where he drops his pants in her office and asks her in tears if the scar is all in his head too since she thinks the pain is all in his head.) cuddy gives him the shot and he comes back looking for another one later on, after the pain comes back again. she informs him that she never gave him morphine, it was saline. the fact that the pretend morphine worked suggests he had a mental dependency on it. I'm pretty sure this is the point where he goes back to vicodin (it's been a few months since I did my last rewatch so I could be wrong). I think had she actually given him morphine, he likely would've become addicted to it again. Just the thought of the morphine was enough to have him looking for more.

4. Wilson's tendency to jump straight to heroin use when he thinks house is on something other than vicodin. it happens more than once in the series when house starts acting just the slightest bit off, wilson leaps to the conclusion that he's on heroin. which is an insane leap to make unless it's something he's had to worry about in the past. I think the reason wilson would jump to heroin over morphine is if he knows what it looks like when house is high on morphine. If house used to abuse morphine, wilson would be able to recognize it and if he can't, it must be something much worse. this again plays into why I think he was an addict prior to the infarction even if it wasn't morphine, because who in their right mind would jump to their best friend using heroin if that person didn't have a long history of abusing similar drugs?

Now to answer your other questions:

Why did he switch to vicodin and not go back to others he may have been addicted to? I can tell you from personal experience that while morphine feels great, it makes you hazy and tired and out of it. I think once he was prescribed vicodin after his surgery and learned that he could function on it and not feel hazy, it was a match made in heaven for him (he says a few times in the show that vicodin doesn't make him hazy, so he immediately knows if he's on something else bc he feels hazy.) He didn't need to switch to anything else as long as he had access to vicodin bc he got the high, the pain relief, and no haziness. but when he got cut off of his vicodin during the tritter ordeal, he stole oxycodone (I think?) from wilson's dead patient. so if he didn't have vicodin, it's safe to assume he would go back to whatever he had access to.

Did he ever reach rehab level addiction? / What was Stacy's attitude towards his addiction? I think if we go based off his colleagues thinking he was drug seeking + cuddy saying he was out of control and shooting up morphine, I would say yes, it was rehab level addiction. But— I feel like if it had been that bad, stacy would've mentioned it in some sort of capacity during her arc when they were discussing their relationship. she never hints at him being an addict as far as I can remember. she loved and cared about house so much that she was willing to accept him hating her if it meant he was alive and healthy. I feel like if his addiction had been dangerous, she would've done anything to get him help the same way she did during his infarction. even if it meant going against his wishes and him hating her, she would've insisted he got help. so I'm conflicted on that question, honestly. I think maybe it depends on the perspective of those around him. maybe those at the hospital saw something stacy didn't, I'm not sure. but I agree with what you said about her being more forgiving and understanding of it than cuddy was. I think if he had been an addict while they were together, she would've given him an endless amount of chances until it became dangerous, that's when she would put her foot down and try to force him into rehab and their relationship probably would've crumbled for a whole different reason.

How did Wilson handle his addiction? I think house being an addict prior to the infarction plays perfectly into the theme of wilson emotionally neglecting his wives for house. we obviously don't have an exact timeline of his marriages aside from his first one ending just before house and wilson met, but it's pretty safe to assume that he was married to and even possibly divorced from bonnie before the infarction ever happened since he seems to have been married to julie for a little while in the beginning of the show.

[sidenote: here is my personal timeline HC for wilson's marriages.

Sam: 1991-1992 (canon)

Bonnie: 1993-1998

Julie: 1999 (before infarction) - 2005]

In the episode where house uses bonnie to get dating info about wilson, she says the iconic line, "You always needed him and he was always there for you. He had a wife waiting for him at home and you didn't care." And it just makes sense if the reason house always needed him was because of his struggles with addiction. house in general is a needy person who always wanted wilson's affection to himself, that much is clear, but wilson had to of had a good excuse to always run off for whatever it is house needed from him prior to him being disabled.

Getting into more specifics about how wilson would've handled his addiction back then— I think he would've handled it similarly to the way he did with the vicodin. he's an enabler unfortunately, he would've let house make excuses and made excuses for him because he tries to give house the benefit of the doubt that he can control himself. I think back then even more so, because house wasn't in pain and disabled, wilson had no reason to think house couldn't control himself. I think it's even possible that wilson was in denial about it too, he didn't want to believe his best friend was an addict and maybe he felt like he needed to protect house when others started accusing him of such. I think that may be why wilson asked cuddy to make that bet with house to find out if he was addicted to vicodin. he ignored it and denied it last time and he's enabled him for years since the infarction, he wanted to know if he was treating house's pain or still enabling an addict. the answer was both, which makes it no less complicated. but like with all of house's issues, wilson continues to stand by him and be there for him bc he loves him and wants him in his life, addict or no addict.

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Sacrifices (Book 2 of 3 BTR Series) a Jhea Fanfic.

Chapter 27: we need to talk..

Rhea pulled up to the house and entered the gate code. As the iron bars swung open, she glanced at Jeyce through the rearview mirror, her expression unreadable.

“Tell your father I’ll be home later,” she said, her tone calm but carrying an edge that made Jeyce straighten up.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jeyce replied, grabbing his backpack and stepping out of the car.

She watched him walk through the gate, shoulders slightly hunched, before it closed behind him. For a moment, Rhea sat there, gripping the steering wheel tightly, her thoughts swirling. With a deep sigh, she reversed out of the driveway and headed back to work.

Jeyce entered the garage and let the heavy door close behind him. His stomach churned as he entered the house through the back door, already bracing for the conversation he knew was coming.

Jey was waiting for him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, his expression hard to read but unmistakably serious. Barry and Bella lay at his feet, sensing the tension in the air.

Jey’s voice broke the silence. “Go ahead and speak. I didn’t raise you to be silent.”

Jeyce hesitated, glancing down at his sneakers. He knew there was no use in trying to dodge the topic. “Bart was saying stupid lies about Demi,” he muttered finally.

Jey raised an eyebrow. “And your first reaction was to throw hands?”

“I didn’t start it!” Jeyce argued, his voice rising slightly. “He—he said Demi was sneaking around with other guys, and I told him to shut up. He shoved me first, and I just—”

“You just what?” Jey interrupted, his tone sharper now. “You think that gives you a free pass to fight? You know better than that, Jeyce.”

Jeyce’s fists clenched as frustration bubbled over. “He was lying about her! What was I supposed to do, just stand there and let him say whatever he wants?”

“Yes, you stand there and let him talk,” Jey shot back, his voice firm. “Words don’t mean a damn thing unless you let them. You’ve got to learn how to handle this differently. You think every time someone says something about Demi—or you, or anyone—you can just throw hands? That’s not how it works.”

“He pushed me first,” Jeyce mumbled, though his voice had lost some of its defiance.

“And what, that’s supposed to make me proud of you?” Jey challenged, stepping forward. “You think I’m okay with you getting suspended—again—because someone said some crap about your girlfriend? This is about self-control, Jeyce. If you don’t learn that now, you’re gonna be in a whole world of trouble later.”

Jeyce’s eyes burned with unshed tears, though he refused to let them fall. “I was just trying to defend her,” he said quietly.

“I get it, son. I do,” Jey said, his tone softening just a fraction. “But defending someone doesn’t mean you lose your head every time someone opens their mouth. You’ve got to be smarter than this.”

The two stood in silence for a moment, the tension between them thick. Finally, Jey exhaled heavily, rubbing a hand over his face.

“You’re lucky your brother’s birthday is today,” Jey said, shaking his head. “Otherwise, we’d be having a much different conversation. Now, go upstairs. You’re staying there until the party starts at six. Do I make myself clear?”

Jeyce’s shoulders sagged, and he nodded reluctantly. “Yes, sir.” He hesitated for a moment before adding, “And—uh—Rhea said she’ll be home later.”

Jey didn’t respond immediately, his eyes flickering with a mix of frustration and exhaustion. Finally, he nodded toward the stairs. “Go on.”

Jeyce turned and trudged upstairs, his footsteps heavy with the weight of the day.

As the sound of his son’s door closing echoed through the house, Jey leaned back against the counter, letting out a long, frustrated sigh. Barry nudged his leg with his nose, sensing his distress, and Jey gave the dog a half-hearted pat.

“Just like me at his age,” he muttered to himself, a flicker of understanding softening his features. Still, the weight of being both a disciplinarian and a father pressed heavily on his shoulders.

Jey made his way to the cookie container on the kitchen counter, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the perfectly baked brown butter chocolate chunk cookies. He opened the lid, and the sweet, buttery aroma wafted through the air. A grin spread across his face as he reached for one, but just as his fingers brushed the warm surface of a cookie, a voice boomed from the living room.

“DON’T THINK ABOUT IT, JEY! THOSE ARE ACCOUNTED FOR!” Trinity’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding.

Jey froze mid-reach, rolling his eyes dramatically. “YES, MA’AM!” he called back, shaking his head.

Despite her warning, Jey quickly snatched a cookie, balancing it in his mouth as he closed the lid. He was just turning to make his escape when he caught sight of Trinity standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and a knowing smirk on her face.

Jey removed the cookie from his mouth and held it up in mock surrender. “It’s just one cookie,” he said, feigning innocence.

Trinity narrowed her eyes playfully. “You say that every time, and every time, there’s mysteriously fewer cookies than when I left them.”

Jey bit into the cookie, savoring the gooey chocolate chunks and the perfect crunch. “You should take it as a compliment. If they weren’t this good, I wouldn’t risk getting caught.”

Trinity couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “You’re lucky it’s Jaciyah’s birthday, or I’d make you bake a whole new batch.”

Jey grinned and held up the half-eaten cookie. “Totally worth it.”

Trinity walked over and playfully swatted him on the arm. “Go on, get out of here before I change my mind.”

Jey nodded, still grinning, and headed toward the living room with the dogs trailing behind him. As he sat back on the couch, he couldn’t help but marvel at how the house felt alive—between the kids, the upcoming party, and even Trinity’s stern cookie rules. Moments like these, chaotic as they were, reminded him of what really mattered: family.

—

4:30 PM

4:30 rolled by quickly, and Jaciyah stepped out of the shower, steam rising from the bathroom as he ran his fingers through his damp braids. He smoothed them down with some serum, making sure every strand was perfectly in place. After that, he grabbed his clothes for the evening. He chose a black and red polo collared shirt, paired it with blue jeans, and slipped into his red and black Nike Dunks. A quick spritz of his favorite cologne and a glance at the mirror made him nod in approval.

As he finished getting dressed, Jaciyah reached for the chain his father had given him, tossing it around his neck with a practiced flick. He looked at himself one last time before heading downstairs, his footsteps echoing through the house.

“On my way to pick up Daya,” Jaciyah announced as he entered the living room, where Jey was lounging with the dogs.

Jey looked up and gave him a nod. “That’s fine. Your uncle Jon’s already got the ribs going on the grill.”

Jaciyah grabbed Jey’s Mercedes keys off the counter and headed for the door, but not before pausing to check in with his father.

“Hey, Dad, you got everything ready for tonight?”

“Everything’s good, son. I’ll see you later,” Jey replied, giving a thumbs up.

As Jaciyah stepped outside, Jey quickly dialed Rhea’s number, waiting for her to pick up. When she answered, he asked, “When you coming home, babe?”

“I’ve got a few things left to wrap up, but I should be home by 5:30,” Rhea’s voice came through the phone, sounding a bit distant but steady.

“Alright. I’ll see you then. We’ll be ready.”

“Sounds good. See you soon,” Rhea replied before ending the call.

Jey placed the phone down and glanced at the clock. Everything was falling into place, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight was going to be one of those unforgettable nights—the ones full of laughter, family, and memories they’d cherish.

As Jaciyah pulled up to Daya’s friend’s apartment, he parked the car and looked around, taking in the quiet neighborhood. Daya had been staying with her best friend Hailey for the past few nights before heading to her dad’s house, and Jaciyah couldn’t deny that he’d enjoyed the extra time they’d been able to spend together. Hailey’s boyfriend worked as a manager at the Pizza Hut where Jaciyah picked up extra shifts, so he’d been working “double shifts” recently, just to be able to hang out with Daya whenever he could.

The past week had felt like a perfect balance between his responsibilities and time with her, but tonight, with Jaciyah’s birthday party coming up, he couldn’t wait to have her by his side.

He pulled out his phone and texted Daya: Here. Come on out. Moments later, the door of the apartment opened, and out walked Daya, carrying a gift in her hand. She looked effortlessly stunning as always. Her red V-neck shirt clung perfectly to her frame, and her blue jeans showed off her figure. The white Nike Air Forces completed the look, and her red and black hair cascaded down her shoulders in sleek, flat-ironed waves instead of her usual loose curls.

Jaciyah watched with a smile as she made her way toward the car.

When Daya reached the passenger side, she opened the door and slid into the seat next to him. “Happy birthday, baby,” she said with a sweet smile, handing him the gift bag. Her voice was soft, but there was a certain intensity in her gaze that sent a wave of warmth through him.

Before Jaciyah could say anything, Daya leaned over and kissed him, her lips meeting his with a tenderness that quickly turned passionate. The world around them seemed to disappear as he kissed her back, the pressure of the past week melting away as they lost themselves in the moment.

“Been waiting all week for this,” Daya whispered against his lips as she pulled back slightly, her breath warm against his skin.

Jaciyah grinned, his heart racing. “I think we’re both due for some time alone.” He reached for the gift, ready to see what she’d gotten him.

Jaciyah carefully opened the small box and his eyes lit up as he saw the delicate necklace inside. The gold pendant gleamed, and on it was a simple “D” engraved in a sleek, modern font. A smile spread across his face as he picked it up, feeling a surge of warmth in his chest. “I love it,” he said, his voice low with affection. He fastened the chain around his neck, letting the pendant settle comfortably against his skin.

Daya watched him, her eyes soft and proud. Then, with a playful smirk, she lifted her leg slightly and pointed down toward her ankle. Jaciyah followed her gaze and saw a gold anklet wrapped around her ankle, with a small “J” hanging from it, matching his necklace perfectly. His heart skipped a beat as he took in the sweet gesture.

A grin tugged at his lips. “You really do know how to make me smile,” he said, his voice filled with admiration.

Daya leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, “Only for you, baby.”

Without another word, Jaciyah pulled her in closer, capturing her lips with his. The kiss deepened instantly, the tenderness of their connection shifting to something more intense. They both felt it—their own magnetic pull, the unspoken understanding of their bond, the way their hearts seemed to sync in perfect rhythm. Time seemed to stand still around them as their kiss continued, the world outside the car fading into the background.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested against each other, breathing heavily but smiling. “Best birthday gift ever,” Jaciyah said, still feeling the spark between them.

Daya chuckled softly, “I’m glad you think so. But the night’s just getting started.”

—

5:12 PM

Rhea yawned as she pulled her plum-colored Tahoe into the garage. The day had felt incredibly long. Work was draining, and though she had hoped the break she took earlier to pick up Jeyce would make the day go by faster, it only made everything feel more drawn out. But the one good thing about her shift ending was that she had managed to finish on time, at least. As she opened the car door, the scent of the evening air hit her, and the weight of the day slowly started to lift.

Dropping her bags onto the kitchen counter, Rhea smiled when she saw Jey lounging in the living room. He looked up at her, his face softening into a smile as she approached. She leaned in and kissed him, a gentle but affectionate peck.

“I’m gonna go upstairs and change, okay?” she said softly.

Jey smiled back, nodding. “Okay, love. Jaciyah asked for red and black, so find something in those colors.”

Rhea nodded, but the exhaustion was still weighing on her. As she made her way upstairs, her feet felt heavier with every step. When she reached the bedroom, she sat on the bed with a soft sigh, the day catching up with her. Her feet were now fully swollen, something she was going to get used to moving forward. Kicking off her Vans, she stretched her legs out, feeling the tightness in her muscles.

She undressed slowly, feeling every inch of her body aching, and headed for her dresser. As she rifled through her clothes, she could feel the tiredness consuming her, but she focused on finding something comfortable for the party. She chose an oversized red Civil Regime shirt and paired it with black biker shorts. She changed into fresh socks, opting for knee-length black Nike socks for a more casual, relaxed look.

By the time she finished dressing, Rhea was utterly exhausted. She looked at the time and saw it was 5:25. Knowing that they were still on schedule for Jaciyah’s party, she decided to lie down for a few minutes. The bed felt so inviting, and as soon as she laid down on her side, the weight of her tiredness pulled her into a light, much-needed sleep.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Jey began to realize that Rhea had been upstairs for a while. It wasn’t like her to take so long to get ready, and Jon had asked him to check on her. Jey, always attentive when it came to Rhea, quietly made his way upstairs, a quiet concern growing in his chest.

He gently pushed the door open and peeked inside. He didn’t want to disturb her if she was simply resting, but when he saw Rhea lying on the bed, her body relaxed and her breathing soft, he couldn’t help but feel a tug of worry. The exhaustion in her face was evident, and her feet, still propped up on the bed, looked more swollen than they had been earlier.

Jey walked in quietly, moving toward the bed. He knelt beside her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. He could see how tired she was, but he didn’t want to wake her up. Gently, he placed a hand on her shoulder and whispered, “Love, you okay?”

Rhea stirred slightly but didn’t fully wake, and Jey’s heart softened at the sight of her. He smiled to himself, grateful she had finally allowed herself to rest, even if it was just for a short while. He stood up and pulled the covers over her carefully, then left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. He would let her rest for a bit longer, knowing she had been pushing herself too hard recently.

—

7:18 PM

Soon, the small get-together was in full swing. The upbeat rhythm of Roll Up by Wiz Khalifa played over the stereo system, setting the tone for the evening. The backyard was alive with laughter and conversation as everyone enjoyed the party.

Demi, who Jaciyah and Daya had picked up before they arrived, was outside with Jeyce, playing with Barry and Bella. The two dogs bounced happily around the yard, their energy contagious as the kids threw tennis balls for them to chase. The sound of their laughter filled the air, mixing with the lively beats of the music.

Jon and Trinity were sitting comfortably on the patio furniture, chatting and relaxing, while Jeremiah and Jeremy kept an eye on the crowd, making sure everyone was having a good time. Jesse, ever the protector, stood by the front gate, keeping a vigilant lookout for any unwanted visitors or interruptions.

On the large, oversized swing at the back of the yard, Jaciyah and Daya were nestled together, enjoying a quiet moment. Daya, having recently met Jey officially, felt a sense of relief wash over her. The tension she’d been carrying melted away when Jey made a lighthearted joke about how his dad had accidentally caught himself with Jaciyah’s mom. She laughed, the last bit of worry in her eyes fading.

Daya was a good girl, Jey thought. He was grateful that both of his sons had found someone special, and he felt proud that they were able to share these moments with people they cared about.

Jey, who had been tending to the grill, flipped the meat with practiced precision, making sure everything was cooking just right. He glanced over at Jon, who was lounging in his chair, enjoying the party but always ready to pitch in when needed.

“Jon,” Jey called out. “Keep an eye on the grill for me. I’m going to go wake up Rhea.”

Jon gave him a thumbs-up and stretched his legs out. “No problem, Jey. Go get her. We got it covered here.”

Jey nodded, a grateful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. As he made his way toward the house, he couldn’t help but think about how different everything felt now. Life was chaotic, but it was the good kind of chaos—full of love, laughter, and family.

He reached the door, knocked gently, and entered the room. The quiet hum of the house was a stark contrast to the lively noise outside. As he made his way to the bedroom, he found Rhea exactly where he left her—still curled up on the bed, her breathing slow and steady.

He smiled softly, not wanting to disturb her too much, but knowing she needed to wake up soon to join the celebration. Gently, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Love,” he whispered. “The party’s going great. You’re missing all the fun.”

Rhea stirred, a small groan escaping her lips as she slowly opened her eyes. She blinked a few times, adjusting to the light. “Mmm… did I sleep that long?”

“Yeah,” Jey said with a chuckle. “But it’s okay. We’ve got a while yet. Jaciyah’s been waiting for you.”

Rhea stretched and yawned, sitting up with a tired but content expression. “I really needed that nap,” she murmured, rubbing her eyes.

Jey smiled and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “I know, babe. But you’ve got to come out and enjoy yourself. Everyone’s having a good time.”

Rhea smiled faintly, though she was still clearly worn out. “Alright,” she said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “Let me get my shoes on, and I’ll be out there.”

Jey stood up, offering her a hand to help her up. “Take your time, love. The party’s not going anywhere.”

As Rhea slowly got up, Jey returned to the grill, where Jon had taken over the task of flipping the burgers and ribs, making sure they were cooked just right. He handed Jon the spatula as Rhea emerged from the house, looking casual and comfortable in her outfit.

“Looking good, mama,” Jon said with a wink as Rhea walked toward them.

She laughed softly. “Thanks. Sorry about the nap. I guess I needed it more than I thought.”

“No worries,” Jey said. “We’ll save the party for you.”

As the evening carried on, the atmosphere remained light and fun, the perfect celebration for Jaciyah’s birthday.

Rhea smiled as Trinity handed her a tall glass of the homemade banana chocolate milkshake. The sweet, rich aroma of banana and chocolate filled the air, and Rhea took a sip, savoring the creamy goodness. “So much chocolate,” she said with a playful grin.

“That’s all Jaciyah requested,” Trinity replied, leaning back in her chair and watching as Jey continued to work his magic on the grill, the scent of sizzling meat filling the backyard.

Rhea laughed lightly, the warmth of the moment settling over her. She enjoyed the calm moments like this, surrounded by family and good company. She took another sip of her milkshake and glanced around the yard. Her eyes caught sight of Demi and Jeyce, both kneeling on the grass and playing with Barry and Bella. The two dogs were wagging their tails excitedly, running back and forth as Jeyce tried to teach Demi how to toss a tennis ball.

“Oh my word…” Rhea started, a soft laugh escaping her. “She’s like a mini me,” she said, referring to Demi, who had a similar energy and presence to herself. Demi’s playful nature with the dogs made her smile.

Jon looked over at Demi and Jeyce, laughing. “I know, right?” he said, clearly entertained by the sight.

Trinity, sitting beside Jon, nodded enthusiastically. “I think it’s so cute!” she said. “Her sister Daya, though, she looks just like you if you were to meet Jey when you guys were teenagers.”

Rhea blinked, processing the comparison. “What do you mean?” she asked, glancing at her friend.

“Think about it,” Trinity continued, pointing toward Daya, who was sitting on the swing with Jaciyah. “Daya’s got that strong, independent vibe, just like you had when you were younger. She’s got a bit of that quiet confidence, and you can tell she knows exactly who she is.”

Rhea chuckled, shaking her head. “You guys are crazy, but I see it. I do. It’s funny how life works out.”

Jon leaned back in his chair, a grin on his face as he watched the group. “It’s like his sons found their Rhea’s,” he said, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Both of them are lucky to have such strong women in their lives.”

Rhea’s smile softened, and she nodded. She loved seeing her kids, or rather, Jaciyah and Jeyce, find people who complemented them so well. Daya and Demi weren’t just good for them—they were part of the family now. They fit in effortlessly, and Rhea couldn’t help but feel proud of the bond they were all building together.

Jey looked over his shoulder from the grill, catching Rhea’s eye. He winked at her, his smile widening.

“Everything good, love?” he called out.

Rhea gave him a thumbs-up, her heart swelling with warmth at the sight of her fiancé, the father of her children, cooking for everyone with such pride. It wasn’t just about the food—it was about the family they had created together, the love they had for one another.

Jon raised his drink, toasting toward Jey and Rhea. “You guys are a good match,” he said, his voice loud enough for the group to hear.

“Agreed,” Trinity added, clinking her glass with Rhea’s.

Rhea smiled brightly, her gaze flickering between Jey, the kids, and her family. The evening was everything she could have asked for—peaceful, happy, and filled with the kind of love that made all the struggles worth it. This was their world, and it was perfect in its own chaotic way.

Suddenly, the smooth, reggae beat of No Letting Go by Wayne Wonder filled the air, making the atmosphere shift from laid-back chatter to something more intimate. Trinity, with a playful grin on her face, turned to Jon and said, “Come on, dance with me.”

Jon raised an eyebrow but smiled, clearly amused. “Right now?”

“Yes, right now,” she insisted, tugging on his hand with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Without hesitation, Jon stood up, and they moved toward the center of the yard, swaying to the rhythm of the song.

Rhea, who had been watching them, couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her brother and his wife dancing together. But as she glanced over at Jey, she felt a sudden shift inside her. The soft notes of the song seemed to weave their way into her heart, and in that moment, it felt as if the entire world had disappeared, leaving just the two of them.

She caught Jey’s gaze, and he seemed to understand exactly what she was feeling. Without a word, Jey stood up, his hand extending toward her. His eyes were soft but intense, and it was as if the song had transported them to another time, another place—back to Damian’s AIRBNB in Houston on New Year’s, when everything felt perfect and electric. The world outside of them had blurred, and for that moment, it had been just about them, just about the way they moved together.

Rhea smiled and took his hand, allowing him to pull her gently into his arms. As the song played on, Jey wrapped his arm around her waist, and Rhea placed her hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. They began to sway in unison, the motion slow and natural, just like it had been that night in Houston. The sound of Wayne Wonder’s voice filled the space between them, and it was as if they were floating in their own world, disconnected from everything else around them.

Jey looked down at Rhea, his smile deepening. “Feels like déjà vu, huh?”

Rhea laughed softly, her fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. “Yeah, it does,” she said, her voice soft. “It’s like we’re back there… just the two of us.”

“Back when we didn’t have to worry about anything,” Jey said, his voice low and filled with a certain tenderness.

Rhea nodded, her eyes closing for a moment as she let the music surround them. She remembered that night—how everything had seemed possible. How the future felt wide open and full of promise. It felt like a lifetime ago, but in Jey’s arms, it was as if they had never left that moment.

Jey gently pulled her closer, his lips brushing the top of her head as they continued to dance, the world outside of their little bubble fading away. The laughter of the others in the background felt distant, almost as if it was part of a dream, while the music carried them through the memory of their love.

“Tonight’s special, huh?” Rhea whispered, looking up at him with a soft smile.

“Every moment with you is special,” Jey replied, his voice filled with sincerity. “But yeah, this one feels like it’s just for us.”

As the song played on, they moved together, lost in the comfort of each other’s presence. It was a quiet kind of magic—no words needed, just the rhythm of their hearts and the bond they shared.

When the song finally ended and the next one played, they stood there for a moment, still holding each other, unwilling to break the connection. It felt like a moment they could keep, like they were both suspended in time, just a couple lost in love. The moment would pass, but it would leave its mark, a reminder of how far they had come and how much they still had to look forward to.

—

Everyone’s voices rang out, singing Happy Birthday as Rhea carefully lit the candles on the cake for Jaciyah. The warm glow of the candles flickered in the evening air, and Jaciyah beamed as everyone around him sang in unison. A smile tugged at Rhea’s lips as she watched her son, proud and full of life, standing there surrounded by family. After they finished singing, Jaciyah leaned in and blew out the candles, his wish a silent moment to himself.

Trinity, ever the photographer, quickly grabbed her camera and began snapping pictures of the moment. Laughter and chatter filled the air as the party continued, but then, just as the mood seemed to be at its peak, a shift in energy caught Jey’s attention. Jeremiah, his face tight with concern, approached him from the side, motioning for him to step away.

“Jey, I need to talk to you,” Jeremiah said, his voice low and urgent. “We have a situation.”

Jey’s brow furrowed. He knew the tone in his cousin’s voice all too well—it was the kind of tone that meant something was wrong, something they couldn’t afford to ignore. Without a word, Jey followed Jeremiah, stepping away from the laughter and lightheartedness of the party. They walked toward the gate at the front of the property, and Jey’s eyes narrowed as he noticed a car parked by the entrance.

The vehicle was unfamiliar, and the lights from the party illuminated it just enough for Jey to feel uneasy. He couldn’t see who was inside, but something about the situation made his skin crawl. His instinct told him this wasn’t just a coincidence.

Jeremiah led him closer to the gate, and that’s when the figure stepped out of the car. Jey’s heart skipped a beat as he recognized the man. Jey’s pulse quickened. His jaw clenched.

“We need to speak, Joshua,” Morris said, his voice calm but loaded with an unsettling intensity.

[mattsfavseason]

you make me love Christmas.

wc: 755, and yes I know, Matt actually knows how to skate, remember it's fanfiction ! @letstrip13 & @mattscoquette

y/n could be, black, white, mixed, purple, pink, she could be everyone ! She's a woman for sure, and I'm just the writer, you're the reader it's up to what's makes you comfortable ❤

Snowflakes were falling gently as Y/N pulled Matt’s hand, practically dragging him toward the ice rink. Her cheeks were flushed, whether from the cold or excitement, Matt couldn’t tell.

“Why are you so energetic in the middle of a snowstorm?” he asked, laughing as he struggled to keep up.

“Because it’s fun! And because I’m about to witness you attempt skating for the first time,” she teased, her grin wide.

Matt rolled his eyes, his breath visible in the crisp air. “You’re really banking on me wiping out, huh?”

“Not at all,” Y/N said with mock innocence, though the glint in her eyes said otherwise.

They laced up their skates together, Y/N finishing first and gliding onto the ice like she’d been born to skate. Matt, on the other hand, wobbled his way to the edge of the rink, gripping it for dear life.

“I think I’ll stay right here,” he called, clearly half-joking.

“Nope!” Y/N skated back to him, holding out her hands. “Come on, you’re in good hands.”

Matt hesitated before grabbing hold of her, letting her guide him onto the ice. His legs immediately betrayed him, sliding in different directions.

Y/N bit her lip to keep from laughing. “You’re doing great!” she encouraged, though her voice shook with amusement.

Matt looked up at her, clearly unconvinced. “You think falling on my face counts as progress?”

“You’re not on your face,” she pointed out, grinning.

By the end of their time on the ice, Matt was surprisingly steady, skating next to her like a pro or, at least, not like someone skating for the first time.

“See? I told you you’d get it,” Y/N said, giving him a small nudge.

“I think it’s just you making me look good,” Matt replied, his smile soft as his eyes lingered on her a little longer than necessary.

Back at Y/N’s place, the backyard was a winter wonderland, perfect for building a snowman.

“His base needs to be solid,” Y/N instructed, rolling a giant ball of snow across the yard.

Matt followed, though his snowball was a little lopsided. “Why do I feel like you’ve done this a hundred times?”

“Because I have,” Y/N replied matter-of-factly. “You’ve got to take snowman-building seriously.”

They worked together, stacking the snowballs into the perfect snowman shape. Y/N added a carrot nose and button eyes while Matt found some sticks for arms.

“He’s kind of… wonky,” Matt observed, tilting his head.

“Wonky is charming,” Y/N argued, tying a scarf around the snowman’s neck.

When they finished, they stepped back to admire their work. Matt wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his body warm against hers despite the cold.

“Not bad,” he said.

“Not bad at all,” Y/N echoed, leaning her head against him.

The evening ended in Y/N’s kitchen, where they decided to bake and decorate a gingerbread house. The warmth from the oven was a welcome contrast to the chill outside, and the counter was covered in bowls of icing, gumdrops, and candy canes.

“Alright,” Y/N began, clapping her hands. “We’re aiming for a Pinterest-worthy house.”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “Have you met me? I can barely pipe icing straight.”

“Then focus on sticking the candy on,” Y/N said, laughing as she handed him a bowl of gumdrops.

As they worked, Matt got more confident, even creating a candy cane archway. Y/N, meanwhile, carefully piped snowflakes onto the roof.

“This is weirdly therapeutic,” Matt admitted, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

Y/N leaned over to inspect his side of the house. “Not bad, Sturniolo. You might have a future in baking.”

He smirked. “And yet…” Without warning, he dipped a finger into the icing and dabbed it onto her nose.

“Matt!” Y/N gasped, grabbing a handful of sprinkles and tossing them at him.

What started as a peaceful decorating session quickly devolved into a sprinkle war, leaving both of them breathless with laughter and the kitchen in absolute chaos.

By the time they finished cleaning up, they were exhausted but happy. They sat on the couch, mugs of cocoa in hand, the snowman visible through the window and their gingerbread house proudly displayed on the counter.

Y/N leaned her head on Matt’s shoulder, her voice soft. “This might be my favorite day ever, you make me love Christmas”.

Matt glanced at her, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Mine too, but I'm glad to be the person that makes you love Christmas, that's what make you so special”.

And in that quiet moment, surrounded by the warmth of the house and the laughter they shared, neither of them wanted the night to end.

[obitez]

Holiday Bets

written for @bucktommywinterfest

Round 3: Holiday Themed Calls

Rating: T Word Count: 1447

Additional Tags: Established Relationship,

Warnings: Canon-typical Emergencies,

Tommy looked down as his phone buzzed again with an incoming text message. He looked down, as he did so, Lucy looked over from where she was sitting from him across the table.  “Who is it? Buck again?” she asked.  Tommy waved her away. “I didn’t even unlock my phone,” he said. “Let me see what he said before you interrogate me.” “So he did text you?” Lucy asked. Tommy ignored the question, and read the message.  Evan: How many calls with X-mas trees do you bet we’ll get?  Tommy chuckled reading the message. They had been dating for a little over eight months, and Buck never ceased to surprise him. He typed a message back and hit send. Tommy: What are you talking about?

“So,” Lucy leant forward in the seat she was sitting in. “What’s he talking about that has you laughing?”  Tommy held his phone to his chest. “What’s got you wanting to know?” he asked.  Lucy narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh come on,” she said. “I know it’s Buck, but he wouldn’t be sending you anything you need to hide from someone while you’re at work.”  Tommy chose not to follow up on whatever that statement meant, and instead tried redirecting. “What’s got you so interested?” he asked. “I’ve texted him a lot before here.”  She leant back a little then, resting her chin on her hand and studied him. “Maybe I’ve been wanting to question you about what you talk about for months now…” 

Tommy’s phone buzzed again, and Lucy lifted an eyebrow as she heard the slight vibration. Tommy quickly looked down to read the message on the lock screen.  Evan: Chimney saw a x-mas tree stand this morning and wants… (unlock for more) Before he could unlock his phone to read the actual message, Lucy came around him to look over his shoulder. “So what’s he talking about?” she asked.  Tommy knew there would be know winning with her for now, so just unlocked his phone and let him read the texts as he did. 

Evan: Chimney saw a x-mas tree stand this morning and wants to make a bet on how many x-mas tree calls well get this year “Oh,” so Lucy hummed. “They’re still making bets over there.”  “They never stopped,” Tommy said as he began typing a question.  Tommy: are we talking just A-shift or all the 118? It took a couple minutes for Buck to respond, but he did after a couple minutes.  Evan: just a-shift “I say six calls,” Lucy’s voice popped into his ear to say.  “What?” Tommy asked.  “I just read the message,” Lucy said as she walked back around the table to sit in the chair she had vacated. “How many Christmas tree calls are they going to get? I say six.” Tommy rolled his eyes as he texted Buck back.  Tommy: I say 8, Lucy says 6

An hour later, Buck texted him again.  Evan: +1 - a guy fell carrying a tree into his house and hit his head Tommy knew he shouldn’t laugh at someone’s misfortune, especially when it was bad enough that they needed to call 911, but he let out a little chuckle. No one was around to see or hear it, so if asked, he would deny it. Tommy gave Buck’s message a thumbs up right as their own alarm started sounding.  Later that evening, right before the sun started to go down, Buck texted him again.  Evan: 2 - another guy fell trying to get his fake tree down from his attic Tommy’s eyebrow lifted at reading that. Two in one day? It was only the first week of December. At this rate Lucy was going to lose big time, so was he. This time he actually wrote Buck a message.  Tommy: 2 in one day? How many calls did you bet on?

Evan: I took your advice and bet 8 Evan: Eddie only bet 3, I think he’s going to lose That was the last call, Christmas Tree or otherwise, that the 118 had received that shift, so Tommy didn’t get any more texts. Their next shift, the 118 hadn’t received any Christmas tree related calls at all, but Tommy’s team did.  Shortly after 10 a.m. the alarm rang and they were called out for a medevac at a Christmas Tree farm just east of the LA city limits. Dispatch didn’t provide them many details about what was happening on scene, something about one of the workers cutting down a tree and getting hurt by a chainsaw. There were already EMTs on scene providing treatment, but they would need a helicopter transport to get the patient to the hospital if they wanted him treated in time.  Tommy wondered if this could be included in the bet. Maybe they would have to start a new one, how many calls involving Christmas Trees will the Harbor team receive this year? That would be a good one, they could make it a competition.  “Over there’s the clearing they mentioned,” Lucy pointed at a small grassy clearing about a hundred yards outside of the group of evergreens. Tommy could see the ambulance that had arrived ahead of them. He set the helicopter down, and within ten minutes the patient was loaded and they were on their way to take him to the hospital.  When they finally returned to Harbor Station an hour later, Tommy fished his phone out of his pocket to text Buck.

Tommy: Do you want to make a bet on how many Christmas tree calls we’re going to get?  Buck texted back less than a minute later.  Evan: we’re still ahead of you 😉 Maybe this could just be a thing between him and Buck, Tommy thought. No need to get the others’ opinions on it.  Their last shift of the bet was the day before Christmas Eve, they had both gotten lucky this year, that way. So far, the 118 had made 7 calls involving Christmas Trees, none of them had life threatening injuries, thank God, while Harbor had only had that first one.

Evan: One more day to get to 8 calls! Tommy rolled his eyes as he read Buck’s text message as he typed a response.  Tommy: Aren’t we not supposed to be wishing for people’s misfortune? Buck: 🙄 we’ll get at least one call today. I just want only one to involve a Christmas tree. Tommy: Be careful what you wish for Be careful what you wish for was right.  It was halfway past 11 p.m. when Tommy got another text from Buck.  Evan: Can we talk?

The notification from the text message made the screen and bunk Tommy had been trying to get a quick nap in light up. He hummed as he picked the phone up to read it.  At this hour, with a message like that, Tommy figured Buck most likely wanted to actually talk, as in on the phone, not through texts.  He rolled over and planted his feet on the floor as he got out of the bunk and walked out of the room, not wanting to disturb the others trying to get some rest. Then he brought the phone up to his ear as he listened to it dial Buck’s number.  “T- Tommy?” Buck;s voice sounded from the phone speaker.  “Hey,” Tommy greeted him. “What’s up? Why’d you want to talk?”  Buck was silent for a minute, and Tommy listened to the sound of his breaths, slow and slightly deep.  “We… We had a bad call,” Buck finally said. And Tommy waited him out, figuring out the reason Buck wanted to call him. It wasn’t so much he wanted to have a conversation but, he just needed to put the words out there.  “It was a house fire…” Buck said. “We got there not even five minutes after the call came in, but the place was fully blazing. It started from the lights on the Christmas Tree,” Buck sucked in a deep breath. “The only good thing was that no one was home. No one was hurt… But they lost their house, Tommy! You should have seen the looks on their faces when they drove down the street to find their place up in flames.” Tommy was silent for a moment, thinking over what he should say. “No one was hurt though, right?” he asked. Buck hummed in confirmation. “Then that’s one good thing. Yes, they lost their house, right before Christmas, but at least no one was inside right?”  “Yeah,” Buck repeated.  The following morning, no one brought up the results of the bet and who won. It was never mentioned again. 

[blondiedae]

dry house, wet clothes (ten)

𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃 dry house, wet clothes, ten

pairing. johnny suh x afab!reader x jeong jaehyun

genre. angst, fluff, eventual smut, slow burn (for jaehyun), friends to lovers (for johnny)

warnings. swearing, kissing, angst, fluff, miscommunication, angst (again)

word count. 15,915

plot. the four of you have spent years building the world around you, your friendship, your weekends together hidden in jaehyun's loft. you, mark, johnny and jaehyun. shaking the foundation of that by being in love with your best friend, jaehyun, is a risk you've never been confident enough to take. but, johnny suh is confident and johnny suh has been known to shake the world around you.

other's mentioned. kim jungwoo, best friend mark lee, lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta, lee donghyuck (haechan)

author's note. i deleted 5k of johnny/yn smut, because it felt gratuitous. (maybe i’ll release it as a bonus) so, there’s not smut in this, though it is suggestive. how are we feeling y’all?

taglist (open). @xiaojunsdino @yoursyuno @girlisaloser

playlist. here!

“Something happened.”

Haechan was across from you, relaxed in a way that felt like a taunt. You only looked at him, only shook your head, only focused back on your work - his work - and told him, “Nothing happened.”

There was a note in your pocket, tucked in your coat and resting against your leg, that implied otherwise. It burned and burned and singed the lining until you felt it on your skin. Three days had gone by, three days into what sometimes felt like spring, what lingered of winter. Three days of reading and rereading I miss you too and doing nothing about it. Your hand fell to your side, resting on top of Jaehyun’s note. It was simple enough to lie, to let Haechan and his novel and his not-so-new ending be a distraction. Haechan was not a simple person, “You’re really bad at lying.”

“And you’re bad at writing.”

“We both know that’s not true.” He smirked, he lowered his head and smirked, “If you’re going to insult me, make it believable.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Okay. Nothing happened.” You nodded, he nodded. The café around you was still for a moment, a quiet Wednesday mid morning. It was quiet enough to hear your pen scratching, the clink of dishes and knives and forks, the cogs in Haechan’s brain rotating with a screech before he said, “Close your eyes.”

“I’m not doing that.” You tapped the papers in front of him, “Pick your cover.”

“I’m not doing that.” He leaned closer, “Come on. Close your eyes for thirty seconds. Humor me.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to. Because you’re tense and it’s making me tense. I don’t want to be tense. So breathe, close your eyes and relax for a minute.” Haechan gave a smile, one he didn’t commit to but that you were sure was supposed to be reassuring. Then, he reminded you, “Like I said, mopey you hurts my book.”

You leaned back, shoulder blades sinking into the plush chair behind you. You could feel the shift of it, the weight of a piece of paper folded up three inches by four moving in your pocket and leaving heat behind as it did. Jaehyun, on paper, still leaving you burning. You clicked your tongue, then your pen, and relented, surrendered, closed your eyes to block out Haechan looking smug across from you.

Sighing, you said, “They’re closed.”

“Good. Relax.” More clattering, more clinking. Someone laughed, loud and boisterous, across the room. Haechan let out a breath and you, you kept your eyes closed. You let every sound go through you until it felt right to open your eyes to them, to identify and clarify them. Haechan was quick to stop you, “Not yet.”

“You said thirty seconds.”

“I lied. Keep them closed.” He grabbed something off the table; another sound, of it dragging against the marble, “How is Johnny?”

You smiled, you couldn’t help it. Eyes still shut, you just grinned, “He’s good.” You spent every moment you could with him, “He’s really good.”

You were so wrapped up in him. Haechan made a sound, followed by scratching, followed by another question, “When are you going to see him next?”

That morning, six hours ago, Johnny had kissed your lips, your forehead and pleaded, “Come see me at work.”

You’d told him, “I have a meeting.”

Johnny pouted, lips pushed out and plump from kissing you; from a morning of nothing else but kissing you. He’d spend every morning, every afternoon, every evening like that if you’d, “Just come see me when it’s done.”

“Okay.” With a nod and whisper and the rustling of your sheets, you agreed. With another kiss, a prolonged kiss, one last kiss, he left. So now, with your eyes closed in a café, you told Haechan, “Later. When I leave here.”

“Aw. Why didn’t you invite me?”

“Because I think you two would get along. Too well.” They were too much alike. There was a shift in Johnny, sometime in October. Somewhere between I think I like you and You’re a star, Johnny had morphed into a version of himself you never even considered before. Haechan was like Johnny before, Johnny as he was sometimes still. Johnny who loved to taunt and tease, “Two against one isn’t fair.”

“Oh, I have to meet him, now.” The noise in the café picked up, a crowd coming in and filling the space with new sounds. It felt ridiculous to be sitting with your eyes closed, “Do you miss him?”

“I saw him this morning.

“Doesn’t answer my question.”

You relaxed, then, into the memories of Johnny - Johnny this morning, Johnny last week, Johnny as he is now and how he was before. The same smile crept onto your face and you let it, gave into it, basked in it. It was impossible to fight, “Yeah.”

“Huh. I was wrong.”

“About what?”

Haechan scratched at something, scribbled something new and said, “You really love him.”

Your eyes opened, despite his scolding, “I…yeah, I think I do.” I think I like you echoed in your head. It didn’t feel so strange, only thinking about it. It was a step towards saying it to the one who needed to hear it. It was a step in admiring it. Thinking about it and saying it, out loud, to Haechan, “You didn’t think I did?”

“Not what I said.” He pointed at you with his pen - your pen - then tapped it against the pad of paper in his lap. You could see words scratched quickly, some resting on the line and others missing the mark. Lee Haechan, the café therapist, jotting down notes and asking you, “How is Mark?”

This was a pattern and you knew what came next, “Mark is fine. He’s finishing up school.” You knew who came next in this exact line of questioning. Johnny, Mark and the one setting fire to your skin, still. The one tucked away in your pocket. You warned, “Haechan-”

“How is Jaehyun?” Your face fell, Haechan watched it fumble and plummet, “Any word?”

Burning, burning, burning. Three days. Instinctively your hand rested on top of it, again, pressing the heat further into your skin. You hesitated, you knew that you did and you knew that Haechan did, too. Your eyes were wide open now and, after ten minutes of having them closed, you couldn’t hide what was written in them; pouring out of them. Haechan hummed again, chewed at the end of your pen and hummed.

There wasn’t any use in lying. You couldn’t think of a reason to try, “Yeah. A few days ago.”

“And?”

“He said he missed me.”

“After two weeks?”

You corrected him, “After two months.”

“Right.” It was Haechan’s turn to shift. He adjusted in his seat, pulling one leg up to cross over the other, “I think she was his first love, but I don’t think he was hers.”

“What?”

“I think she was his first love, but I don’t think he was hers.”

“You’re too short to be talking in riddles. People will think you live under a bridge.”

“You have so much bite in you, lately. I kind of like it.” It read on his face, pure amusement when he went on, “I’m talking about the book. Sanghoon. I don’t think he was her first love.”

“Okay.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

Riddles and riddles, Haechan spoke with purpose but it hardly made sense. He wasn’t frustrated when he explained, but he was serious. Maybe stern, “Your first love. Do you think he was the first?”

“I…yes?” Reflecting on Sicheng had gotten easier with time, still you shifted in your own seat, “I loved him. A lot.”

“Right. But was he the first?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He put his notepad down, placed it in front of your so you could read it clearly; nonsense words, lyrics to a Michael Jackson song, a sloppy drawing of a coffee mug. Nonsensical, as he ever was. He pointed to one of the covers, one of three on a sheet in front of him, “I like this one.”

📻

Your phone rang at 6:43am.

The first ring you didn’t notice, the second one sounded like a melody in your dream. The third time and the song was too familiar, too clear to be a dream, so by the fourth ring you came to. Back to reality, back to your room, blinking yourself awake through the fifth ring until the call was missed.

[1 Missed call from Jae]

The voicemail came a moment later, after you’d sat up, after your stomach dropped. After you’d picked up your phone and felt frozen in time. Your thumbs hovered over the screen, two hands wrapped around something so small - something locked in it that was so, so big. After six minutes, you let the message play.

“Hey. I…I’m - you’re probably sleeping. I just was…can we talk? If you still want space, that’s fine. But, I will, uh, I’m outside and I’ll wait a few minutes if you…if you decide. You - yeah, okay. Bye.”

Six minutes had passed. Six and another two, after you’d pressed play. Jaehyun sounded…you hadn’t heard his voice in two months and he sounded the same, familiar, like something you’d lost. He sounded like your Jaehyun. Your limbs untangled themselves from a mess of sheets, checking the time on your phone once - 6:52am - twice - 6:52am - three times - 6:53am.

Then you were standing at your window, looking down at familiarity; a black car, his black car, parked and running outside of your house. Your fingers moved on your screen again, typing out, 6:54am I’m coming down.

He was leaning against the passenger side door when you finally looked up, staring at you intently with his hands deep in his pockets. Jaehyun was holding his breath, watching every step you took and counting the seconds until you were directly in front of him. A reflection of the past, a replica of Halloween night, time looping and repeating itself.

But the chill was different, from October to March. In October, the cold meant something was ending; summer had come to an end, the sun needed more rest than usual. The breeze that bit your skin in October was a precursor, a preview, an introduction to months of wrapping yourself in something, desperate for warmth. You chose Johnny.

In March, though, the cold was fleeting; the sun started staying in the sky longer, letting its beams kiss the Earth in an attempt to revive it. In March, the cold wasn’t as harsh, it didn’t bite as hard, it was a transition into spring and the promise of warmer days. March, indecisive and unpredictable, was meant for hope. You stood on your front step, your coat pulled tightly around you until spring settled in. Jaehyun let out a breath and you watched it dance in the air, watched it disappear.

The sun was just now thinking of rising, preparing to start a new day and Jaehyun was just thinking of speaking, preparing everything he’d thought for the last two months. It would all rush out at once, if he wasn’t careful, if he didn’t move with intention. He cleared his throat, “Hey.”

“Hi.” Your own voice was strained, still tired, still dreaming. You took a step closer, “Hey.”

“Can I…” Jaehyun pointed to your steps, faltered and pointed over his own shoulder, “Or do you want to…?”

“Um, we can talk here.”

Jaehyun came to you, hesitant. Every step was agonizing until he was there, just in front of you, “I’m-”

Two months of time, two months of space, “Don’t say sorry. Please don’t say sorry.”

Jaehyun blinked, “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know.” You shook your head, you could do everything to fight them off, but you knew tears were coming. They lingered at the corners of your eyes, “Just not that. I’m so tired of it.”

“Me too.” He huffed out a quiet laugh, a rush of anxiety and uncertainty, “I-”

You hugged him. It was simple and it was instinctual, the way your arms wrapped around his neck, the way your face buried into his neck. Breathing him in, pushing away two months to stand on your porch and wait for him to hold you, too. Jaehyun did, simply and instinctually, arms around your waist as tight as they could be. It was silent for so long, never too long. It was comfortably silent and still, five days into March, waiting for the two of you to come back to life.

You stayed like that for ten minutes, letting the sun start rising around you. You stayed like that until your sniffles turned into tired laughs, laughs turned into more silence, shared silence.

The two of you were sitting on your porch when you finally asked, “How have you been?”

“Uh.” Jaehyun thought, honesty weighing on him, “Okay, I guess. Alright.”

“Yeah?” You chose to believe him, “That’s good.”

“You?”

“Good. Really…I mean, I’ve been good.” It was the truth, but you didn’t want to deny it, didn’t want to discount it, “I missed you, Jaehyun.”

“I know. Me too.”

“Mark played messenger.”

“Yeah. Poor kid.” Jaehyun knew he should ask, so he swallowed the lump in his throat before he did, “How is Johnny?”

It took you a moment to say, “He’s good, too.”

Then, Jaehyun gathered his thoughts, his intentions, and said, “I don’t really know…I didn’t think about how this would go. I almost left.”

“Hm.”

“I just wanted to know where we stand. I just wanted to see you. I know two months isn’t that long, but it-”

“It’s an eternity.” Jaehyun turned to you, eyes focused on every move you made, trying to find his way back inside your head, “Two months is too long. I know I said I wanted to take a break-”

“You had every right to.”

“But, I missed you so much.”

You wondered how many times you could say it; I miss you. Jaehyun did, too. I miss you felt like a substitute for I’m sorry. You didn’t know how to stop saying it, how to stop time from looping until you’d run I miss you into the ground. It felt like the only thing left to say, something to ease your way back after time and space and silence.

The sun had come up enough to turn the sky a lighter shade of blue, tickled with hues of orange and pink. Jaehyun’s phone sounded in his pocket, ringing until he pulled it out and checked the time, “I have to go.”

“Sure. Of course.”

He stood up, “Maybe, uh, maybe we can talk more later.”

“We can try.” You stood when he did, hands brushing off dirt at your sides, “I’ll call.”

Jaehyun nodded, “Okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye, Jae.”

“Bye.” He turned to leave, hands tucking back into his pockets as he moved down three steps. Jaehyun had made it halfway down your path, halfway to his car, when he stopped, “Can I ask something?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, “Anything.”

Jaehyun’s smile was shy, almost playful. He was teetering on the edge of asking or bailing, brushing everything off and leaving you to wonder. He was embarrassed in a way, nervous in another; feeling strange stopping to ask you, “Are we still best friends?”

You laughed, his heart beat faster until you said, “Of course.”

Jaehyun told you, “I’ll see you.”

And then he left.

You waited until you got inside to fall apart, allowing yourself a moment in the quiet of your house. You waited two months for something you started to end, allowing yourself to hope and wish and want for him. For something. You waited two weeks and pretended that everything was fine, as it should be. And in a blink, it was. In a blink, Jaehyun was at your door. In a blink the pieces of you that he’d taken came back, fell into their places like they’d never left.

Like he’d never taken them.

Like you’d never handed them to Jaehyun and pushed him out and out and out.

Your phone was on your bed when you’d crawled back up the stairs. It was instinct to pick it up, to call him and tell him everything you could. He answered on the second ring, “Good morning, beautiful.” Johnny’s voice was like heaven, a perfect sound to your tired mind, “You’re up early.”

“Yeah. Um, yeah.” You sat on the edge of your bed, “Jaehyun was just here.”

Johnny said, under a breath, “Oh.”

“He called and asked if we…if we could talk.”

“Did you guys talk, then?”

“Yes.”

Johnny wanted to be supportive. He was supportive. He knew how the past two months had gone, he knew the way your lips twitched when you told him things were fine, you were fine, everything was fine. Johnny knew how much you’d missed Jaehyun. And, even if he could still hear Yuta and Taeyong in the back of his mind, Johnny pushed it away. If it made you happy, he’d swallow suspicion he wasn’t keen to have and Johnny would ask, “How’d it go?”

“I think well.” You let out a long breath, falling back and sinking into your waiting sheets, “I think it went well.”

And Johnny smiled, knowing you couldn’t see him. He smiled and hoped that it read as relief, that you could hear it in his voice when he told you, “That’s so good, baby. That’s great.”

📻

Johnny kissed your cheeks, your neck, just behind your ear. His lips found unmarked skin and littered it with affection, adoration. The morning had come in slowly, so he was taking all the time he had with you, letting the sun fill his bedroom with light at whatever pace it pleased. You were beside him, beside yourself with that feeling you’d placed but hadn’t said - not to him. His apartment had turned into a habitat for all the butterflies he’d conjured, all the fluttering feelings Johnny inspired.

His fingers pulled at your shirt - at his shirt - where it rested, bunched up, at your waist. Johnny suggested, “Stay here with me. All day.”

“Hm.”

“Hm what?” He kissed down your neck, again, “Do you have plans?”

“I do.”

“Oh yeah?” Johnny pulled back, “What are they?”

Your eyes sparkled, twinkled, filled with light and fueled by mischief when you said, “Whatever we’re doing right now.”

“Oh, so you’re funny now-”

“I always have been-”

“You’re funny and you have jokes.” It was vicious the way his hands dug into your sides, how his fingers tickled at you until you were desperate to be out from underneath him. But you giggled and giggled until you erupted into laughter and Johnny drank in every sound you made, a broad grin ever-present on his face. His lips went back to kissing, his teeth went back to nipping and Johnny was lost in a mess of bliss, “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Kiss me?”

“Been doing that.”

The sun was coming up behind him, his bedroom slowly filled with light. You looked up at him, eyes still sparkling, and brought his fingertips to your lips, “Not here.”

“You want me to kiss you,” Johnny came closer to hover over you, one finger tracing the outline of your lips, “Here?”

“Please.”

And he did. It was slow, just as the morning had started off, then all at once it was so much more. His room was covered in sunlight and you were covered with him. Johnny had you hypnotized, had such a hold on you that you might fall without him. He’d rather you fall with him, Johnny would rather you stay just like this and fall into sync with his heart, his mind.

He thought to say it, again. For him, it had almost been a year and he was bursting with words still unsaid, still patiently waiting for the right time. He knew you felt it, he could just say it and the world would keep spinning; it might spin faster, more smoothly, with purpose. Johnny put everything he had into kissing you, quiet moans and even softer sighs falling into you.

He settled on confessing, “Today isn’t long enough. Need you like this always.”

“You have me.”

“What else should I do with you?”

He knew the answer. Johnny felt the heat coming off your body, heard the way you gasped when his fingers grazed your skin. His mind was reeling, his hands were roaming, doing everything he could to hear you call for him, “Want you.”

“Right here, baby?” His hand pulled at the back of your thigh, draping your leg over his hip and grinding down into you. The sound you made had Johnny gasping for air, pressing breathless kisses into your collarbone, “Louder.”

“Johnny, I-” The way he was positioned, the way the sun decided to rise, had Johnny haloed in a perfect ring of light. It was blinding, looking at him directly, but you couldn’t look away. He was drenched in the light of a new day and - even if the sun was in the room with you, even if it burned everything around you - you didn’t look away. It would be worth it, just to see the light in his hair, in his eyes, the way it burned inside him.

Johnny kissed you, lips hungry for you and thought to say it, again. It was almost every thought he had in his mind, looking at you underneath him. The sun was kind, the way it kissed your skin. Johnny envied it, knowing the rays were covering his own marks, warming you in ways he just couldn’t. The words were so close to coming out when he whispered your name, called you, “Baby, I-”

You said it, “I love you.”

And, like his lips opened into an echo chamber, Johnny said it back, “I love you.” He took a moment, let the words settle, let his heart beat race before he repeated it, again, “Oh my God. I love you.”

It felt like a shock to your system, sending you into overdrive, “I really…Johnny, I love you.”

“My Juliet. Holy shit.” Again, your name fell from his lips, “I love you.”

Your heart burst, the words kept spilling from your lips and his; like a melody, like a canon. If Johnny said it, you did too. If you kissed him and whispered it, he did the same. It was impossible to stop. Johnny grabbed your hand, put it over his heart so you could feel how it beat; just for you, only for you. Every time you kissed him it beat a little faster, when you called his name you could feel it skip.

“That night.” He stuttered, his hips rolled against yours, “The night you saw your star, I wanted - God - I wanted to take things slow.”

You nodded, “I know.”

“I wanted to say it and I couldn’t, it felt too soon.” He was panting above you, trying to explain something you understood. But, for Johnny, leaving something unsaid was like torture, so he explained and he confessed and he waited for the moment to be right be vulnerable say, “I wanted to make love to you.”

It sounded so silly, so Johnny laughed. Admitting something so simple felt ridiculous, but it was a weight off his chest, all the same. You held his heart, held his face with your other hand. Johnny wouldn’t look anywhere but into your eyes, “Will you do that now?”

“I would love to.”

📻

It was quick, the way it happened. How things fell back into place.

Jaehyun called. He told you about his day while the world was quieting down, you’d sit and listen and respond as you should. His voice was a comfort, his voice was like home. Hearing Jaehyun speak - even if it was about something you’d never understand, mergers and deals and meetings you’d never be part of - you would listen. You’d take every moment, hang on every word, press your phone to your ear until it was too hot. Then, you’d put him on speaker and listen to Jaehyun speak; like an old song, a nostalgic song, a song you’d always know.

You would text Jaehyun; send him pictures and paragraphs, links and clips and quips just to remind him that there was still a place for him with you. There was always a space for Jaehyun in your life. You’d ask him to come over, stop by the loft and Jaehyun knew you’d end the night with Johnny, that you were always thinking of him, tiptoeing around mentioning him; Jaehyun’s best friend Johnny. But, he was content to have the time he did with you. If it was fleeting, if it was borrowed. Any time he could have, at all.

“You wanna grab food?” You had called this time, phone cool against your face. Jaehyun had picked up on the third ring, “I’m meeting Johnny at nine.”

He agreed to it, “Yeah, I can make that work.”

It had taken one week for you to fall back into pace with him, fall back into the routine of starting and ending your days with Johnny, making time for Jaehyun in the middle, “Should I invite Mark?”

“You can.” He added, “That would be great.”

The three of you sat around a small table, plates of food taking up every corner. Jaehyun next to Mark next to you next to Jaehyun. It was too early for dinner, much too late for lunch, but it was quiet and it was comfortable. Jaehyun relaxed into it, dipped his toes into the routine of three again, knowing four was coming next. Knowing that avoiding the fourth would only work for so long. Who do you think is hurting her?

He’d circled back to that for two months, wearing out a hole in his bedroom floor from the laps he’d done. Jaehyun would sit and he would dwell and he would wish on every star he saw; for courage or something close enough to it. Close enough to what he needed to make his way back to you. His cowardice ate at him until his birthday, until he saw you on his doorstep and sat frozen in his office; just past the door, just down the hall.

And still he did nothing, not even when he was prompted. Nothing that was significant enough, not for two weeks.

He didn’t think he could stomach it. But what you’d said had been so simple and he could mimic that. Jaehyun could do simple; complexities could destroy him.

Mark grinned around a bite of food, puffing out his cheeks to make room for a mumble, “This is so good.”

“The noodles?”

“Yes.” He nodded, he flipped his hat backward on his head, then Mark went on, “But us being back together. It’s really good.”

Jaehyun agreed, reaching across the table to wrap noodles around his fork, “Yeah. It is.”

Then Mark asked, “Does Johnny know?”

And like the winter had come back, like ice was waiting for a moment to freeze him over, Jaehyun stopped. He looked at you, out of the corner of his eye, and waited, waited, waited for you to move. For you to say something.

You didn’t falter, smiling at Mark and taking another bite, “Yeah, he knows.” Jaehyun didn't know that, a week and a half in and maybe he should’ve assumed, “He was going to try and meet us here.”

Jaehyun picked at his plate, Jaehyun attempted simplicity and nonchalance, “When did you tell him?”

“As soon as you left.” Eyes set on Jaehyun, you swallowed another bite, coughing when it got stuck on your pride. Haechan was right, there was some bite still in you and your teeth were barred when you added, “We don’t keep stuff from each other.”

It was like a cue; you spoke, the doorbell chimes, Johnny walked in. Jaehyun saw him first, Johnny coming around the corner and into view. He watched every step, how Johnny only looked at you until you could see him - tunnel vision for you, eyes only for you. Johnny grinned and said, “Hi babe.”

So, you turned, “Hey, Romeo.”

And Jaehyun swallowed, waiting to be addressed. Johnny clapped a hand on Mark’s back, smiled down at him, then he finally acknowledged Jaehyun. He came around the table with his hand out, Jaehyun got to his feet and accepted it; when Johnny pulled him in, when Johnny held his face, when Johnny pushed Yuta and Taeyong out of his head and said, “It’s good to see you, man.”

“Yeah.” It was. In some ways. It was terrifying and it was good, “You too, John.”

It was quick, the way it happened. How you all ended up back in the loft.

Johnny and you, Mark and Jaehyun. It was Mark’s suggestion, it was by Mark’s urging. It was Mark crying about his midterms in the middle of the night, on the phone with you, on the phone with Johnny, on the phone with Jaehyun.

“Who is getting snacks?”

Mark volunteered, “I will! I dragged you all here.”

“You didn't drag us anywhere, Mark. We want to be here.”

Jaehyun asked, “Who is going with?”

“Baby?” Jaehyun still wasn’t used to hearing Johnny call you that, even your name sounded new when he said it, “I’ll buy you ramen if you go.”

“Not a good enough deal, babe.” It rattled him more, coming from you, “Haechan made me go to a spin class.”

Mark was leaning against Johnny, elbow extended beyond his own height to reach Johnny’s shoulder, “That’s your author, right?”

“Yes.”

“Is that normal?”

Johnny answered for you, “It’s not. But, from what I’ve heard, neither is he. But, I’ve been on my feet all day.”

You challenged, “You sat on FaceTime with me in your office for three hours. Try again.”

“Oh, it’s like that?” Johnny stepped away from Mark, pulling you into him and picking you up. The two of you spun, the two of you laughed and Jaehyun still tried to adjust to the two of you. Johnny put you down, put a kiss to your lips, “Fine. Come on, Mark.”

It was quick, the way Johnny noticed it. How Jaehyun looked at you, how he lingered near you.

He tried not to notice, he tried to brush it off as paranoia; Johnny wanted to blame Yuta and Taeyong and two months of time between you and Jaehyun. It was increasingly difficult to do. Things that Johnny had written off as normal - before New Years, before Christmas, before Halloween - not settled underneath his skin, made him itch. Jaehyun with his eyes on you, only on you. Jaehyun with a dimpled smile whenever you spoke. Jaehyun holding onto every word you said, leaning closer and closer until Johnny felt like he could scream. He couldn’t tell the difference between the exaggerations of a paranoid mind and reality.

Johnny was losing his hold on reality, when it came to Jaehyun and you. It had always been territory he hadn’t touched; if Johnny started picking at layers now, he’d be digging for an eternity. But the way Jaehyun was with you the first night you’d all had dinner made Johnny weary. The way Jaehyun said goodbye when Johnny picked you up - taking you a way to spend another night with him, a night of whispered I love you’s with him - made Johnny nervous.

And the way Jaehyun looked at you, when Mark and Johnny made their way out of the loft, made him suspicious in a concrete way, in a way that urged him to turn to Mark and ask, “What do you think?”

A question halfway through a thought, so Mark was right to be confused, “What? What do I think about what?”

Mid-March was warmer, warning still, but the nights were still cold. Johnny excused his shiver with a breeze when he elaborated, “About them?”

“I’m glad they’re talking again.” Mark mulled over his thoughts, Johnny could see him come to a conclusion, “I didn’t think they would, for a while.”

“Right. Yeah.” Johnny kicked at a pebble, a piece of uprooted asphalt, “I think it would take more than that, don’t you?”

“Probably.”

Johnny was cautious because Mark was right; it was good to have all of you together, again. Johnny would be elated if it weren’t for Yuta and Taeyong and he’s in love with her. He knew it was out of place to ask, he knew that he might raise more questions. But, Johnny wanted to know, “Do you think there’s anything, I don’t know, weird between them?”

Mark ran through his catalogued thoughts, scanned through his memories with careful precision. You and Jaehyun were the same as you’d always been, the only way Mark had ever known you to be. The only thing that was different was you and Johnny; Johnny loving you loudly and you loving him back. So, Mark shook his head, denied it and joked, “Nah. He’s always been weird about her, though. I think things will be okay.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“And! Now we can plan the camping trip.”

It was quick, the way your conversation shifted. How Jaehyun stood next to you and watched Mark and Johnny take off down the street.

You’d done it so many times, stood in the exact spot you were with Jaehyun next to you, watching Johnny and Mark run past your house and into the night. So it would never feel out of place, it felt like home. Jaehyun brought you a drink, the ice tapping against the glass. His fingers brushed over yours when he handed it over and you both pulled back, pulled away, pulled apart.

You glanced at him, noticing all the ways he’d changed in two months; his hair was shorter, it looked darker but you wouldn’t be sure. He seemed taller, but you blamed that on optimism - looking up at Jaehyun, looking towards the way things would change. Hoping they would settle into something closer to normal, as soon as possible.

The two of you sat down once they were out of view; looking up, now. Counting and memorizing the stars. Jaehyun told you about his day and you listened. You told Jaehyun about Haechan and his book, his changed ending, how he’d seeped into your life. Haechan had crossed the line between client and friend in the last two months. You didn’t mind at all. He asked about Johnny, so you answered. He tried to be okay with it, tried to be supportive. Jaehyun saw the way you lit up talking about Johnny, even more when you were around him.

So, what Jaehyun said next made sense.

It wasn’t a question, it was a declaration, a realization that tore at him. One that he didn’t want you to confirm; Jaehyun could see it, “You love him.”

You kept your eyes on the stars for a moment longer; on your star, where it should be, where Johnny put you in the sky. Then, you looked at Jaehyun and confessed, agreed, confirmed, “I do.”

There was a pull in your chest, just next to your heart. A fallen piece of you, one Jaehyun had a hold of, had missed its mark. It hadn’t found its place, it hadn’t settled, it was restless.

“That’s good.” He had worked so hard not to lie anymore. It was good, it really was good. You loved Johnny, he was sure Johnny loved you back, “He loves you, too.”

“Yeah. It’s kind of crazy.” You asked him, “Do you know how that feels?”

Jaehyun wanted to beg for the world to end, for the conversation to taper off without him having to answer. He looked down at his hands, at the glass he’d held onto. He counted the melting ice cubes, saw the stars reflecting in his whiskey, and Jaehyun did all he could to say anything other than: God, I wish. That he wished it was you and him, that he always would. It was too much a part of him for Jaehyun to stop.

He looked up at you, finally faced you again and, like he would live vicariously through it, love vicariously, asked you, “Describe it.”

“I think-”

The door opened behind you, “Hey babe?”

You lit up, brighter than the clearest night, shooting across the room like a star, “What’s up?”

“Come help with the bags?”

It was agonizing, the way Jaehyun watched. How time moved in slow motion, when he saw you with Johnny. It was like you had dug your nails into the very fabric of time and held onto it for dear life, pulling everything to a halt. It felt intentional, like you were making sure he saw every glance, every touch, every kiss between the two of you. Every kiss. The way your lips curled into a smile whenever they met Johnny’s; at the thought of him, the sound of him, at the sight.

He was left in your wake, standing with his drink in hand and watching you in slow motion with Johnny.

Mark came in with bottles clinking in his arms, “Johnny said the camping trip is a go.”

📻

Johnny wasn’t a jealous person.

“I thought you knew.” Yuta’s reasoning changes every time Johnny asked, “I thought it was obvious.”

If Johnny had been looking for it before, it might have been, “It wasn’t.”

“To you.” He could tell he was exhausting the subject, he was exhausted on his end. Johnny had locked himself in his office, filling the space with every doubt he had until it became too crowded - much like his mind. He called Yuta, then, “And to her.”

“You don’t think she knows?”

It was a relief. A sickening, nauseating relief to Johnny. It could all crash down when Yuta said, “I can’t answer that.”

It was days later, when Jungwoo stopped by the cafe and Johnny hadn’t seen you since the night before, that he touched the subject again. Johnny made light conversation, comfortable conversation. He listened to the stories Jungwoo told him and sipped on a coffee he’d made; his fourth for the day. Then Johnny leaned forward on his elbows and prompted, “Can I ask you something?”

Jungwoo only nodded.

“Do you think…Jaehyun.” He had no clue how to approach the topic. Johnny stumbled over words he hadn’t thought out, “I talked to Yuta and Taeyong and they think that Jaehyun is-”

Jungwoo let out a breath, eyes focused on the pattern swirling in his cappuccino, “I think you need to ask Jaehyun about it.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.”

“You might have to.” Jungwoo’s shoulders shrugged, “None of us can answer for him.”

Johnny was defeated, he slumped back into his chair and let the nausea take over. Denial felt like confirmation. Jungwoo refusing to answer felt like an answer in itself and Johnny couldn’t accept it. He couldn't avoid it and he couldn’t face it, “Right.”

📻

Jaehyun found his way to your door, the night before your trip. Your duffel bag was on your bed, open and empty, with stacks of clothes around it. He watched you sift through the piles, pull things out and toss them to the side. Jaehyun intervened, “Do you want to go for a drive?”

“Yeah.” You didn’t look away from the state of your room, from the mess you’d made, “Let’s go.”

It was quiet, it was calm, until the rain started. Jaehyun wound up and down streets, weaving through neighborhoods until he’d found his way out. The music he played was low, familiar; I love this boy so much. You had your head pressed to the glass of his window, focusing on the world passing by, the raindrops slipping down. April came in with a shower, starting early on its nurturing, on growth.

Come May, there would be flowers. Come May, the world would have shifted and changed and blossomed into greens and pinks, blues and yellows, vibrant reds, purples, oranges; a rainbow coming to life after the rain.

January and February felt like a lifetime ago. The memory of the first two months felt just as cold as they had, in real time. They were covered in ice, in silence, in unwelcome change. You tried not to dwell on them, tried to sit in this moment, in Jaehyun’s car. His fingers tapped against the steering wheel, rounding a corner with ease.

You wondered how many moments like this you’d have with him, just like the mornings in his kitchen. You couldn’t help but feel like they were still slipping away. The rain could wash him away from you again and it was terrifying. Enough to make you blink back tears, enough to make you clear your throat and tell Jaehyun, “Stop the car.”

He did, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

You unbuckled, opened your door and climbed out. Into the rain, instantly drenched, hoping that the first shower of April would help you to grow. You needed the nurturing back to life after a winter that was so harsh, too harsh.

Jaehyun watched from behind the wheel. He saw every drop that landed on your skin, soaked through your clothes, flattened your hair to your head. Then, Jaehyun unbuckled, leaving the car running and running to you. He didn’t say a word, you didn’t either. The two of you stood in the middle of the street, shoulder to shoulder in the rain. Silent, unmoving.

The rain fell and fell and fell. The sky was too dark for the late afternoon, covered in grey clouds. Jaehyun’s headlights were bright, like a spotlight on the two of you. He stepped back towards his car, “Stay here.”

You did, watching as he ran back to his car, listening as he turned up the music. Jaehyun came back, hands shaking as he reached out, and he offered, “Dance with me?”

“Yeah.”

He held you against him, had your head tucked under his chin. Jaehyun held you as close as he could and moved the two of you in tandem. The music was still quiet, fighting against the rain to be heard. You could only hear it cutting in and out. But, when the stereo failed, Jaehyun made up for it, humming the melody into your ear.

It was in the silence that your mind wandered; just like in his car. You thought about Haechan, scribbling onto a notepad in a cafe. I don’t think he was her first love. Jaehyun’s heart was beating loudly in your ear, thumping evenly.

You’d listened to that same heartbeat so many times before, you could understand how he was feeling just based on how many times it thumped. Jaehyun’s heartbeat was as familiar to you as your own and you’d forgotten how that felt. You’d forgotten what it was like to be silent with him.

You stayed that way, still in the middle of the street, just the two of you and the rain. After a while, you pulled back. Jaehyun watched as you took his hand in yours and lingered next to him.

“Can I tell you something?” The rain fell between you, drenched the two of you. Jaehyun nodded, hand squeezing yours tightly in his, “I’ve been think a lot about - about first loves.”

“You have?”

“Yeah, I…I think I always thought it was Sicheng. It makes sense that it was him, I loved him and it felt like the first time, while it was happening.” He urged you to go on, another squeeze, another nod. You looked at where your hands met, tried to breathe in the downpour. You were brave enough, emboldened enough, maybe embarrassed but determined all the same, to look at him and say, “I don’t think it was him.”

Jaehyun came closer, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t think Sicheng was my first love.”

“Then,” He didn’t want to speak. Jaehyun didn’t want to ask anymore questions. He was fine not knowing, he was fine coming to his own conclusion; Jaehyun was fine with a confession lost in the percussion of a rain storm. He was fine not knowing, but he didn’t stop himself from asking you, stomach twisted in knots, “Who do you think it was?”

The sigh you let out masked your words in a whisper, drowned out by the rain. The rush of air escaped your lungs and swept your thoughts off their feet. You couldn’t stop it, you couldn’t think to stop it, and you didn’t look away when you told him, “You. It was always you.”

Jaehyun didnt breathe for a while. March had ended and you were welcoming April, but it didn’t give way to spring yet; there was still enough bite in the air to see the heat leave his body as he gasped for air. But, he waited too long, again. Jaehyun stood silently until you shook your head and turned away. Your eyes focused on the puddle forming underneath and around your feet, watching as each raindrop fell into it.

You moved, letting your fingers pull from his one by one. Jaehyun moved, too; maybe to run, maybe to speak, maybe to tell you, “Me too.”

But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Jaehyun only stood still.

You said, “I have to go. Johnny’s coming to help me pack.”

He was reminded, all at once, why he couldn’t speak, “Sure. I- yeah, sure. I’ll take you home.”

You rode silently, drenched in the front seat of his car with your hands flat on your lap. Jaehyun only asking, “Are you cold?” as you came down the hill.

📻

The campsite hadn’t been touched by spring, yet. It was cold shades of brown, pine and beige; gloomy at best. The pine trees around it reached as close to the sky as they could manage, scraped against the lowest clouds and swayed in the strongest breeze.

It hadn’t changed, since the last time you’d been. It was always in the same state. Early April was rain showers and puddles, frosted over mornings and sunny afternoons. The weather was unpredictable, just like in March, changing everything in a blink, in the smallest second.

Everything could change in a second.

“Who is sleeping where?”

Mark positioned himself between the two campers; each with a bed big enough for two, each with little else inside. Johnny poked at the beginnings of a fire, stopping only to lift his eyebrow and ask, “What do you mean?”

It was a reasonable question, to Mark, it made perfect sense, “I mean who is pairing up tonight?”

Johnny looked at you, you looked at Mark. Mark put his hands on his hips and looked at Jaehyun, waiting for someone to answer, “Well, I’m sleeping with my girlfriend.”

“Fine, but we’re rotating tomorrow.”

“Why would we rotate?”

“Because we always do.” The youngest came closer to the fire, “It’s how this works.”

Johnny put the poker into the ground, twisted it until it was stable enough for him to lean on. He looked amused, he looked curious; Johnny had the look on his face that he always did before he would tease Mark, “Do you need a night with Mom, Markie?”

“Shut up, dude.”

“If you have a bad dream, Mark, you can always come into our camper. We’ll leave room for you.”

“Johnny, Jesus.” You laughed, to ease the tension. You laughed to comfort Mark, “We can rotate around, I don’t mind.”

“Again, why would we do that?”

Jaehyun weighed in, “I don’t mind either.”

He’s in love with her. Johnny’s stomach churned, twisted, tied itself in knots. It’s obvious. He watched Jaehyun close the trunk of the car, counted the footsteps he took and the way he faltered on where to go; next to Mark or next to you. When Jaehyun chose, Johnny closed his eyes. It’s obvious. He was reading too much into it, he was spiraling into something he didn’t understand, something Johnny hated.

And Johnny wasn’t a jealous person.

He sighed, exaggerated to cover the way he shook. Johnny heaved a sigh, heaved another log on the fire and he relented, “Fine.” It was only three days, “We’ll rotate.”

Day one was unpacking. It was settling in until midday, gathering around the fire when you were done. It was Mark playing melodies on his guitar and mumbling through lyrics he only half-remembered. He stumbled over chords, fingers chilling on the first night of April. Day one ended with you and Johnny, Mark and Jaehyun.

Day one was simple, easy enough, tame enough for Johnny to wrap himself in you, in the quiet of your camper. He let his mind relax, let his body fold into and mold to the shape of yours; arms and legs in a tangled mess. Johnny pushed back your hair, using what little light he had to look in your eyes and whisper, “I love you.” Like you’d forget if he didn’t remind you. Johnny kissed you and said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Can I touch you?” He buried his face in your neck, “Please baby. Miss the sounds you make. Miss the way you taste.”

“What if they hear?”

“You’ll have to be quiet for me, baby.” Johnny pleaded, knowing his words held more weight than he’d hand you, “Make sure those sounds are just for me.”

Day one ended with hushed moans, sighs laced with his name and yours and “I love you” chanted like a mantra. Day one ended with you gasping for air, clutching at Johnny’s arms as he rocked his hips slowly into you, panting into your hair, your neck, mouth wrapped around your breast. Day one ended with Johnny’s lips on yours and his cock buried inside you, where he was meant to be.

Day one ended with Mark sleeping soundly and Jaehyun wide awake; hearing everything he shouldn’t, every sound that could break him.

When the sun came up on day two, things had started to shift. The four of you stumbling down trails, the four of you in fits of laughter, the four of you around the fire again and sharing your time. Jaehyun was stiff, Jaehyun hadn’t slept; not as soundly as Mark, not as spent as you, not as satiated as Johnny. Day two was Jaehyun looking away whenever Johnny touched you, whenever you said Johnny’s name. Day two was Jaehyun excusing himself to rest, trying to erase the sound of you coming undone for Johnny from his memory.

Day two ended with you and Mark, Johnny and Jaehyun.

He was still stiff, still tense, sitting on the edge of the bed you’d shared with Johnny. Jaehyun couldn’t stomach it, he couldn’t think of anything else. He was caught in a loop, again, torturing himself with memories that didn’t belong to him, with something he was never meant to hear.

Johnny lingered outside with you for as long as he could; until your head became too heavy to hold up on your own, until your eyes fell closed in extended blinks. He looked at the camper, he passed you off to Mark, and Johnny heard Jungwoo, “You should talk to him about it.”

Day two and Johnny stepped into the shared space, “Hey man.”

Jaehyun tried to smile, “Hey.”

“Can-” He thought back to January, how he didn’t give him the option. But, he was persistent then, he was determined then. He wanted to ease whatever you were going through, so Johnny pushed and pushed and pushed. Now, he gave Jaehyun the option. He gave him an out that Johnny wanted to take himself, to avoid a conversation he didn’t want to have, “Can we talk?”

Jaehyun didn’t hesitate long enough for Johnny to notice, “Yeah, of course.”

“I’m glad we’re all together again.”

“Me too, John.”

Johnny nodded, then he dove head first, “I really love her. I think you should know that, hear it from me. I don’t want…I just think it’s important.”

“Sure. Yeah.” Jawhyun was sweating, “I get it.”

“Do you?”

“Do I?”

He didn’t want to skirt around it, “Do you love her?”

With more hesitation, noticeable hesitation, Jaehyun answered, “Of course I do.”

“Do you understand what I’m asking?” He wanted clarity, he was terrified of it. Jaehyun and Johnny were confined, there was no avoiding it, “Do you…do you love her like I do?”

He couldn’t answer. Truthfully he knew the answer was no. Johnny loved you in a way Jaehyun wasn’t meant to know. Johnny loved you with a ferocity Jaehyun didn't have. The way Johnny loved you was unique to him, so Jaehyun could never love you the same. The answer was no.

Jaehyun loved you in the way he loved coming home; you were warmth, you were familiarity. Jaehyun loved you like he’d lose himself if he ever lost you, again. He loved you in quiet moments, in silent conversations, in glanced and in secrets. Jaehyun would only ever love you in secret, in the lies he told to hide it.

He shook his head, flattening his hands on his knees and wiping off the sweat. Jaehyun prepared himself for another lie, another place to love you quietly, “No, Johnny. I don’t.”

It would’ve been enough to ease his mind. It would’ve been enough to pull Johnny from the edge of jealousy. The two of them settled in, Johnny turned out the light and found his place, his side of the bed.

Jaehyun tried. He could smell you on the sheets, breathing you in slowly and knowing that you’d…you and Johnny. His mind shut off. His lies unraveled. It would’ve been enough to end day two with peace. But, Jaehyun let out his held breath, his inhale of only you and he mumbled, “Even if I did, it wouldn’t ever matter.”

Day three and Johnny was back on the edge. Jaehyun’s words joined Jungwoo’s, wrapped around Yuta’s until he couldn’t even look at his friend; his best friend. The way Jaehyun looked at you, how he lingered near you. Every time Jaehyun came near you, nudged you’d said your name Johnny burned, morphed into something he wasn’t. He wasn’t a jealous person, he wasn’t a jealous person. Johnny was never a jealous person.

Day three was you and Johnny hiking alone, stealing kisses and mumbling “I missed you” like one night away was the end of it all. Johnny spiraled at the thought. He stole you away for day three, he hid you behind trees and kissed you like he did on Halloween, “I love you, my Juliet.”

“I love you, Romeo.” He begged you to call his name, to hear it slip from your lips, “Johnny. Johnny.”

He used your voice to quiet three others, on in particular; Even if I did. Even if. It wouldn’t matter.

I did.

Jaehyun waited with Mark, spent the day with Mark; spent the day lost in his own thoughts. He could still smell you on his skin, on the shirt he’d slept in. It was all he could focus on, when Johnny pulled you away. Mark had said something sensible, something like, “Gotta give the lovebirds time.”

And Jaehyun agreed, like he was supposed to. He found his comfort in lies, again, “Yeah. They deserve it.”

It wasn’t regret that he felt, he knew he made a misstep when Johnny wouldn’t speak to him, wouldn’t look at him. Jaehyun knew it was the wrong thing to say “Even if I did, it wouldn’t ever matter.” It was the only bit of truth he let slip out. Jaehyun didnt regret it, but he was worried.

Everything could change in a second and everything could crumble.

Day three was a final fire on a clear night, the four of you in a perfect stance around the fire. You shivered, arms wrapped around yourself and mumbled, “It’s cold.”

“Here.” Jaehyun pulled at the zipper of his sweatshirt, “I’m getting warm.”

He could feel Johnny’s eyes on him. Jaehyun took the path around the fire that went around Mark, just to get to you. He held open his sweatshirt and let you slip into it, let you pull it closer. Another misstep. Jaehyun took a step back, hand on yours when he tugged at the sleeve. Something stirred in him, seeing how it fell on you, something Jaehyun had stopped trying to control. It was always you.

“Thanks, Jae.”

He wasn’t bold enough to look at Johnny, couldn’t bring himself to look back at you when he said, “No problem.”

Silent conversations, glances, lingering and lingering and the way Jaehyun lingered around you. Johnny wasn’t jealous, he was teetering on an edge he’d never been close to; his laugh got tangled in bitterness, caught in his throat when he said, “This is so fucked.”

It was childish and he could admit that. It was fueled by something he’d never felt and Johnny was terrified of that. Unwavering trust in you clashed so violently with his crumbling trust in Jaehyun and there was no way for Johnny to stop it. The space he took up, the space between you and Jaehyun, wasn’t enough to ease his mind.

Jaehyun spoke, because Jaehyun had heard him and Jaehyun was teetering, too. Trying to keep things from crumbling, trying to hold it together. He thought of January and February, about losing you. He was remembering you in the rain, remembering you pressed against him. He was living in memories, challenging something - someone - he shouldn’t, “What was that?”

Johnny almost jumped, almost threw himself over the edge on principle alone. He want jealous, he was upset, “I said it’s fucked.”

Mark perked up, “What's going on?”

You stood still next to him, hands in the pockets of Jaehyun’s sweatshirt. Johnny was shaking, you could see his hands trembling at his sides, but you didn’t move. Jaehyun looked at Johnny, the two of them locked on to each other. He tried not to tremble when he said, “It’s nothing Mark.”

“Right. It’s nothing.” Johnny’s lip curled, “Fucking liar.”

“Whoa. Hey, Johnny. What the fuck was that?”

Mark tried to laugh, “What just happened?”

“Tell them.”

“Tell us what?” Mark wouldn't let up, you could feel the Earth shaking underneath your feet and Mark was encouraging it, more and more. He didn’t know, Johnny had to remind himself. He’s always been weird about her, but Mark didn’t know, “Did you guys fight last night?

“We can rotate again.” You suggested, “I’ll go with Jaehyun tonight.”

Jaehyun could scream. He stayed silent.

“You’re absolutely not doing that.”

You looked at Johnny, “Why not?”

“Let him tell you.”

Crumbling, crumbling, crumbling. Something was shifting, the plates of the Earth, the foundation the four of you built. You could feel it happening, could see it in front of you. Jaehyun shook his head and Mark got more involved, “Can someone please just say what’s happening. Why can’t she room with Jaehyun? That’s the next rotati-”

Johnny was seething, “Because he’s in love with you!”

The four of you stood like pillars around the fire; Johnny next to Jaehyun, next to Mark, next to you, next to Johnny. Johnny was choking back so much, fighting against himself and the things he wanted to - needed to - say. His hands shook at his sides, only calming when he balled them into fists. And Mark did his best, Mark did too much, Mark didn’t need to be involved at all. He raised his hands, palms angled down and said, “Okay, let’s calm down. That’s not true, right?”

At the same time, you whispered, “What?”

“Say it.” Johnny spoke through gritted teeth, never looking away from Jaehyun. For a moment, the sound of the fire crackling was the only thing you could hear. Jaehyun made no moves; not to speak, not even to blink. You all just stood there until Johnny scoffed and said, “Tell them you’re in love with my girlfriend.”

Jaehyun tried, “Johnny, I-“

“Fucking say it, Jaehyun.” Johnny growled, his words cut with an edge you had never heard from him, “Stop fucking lying to me.”

He tried again, Jaehyun’s eyes threatening to look towards you. He knew it was going to make this worse, but Christ, he just wanted to look at you. Jaehyun wanted to see you, how you were. He wanted to look at you when he said it, whatever came next, “Okay, Johnny.”

Johnny shook his head, “Say it.”

Mark stepped towards Johnny, Mark did too much again. He put himself between you and the fire, then you and Johnny. He didn’t need to be involved, “Johnny, come on. He’s not-“

He tried again, Jaehyun’s eyes threatening to look towards you. He knew it was going to make this worse, but Christ, he just wanted to look at you. Jaehyun wanted to see you, how you were. He wanted to look at you when he said it, whatever came next, “Okay, Johnny.”

Johnny shook his head, “Say it.”

Mark stepped towards Johnny, Mark did too much again. He put himself between you and the fire, then you and Johnny. He didn’t need to be involved, “Johnny, come on. He’s not-“

“He is and he needs to fucking admit it!”

“Johnny, man, please-“

“Fuck off, Mark.” The youngest recoiled, hands dropped. Johnny wanted to scream, “Jaehyun you have five seconds.”

Jaehyun was unreadable, again. Shut off, shutting down. Your focus bounced between the three of them, frozen completely and burning up - from the fire, from the way Johnny shook, from the way Jaehyun swallowed and the way Mark stumbled back. This couldn’t be happening. This shouldn’t be happening. You tried to say something, voice caught and coarse against your throat, “This-I don’t…Johnny.”

He ignored you, he was right to do so. Stumbling over words you couldn’t gather, pulling them off the ground and stringing them together into nonsense. Johnny counted, “One.”

“What do you what me to say, John?” Jaehyun’s voice wavered. He knew the answer. He couldn’t do anything about it.

Johnny kept counting, “Two.”

It was Jaehyun’s turn again, two of five chances Johnny was giving him to just say it. To just fucking be honest with him, with you, with himself. Jaehyun only said, “Stop. We can…let’s talk about it.”

“We’re talking about it. Right now, Jae.” Johnny’s voice raised, it echoed, it consumed everything around the four of you. You thought the trees might bend to it, given the chance; the Earth might quake, shake, crack open from the force of it. Johnny kept shaking, kept counting, “Three.”

Mark took another step back. He looked over his shoulder at you, something like sympathy on his face. He might have seen it coming, he might have known all along. Mark wondered, for a moment, how you didn’t know. Still, he tried his best, he did too much, “Hey.”

You only said, “Mark.”

Jaehyun begged, “Johnny, stop - stop fucking counting!”

For the first time, Johnny moved. For his first move, he stepped towards Jaehyun. He cleared half the space between them and shouted, trees faltering around him, “You’re in love with her. Say it! Four.”

“Johnny.” It was somewhere between pleading, definitely threatened, but strong. Jaehyun didn’t want to be doing this. He just wanted to look at you. Johnny kept his attention, another step before he was as close to Jaehyun as he could be - the two of them shouting over each other and filling the space between chances four and five. Jaehyun tried to urge Johnny back, “Back up, John.”

“Don’t fucking touch me-“

“Back the fuck up-“

“All you have to do is admit it-“

“Johnny, fucking stop for a second and-“

“She’s right there, tell her you sack of-“

“Jesus fucking Christ-“

“Say it!” Johnny shoved at Jaehyun’s shoulders, his last count, his last chance coming out, “Five.”

“Fine! I am, okay?” Jaehyun’s voice was booming and shaking and strained, like he was desperately holding back his words and pouring them out, all at once. You watched his fists ball up and release, watched him square himself towards Johnny.

Your boyfriend, Johnny.

His best friend, Johnny.

“I love her.” The crack in Jaehyun’s voice wasn’t missed. He threw his hands up, stepping back, “I’m in love with her, is that what you want to hear, Johnny?”

Johnny scoffed. It was exactly what he wanted to hear and it was shattering everything in him. Ruin the dynamic he said. Jaehyun, his best friend. Jaehyun, your best friend. Jaehyun, a fucking liar. Johnny saw red and then white, an absolutely illuminating rage filled him, but he didn’t move to hit Jaehyun. His body ached for it, wanting to feel how Jaehyun’s skin would break if he just swung at him. But, Johnny didn’t. He didn’t move, didn’t scream as he had been, he let everything fall silent. Let it all settle.

Johnny let Jaehyun’s words linger for all of you for too long. He let it all go on for too long.

Mark blinked and breathed out, “Jae, man, what the fuck?”

Jaehyun finally looked at you. The way your breathing was frantic, how Johnny’s hat sat on your head, but Jaehyun’s sweatshirt covered you and kept you safe from the cold; protected you from it. He watched your eyes searching for an answer in the flames of the bonfire, the shoe imprints in the dirt where you’d all been standing, in the trees around you but never up; never to the stars. He wanted to go to you, wanted to move. But, Jaehyun could feel the ground starting to swallow him, holding him completely still. He could feel everything stop the moment you looked up. If he hadn’t been looking already, he wouldn’t have heard the way you said his name. A whisper lost in the wind, “Jaehyun.”

Johnny interrupted, looking down and jaw clenched, “How long?”

“John. Let’s just stop for a minute, okay.” You wanted to beg Mark to stop, “Everyone chill out.”

“Years, Johnny.” Jaehyun answered, kept his eyes on you and told Johnny with a quiet confidence, “Years.”

When Johnny looked up, he immediately wished he hadn’t. The way Jaehyun looked at you over the fire, the way you kept your eyes on him with your hands shaking at your sides. He laughed, he couldn’t stop it, “Can’t even say it to my face.”

Jaehyun couldn’t stop himself, he dropped his head and bit back, “And why the fuck would I need to?”

“Because she’s my girlfriend, Jaehyun.”

“Stop.” The word clawed its way out of you, fighting against your mind and your heart to come out, “Stop.”

Johnny looked at you first, Jaehyun wasn’t sure if he could, Mark turned and stepped closer to you, “Hey. It’s okay, alright?”

You said, only to Mark, only for him to hear, “It’s not.”

He looked over his shoulder, back at Johnny and Jaehyun and everything falling out and apart between them. The way they both looked at you, the concern and a silent apology from both of them. He looked around the campsite, expecting to see the proof, the aftermath of the explosion. There was nothing, just silence and a stillness he hated. You all hated it. Mark reached out for you, taking either arm in his hands and pulling you to his chest. He didn’t care if Johnny swung at him, he suspected he wouldn’t. Mark just wanted to stop at least one world from crumbling.

So, he chose yours, “Rotate.”

Johnny spoke first, “Mark, what the hell?”

“Rotate.” It was his only solution, “I’m taking her with me. You two figure out your shit.”

He knew it wasn’t shit. But, Mark was going to put an end to it, if no one else was making a move to do so. He put you in front of him, guiding you to one camper and ignoring anything behind him. Johnny said his name at least three times, yours at least four. You thought you heard Jaehyun say, “I’m going.”

But Mark was in your ear, “Don’t. Don’t look at either one of them. Go on, go inside.”

You did, he followed and closed the door behind you. Mark kept his back against it for a moment and waited for you to move first. He waited until everything caught up to you, waited for it all to slip through the cracks and push into the camper; the safest place he could take you. When it did, Mark watched your shoulders fall, watched you implode in on yourself before he moved closer and pulled you back, again. The aftermath evidence he was looking for fighting not to crumble to the ground in his arms. Mark held you and soothed you and still did too much.

“I’m sorry, Mark.”

“You don’t need to be sorry.” He reminded you, you wished it worked, “You didn’t do anything. They’ll work it out. You just stay in here with me, okay?”

You thought about asking him how he was so calm, how Mark - the youngest, the brightest boy you’d ever know - was so collected in this moment. You wanted to apologize for something you were barely involved in, apologize for the way he’d been dragged into it. Instead, you let out a shaking breath, one mixed with a quiet sob, and you let Mark carry weight that wasn’t his; weight he shouldn’t have to bear.

Mark got you to calm, then he got you to sleep. He stayed with you, next to you, humming something he’d written and drifting away, himself. And, for a while, it worked. For a while you slept and you drifted, as well.

Something pulled you back down, plummeting to the Earth and reality and waking. Mark was still next to you, covered in blankets and the moonlight, sleeping sound. Something like envy, maybe gentler, settled in your chest. Envy that Mark’s mind would let him sleep, that he had that opportunity. There was no anger to it, just the wish to be in that position. You sat up, blankets pooling at your waist and fingers wrapped up in the sleeves of his sweatshirt. Part of you itching to peel it off of you, the other part wanting to drown in it. Either way, your head was aching, your heart, too.

You couldn’t pinpoint a single thing you felt; guilt and anger and confusion and fear and something you’d never know. Something indescribable, something new and all-consuming within you. You wanted to move, you wanted to run until your legs burned, at the very least stretch them out and breathe in fresh air. Suddenly, everything felt too cramped and tight.

You wanted to be wrapped up in him, to have him calm you down, but to have him pull you back down to earth. You wanted to feel his lips on yours, on any part of you. You wanted him to trace patterns against your skin.

You wanted to scream.

As slowly as you could, you pulled yourself out of the bed and the camper, latching the door behind you and slipping into your shoes. April was cold, not as cold as November, but now it felt just as different. The chill that went from the top of your head to your toes shook you enough to close your eyes and collect yourself. You angled your head upward before you opened them, again, wanting to take in the stars; borrow every bit of light they could offer.

They twinkled against the clear, midnight sky. They blinked down as you blinked up, breathing, breathing, trying to breathe. Shaking your head, you looked somewhere neutral; the void between the two campers, the gathering of trees still upright and reaching towards your stars, at embers of a forgotten fire, across the empty campsite.

You saw him then, in the same moonlight that Mark was in but shining, like it was the sun. Jaehyun stared back, from behind his steering wheel, unmoving. So much of you wanted to move to him, let your feet pull you over to him, to tell him….tell him. Anything. Everything.

Years, he had said. Years.

But, you didn’t move. Neither did he. Two opposites across from each other, only breathing, taking each other in and not making a single fucking move. Slowly, you released the breath held hostage in your lungs and wrapped your arms around yourself. Jaehyun’s lips moved, maybe your name slipped out, you’d never know. You crossed the void between campers and pulled your eyes to look away from him, not willing to see any change when you slipped inside and said his name, “Johnny?”

He shot up, your name clear and filling the room. It took half a second for him to claw his way out of the bed and wrap himself around you; just as you wanted. Johnny held you as tightly as he could, mumbling apologies, kissing them into your skin. He was frantic and worried and, for the first time since you’d known him, Johnny’s certainty was wavering. You held him just as tight, just as close, lips pressed into a line to keep yourself from crying.

His cheek was pressed against the top of your head when he said your name once more and his final, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t.” It was so soft, the way your hands held him and the way you spoke. Johnny held you tighter, scared it meant you were slipping away; terrified of you slipping away from him. You pulled back only to look up at him, “Just talk to me. Tell me what happened.”

Johnny sighed, he wanted to kiss you - he didn’t know if he still could and he wished everything had been different. He wanted to go back and stop himself from exploding, “I don’t know. I…I really don’t know where to start.”

You nodded, eyes on him. He blinked out tears, ones you were quick to wipe away for him, up on your toes to kiss the trail they left behind. Johnny sighed, shaking as he was before but for a completely different reason. He couldn’t describe it, he didn’t want himself to even feel whatever it was. It was unstoppable until you’d come through that door. You pulled him towards the bed, pushing him to sit down and climbing in next to him.

Johnny didn’t let go of you the whole time; in anyway he could touch you, he did. The two of you leaned back together, facing each other and staying silent for a moment before you asked, “How did you know?”

He swallowed, “Taeyong and Yuta. Then Jungwoo.”

“Hm.”

“Yuta said…he said it was obvious. I hated that.” Johnny tried to laugh, the sound was so bitter, “Jungwoo said to ask Jaehyun.”

“When?”

“February, then again last week.” He paused, “I tried to talk to Jaehyun about it. I tried to be subtle and maybe I shouldn’t have, but Yuta was right.”

You scooted closer, hand to Johnny’s cheek, “What do you mean?”

Johnny lifted his hand to cover yours, “It was obvious. And the more I saw it…I just got more and more angry. Everything he did, every time he was near you, I just…God, I’m not a jealous person.”

“I know.”

“But, he was hiding it. It felt like he was playing me, like it was a trick or a joke. I don’t know why he wouldn’t just tell me.” He was right. It made the guilt you felt worse, stronger. He closed his eyes. “Why wouldn’t he have said anything?”

You asked, as carefully as you could, “Would it have changed anything, Johnny?”

He didn’t want to answer, but Johnny would be a hypocrite to lie at this moment, “Yeah. Probably, yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Hey. Not now, okay? Before, maybe. I could’ve gotten over a crush.” He pulled your hand to his lips, pressed his words into them and hoped they’d stay there. Hoped that every time you pressed your fingers to your skin you’d remember his lips there, the things he’d promised against your fingertips, “I love you. I fell in love with you and now…”

“Now, what?”

Johnny had to think for a moment. He had to gather everything he’d felt in the last week, the last six months, everything he’d seen and heard and knew; put it all together into something that made sense. He looked at you for as long as he could, for as long as his heart would let him before it shattered too. Because, “I see how he looks at you.”

“Johnny.”

“And I see how you look at him.”

You froze, blood running cold. You’d never know what he expected you to say to that, how he expected you to react. Johnny could always predict what came next, but today ripped away everything he’d known. He was uncertain.

He let out a breath, “The two of you…”

“There is no two of us, Johnny.” You promised him, you meant it. Your heart was aching in your chest, “There is me and you. Jaehyun-“

“Don’t say his name. Not right now.” Johnny cut you off, he shook his head and rustled the sheets beneath the two of you, “I can’t hear it, right now.”

“We are completely separate. Whatever he feels-“

“What about what you feel?”

“I love you.” It came out desperate, you were desperate. Your fingers wrapped around his tighter and you’d pulled yourself as close to him as you could. Johnny just watched and breathed, you did the same, “I love you, Johnny. That’s what I feel.”

And he told you, “I love you, too.”

Like it was all either of you needed to hear, you fell silent. Like it was everything that needed to be said, neither of you spoke after. You held each other and synchronized your breathing, sharing kisses and breaths and sighs until you fell asleep, pressed together. Even still, even with so little space between the two of you, there was still enough space for the word neither of you could, would, ever wanted to say;

But….

📻

Johnny had stripped you of Jaehyun’s sweatshirt; replaced it with his own, the one he’d been wearing that smelled like him, like smoke, like you. You woke up wrapped in him, twice over, and breathing him in. The sleeve of his t-shirt had rolled up, your fingers found their way to trace the leaves permanently inked on his arm. Johnny was still asleep, but he shifted and shivered and pulled you closer.

You could pretend, like this, that everything was fine. You could close your eyes and breathe him in, breathe against him, just breathe. Anything that had happened the night before couldn't reach you, like this.

You just had to stay.

Johnny’s eyes finally opened, he smiled…he tried to smile, “Hi.”

And you kissed him, without hesitation, having just woken up. You thought back to November, you thought about the times you’d shied away from it. Johnny didn’t think much of anything, lazily kissing you back; slowly, carefully, comfortably. He tried not to think about how many times he’d have you like this, from now on. Johnny wanted to be optimistic, but…

“Hi.” You told him, breathless, “I love you.”

He rolled onto his back, pulling you onto his chest and securing you there, “I know. I love you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” Your breath caught in your throat, choked you and choked back tears you didn’t want to let out. Not yet. Johnny said “I love you” and it sounded like “goodbye.” So, you told him, “Don’t apologize to me. You don’t have a reason to.”

Packing was silent; hopeless and tense. Every sound echoed in the epicenter of Johnny’s explosion, Jaehyun’s as well. You were all standing at ground zero of something unpredictable.

Jaehyun wouldn’t look at you; he is in love with you. He kept his eyes down, he kept his mouth shut, he stayed as far away from you and from Johnny as the campsite would allow. Johnny did the same, avoiding his best friend. It was a dance, a performance, a nightmare that you were wrapped up in.

Mark only did his best.

The car ride was silent; the radio was too low to make out, Jaehyun’s engine rumbling just as low. Mark sat in the passenger seat with his eyes forward, his hands neatly on his lap. He’d look at Jaehyun, he’d look at you, Mark would look at Johnny and then he’d focus forward, again. No one said a word, no one thought to. You didn’t know if any of you would think to speak to each other, again, and it took everything you had to keep the sobs clawing at your chest from breaking through. It took a small smile from Mark, it took looking anywhere but at Jaehyun, it took Johnny holding your hand and resting his head on your lap.

He stayed there for the entire trip; reveling in the way your fingers tugged at his hair, the even breaths you forced yourself to take, the twists and turns of the road. Johnny fell asleep like that, cradled in your lap, face upwards so even if his eyes were open he could only see you. He didn’t know if he could look at Jaehyun, he certainly didn’t want to look at him. Johnny knew. Once Yuta said it, once Jungwoo avoided it, he knew. Hearing Jaehyun confirm it, hearing his best friend outright say he was in love with his girlfriend, Johnny was having a hard time swallowing it.

But you held him. You held Johnny and if he closed his eyes, it was the only thing that felt real; that was real. You and Johnny in the backseat of a car, together.

The hand you had tangled in Johnny’s hair was hot, damp with sweat. You were frantic and if you were hiding it well enough for Johnny not to sense it, for Johnny to fall asleep, you didn’t know how. Every breath you took shook your whole body, every breath was strained. You looked out the window, to Mark, down at Johnny and the peace he found; deserved peace after a restless night. In the mirror, you could feel Jaehyun’s eyes. It made breathing impossible when you caught him, when he caught you. It took the little air you could gasp and rushed it from your lungs.

Jaehyun couldn’t look away from you, in the rear view mirror; for a while, for too long. He was lost in the way your fingers twirled Johnny’s hair, in the way you’d smile down at him. Jaehyun’s hands were wrapped around the steering wheel with such force he thought it might crumble. He could remember Halloween - a similar position, Jungwoo in the front seat and you and Johnny in the back. And Jaehyun couldn’t do anything about it then, just as he couldn’t now.

He was hopeless, tense. And he couldn’t look away.

It was only when Mark yelled, when he grabbed at the wheel and said, “Dude, look out.”

Jaehyun swerved, he adjusted, he looked back at you. You were wide-eyed behind him, hands around Johnny to keep him with you. Keeping Johnny safe, keeping Johnny secure. He looked away from you, then, and focused back on the road; back on something he could control, mumbling a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

To Mark; for the car. To you; for everything else.

To Johnny.

📻

Mark was pissed.

There wasn’t a better word for it or any way around it. He was pissed and he was trying his best not to be. It wasn’t working. He was in the loft with Jaehyun, going back and forth between watching the storm clouds roll in and Jaehyun spiral out of control. They’d dropped you and Johnny off an hour ago and from the moment Jaehyun parked his car in his own driveway, he’d been like this. Mark had the opportunity to leave, but he was in a bitter protest, a war within himself and with the only other person in the room because, “You had the opportunity to tell her.”

“I know, Mark.”

“No, like way before this. Way, way before this.” Mark had his hands clasped, ringing them as a means of comfort - it wasn’t working, “You said years. You had years.”

Jaehyun stopped pacing, only for a moment, “I know, Mark.”

Maybe pissed wasn’t the word he needed. Mark was heated, “Then why now? They’ve been together for almost a year, Jaehyun.”

“I fucking know, Mark.” It came through gritted teeth, forced and booming, “I don’t know what the fuck…I don’t have an answer for you.”

Not heated, Mark was furious, “Don’t yell at me, I’m trying to help you.”

He didn’t mean it, but Jaehyun pushed in a fury, “I don’t need your help.”

Not pissed, not heated, not furious. Mark was livid, “Fine. Figure it out. I’m going to check on her.

That seemed to stop Jaehyun entirely. Mark gathered his things and Jaehyun stopped, looking out the window towards your house. It was almost as if Mark had put the idea into his head, set it into motion and rolling down the street. The storm had started outside, it had leaked through the windows and down into the loft. Now it was inside of Jaehyun and urging him to say, “I need to go talk to her.”

“No you don’t.” Mark didn’t spare him a look, “You need to sort your shit out. Johnny is probably still there.”

They both knew that wasn’t true. Mark knew, Johnny had texted him and asked Mark to make sure you were okay - whenever he had the chance. Jaehyun knew because he watched Johnny leave, watched him sling his bag over his shoulder and make his way towards the bus stop. Your boyfriend, Johnny. His best friend, Johnny. Still, Jaehyun turned on his heel and stomped towards the door. He didn’t say a word, barely heard Mark say, “Fuck.” over the downpour.

He did hear Mark’s footsteps trying to match his stride. Jaehyun could hear Mark screaming his name as they ran down the stretch of road to your house.

He could feel Mark reaching out for him, grabbing hold of his soaked-through shirt in an attempt to hold him back. Nothing would’ve stopped Jaehyun; not the rain, not Mark, not his best friend, Johnny. Jaehyun shouted your name first on the street-side of the gate, then once more with every step he took closer to you.

You had to come outside. You had to talk to him. He had to see you.

Mark stood still, like there was a barrier between your property and the sidewalk he couldn’t quite cross. He watched everything unfold before him, still cataloging, still livid, but now worried. Jaehyun was begging you to come out, Mark was silently pleading for you to stay in.

Your door creaked open, silencing Jaehyun’s words and silencing Mark’s thoughts. There you were, face stained with tears, in the same clothes they’d left you in an hour ago. Your arms were crossed over your chest and each breath you took shook your whole body. You didn’t say anything, not one of you did. The three of you stood in complete silence and let the rain overtake you, let it lead the conversation with rhythmic pitter-patters.

Jaehyun spoke first, “Please.”

“Please what, Jae?” His name from your lips could kill him on a good day - this was, decidedly, not a good day. Not even close, “What do you want?”

“I-please just talk to me.” You looked over his shoulder to Mark, drenched in the street waiting for whichever one of you needed him first, “I just want to talk to you. I need to talk to you.”

You echoed what Mark had said to him, it stung more coming from you, “You had years, Jaehyun. That’s what you said. Years.”

“So did you.” He bit.

You and Mark took a step forward at the same time. The rain had yet to touch you, but it taunted the tips of your toes - bare feet freezing in the early fall air, “What did you say?”

“Look at me and tell me you didn’t - that you don’t feel the same way.” Jaehyun squared his shoulder, his tone wavering but demanding all the same, “You’ve had years, too.”

“Jaehyun.”

“Johnny knows it, too. Everyone does. Johnny, Mark, Jungwoo, Taeyong - everyone. Fuck, even that Haechan guy picked up on it. We’ve both had years.”

He stepped closer, you didn’t pull back, Mark came closer, “Stop it.”

“Tell me you don’t feel the same.”

Another step from Mark to combat stillness between you and Jaehyun - years of stillness. Years. It was like the youngest was waiting for a cue, some sort of signal that you needed him, before he intervened.

“I love Johnny.”

Another sting, but not a denial. Jaehyun felt bile swirling up and threatening to spill over. Still, he stood firm, ignoring the chill and ignoring the rain. He was solely focused on you.

“Tell me you don’t love me, too.”

A clap of thunder shook the ground beneath you as you opened your mouth to speak. You startled where you stood, arms tightening around yourself. Jaehyun took another step.

He was on the bottom step, you stood at the top. You remembered Johnny in a similar position nearly a year ago and gnawed at your lip to keep from crying any more. Jaehyun pressed, close enough that you could hear him whisper, “Just say it and I’ll go. This can be done. We can be done.”

He wished his voice didn’t shake with his last words, staring you down and hoping you didn’t notice. Jaehyun was sure being done with you would break him - worse, it would destroy him. His hands were in fists, shaking at his sides from a combination of adrenaline, fear and cold. He was begging.

You looked at Mark again, closer than before but still too far to hear hushed words between you and Jaehyun. You shook your head, “I can’t, Jae. You have to go.”

The two phrases contradicted each other. You couldn’t tell him you didn’t love him, but you needed him to go. Needed to be done. Needed to destroy yourself and the part of you - the biggest part of you - that still held onto him. Shaking your head again, you took your turn to beg, “Please, Jaehyun. Just go. I…I…”

Jaehyun’s voice lowered, shaking but certain, “You lied to me.”

“No. I didn’t. Jaehyun, please.”

“When I kissed you, you lied. You said you didn’t feel it and I know you did. I know you did and I should’ve done something about it, then. I didn’t and I’m sorry.” He was shattering, shards of Jaehyun were chipping away and falling to the ground in front of you, “It shouldn’t be like this. I fucked up. Don’t lie to me again.”

“Jaehyun.”

“Please. Don’t lie to me again.”

Mark was there in a second, pulling at Jaehyun’s shoulder again and urging him backwards, “Come on. You gotta give her space.”

He started pulling Jaehyun backwards, you stood and watched. Every sob that had stored itself in your chest, compressed and pushing to get out, shook you like the thunder shook the ground. Your arms clutched at themselves, pulling at whatever you could to keep yourself grounded. Jaehyun kept you grounded - it was always Jaehyun. Then it was Johnny. Now it was just you, alone on your front stop watching your best friend being dragged from you.

You were floating away and nothing was there to tether you. Jaehyun was shouting over the rain, “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I know I messed up, I did. I should’ve… I can’t…please, I’m so sorry. Don’t.” He pushed at Mark’s hands, “Get the fuck off of me. Fuck!”

A symphony of sounds you wish you could erase from your memory; Jaehyun shouting to you, the scraping and slapping and scuffling from Mark pulling him away, your own sobs and the rain. It was a nightmare and you weren’t waking up.

It took twenty minutes for relative silence to find you - twenty minutes of solitude, of raindrops and sobs that lost their timbre to the thunder. You were freezing, maybe that’s why you couldn’t move - your feet were frozen to the cement beneath them. The world was frozen in time. Until you could hear footsteps, until you could see Mark at your gate, still drenched with his backpack over his shoulder.

You crumbled, then. Mark wasn’t there to catch you when you landed back on Earth, but he scooped you up and brought you back in. Your voice was hoarse when you told him, not for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, “I’m so sorry.”

“I gotta get you inside.” His voice was soft, gentle as took you into your home and shut the door behind you, “You’re okay. It’s okay.”

“Mark, I-“

“It’s fine.” Mark stopped you, “Johnny would’ve killed me if I let that go on any more. Just tell me what you need.”

A knife straight to your heart, you let out a breath from the pressure, “Don’t say their names. Either one of them, for now.”

Mark dropped his bag and pulled off his wet shoes, then his socks, “Done. What else?”

“Can you…” A swirl of guilt and something completely indescribable filled you, starting at your thawing toes and working its way to the top of your head. A voice reminding you that Mark shouldn’t be involved. It ate away at you, “Change into dry clothes Mark.”

“Yeah, I was going to.” He squatted down to sift through his bag, looking for something both clean and dry to put on, “Do you want me to make tea or something? Or like, I don’t know, you could take a warm bath? That might…I think that might help.”

You watched Mark’s eyes dart around, cataloging or searching, something. Mark Lee was just as lost as you were, grasping at anything he could after watching the world implode. It hit you then, even if Mark wasn’t at the center of the implosion, he was still at the site. The flames burned at his skin, the fumes filled his lungs; harsh words were still thrown at Mark like knives.

The most innocent party of the four of you still was part of this, whether he should have been or not.

You stepped towards him, pulling him up and making a point not to let go. Mark just watched you, still trying to list the things he thought might help, “Breathe, Mark.”

“I’m breathing” He nodded his head, rapidly, you think it might have hit him, then. The aftershock, the implosion, “I’m breathing.”

You repeated, holding his hands and holding his gaze, “Mark, breathe with me.”

“I’m…what the fuck?” He shook his head, this time, looking down and letting droplets fall from his hair, “What the fuck is happening?”

“I’m so sorry, Mark,”

“No, you didn’t do it. You don’t need to be sorry.”

You nodded, urged him to go change and made your way into your kitchen. You made the tea he suggested, you ran water so he could take a warm bath. The two of you settled in the living room, kindred and confused spirits, sipping on tea and wrapped up somewhere safe, together. You kept it that way, you kept Mark comfortable and safe until he fell asleep on your couch.

Because there was no way he could know, there was no way you could ever tell him that you weren’t innocent in this, as he was.

Because, even if you loved Johnny - and God, do you love Johnny - Jaehyun was right.

You couldn’t look him in the eye and say he was wrong; you absolutely loved him, too.

previous. masterlist. the end.

[castdust]

big baby.

✩ pairing : daniela avanzini x 7th-member!reader

✩ about : Y/N teaching Daniela how to ice skate

✩ genre : fluff

✩ warning: none

✩ a/n : this is kinda based on a true story :p | 975 words

♫ playing : santa doesn’t know you like i do by sabrina carpenter

It was the first week of Katseye’s Christmas break and the girls had been planning and preparing for their upcoming trip back to their hometowns except for Y/N and Daniela. The two of them had already visited their families earlier of the week.

So it was just going to be the two of them inside the dorm room, but luckily Y/N already had plans for them so that they wouldn’t be that bored for the upcoming holiday.

Some activities may Daniela not like, just like they’re about to be doing now.

The rink was alive with the sounds of laughter, the scrape of blades against ice, and the occasional thud of someone losing their balance. Daniela clutched Y/N’s arm tightly as they moved, her knees wobbling riskily.

“I swear, Y/N, if you let me fall, I will haunt you,” she muttered, half-joking but with genuine panic in her voice.

Y/N laughed, her voice warm and teasing. “Relax, Dani. I’ve got you. Trust me.”

Daniela shot her a look. “That’s what you said five minutes ago, and I nearly face-planted.”

“You didn’t, though,” Y/N said with a grin. “Because I caught you. Always do.”

That shut Daniela up—though it wasn’t out of trust. It was the way Y/N said it, with this quiet confidence that sent a strange flutter through her chest.

After a few more shaky laps around the rink, Daniela began to relax slightly. “Okay, maybe this isn’t so bad,” she admitted, a smile tugging at her lips.

“See? Told you,” Y/N said proudly, skating backward in front of her like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Show-off,” Daniela muttered, but there was no heat in it.

Feeling emboldened, Y/N grinned mischievously. “Alright, you’re ready for the advanced stuff. Hop on my back.”

Daniela froze. “You’re joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Y/N asked, turning and kneeling slightly.

“Yes,” Daniela said flatly, but Y/N just wiggled her eyebrows in response.

With a reluctant sigh, Daniela carefully climbed onto Y/N’s back, her arms wrapping around Y/N’s shoulders. “If you drop me, Y/N…”

“You’ve already threatened to haunt me once tonight,” Y/N said, laughing. “I get it, Dani. I’ve got you.”

They glided across the ice, Y/N surprisingly steady even with Daniela clinging to her. For a moment, it was perfect—Y/N’s laughter filling the air, Daniela’s nervous giggles mixing in.

But then, it happened.

Daniela shifted slightly, trying to adjust her grip. It threw off their balance, and Y/N’s skate caught a rough patch of ice. The world tilted, and in the next instant, both of them were tumbling down.

Y/N twisted instinctively, her arms wrapping around Daniela as they hit the ice.

“Oof!” Daniela landed softly against Y/N’s chest, her heart racing. “Are you okay?!”

Y/N winced, her face scrunching up in pain. “Yeah, yeah. Just… my arm.”

Daniela scrambled to her feet, panic flickering in her eyes. “Oh my God, Y/N, I’m so sorry! I—”

“Relax, Dani,” Y/N said through gritted teeth, cradling her arm. “I’m fine.”

“You are not fine!” Daniela shot back, kneeling beside her. “Come on, let’s get you off the ice.”

Once they were seated on a nearby bench, Daniela inspected Y/N’s arm with the intensity of a medic on a battlefield. “You’re not bleeding, but I think you might’ve sprained it.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” Y/N said, though the way she winced as Daniela gently prodded her arm suggested otherwise.

“You’re such a liar,” Daniela muttered. She grabbed a nearby towel, wrapping it around Y/N’s arm for makeshift support.

Y/N groaned. “This is unnecessary.”

Daniela shot her a glare. “You caught me when I fell. You hurt your arm because of me. The least I can do is take care of you.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the softness in Daniela’s voice. She looked down, her cheeks tinting pink. “It’s not your fault, Dani. I wanted to catch you. I’d do it again.”

Daniela paused, her hands stilling. There was something in the way Y/N said it—so genuine, so vulnerable.

“Y/N…”

“Don’t,” Y/N interrupted, her tone lighter now, though her ears were bright red. “If you’re about to get all sappy on me, I’ll start charging for lessons.”

Daniela rolled her eyes, the moment broken but her chest still warm. “You’re the worst,” she said, but the words were soft, almost affectionate.

As she adjusted the makeshift sling around Y/N’s arm, Y/N let out a dramatic whimper.

“Oh, come on,” Daniela said, exasperated. “It’s not that bad.”

“It hurts!” Y/N protested, pouting.

“You are such a big baby,” Daniela said, laughing despite herself.

“Excuse me, I saved your life!”

“You saved me from a mild tumble,” Daniela corrected, shaking her head. “And now you’re acting like you broke your arm.”

Y/N gave her a pointed look. “It feels broken.”

Daniela smirked, leaning closer. “Then maybe I should just leave you here to defend for yourself, huh?”

“Rude,” Y/N muttered, though her lips quirked up in a smile.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the teasing fading into something quieter, something that made Daniela’s heart race all over again.

“Thanks,” Y/N said softly, her gaze steady. “For taking care of me.”

Daniela felt her cheeks heat up. She looked away, muttering, “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta deal with you.”

Y/N chuckled, but the sound was warm, almost tender.

As they left the rink that night, Y/N still cradling her arm and Daniela still scolding her for being dramatic, the air between them felt different. Lighter, but also heavier—like something unspoken had passed between them.

And maybe, just maybe, Daniela didn’t mind falling after all.

[red-doll-face]

You're much younger than Arthur. Maybe he doesn't mind as much as he thinks he does...

Low-High Honor Arthur Morgan x fem. reader who is younger than him.

Some head canons that ended up way too long 😭😔 hope you don't mind too much! I am 23 currently so these are really in the mind of reader being over 18 at least. At 23, Arthur is still way older than me so I guess it's just what does it for me! Includes both high and low honor versions. Thanks for reading!! and please let me know if you like them 😭

Warnings: NSFW 18+ only pls, Daddy Kink, Innocence Kink, Corruption Kink, nasty boy low honor arthur being toxic and manipulative (not too badly tho) its ok sweetie arthur is here to balance it out 😳💖💓🥹😳😭

:High Honor:

He had convinced himself that he was way too old for you and quite honestly shut that shit down the second he found his mind wandering to how pretty you were, your own natural beauty catching his eye. He can think you’re sweet and nice, that you understand him and go out of your way to talk to him. Doesn’t matter, he mentally smacks himself for thinking of you past anything like “mentor” or something. He might steal a glance once in a while but he feels bad about it every time. It’s just that, stolen, because in his mind, you don’t belong to him and you never will. He’s more than 10 years your senior, it makes him feel like a dirty old man. Arthur has a strange conflicted energy around you, like he wants to spend time with you but also doesn’t want to come off as creepy or too attached to something that can never be. If you make efforts to be around him, he does appreciate it and will stick around but he always cuts it sort of short. 

Will subtly try to remind himself how young you are, referring to you as girl or kid to others or even to you. He has no idea you think that’s kinda hot. Will jokingly say you’re too young for certain things and thinks it’s cute if you pout and try to fight back against him. Holds alcohol out of your reach and clicks his tongue at you. When you point out the other young women in camp, he’s giving in but only a little, he still watches out for you. He’s protective in the sense that he does see you as someone who needs protecting. He can lie and say it's because of your age but really he just likes you and doesn’t want to admit it.

Anytime you try to get him to understand that you think of him as more than a vague father or brother figure, he’s missing the signs, straight over his head. Light jabs at his age, like calling him Mr. Morgan; make him roll his eyes a little bit but you can catch an endeared smile on his face. Truly a bit hard headed when it comes to noticing that you tease him with more than poking fun in mind. You have to find reasons to touch or kiss him on the cheek. He still might miss physical signs, real dumb dumb behavior. It’s impossible in his head that you would think of him like that. 

If you can get him to open up, having emotionally charged conversations with him is a good way to get him to understand that you care about him at least. Arthur just likes to feel like you’re listening and that you like him enough to care about his thoughts and feelings. If you offer comfort to him in hard times, he’s lowkey simping for you…He can be very closed off, not all too willing to share his truths, especially with someone who may not even understand but if he can be himself around you and you don’t judge, he can forget his feelings about your youth for a moment. 

It’s hard for him to initiate because he’s convinced that if anything were to happen between the both of you, it would be wrong or perverse in some way. If you tell him you like him, he might try to tell you otherwise, trying to get you to think differently of him. Suggests you find someone closer to your age or someone who hasn’t led a life like he has. It’s all really sad because he’s also insinuating that he’ll ruin your life in some way. 

The first time he kisses you will be way too gentle, you’ll hardly call it a kiss. He thinks of himself as too rough for you so he holds back like 99% in an attempt to seem more like a gentleman. It takes you grabbing onto him and deepening your kiss for him to give you more. He’s gentle, hands on your cheeks, holding you like you’ll break if he squeezes too hard. 

Expect a whole lot of “this ain’t right,” or “I’m too damn old for this,” at first. But once you get him to give in, there’s no going back. He gives you his all, no matter what. He does get a bit bashful making things official, especially when there's something to be said about it. John calling him something terrible for being with you like cradle robber or something puts a sour look on his face but he tries his best to power through it. “She ain’t a goddamn baby,” “She might as well be, how old are you again? Or did you lose count?” “Shut the hell up, John.” Hugs and kisses from you definitely make it worth it. He gets a bit used to it, letting things like that stop affecting him so much. 

He thinks he doesn’t deserve you and some small part of him will always believe that you could still be better off with someone else but he gets greedier and greedier with you, the more you love on him, he doesn't want to even think of you with anyone else. He's still so confused that you think he is attractive at his age. He’ll show you pictures of him when he was young and he sort of expects you to say that he was more appealing back then. But you don’t; you just pet his face, his scratchy beard and his sun kissed skin. Arthur lets you see his soft smile when you say you love him right now, more than anything. 

Taking your firsts might put a weird (not bad though) taste in his mouth. First kisses or virginity, he’s nervous he’ll come up short and not be what you're expecting. But his best is more than enough to make you happy. He wants to make your first experiences feel special and memorable, the last thing he wants is to put pressure on you, he just puts way too much pressure on himself. He ends up being just a little too gentle. He needs a lot of praise, a lot of egging on to get more confident. If you beg and plead for more, he can’t say no, he always gives you what you want. Getting him to be more “out there” is a little more difficult. He’s embarrassed to admit he might like when you playfully call him daddy or your old man. The guilt kind of turns him on but he has a hard time coming to terms with that. At his own pace, he’ll indulge more if you’re into it. You’re crossing some weird wires in his head, he swears. If you say it to him in the right context, he’s giving you a shocked look and a halfhearted scolding as he tries not to get turned on in the middle of what he’s doing. “You’re gonna be the death of me, girl,” makes you giggle at him. 

:Low Honor:

He might also be somewhat against it but for different reasons. He thinks girls like you have high expectations and it annoys him. But if he thinks you’re pretty that’s what he thinks. He doesn't let anybody get too close so if he’s thinking about you as more, your age is not something that stops him from doing so. It does just take him some time to think about letting you close enough for anything more than his usual rude demeanor and standoffish personality. 

The only way he'll know he likes you as a bit more than another thankless and ungrateful face in the crowd of people he begrudgingly provides for is if you thank him for bringing money or things back to camp. He gets a little quiet, trying to suss out ulterior motives but he thinks you’re quite adorable. Looks away and says it’s nothing. He’ll indulge you, doing things that are just for you, just to hear you say thank you again. 

He teases you more, emphasizing how young you are, in a way that rubs him the right way. Calling you little girl, intimidating you with his size, or keeping you away from certain things like cigarettes. “These are for grown ups, sweetheart,” If you’re a brat around him, he likes a bit of brat taming. “Dunno, might need to take you over my knee if you’re gonna act like that,” has you gasping and stuttering out a clumsy response.

It’s easy to sway him into taking things further with you. He isn’t one for hanging around the camp, so close to everyone else anyway, he likes his alone time. Catching him when he’s by himself, smoking a cigarette, is a good time to get on his nerves enough to force his hand a little bit. Stand too close to him and run your fingers over the handle of his gun and ask if you can hold it, he’s so close to snapping. The look in his eye under the shadow of his hat makes you feel 5 degrees warmer. “You better quit playin’ games with me, girl. Not sure you know what you’re askin’ for,”  Maybe not the best idea to defiantly ask him to show you.

Then you’re sat on his knee, he’s pressing his mouth into yours, sloppy kisses with no regard for whether you think it’s too much for you or not. He’s shoving his tongue into your mouth, one hand to steady you and the other groping your tits. He’s mostly trying to get you to be as noisy as possible. 

He’s really not guilty at all. Maybe a little but he doesn’t let guilt affect his actions. It may be true that maybe you could be with someone better than him but if you’re with him, you know what you’re in for. You’re his girl and there isn’t anyone else for you if he’s your man. Arthur may not admit it but in the back of his head, there is a voice that whispers to him that one day you’ll leave him behind. He overcompensates for it, doing what he can to see you smile, rather reluctantly asking if you’re happy with him once in a while. If you ask why, he’s unclear, “Jus’… makin’ sure,” your enthusiastic yes, followed by a kiss on his cheek actually flatters him a little, rubbing his neck, a quiet ‘good’ is all he has to say. 

If he gets shit for being with you, he brushes it off. He might get flack from some well meaning people, Hosea or Abigail might tell him to leave you alone, that he should know better. But he thinks they should know better too, Arthur has very little restraint. So if a young pretty thing wants to be his girl, he’s not saying no. Any notions of how guilty he should be don’t come from him. He may think he’s a sinner and a bad man but those things don’t stop him from wanting you. And Arthur always gets what he wants when he can help it. 

Arthur has never given too much thought about what women think of how he looks. He certainly doesn’t think too much of himself and knows he isn’t exactly in his prime, looks wise at the very least. He’s not too confident about his looks or his body really, he’s more confident when it comes to his abilities and skills. So if you tell him you like the way he looks, he isn’t gonna argue, just pleasantly surprised if he happens to believe you. There’s a chance he thinks you're lying. He knows there’s something perhaps a bit off with you, most girls your age don’t give him a second glance but does it stroke his ego when you stare at him, bite your lip when he grabs his belt, pulling all of your attention to the size of his hands and his crotch. 

If you’re softer about your affections for him, he’s happy to accept them too, you’re his little angel, but he has every intention to pull you down from heaven to make you his. You can start with soft touches over his face, rubbing up over his shoulders and chest but he’s quick to pull you deeper with him. His teeth nip softly at your lips, his hands roam all over you.

He's eager to take your firsts, in his twisted little head, he knows he can regulate what you think is normal. He doesn’t have to play gentle and sweet, he bites and sucks marks on you, slaps your ass pretty hard. Arthur’s happy to have himself be the man that ruins you for other men, he’s your first and your last. 

Sorry but he’s kind of toxic, he likes the way you do things like kiss him, or touch him, take him in your mouth; but sometimes he puts on a little bit of an unimpressed face, not exactly bored or anything, just enough to see you try harder to please him. He always gives in; especially when he can tell you’re trying. His proud little smirk and affection are something you might have to work for. Your inexperience is the perfect opportunity to have you eager to make him happy. 

Huge innocence kink, he loves to corrupt you, teach you about what a man does with a woman he likes. Even better if you have no clue, or you think babies come from kissing or something, god is he eager to fuck all of that up. He’s all for you calling him daddy too, the guilt or the imagery or whatever doesn’t do it for other people just makes it so much more appealing to him. Most of the time, he likes to keep your affairs private but once in a while, he’ll show out, just to show who you belong to. If people happen to overhear the racy things you two talk about and they give you a weird look, he just has a knowing smirk for the eavesdropper.

Can you tell that I think age gaps are hot? RDR let me fuck that middle aged man right neow!!! When will they let RDO be about dating Arthur Morgan??? 😔😔😔😔wish he was at least a fuckin stranger mission or something SIGHHHH anyway Thanks for reading and pls let me know if you liked it! Otherwise I'll feel like a freak LMAO