#but someone put that in my thread to chew on later thanks

[necropathys]

Pause. Imagine ur apple poly hell, but it's Nightcest. Swan, Nm, Passive. it'll be obviously more wholesome. A penny for your thoughts 😘.

Hey, you already know I’m crazy about this dynamic. It’s bold to assume it’ll be more wholesome—everything depends on how Nightmare is depicted, right?

Passive might come across as naïve, but he’s still cunning enough to use manipulation when it suits him. Swan shares that trait but applies it more to keeping a low profile and avoiding conflict. Nightmare, of course, takes it all to a whole new level. Put them together, and you essentially have a snake’s den—a pit of vipers. Sure, they’d protect each other, but they’d also play mind games and might be downright ruthless about getting what they want.

I love the softness in their bond, but it’s the razor-sharp edges that really fascinate me. Each of them is like a shard of glass: Nightmare’s more like seaglass—seemingly weathered, but knowing exactly how to cut you where it hurts most.

Anyway, they should still kiss and read books. Nightmare and Swan share a smoke (while Passive grumbles about the smell). Swan, forever restless, can’t stand staying in one place. Meanwhile, Passive adores the castle but also wants to be outside constantly. Both of them are shy around Nightmare’s entourage, even if those folks have promised they’re safe to be around.

And yeah, they definitely bicker as much as the dreamcest poly does—if not more.

...and of course, there’s the whole angle of Nightmare and Swan slowly corrupting Passive.

[trigunsbbygirl]

I loved your writing! And I just loved the Vash isekai reverse, could you make a do knives too? How would he react to staying on earth and also some headcanons

lol I said I was gonna draw, you know, like a liar. I saw this and my brain said I must write- but!! thank you!! I'm glad you liked the Vash one!!

I mention trimax but there's no spoilers since I've never read it, just thoughts and analysis from twt. and so! this is stampede Knives I'm talking about!

also talk about the last episode of tristamp so spoilers for that!

•Knives is really confused when he first arrives on earth. and when you first met him he kinda??? just goes along with your flow because he really has no idea about what's going on.

•you're worried about this man, he looks dazed and confused and you don't know if he's been drugged or had a stroke or something cause he's also asking where he is. you ask if he needs to go to the hospital or has anyone you can call, but then he asks what planet this is when you really take a look at him.

•and it hits you that oh, this man looks a lot like Million Knives. you had been so caught up in worry that you just glossed over his appearance.

•Knives is waiting for you to answer and he notices that you've all of the sudden gone timid in body language, voice nervous when you answer 'Earth,' then ask for his name.

•your, what you hoped was just a delusional theory, is confirmed when he answers that his name is indeed Millions Knives.

•he's kinda amused seeing your eyes widen in fear, but he's also curious, is there a version of him here? or did life somehow prevail on earth and his name is known? why do you act like you know of him?

•you stumble over answering that, how's he gonna react that people read/watch a story that involves him for entertainment?

•and so you just vaguely say, "well, there's this story and you're in it, but like, you don't actually exist in the real world.."

•Knives just raises an eyebrow at that. that just gave him more questions. and so, he demands that you show him what you mean, and sure enough, that's himself he's looking at on your phone.

•ngl I'm a little torn on how Knives ends up living with you? I suppose it would be him being like, "human, show me how this world works" or something like that, and you're like "uh? okay? but where are you gonna stay?" and he just responds, "you'll be housing me."

a bit of a crack way to put it, but yeah, he just forces himself into your house because there's no way he's living out on the streets, and well, he has no fucking idea where to go so.. congratulations! you've got a roomie!🎉 (also, if you live in the city, the noises are lowkey overstimulating him)

anyways

•angry little man doesn't know what to do at first. there's no plants like him, there's no Vash, so, he can't exactly chase after that utopia for plants..

•but he is pretty upset seeing the state of the world and how a lot of people aren't really doing much or just don't care.

•kinda still wants to do that whole, killing humans thing, but there's almost 8 billion people here, and a bunch of militia and weaponry, and he doesn't really wanna deal that. plus if they bring out the nukes on him, Knives thinks that would just cause way more harm so, he decides to just try and enjoy the world Rem talked so much about.

•although, if he sees someone litter, he has to hold back on his murder rage. Knives has learned that his actions have consequences here, and again, he doesn't wanna deal with that. but! he does throw the litter back at them and chews their ass out.

•going into learning, Knives forces you to take him to a library, and later on, teach him how to use your laptop. but after that, he kinda refuses to ask for help with learning about Earth. Knives does catch on and thread how everything works and entertwines pretty quick though.

•he finds natural disasters very fascinating, however it makes him wonder why humans continue to live in places with reoccurring disasters. well, he doesn't actually care, neither the answer, it just makes him think of how humans continued to live on Gunsmoke despite the harsh environment. no matter what planet humans are annoyingly stubborn he supposes.

•it takes Knives a long time to actually warm up to you, and even longer to start exploring hobbies.

•you had gotten Knives a keyboard piano once. it's not that big and it doesn't sound as good as he wishes it could, but considering your small house and that money is an important thing, he'll make do with it. Knives never did say thanks or show you any appreciation, but he does play it often.

•Knives might even start getting into composing music with more instruments later on too. he found the composing side of YouTube after watching a lot of orchestra videos and he kinda got interested in composing with more than just a piano.

•he again, demands you take him to the library and he reads a lot about music theory and how to write his own music before trying it himself. Knives actually gets really good it and you joke saying he should upload his stuff to YouTube and Spotify. he just brushes it off(he won't admit he's happy that you like his work.)

•Knives is really fucking good at mobile and arcade rythym games. he saw you playing on your phone once and he kept watching until you asked if he wanted to try. it took a while, but he got the hang of it pretty quickly. (you're a bit jealous of just how quickly he got it lol)

•he doesn't play them often, especially early on, even though he starts to enjoy playing. some of the songs like faster paced ones kinda overwhelm him or bothers his ears.

•I didn't put this on the 'things that confuse him post' but, Knives doesn't understand objects like figurines, plushies, charms, stuff like that. what purpose do they serve? when you answer that you just like the character and wanted to show support for the show/game, Knives still doesn't understand. he thinks it's a waste of money</3

•he especially won't understand spending money on gacha games. Knives will make you budget yourself if you aren't already. he thinks it's a bigger waste of money, especially if it's a gacha where you just pull for cards, you can just save them onto your phone no?

congratulations! you're free of gacha addiction!/j (do not show him how people have spent thousands on gachas or how some have sent death threats over pulls)

•Knives keeps your house spotless. he refuses to live in a dirty house. but he won't do the dishes, your laundry or clean the toilet. those are your responsibilities and Knives makes you do them daily and weekly respectfully.

•I feel like, overtime once you two are together, Knives gets into cooking. now he doesn't really eat much, but he does enjoy the process (and he wants to make sure you're eating good)

•he forces you to hike with him or go to the park every week. he loves being out in nature and observing everything. sometimes when Knives comes across certain plants or animals, he'll make a little comment or bring up a fact he read about.

•loves when it rains, he finds it really soothing

•Knives tried to read trimax once, he got curious one day, but he couldn't finish it. it sent him into a panic attack. likewise, I don't think he could watch the last episode of tristamp, watching himself burn like that would freak him out a bit, whether he went through that or not yet.

•he gets into painting! it kinda started as him just sketching plants he finds in the wild to drawing landscapes. you gifted him paints one day he's been enjoying using them

•I think he'd like using gouache paint. he usually only draws close ups of plants and landscapes. Knives got a small kit and artbook, and he takes it with him when you two go out for your weekly walk.

•he has secretly drawn you once, but you didn't hear that from me-

[jaehyunfirstlove]

May I request a LDR au with idol!jaehyun where reader studies overseas and both of them attempt to bond with each other? Thank you❤️

Pairing: long distance bf!jaehyun x f.reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: ngl anon, i had no idea what 'LDR' stood for so i had to ask a friend (props to @jaehyunnie77 for educating me lol), anyway, hope you like it!

“I’m not ready to start dating again, hyung,” Jaehyun sighed, appreciative of Doyoung’s concern but still trying to overcome his heartbreak.

“It’s not dating! Just talking! I just think it would help if you had friends, outside of us, to talk to,” Doyoung clarified, patting Jaehyun on the back soothingly.

“Why does it sound like a setup, though?” Jaehyun smiled, and Doyoung just chuckled.

“Sorry, So-hyun has been bugging me to introduce you two. She thinks you’ll hit it off.”

Jaehyun chewed on his lip, clearly torn between polite propriety, and his own mixed emotions. “I really don’t know…”

“Listen,” Doyoung put a hand on Jaehyun’s shoulder, “just exchange a couple of pleasantries so I can get So-hyun off my back, okay?”

Jaehyun laughed. “Sure, I can do that. Give her my number.”

---

You sighed inwardly when you got a message from a family friend, saying she wanted to introduce you to someone. You didn’t know why she would bother setting you up with someone while you were studying abroad, but you assumed she figured the long distance thing wouldn’t be a problem. Feeling pressured, you accepted, and sent off your first message.

Me: Hello, this is Y/N, So-hyun’s friend

You put your phone down, not expecting a response right away considering the time difference, but to your surprise your phone buzzed almost right away.

Jaehyun: Hello Y/N, it’s nice to meet you :)

It was just one line, and one emoji, but for whatever reason you were intrigued.

Me: Oh! I didn’t expect a response right away! Isn’t it the middle of the night there? Sorry to bother you

Jaehyun: No bother at all, I was up anyway

Jaehyun: How are you doing?

Me: I’m doing okay, just finished exams so I can rest for a little bit

Me: how are you? Why are you up so late? Sorry for all the questions

Jaehyun: I don’t mind the questions :)

Jaehyun: I’m glad you’re done exams, what are you studying?

Jaehyun: I’m doing okay as well, just tired from practice

Jaehyun: it’s also why I’m still awake, I always find it hard to sleep after a tough day

You felt bad for him, you knew how hard it was to function on very little sleep. So-hyun hadn’t told you much about him, just that he was an idol, but you didn’t follow the industry so you didn’t know much about it.

Me: Oh! That’s awful! You should try drinking chamomile tea, I find that always helps me relax enough to fall asleep

Me: and I’m studying architecture :)

Jaehyun: oh thanks I’ll try it! I’ll try anything at this point

Jaehyun: and architecture! Wow that’s cool! I’m a big fan of Gehry :)

You broke into a wide smile, Gehry was your favorite too and you planned to do your dissertation on him when you reached graduate school.

Me: aww that’s so cool! What’s your favorite building? Mine’s the EMP museum in Seattle :)

Jaehyun: hmm will have to look that one up! Mine’s the Guggenheim Bilbao, guess I’m boring like that lol

You smiled even wider to yourself, happy to be able to talk about one of your passions with someone outside of school, and not have to bore your uninterested friends to death with it. You were eager to continue the conversation but you looked at the time, realizing you were already running late for your next class.

Me: oops sorry i gotta go to class

Me: talk to you later?

Jaehyun: of course! Have fun :)

---

Although he was exhausted, Jaehyun felt there was no way he could sleep now. He’d only meant to exchange a text or two with you to satisfy Doyoung, but he ended up enjoying the conversation, staying up later than he had meant to. He lay in bed, wide awake, wondering how your class was going, if you’d had something to eat, if it was cold or warm where you were. When sleep still didn’t come, he got up and made chamomile tea just like you’d suggested.

---

“Y/N! Who on earth are you texting? Don’t you know we have a major project due soon?”

You typed faster, wanting to get your message out to Jaehyun even as your classmates gave you dirty looks. “Sorry, guys! Almost done.” You pressed send, putting your phone away and resolving not to check it until you were done with the group project. Except you were dying to know what Jaehyun’s response would be to your question. You bit your lip, drumming your pen on the table anxiously.

“Y/N,” your friend, Sara, leaned in and whispered, “who is this new boyfriend, anyway? When can we meet him?”

You smiled, loving the sound of the term ‘boyfriend’. “Sorry, Sara, you won’t meet him for a while. He’s out of the country.”

“Wow, a long distance relationship,” Sara whistled under her breath, “I don’t know how you do it.”

You had to admit, it wasn’t easy, but Jaehyun was such a sweet, easygoing person. You’d bonded pretty quickly after finding some shared interests, and then you shared pictures and followed each other on social media. Soon you were video calling, almost every day, your days beginning and ending with his dimpled smile on your phone screen. You never thought long distance relationships would work, but you found Jaehyun made it easy. Despite his busy schedule he always made time for you, even if he had to call you from the car on the way to a photo shoot, or backstage at a music show. You thought he would be an unwelcome distraction to your studies, but you found he was a very welcome distraction indeed.

When the group went quiet, you snuck out your phone to check Jaehyun’s response.

Jaehyun: sorry Y/N, I can’t get away right now for a visit, we’re preparing for the next comeback

Jaehyun: thanks for the invite though, please make sure to send pics :)

Your heart sank. You had invited Jaehyun for your graduation, and you were hoping beyond hope that he would be able to make it. You knew it would be a long shot, so you decided to try asking anyway, but now you regretted asking in the first place. Dejectedly, you typed your reply.

Me: oh it’s okay, I figured you probably wouldn’t be able to come

Me: just thought I’d ask anyway

Jaehyun: i’m really sorry

Me: it’s cool! :)

Even though you sent a happy face emoji, you were anything but happy. You didn’t want Jaehyun to see how disappointed you were, so you made sure to put on your happiest face when you video called him later that night.

---

You couldn’t stop fiddling with your cap, and there were loose threads on your gown that were driving you crazy. The worst part was that you couldn’t get a hold of Jaehyun before the ceremony, and you started to bite your lip anxiously, your nerves getting the best of you and no calm words from your boyfriend to help settle you. When they finally called your name you got up nervously to walk to the stage, and suddenly you heard a loud cheer. You knew it wasn’t anyone in your family, so you turned towards the sound, and your heart almost stopped in your chest when you saw Jaehyun in the crowd.

The pictures he’d sent, the videos you’d seen, the image of him on your phone screen did not do him justice. In person, he was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. You almost dropped to your knees at the sight of him, but you felt your classmates pushing you towards the stage, clearly not wanting you to make the hellishly long ceremony even longer. On wobbly knees, suppressing a sob, you accepted your diploma, everyone thinking you were emotional because you were graduating, but really it was because you were seeing your long distance boyfriend for the first time.

When you walked off the stage you didn’t go back to your seat, you ran directly into his arms, and he laughed, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around.

“Congratulations, beautiful,” he whispered in your ear, before kissing you softly on the cheek.

“What are you doing here,” you sobbed, unable to hold back your tears as you clung to him.

“Well I recall getting an invitation?” he replied cheekily.

You smacked him lightly on the arm. “You said you couldn’t make it!”

He just laughed again, his eyes twinkling, “I wanted it to be a surprise. Sorry to fool you like that.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled, and finally, you got to kiss him. He leaned in, and you got up on the tips of your toes, your lips meeting for the first time. It was everything you imagined it would be, gentle but firm, the want clearly conveyed.

“Thanks for coming, Jaehyun,” you said softly, when you were finally able to tear yourself away from his lips.

He tightened his arms around you, pressing his forehead against yours. “Y/N, I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

---

Thanks for 1.4k :)

[REQUESTS CLOSED]

[jasmine-the-fox]

Her sweet bunny villain

I thought about it for a while and decided that I wanted to do a fic where Mari is dating Izuku Midoriya who is a villain... Hope you all like it!

Mari always wondered why her boyfriend decided to do crime, she never really asked him but she does wonder about it at times, Izuku Midoriya entered her life when she went to Japan for a week to destress from what her class was doing by believing Lila to this very day, she was only walking around when she found him in an alley injured, from the way he dressed it was obvious he had a terrible taste in style and it was all bad quality so after taking care of his injuries she helped him get back close to his home before making him promise to contact her for clothes.

Since that day she had been designing his clothes and then it began there long distance relationship, Izuku who decided to go by the name Usagi when he’s working was happy to have her call him Deku... And while she knows it means useless and worthless, the way she says it makes him happy and not mind it at all, she also did meet through video calls the rest of his team, like Dabi who has a blue flame quirk, Himiko Toga who when she drinks someone’s blood can look like them... And many more after that, she does worry about him at times but he always calls once a mission is done with so she knows he’s alive.

One day, Mari came to school to overhear Lila claiming that she’s dating Katsuki Bakugo, son of fashion designers Mitsuki and Masaru Bakugo, she talks about how she used to model with him and all kinds of things but Mari simply ignored it and headed to class... This was the new normal for her now, no longer was she greeting her classmates, no longer was she invited to things, no longer was she making them free things... It didn’t really matter to her that they were mad at the fact she wasn’t making them free things anymore, she had a website where she sells her designs and is happy to having good paying customers.

Lila claimed that her designs were cheap looking and claimed that Mari was being a brat by demanding money, miss Bustier even tried to make Mari bake and design for free again and when she refused she and her parents were called to the principals office where he was chewed out by her parents for trying to drain her by forcing her to spend her well earned money to buy fabric, threads, buttons and baking ingredients to make free things for a class who doesn’t even help or thank her anymore.

Needless to say... He and Caline were threatened with being put to court if they made such a demand on Mari again...

After that, the class simply glares at her whenever they bring up wanting baked goods or new clothes... And she would ignore them the whole time, it made them angry because they would then need to spend money on new clothes that even though they show it off she doesn’t react, they also need to spend money to buy baked goods and then complain at school because it was expensive and Mari doesn’t say anything, instead she focuses on her homework and designs for her paying customers to get there approval... And prepare to message her boyfriend about some clothes she was sending his way.

Alya was just about to stomp over towards Mari to demand free stuff but Caline had just walked in to reveal to everyone that the trip that Mari had prepared for them to go to Japan for two weeks was approved “Now I just need everyone to get there parents signature for this try by tomorrow so I can confirm who will be coming” she explained as she handed out the paper for the signature of a parent, Alya squealed and pointed out how Lila would see her boyfriend while the liar internally winced as she would need to have the class avoid anything connected to Katsuki.

Mari smiled as she packed the paper and then began to listen and take notes in class like Adrien and Max were doing... While the others were either on there phones or doing something else then listening to the lesson, when the day ended Mari walked into the bakery and handed the paper to her mother who quickly signed it for Mari to hand it to her teacher tomorrow, she then took back the paper and went straight to her room to get to work on sending pictures of the designs to her clients, then as she waited for there replies she took the box of clothes to mail while sending a message to Izuku about how she was sending the clothes now, then once she was told how long it might take she estimated the delivery date for him.

All the while she was seen by Lila sending the box...

By the time Mari got to the bakery, the delivery company she dropped off the box at called her, they said that a girl with tanned skin, green eyes and hair tied in three sausage style came claiming there was an error with the box she dropped off and asked for her to explain “I don’t know why she’s lying to you, I brought the box over because I wanted to get it delivered so she’s lying to you simple as that” she replied making the man claim he would take care of Lila and then hung up making Mari smile as she went up to her room... To find Alya there rummaging through her things “What are you doing in my things!?” she demanded loudly making her parents hear and dial for the police.

Alya glared at Mari as she focused on her task, Lila had claimed that she had gotten a dress from Katsuki and brought it at school to show... But Mari had taken it, she described it as a lightly ruffled white dress with light blue flowers flowing on the dress, Alya promised to get it back so after picking the look of the house door she snuck into Mari’s room to look for the dress, after a while the police arrived and forced her outside with questions while waiting for her parents to arrive, but Alya refused to answer the whole time when her parents arrived as they promised to bring her down to the police station for questions... And claimed she wouldn’t be going to the Japan trip in the end.

Alya went pale and the revealed what Lila claimed, her mother lost it and asked if she ever asked Mari about it, the pigtailed girl then said she had made a dress of that style for Manon... The girl she would babysit, Alya was shocked at those words as Mari then pulled out her phone to reveal a picture of the little girl wearing the exact dress Lila claimed was her’s, her parents took her home for a bit to make sure that Nora could watch the twins before taking Alya to the station to answer further questions, Mari with her parents then walked back inside and up to her room to clean up the mess Alya had made of her clothes, she also checked on the responses of her clients and reply from her boyfriend making her smile in excitement.

The next day, Mari arrives at school to be glared by her classmates, turns out Lila was told by Alya what happened and Lila decided to hide the fact that she lied about the dress and claimed Mari got the police on Alya for no good reason, so when in class and class was surrounding her in anger she revealed the lie about the dress Lila claimed with a picture of Manon that her mother Nadja sent her... It made them all turn to look at Lila in shock, Caline then walked in and asked for the paper signed... Everyone but Adrien and Alya handed there’s, it turns out that Gabriel had a few things set up for Adrien to do so he refused to let him go to Japan while Alya was banned from going on the trip by her parents... This angered Lila as she called the man during class break to get him to sign the paper and have it brought at lunch.

He just had to make sure that Lila is happy during the trip...

A week later they arrived in Japan, they quickly got to the hotel to rest but the class decided to listen to Lila and walk around while Mari being smart decided to stay in her room to sleep a bit... Adrien decided to do the same and ignored Lila, she woke up a while later from a text from her boyfriend asking if she was awake so she replied that his message woke her up, he felt bad which he wrote but asked her to come outside of the hotel making her smile and walk out, Adrien had been awake for a while and heard her room door open and close so he decided to follow her outside to see her talking to a guy wearing a hoodie with green eyes, curly green hair and freckles.

Adrien wasn’t sure what to do at the sight, as he watched them walk away... All he could was stay at the hotel and hope nothing bad happens to her while she’s out there...

Mari smiled towards her loving evil boyfriend, Izuku smiled as they walked around before slowly entering a coffee shop and heading to the back... Where the LOV team was living, to hide who they really were the team opened a coffee shop and used Mari’s work to hide and look different and to blend in like it was nothing, right now Himiko and Dabi were working at the front while the other’s were in the back “It’s great to see you all again” Mari smiled making them smile in return, they prepared her a cup of coffee making her smile and thank Kurogiri who was happy of the praise he gained as they spoke together until Himiko and Dabi walked in as they closed just now... Meaning Mari would need to head back.

By the time the class came back, it was with the police, turns out that the hotel had not been informed that the class would leave all of a sudden to go around unlike Marinette who did before leaving so they called the police to get the class found, the police found them after a while and gave a stern talking to miss Bustier about how she needed to be an actual adult and have the class follow the plans... And not allow them to leave the hotel all of a sudden outside of there plans, because of that it was decided that another teacher will come to assist on watching over the class... While Adrien watched in shock from the hall.

The next day a lady named Nemuri Kayama arrived to assist in watching over the class, she was supposed to be teaching at the prestigious school called UA but instead was asked to help with a class who decided that leaving the hotel without telling someone was a good idea, so with that they got going, Adrien did watch Mari as he was worried on where she went yesterday but with Lila keeping close to him... He wasn’t able to ask her about it, Nemuri began showing them around and correcting things each time Lila tries to spin a tall tale about something... And then glares at Caline for allowing the girl to lie like that and does nothing to make her stop.

Slowly they walked over to UA making the class get excited to see the place as then class 1-A comes to view as there training, Mari then noticed a certain blonde named Katsuki Bakugo... Her boyfriends bully who told him to take a swan dive off of a roof and pray that he get’s a quirk in the next life, because of that she hated him but acted like she knew nothing about him at all... But she was planning something, she and her classmates got to meet them and then watched as Katsuki yelled at Lila for lying about them dating and swore he would sue her for that... Which led to all of her lies being uncovered making Mari smile at the sight as none of her classmates or even her teacher thought about there actions towards her and went to apologize.

She also didn’t notice Katsuki watching her with a faint blush...

The day continued like that, her classmates angry at Lila for lying, forgetting about the fact that they bullied Mari because Lila claimed she did something to her, nor did they remember that they would get mad at Mari because she wasn’t making them free things anymore, there was also the fact that Katsuki was keeping close to her... She didn’t like it and decided to ignore him, her plans couldn’t start just yet of course so instead she was going to relax and enjoy her time in Japan, she did have a few things planned with her boyfriend already during there free days so that was a good thing of course, when lunch came she sat alone at a table away from everyone while texting Izuku with a smile.

No one from her class tried to go over to talk to her, she did faintly notice Adrien looking at her but she decided to ignore the look as Katsuki walked over and sat at her table “Can I help you with something?” she asked while not looking at him, instead focused on her phone, Katsuki didn’t say anything and simply began to eat his spicy curry making her then begin to eat while texting Izuku before she had to join the class once more to look around the school before they would need to head back to the hotel to either relax or to enjoy the rest of there free day walking around or shopping... Mari couldn’t wait to go on a date with Izuku for the afternoon.

Katsuki still followed until they got to the hotel, Mari never spoke to the blonde and instead focused on the tour of the school and going to her hotel room without a word to get cleaned up before waiting for Izuku outside the hotel for there date, Katsuki waited for a while before sighing and heading back to school... He could tell he didn’t do something right with Marinette so all he could do was wait until tomorrow to try again, once Mari was ready, she walked down to the lobby and then informed the lady at the counter that she was going to walk around before heading outside to wait for her amazing boyfriend.

Without knowing that Lila was watching her from afar with a glare...

Even though she worked so hard to destroy Marinette's life, that everything she told them wasn’t true but she worked to make them believe everything... She still believed she should win somehow against Marinette, because of that she decided to try and confront the girl once they get back to the hotel about it but the pigtailed girl was to fast for her and she was gone to her room before she even noticed, now she watched as the girl walked out of the hotel alone making her angry as she rushed of to tell there teacher about it, Caline was a little angry and the two went to the counter to get the police involved but the worker refused.

“Your student informed me of her using her free day to tour around Japan, she has the right as I was informed” she explained and then went back to work while ignoring them, Lila was furious about that as Mari smiled while holding hands with her boyfriend as they enjoyed there date together, Izuku was actually claimed dead, after Katsuki told him to kill himself and All Might telling him that a quirkless person can’t be a hero... He jumped to end his life, it was then that he was found by Tomura who promised him a better life, so he was claimed dead, even though his coffin had no body, Izuku was trained to be the best in combat even though he didn’t have a quirk.

Then he became friends with Himiko and Dabi... He also met Mari and then slowly fell for her and ended up dating her, the girl didn’t even care about the fact he was a villain, instead she helped when she could by making them clothes, she did however did something different, clothes Izuku would wear will have her signature, but the clothes he and the league wore didn’t and instead looked different enough from her usual work that no one would notice unless they saw her working on clothes and were with knowledge in fashion designing, so with that she was safe, Izuku also needs to be careful since even though he is claimed dead... Someone might figure it all out at some point.

Slowly there trip to Japan got to the last few day of there second week, some complained that time went by too quickly while Katsuki felt anger because he failed with Mari every time he had a chance to talk to her, so he decided to try and simply ask her out on a date, but he failed horribly, when they got to pick up the class from the hotel to go to the mall, he tried asking Mari out and she flat out rejected him and then walked away from him to do some shopping alone, his friends were a little surprised at that but still believed that things would get better so they helped him by encouraging him to try again at a later time.

And it still failed... But it was worse because he felt like he was going through déjà-vous all of a sudden...

She was alone heading back to the hotel early so he walked her back, once at the door he asked her out once more until she spoke “Why don’t you take a swan dive off of a roof and pray in the next life that i’m single when you ask me out... Or even interested in a bully like you” then walked back into the hotel while leaving him outside frozen in place... Those words... To kill himself... Were the same last words he told Deku before he killed himself, it made Katsuki slightly sick as he ran back home and into his room while ignoring his parents to curl up in his bed, his mother walked in to try and get gently some answers but all he said was “She said the same words I did” and it made no sense to Mitsuki so she simply left the room.

After that, he kept away from her because of the pain he felt in his chest when her words echoed in his head, she then went back to Paris without another word from him for two months before he and his class came to visit for two weeks... And Katsuki saw a living and breathing Deku holding her hand and being happy with her as they walked around Paris... She was dating him, he faked his death to escape him and now he was living the life he wanted but away from his bully.

All the while not knowing that Deku is Usagi... The same villain he has a hard time in capturing.

So there you go guys! Another BNHA crossover to miraculous ladybug! I’m hoping you all enjoy it and are excited for my next fic with these two universes!

[iguessilovebakugou]

Stranger ||  Bakugou x Reader ||  { Anon Request }  ||  Stalking

TW:  Cursing ||  Stalking || Threats of violence  ||  Implied desire for Non-Con (not from Bakugou tho) Word Count:  5.5K

It started after the Sport Festival.  

A DM that had been sent to your private social media account - a friend from your old school named Honoka. You hadn’t spoken to her since starting UA - and the moment you saw the notification, you felt guilty that this was how she had to reach out to you.  She had been so proud of you when you got accepted, she almost started crying, hugging you tightly and telling you as much.  She asked you to keep in contact in High School.  You had promised her you would.

You had been so busy, it was hard keeping promises.

Honoka: Hey!  I saw you on the TV - you were amazing!  I can’t believe they wouldn’t let you pass onto the finals.  Good thing though - you would have gone against that asshole.

Honoka:  Not that you couldn’t have handled it!

It should have tipped you off that one of the quieter kids of school would have used such language, but it didn’t.  It had been a few months since starting high school and people have changed faster.  You didn’t think much about it aside from replying before your train pulled into the station.  You might miss your stop and be late to school.  

You were always punctual and refused to have something as stupid as that go against your record.  

You waited until you were off the train, standing on the steps before sending a quick message. 

Thanks!  It was really terrifying.  But I lost fair and square.  Besides, I wasn’t the only one who didn’t make it to the finals.  So I guess it’s okay. :) 

You decided not to humor her comment about Bakugou.  While it drew a hot, angry tie around your neck, part of you understood.  Honoka wasn’t alone in thinking he was...less than pleasant.  It had been a point of contention, something that bothered you both that day and since.  People were just wrong about him.  She didn’t know him like Class 1-A did.  A few short clips from some televised sports festival didn’t do him nearly the justice he was deserved.

You didn’t have enough time to put your phone back in your jacket pocket when it buzzed again. 

Honoka: Still.

Honoka: You were so strong.  We all think they should have made an exception for you.

Honoka: We should meet up sometime.  Gtg! Text me after school to set up a time!

You wanted to question it but you didn’t.  

You really should have questioned it.  

King Explosion Murder was a perfectly good name.

Miss Midnight just doesn’t understand art.

The conversation had been going on for a hour.  It was the longest that you and Bakugou had texted.  You had moved from a group text to your own private thread.  He didn’t text you like normal boys did - no pictures, no emojis, no stupid memes he had found.  It was...conversation, one that hadn’t been as hard to keep going as you thought.  you tried to distract yourself with school work while he replied, but found it hard not to keep your attention on your screen as the text bubble flashed.  

Bakugou:  It was better than “Deku”.

Well Deku was less violent

Bakugou:  AND IT WAS STILL BETTER

Bakugou:  THAN FUCKING DEKU’S

Honoka: You still up?

You stopped.  Honoka?  Why on earth was she texting you...oh shit.  You groaned, rubbing your eyes and kicking yourself for forgetting to text her back like she had asked.  You had been so wrapped up texting Bakugou since getting home that it just completely slipped your mind.  Though, to be fair, most things slipped your mind around him.

You opened your chat with her, trying to figure out how to apologize without seeming like too much of an asshole.

Hey, yeah, sorry.

I started talking to one of my classmates and totally forgot.  

My bad, dood. 

Once again, she replied quickly. 

Honoka: Who were you talking to?

There was a small part of you that wanted to ask her why it was her business, but you bit your tongue.  She probably didn’t mean anything by it and some residual bitterness from her comment this morning was probably lingering.  You took a deep breath. 

Bakugou.  

We workshopped hero names today.  His got shot down by our teacher.  

It was so sad. 🤣🤣🤣

Honoka:  Why are you talking to him?

It wasn’t a question, not really.  It was a statement.  Like you talking to Bakugou was taboo, you could practically hear her grasping her pearls.  You shouldn’t have had to explain to her why you were talking anyone, let alone him, and it bothered you that she felt she was owed that right. That she even dare ask the question. Your brow furrowed as you sat up in bed.  

What do you mean?

Honoka:  Why are you talking to him?  He seems like an dick

Honoka:  And isn’t good for you. 

Honoka:  You need to focus on being the best hero you can be.

Honoka:  He seems like he would only drag you down. 

Rage filled your stomach.  Your hands were shaking as you tried to figure out what the fuck was going on.  She had never acted this way before...right?  She had always been so nice and meek and unassuming and... 

You were confused, finding yourself chewing on your lip as you tried to make sense of what the hell you were seeing.

He’s my friend.  I really like him.

Look, he’s not as mean as he appears on TV.  He’s actually a really good guy.  And he’s really smart and he’s going to be a better hero than even me some day.

So I would appreciate it if you didn’t talk about him like that.

The chat bubble popped up.  Then disappeared.  Then popped up.  And disappeared again.

It’s funny - you had never felt so threatened by someone not answering.  But as the bubble flashed for a final time, something told you that you had fucked up. 

Honoka was always quiet, yes, but she was also amazingly sweet.  She cried when you were little kids at the ending scene in All Dog’s Go to Heaven, always scrounged up change to donate to someone on the street looking for food, and volunteered every weekend to help with the younger students struggling in studies.  She hadn’t been born with a mean bone in her body.  

But by the end of the week, you were certain the person messaging you wasn’t the same Honoka you knew.  She had changed - and not for the better.  Not in the slightest.  She was growing more insistent that you talk to her - every night.  And if you didn’t?  

The calls were incessant.  One after the other until you finally had to shut your ringer off.  And the voicemails - she never spoke.  Just let it sit for a moment before hanging up.  And you were grateful for it - you didn’t want to talk to her.  Every chance she got, she showered you with praise and adoration while slinging hate at all your friends in 1-A.  But no one got it like Bakugou did.

Honoka:  Stop talking to him.

It’s not any of your damn business who I’m talking to.

Honoka:  If you don’t stop talking to him, I’ll tell him what a whore you were in Middle School.

The water of your bath was scalding, but that didn’t stop you from shaking.  Why was she doing this to you?  Why was she so adamant about making your life miserable?  This wasn’t Honoka - not even in the slightest.  

I’m blocking you.  Leave me alone.

Don’t talk to me anymore.

No matter what, he was pure evil to Honoka.  He was disgusting, arrogant, rude, a monster, a villain hiding in sheep's clothing and would do nothing but drag you down.  He would hurt you, she said.  

Honoka:  Go ahead.  I’ll just make other accounts.

She was as good as her word.  At least that hadn’t changed.

Your classmates were starting to take notice.  After the first few accounts were blocked, she started using a calling app to randomly call you - only to hang up the moment you answered.  Sometimes it was once a night, supplemented with texts about what a no good, lying whore you were.  About how you were just some slut who’s opening you legs for the first guy who gave you any attention. 

Honoka:  Fucking skank.

Honoka:  You’re so fucking worthless.  

Honoka:  You fucking him?  Is that it?  Is that why you want to defend him so bad?

Honoka:  He’s probably fucking every other girl in your class.

Other times, the calls were every hour on the hour.  It had gotten so bad, that you started sleeping in later and later.

You raced through the empty halls, trying to will time to back up.  You had slept in, missing your first train.  When you got on the second one, you fell back asleep until the stop after yours.  The only thing you could do was get off and just run to school as fast as you could.  Class had started 20 minutes ago.  This had never happened before - in your whole life.  You were always meticulous about getting to class early.

You were a good student.  A good person.  You were.  

“Well, look who decided to join us.”  Mr. Aizawa didn’t even bother to hide the annoyance in his voice.  It made it all the more terrible

You wanted to cry.  You felt the eyes of everyone in your class fall on you.  It made your skin squirm, your stomach flip.  You wanted to turn around and just...run home.  To crawl into your bed and... 

You bowed low, your head almost hitting the floor.  “I’m so sorry I’m late, sir!  It won’t happen again!”

“Be sure that it doesn’t.”  His glare hardened.  “We’ll talk after class about your punishment.”

Punishment.  Shit.  You couldn’t speak, resigning to solemnly nodding as you making the walk of shame to your seat, collapsing down.  You had to take a minute, to steady your breath.  To try and collect yourself.  At least at school, you had an excuse not to answer her texts.  To ignore her and pretend like she wasn’t out there being fucking crazy.  School was safe.  School was free from it all.

Almost by habit, you turned and looked over at Bakugou.  A small part of you was praying that he was looking at you.  That his glare would ground you in a way only it knew how.  But when your eyes met...the only thing you felt was misery.  

You fucking him?  Is that it?  

Your heart raced, panic flooded your nerves, and all you wanted to do was run.  Get away from everyone and just...just go to sleep.  You just wanted to sleep.  But Honoka wasn’t allowing that.  You couldn’t stop thinking about half of the things she said while the other half had been resting heavily in your stomach, making you sick.  She was stealing everything from you.

You’re a fucking slut opening her legs for the first guy who gives you attention.  And of course it had to be that fucking dog.

No...no you couldn’t look at him for too long, afraid that he would know.  Terrorized as you were, you couldn’t run the risk of him finding out.  Because...what if she messaged him first?  What if she told him all of her lies and...what if he believed her?

No.  No, that couldn’t happen.

You pulled away from his stare, folding in on yourself.  Just get out your books.  Focus on class and get out your books.  Your phone dinged and your blood ran cold.  You dreaded even looking at it, but as you tugged out your notebook,  the piece of plastic fell, resting against the back of your bag.  It was as if some higher power was damning you to be always aware of the vitriol Honoka was spewing in your direction.  The lock screen shone bright: 21 missed texts, 44 missed calls.  But the most recent message sent horror down your spine.

Honoka:  Naughty girl, sleeping in late for school.  

You slipped out of the lunch room and made your way down the hall.  You were going to put an end to this - once and for all.  You didn’t know what game Honoka was playing at, but whatever it was, you were fucking done.  She was starting to seep into every facet of your life and it was ending now.  Right then, in that hallway.  

When you got a safe distance away from the double doors, to ensure no one could hear you when you started screaming, you searched through your contacts for her number.  When you finally found it however...

God, just looking at her name made you sick.  The fact her contact picture was of you and her, eating ice cream at a beach, grinning and giving the camera a peace sign, posing as only 12 year old girls knew how, it drove a knife into your chest, twisting it even deeper the longer you stared at it.  She was making your life a living hell.  It wasn’t right, it didn’t make any fucking sense.  Why was she doing this to you?  Did you do something to her?  Were you cruel in your last interaction?  Did you make a joke that went so poorly that she decided the only way to get back at you was to ruin your entire life?  To push you so close to the edge that...

She going out of her way to make your life a living hell and for what?  

Well, no better time like the present to find out.

Your thumb slammed down on the dial button.  Each ring was like nails on chalk board.

Her voice was even worse.

She said your name so surprised, before crying it out in joy.  “Oh my god, it’s been so long!”

Well...that...wasn’t...true?

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Honoka went silent on the other end of the phone.  “Uh...are you okay?”

“You’ve been harassing me since the festival and you’re just going to act like-”

“Wait...what?”

“The thousands of texts!?  The millions of calls!?”

She didn’t answer.  You couldn’t help the grin that spread over your face.  You fucking got her.  You caught her in her bullshit lie and she didn’t have anything to say for it.  You hated to admit it, but part of you was excited to hear how she was going to explain it way.  How she was going to break down and finally you could tell her off and it was going to stop and you could get a good night’s sleep and maybe your mom could make your favorite curry and you would be able to eat it and not throw it up later and -

“I haven’t been texting you.”

Well...you couldn’t have said you were expecting that.  You stopped, staring at your feet.  “I...what?”

“I...haven’t been calling you.  Or texting you.”  She said, her voice - that ever familiar voice - filled with worry.

...of course she would be worried.  She was always so fucking nice. 

“Yes you have!!”  You shouted, gritting your teeth.

She said your name, so softly and so calmly, “No.  I haven’t.  I promise you, I haven’t.  Are you okay?  Is everything alright?”

The phone vibrated in your fingers and the screen lit up once more.  Another unknown number was calling you.  You didn’t hesitate and for the first time since this all began you answered the her-him-they-it. 

“What!?”  You screamed, pressing the phone to your ear.  You strained to hear, to try and find out who was doing this to you.  “What do you want!?  Why are you doing this to me!?  Leave me alone!!!”

...click!

The dial tone felt like a death sentence.

The hallway shrunk and expanded, growing larger and darker - like the mouth of the beast, it was going to swallow you whole.  You pressed your phone to your forehead, slumped to the floor and realized...you were crying.  No, not just crying.  You were sobbing, each one wracking your body and shaking your bones.  Shit...shit, shit, shit.  You just wanted to go back to the way things were.  You wanted it to stop, wanted whoever was doing this to leave you alone and - 

Your phone buzzed again.  Another message.  

Another sob rocked your body, but you found the strength to turn it back into view.

UNKNOWN NUMBER ::  [ MULTIMEDIA MESSAGE ]

Your fingers trembled so hard you almost dropped the phone.  You didn’t want to look at whatever it was.  Whoever was doing to you was fucking sick, was deranged and psychotic and out of their mind and...you had to do something about it.  Maybe you could tell a teacher?  But what could they do about it?  Up security?  Just for you?  No, it was entirely out of the question.  You couldn’t go to the police - since who ever this was hadn’t physically done anything to harm you.  

You were on your own.

You opened the message.

It was your house.  The sun was setting.  Then another.  This one was early in the morning.  Then another.  And another.  Another another another another another another another another another different angles, different times of day...but all focused on one spot. 

Your bedroom.  Sometimes it was empty, but other times you were in shot.  Sometimes working on homework, sometimes sitting with your cat on the window sill, other times pulling your shirt above your head, reaching behind your back for your bra and...

UNKOWN NUMBER :  Stop ignoring me.

Your phone clattered to the floor as you gripped your hair, trying to steady your breathing.  In two three fours, Out two three fours.  In two three fours, Out two three-

“Hey.”

The scream was involuntary, as was backing against the lockers so hard that you slammed your head against them.  Bakugou recoiled, staring at you, his eyes wide with surprise.  It didn’t last long, quickly overtaken by gritted teeth and snarls.  “The hell is your-”

He must have noticed the tears, the absolute panic on your face.  The silence fell over the two of you, the echo of your scream now long gone.  You wished you were.  You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t face the shame of what was happening.  How could you explain it. 

“You alright?”  

You pulled your legs up to you chest, hugging them tightly.  “No,” You replied.

Bakugou was never one for consolations.  So you were almost surprised when all he made his way over to where you were sitting and sat down beside you.  You flinched, only a little, but it didn’t seem to bother him none.  He shoved his hands in his pockets, but didn’t say a word, his bright red eyes focused out the window across from you.  You...were grateful.  For the first time in almost two weeks, you didn’t feel entirely vulnerable.  Like everything was crumbling down around you.  And in this small moment of peace, you felt horribly exhausted.  Your mind ached, your body was sore, your eyes were so red and...and...

You rested against his shoulder and he didn’t make a move to stop you.  It was like Bakugou was putting himself between you and...whoever was stalking you.  

Stalking you.  You had a stalker.  

You sniffled, wiping the tears from your eyes.  “I’m sorry.”  You offered.

“For what?”  He barked.

“For crying.”

He didn’t answer for a moment, “Tch.  Yeah, well...maybe suck it the hell up.  Whatever it is, it’s not a big deal.”

Not a big...you turned to look at him, eyes narrowing.  “Not a big deal...?”  

He looked at you, a bored and disgruntled expression on his face.  “Yeah.”

“It’s kind of a big fucking deal.”

“Oh yeah?  Well then what the hell is it?”

“Whoa, it’s that kid who just won the Sports Festival!”

“Oh, wow!  He’s so much scarier in person!”

“Do you think he would be mad if I asked for an autograph?”

“Yeah! Look at his mug - he’s obviously pissed off about something!”

Bakugou had stayed late, even through your detention, to walk you home.  It was nearly dark now as you walked side by side down your street.  The sun was struggling to peak over the row of houses and a purple ink had settled over the top of the sky.  

It was taking everything in you not to apologize...again.  He didn’t need to be dragged into your mess.  But...shit, it wasn’t like you weren’t ecstatic that he offered to walk you home back in the hallway.  He was a terrifying presence, unstoppable.  As he stalked down the road towards your house, a scowl on his face as his eyes peered around every corner, it hit you that you felt safer now than you had the past few weeks.  

“Hey.”  You picked up the pace, making sure to stay close.  “Thank you again.  I just-”

“Ugh, stop thanking me!”  He glared at you.

“I’m just-”  You sighed and gripped your bag straps.  “I...I don’t see the point of you walking me home.  Not...that I don’t appreciate it, I just...won’t that make him mad?”

Bakugou scoffed.  “That’s the point, you idiot.”

Sometimes, you thought you almost understood him.  But then he blew up Rome and screamed at you to start over tomorrow morning.  You stared at him in confusion though ultimately decided you didn’t have the energy to argue.  You were just...thankful that he was here.

“This is me.”  Your house was a small thing, nestled on the corner and surrounded by a garden that was meticulously maintained by your mom while you were at school and your father was at work.  Sometimes the pictures had her in the shot, busy at work.  Your lips thinned as you stared up at the second story window,  Your white curtains lay still and your cat stared down at you, like she knew something was wrong.  Like she knew...that things were amiss. 

Well...Bakugou came all this way and the guy didn’t have the guts to show himself.  As you had figured, you had completely wasted his time.  It wasn’t like he was going to move in just to be your watchful protector.  You didn’t want to think that maybe he was just patiently waiting until you were alone but...

“Do you want to come in for something to drink.  It’s the least I could...”  

Bakugou wasn’t looking at you.  His attention was focused entirely over your shoulder.  You blinked, taken aback by the cold, dead glare on his face.  The way his eyes seemed to burn with...rage?  Unbridled anger?  Nothing seemed to do whatever it was justice.  “You’ve been following us since the train station!”  He yelled out.  “Why don’t you stop being a fucking coward and come out of hiding!!”

…someone...had been following you?

You could see the reflection of someone in his eyes.  With a shaking breath, you turned to look at who he was talking to.

You weren’t sure what you expected.  But throughout the day, you had come up with an image in your mind of what your stalker had looked like.  He would be the perfect embodiment of the horror you had suffered though, that was for certain.  A Cheshire grin, wild unkempt hair, vacant, glossy eyes, maybe a knife or something - anything to solidify himself as the monster who had been making your life miserable.  But...he wasn’t.  As you got a good look at him, you realized that he looked relatively...normal.  And for some reason, that thought alone made you sick.  

He was about your age - maybe a bit older - in a school uniform you didn’t recognize.  His hair was dark, pulled back and pushed behind his ears.  His chin was dusted with facial hair and his eyes were darting between you and Bakugou.  He had been standing by the cross walk and tried to pretend to be shocked that Bakugou was even addressing him. 

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t pull that bull with me.”  Bakugou stepped around you, making his way towards him. “I saw you get off the train with us.  You made every turn we did.  Always stayed one step behind where you thought we couldn’t see you.”

The kid only got a word out before Bakugou gripped him by his shirt and slammed him up against the wall of the neighboring house.  “Please!” The kid yelled.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Bakugou!”  Your legs finally remembered they could move.  You bolted over to where he was standing, looking between the two of them.  “Bakugou maybe it isn’t him!  Maybe he-”

“Show us your phone then if you don’t have anything to hide!”  He lifted him up and slammed him back against the bricks.

“I don’t have to show you anything, you fucking lunatic!”

You don’t think you had ever seen him on this street.  You don’t think you had seen him ever but-

“HEY!”  The boy tried to stop Bakugou from reaching into his pocket.  But it was no use.

You caught it was ease, “Try the day of the sports festival for the password.”  Was all he said.

This was fucking insane.  What if this kid wasn’t the stalker?  What if he was just some random guy who was meeting a friend.  You looked back and forth between the two of them - Bakugou, hair wild and death in his eyes, and this guy who looked down at him with fear and...

...oh...

You swiped up, entering the date as instructed.

It unlocked.

And you were met with a pretty lain layout.  Some photo editing apps, Youtube, a few games, and...

Texting and Calling apps.  Your blood ran cold as you opened the first one up.  Texts apon texts, all to the same unlisted number.  Your unlisted number.  You went to the photo gallery and there they were.  The pictures of your house.  Some of them were zoomed in and cropped to only show you.  You wanted to be sick.  You wanted to-

“I can explain!”  

“What the fuck,” You breathed, scrolling through the pictures.  Not just of your house, but of you - walking home from school, of hanging out with your friends, of you shopping.  And that’s when you saw the edited versions.

Fuck.  Oh Shit Fuck. 

“I was only trying to help you!!”  He cried, scratching at Bakugou’s wrist, making his skin bleed.  “I only want what’s best for us!”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”  You covered your mouth, trying to think of what to do next.  Should you call the police?  Your parents!?  What do you do now?

His eyes fell on Bakugou, practically snarling.  “I knew he would do something like this!!  I knew he would try to make me look like some psycho, but I’m not.  I know how he would treat you!  He’s a rabid fucking dog, a mongrel!  I couldn’t let him treat you the same way!  I couldn’t!  I’m just trying to protect you!  But you wouldn’t fucking listen!!  So I thought if maybe you and I could talk you would understand!  You would see what I’m-”

“ARGH!”

Your body tensed as the smell of burnt stone and ash filled the air.  You looked up and half expected his head to be blown clean off.  But it was still attached, only now he looked terrified as he stared down at Bakugou.  You followed his gaze, saw the look of pure, unadulterated rage.  His hand had connected to the wall beside the man’s head, smoke dancing up and around them.  And he was shaking.  Oh, god, how hard Bakugou was shaking.

He spoke low, deep in his chest.  “Listen close, you freak.  You’re going to leave her alone from this point forward - you got that?  If I find out you’re even thinking about her, I’ll kill you myself!!”

The world fell silent.  No one said a word until.  Your stalker was crying now, shaking as he nodded, quickly, mumbling apology after apology.  You couldn’t find the words to say, but your heart.  God, your heart was beating so hard in your chest as you stared at Bakugou.  He...he was...

Oh.

The window in the house behind you slid open.  An older man leaned out the window, his wife nervously peering over his shoulder.  The looked to the source of the commotion before standing up straight, fumbling as the smoke continued to rise from the spot Bakugou...well...destroyed.  “Hey!!  If you don’t get off my property, I’m calling the cops!”

...the police.  

...

The police.

Oh god, you had his phone.  You could prove he had been stalking you!!!  You perked up, smiling for the first time in weeks, “Yes!  Yes, please, call the police!”

The man stared at you, confusion on his face. “....what?”

The weight of the situation only grew heavier when the police searched the contents of the guy’s backpack. 

Rope.  A knife.  Some cloth.  A box of condoms.  And a jar of a clear, sickly sweet smelling liquid.  You heard one of the officers say what it was, though you were sure you weren’t supposed to hear.  But you did, and so did your parents.  Your mom nearly broke down for the third time that evening as your father swore under his breath.  

Homemade chloroform.

His name was Eito Moto - a second year at another High School near your home.  You would find out later that the stalking had started long before the Sports Festival - ever since he started working at the coffee shop you and your mom would go to every Sunday for breakfast.  Your neighbors, the ones who actually called the police, had seen him hanging around sometimes but didn’t think much off it.  

They thought he had just been a fan.  

They decided not to press charges against Bakugou for putting a hole in their fence.  “Given the circumstances,”  The man said, “I think I would have done the same thing.”

You had to go to the police station to file a report and request a restraining order.  It took well into the morning hours, where you mainly spent your time talking to different police officers, retelling the same story, going over evidence, assuring them you didn’t know this guy so you had no clue why he thought you two had been dating for months.  

They sent Bakugou home, your parents offering him their thanks and promises they would find a better, proper way to think him for essentially saving your life.  

By the time you fell into a crumpled heap on your bed, it was 2 in the morning.  It had been so long since you felt...okay.  Your stalker was in police custody for now, you could at least rest easy tonight.  You gripped your pillows, tugging them up and over your head to block out what meager light filtered in through the hallway.  No more late night calls.  No more insistent texts telling you what a no good whore you were.  You were okay.  

Everything was going to be okay. 

Bzzzz.

...oh no.  Oh no.  Oh no.

You peeked out from under your pillow, trying to calm your racing heart.  It couldn’t be him, you thought.  He was in jail, so they wouldn’t let him call you - right?  They wouldn’t let him do that, even if they did give him one call.  With shaking fingers, you reached out and plucked your phone from your end table.

Bakugou is calling!

Oh....oh thank god.

You couldn’t press accept fast enough.  You sighed, resting back against your pillows.  “Hey.”

“Is that bastard in jail?”

A laugh, a good honest laugh.  “Yeah.  Yeah, he’s in jail.  Dad and mom are gonna to talk to a lawyer tomorrow about our options.”

“Did you get a restraining order?”

You nodded.  “Yeah.  That’s what took so long and why we have to go to court.  They gave me an emergency one so...”  You blew out a puff of air, watching as a lock of your hair jumped up and fell back into place.  “At least there’s that.”

“You should have talked to me about this sooner.”  It was softer than you anticipated, less of a bite than he normally had.

You knew you should have.  You should have told someone but...it felt so...pointless?  Like it wouldn’t have mattered.  But, you had to give credit where credit was due.  “I wish I would have.”

He didn’t respond.  You had expected he would have started yelling at you, about hiding it from everyone.  Chastised you for being so stupid and letting it go on for as long as it had.  But no, he stayed quiet.  You could imagine him laying in bed, staring up at his ceiling, and wondered what he was thinking about.  What he wanted to say.  

You rolled over onto your side.  “Hey, Bakugou?”

“What.”

“Thank you.”

There was a long pause before he let out a soft noise.

“Don’t be stupid.  I was only doing what I had to do.”

Stalkers are fucking scary, yah know.  I had to listen to some voicemails left by stalkers to get the vibe down right - and I still don’t think Eito sounded perfect but hey.  At least one blessing in that:  I’ve never been stalked.  

[myhockeyworld87]

Not So Dangerous Liaison - Sidney Crosby - Part 23

Word Count: 4,542

POV: Starts with the Reader then switches to Sid’s

Warngings: Language, NSFW, Smut

Notes: Sorry this is so late tonight, but well you know life, but here it is finally. Last when we saw these two, Sid had screwed up when he tried to apologize to (Y/N) and accused (Y/N) of flying back to Pittsburgh and sleeping with another man, his teammate. Now let’s find out what happened. As always love your feedback and Happy Reading! Let me know what you guys think.

Not So Dangerous Liaison Masterlist

READER'S POV

 "Are you ok?" Matt asked, throwing an arm around you as your head hung low in your hands. You could tell by his soft voice he wasn't sure if you were crying or not. Oh, you could that was for sure, but not from sadness, it was out of anger.

"No," you mumbled, then stood up and started to pace the floor. "I'm pissed off."

 "I can tell," Cully answered as he watched you move around the great room.

 "Who does he think he is?" It was a rhetorical question, so Matt stayed quiet. "I can't believe he has the nerve to think that I would just fly home to Pittsburgh and just jump in bed with someone. And that for him to think that I would sleep with you!" That came out a bit harsher than you intended. "Not that you're not hot or anything, but you're Dad, you know, and then there's Bridget and…"

 "I get it, (Y/N)." Matt chimed in saving you from further embarrassment.

 "He's just so fucking frustrating." You plopped back down on the couch next to Matt. "He never asked me to move in, you know. He just thinks I'm a mind reader or something. I mean sure I would've loved to move in, had he asked, but did he? NO!" You fought the urge to jump off of the sofa and start pacing again. There was so much tension and frustration that was bundled up inside you, that you just needed to get this nervous energy out of your system. Instead, you reached for the carton of sweet and sour chicken you'd order and shoved a piece in your mouth. It tasted like the cardboard it came in, but that had nothing to do with the quality of the food and everything to do with the nasty after-taste your conversation with Sid had left in your mouth. "I don't really think I'm being unreasonable here…do you?"

 By the look on Matt's face, he was still trying to figure out what you'd said as you hadn't even swallowed the chicken before rambling again. He finished chewing his egg roll, like any normal civilized human being would, though at the moment you didn't feel normal or polite before he answered you. "First off, you're right he should've asked you about moving in." Matt could tell you were about to interrupt him, so he quickly continued. "And you're right about him jumping to a big conclusion about you sleeping with someone, though honestly, I'm quite a catch, just ask Bridget I'm sure she'll tell you that."

 "You are," you said giving him a little wink, even though you'd never looked at him that way.

 "Thank you, now as I was saying, and I'm not trying to make excuses for him here…"

 "I feel like there's a big but coming."

 "But," there it was, you saw it coming a mile away. "I've played with Sid for a year, but I've known him longer than that. You're like the first woman he's ever really had a relationship with. I just don't think he knows how to act." That couldn't be right, you thought. "I mean sure he's gone out on dates and taken someone to an event here or there but nothing like what the two of you have."

 You'd known that he'd been hesitant to get involved with you because he thought it would interfere with hockey but you hadn't really given much thought to him not having experience in a relationship, but what Cully was saying made some sense. "I mean think about it, (Y/N). Hockey has been his whole life until you walked in. He went from being this amazingly talented kid to a superstar center and he's had no chance to experience the stuff that went in between with it. And do you know why that is?"

 You shook your head no, wanting to hear what Cully's assessment was. "Because he's been afraid." Your brows knitted together as you tried to take in that concept. Sid wasn't afraid of anything that you knew of. Thankfully, Matt continued to explain this abstract notion to you. "He's afraid that he'll fail at it. With hockey he can control it, he can work at it. He can go out on the ice and shoot five hundred pucks until he gets that shot right. But this," Matt said, waving his hand in the air then back at you. "This thing he has with you. He has no control over it and that scares the hell out of him. There's no manual on how to be the perfect boyfriend or what to do when you have an argument, and he certainly can't go out to a rink and practice how to do it. He's afraid he'll make the wrong move, probably like he just did, and well…you'll be gone."

 Fuck. That was the only word echoing through your brain. You'd never looked at any of this through Sid's eyes, but you knew that Cully was right. You tossed your head back on the sofa cushion, looking up the ceiling for some sort of divine intervention on what you should do next. "He still shouldn't have said I was sleeping with you."

 "No, he shouldn't have." Matt attempted. "I guess the question is what do you want to do? Is what you have with Sid worth working things out? Are you brave enough to navigate the waters so to speak, where no one else has; helping him along?" You closed your eyes already knowing what you were going to do, but still thinking all your options out. "I remember a certain someone," he jabbed his elbow lightly into your ribs. "Being a bit insecure herself about dating a famous athlete not too long ago."

 You looked over at Matt, head still firmly planted into the headrest of the couch, and rolled your eyes. "Yeah, yeah, and Sid reassured me about everything." Now it was your turn to reassure him you supposed.

 "It's up to you what you want to do. The ball, or puck in your case, is in your rink so to speak."

 "I'm still mad at him," you told Cully, finally sitting upright on the couch.

 "Rightly so."

 "Which means he can stew a little bit longer."

 "Bridget would agree with you." You had to laugh at that because you had a feeling Matt's wife had left him in the dog house a time or two before he was actually forgiven.

 Blowing out a long breath, you'd come to your decision. "But I will forgive him."

 "That's my girl," Cully said then handed back over your Chinese carton to continue eating. "Now that that's settled. Can we finish eating?"

 It was a couple hours later before Matt left for the evening. "Promise me you won't let him wait forever before talking to him."

 "I won't." Though you did want him to suffer just a bit longer.

 "Good, because I have a feeling he'll be blowing up my phone until you talk to him." You walked Matt to the door.

 "Sorry, you got dragged into this mess."

 Matt leaned in and kissed your head like any dutiful dad would that was helping his daughter. "Get some rest. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

 "Night, and thanks again."

 SID'S POV

 You turned over for what had to be the hundredth time in the last hour and looked at the clock. Which literally read twelve minutes after three. Exactly seven minutes from the last time you'd looked at it. Why hadn't she called already? Was she going to? She probably hated you and she had every right to. You were so fucking stupid accusing her of sleeping with someone when all you wanted to do was apologize for the first fuck up you'd made the night before. Instead, you'd gone and made things a million times worth.

 The tone of her voice said it all. (Y/N) was pissed beyond words at the accusation and you knew that had she been standing in front of you she probably would've smacked you across the face; deservingly so. There was no point in laying in bed and staring at four walls so you got up and went to blow off some steam by working out, though it didn't help.

 You were a walking zombie by the time training practice rolled around though you put every ounce of effort you had into it, at least when you weren't checking your phone to see if (Y/N) had called. She hadn't. Physically, you were exhausted and it was only six o'clock at night. Nate suggested going out for dinner but you couldn't stomach the thought of eating a nice meal knowing that your relationship was barely hanging on by a thread, so you opted out and instead just grabbed some takeout at home.

 You'd spoken to Matt a couple times, though all he would say was to give (Y/N) time. How much time though? That was the real question. Should you be jumping on a plane and flying down to Pittsburgh at this very moment or would that make this worse? You'd really made a mess of things and had no clue how to fix it.

 Sleep evaded you again that night, even though you were both mentally and physically exhausted. You finally fell asleep around four-thirty in the morning only to have the alarm go off at six. You dragged yourself out of bed and headed off to train, hoping that it would take your mind off things.

 "You look like shit, man," Nate told you as soon as you walked into the building. "You sure you want to be here today."

 "What else am I going to do?"

 Nate shrugged not having an answer of his own for you. "Have you at least talked to (Y/N)?"

 "No, I haven't called her. I'm trying to give her time."

 Nate looked you up and down a few times assessing you and weighing his words before he spoke again. "I know you're trying to give her space, but maybe you should go see her. I've never seen you like this man."

 "I want to." All you wanted to do was get on a plane and head straight to her. "I'm just not sure it won't make things worse."

 "I know she wanted you to stay and train, but honestly Sid, neither one of us is going to be pushing hard when you're completely exhausted. I'm not saying to fly back and stay in Pittsburgh. Just go there and work things out with her." Nate clapped you on the back. "For both our sakes."

 Maybe he was right. You could just fly down for the day and come right back. All you needed to do was call and get a plane. "You're right. As soon as we're done today, I'm going to call and get it all set up. I've got to win her back."

 "That's the spirit."

 Training went a little better as you formulated a plan to win back (Y/N). You were even smiling some at the end of the day. "So as soon as we get that Tim Horton's shoot done, I'm flying out. Think we can get it done by four tomorrow afternoon?" You asked Nate as you grabbed your bag and headed out of the facility. "The plane can be ready by five, so that gives me an hour to get to the airport. Think that's enough time?"

 You were looking at your schedule on your phone making sure that you could fit everything in before flying and not paying attention when you heard Nate say, "I don't think you have to worry about making that plane." You looked up at Nate not knowing why he would say such a thing when he was the one that suggested you go to Pittsburgh in the first place. He nodded his head pointing in the direction of your Suburban. There stood (Y/N) leaning up against your car.  

 You blinked once and then repeated the action, not believing that she was really there. It had to be some sort of dream. Were you hallucinating? Lack of sleep could do that to a person. But as you drew near, it became evident that she was standing there in the flesh and blood. She looked stunning, wearing a plain belted t-shirt dress; her hair tied back in a simple ponytail, with little wisps framing her face. God, you'd missed her.

 "Hey (Y/N)." Nate's voice brought you out of your musing and you shook yourself, trying to regain your composure.

 "Hi Nate," she waved back, before pushing off the vehicle.

 "Good luck," Nate told then took off for his own car.

 You were too busy staring at the woman in front of you though to pay any attention to Nate. "Hi," you whispered in a small voice, one that was shaky and unsure of how to proceed.

 "Hi, Sidney." You found yourself frown at her use of your name. It wasn't Sid, or babe, or hun, or any of the other million nicknames she called you. "Can we talk?" You wanted to, that was your whole point of planning to go to Pittsburgh for a whirlwind of twelve to sixteen hours, but now that (Y/N) was standing here, you had no idea what to say.

 "Yeah," was the only word that came out of your mouth and you wanted to kick yourself for not saying anything more.

 "Not here," she said motioning to the parking lot.

 No, this wasn't exactly an ideal place to have an intimate conversation about your relationship. "Did you want to go back to the house?" Oh god, maybe that was a bad suggestion. "Or we could go grab something to eat?" Even though that was the last thing you wanted to do.

 "The house is fine." She opened the passenger door and then crawled inside the car before you could say anything else. It took you a minute to gather yourself and walk around to the driver's side. You'd planned on coming up with a whole speech to say to her while you were on the plane. Now you had exactly nine and half minutes, if there was traffic, to think of how you were going to apologize to the woman you loved.

 The ride was silent except for the radio playing in the background. It was weird to drive like this with her. Normally your hands would be interlaced resting on the console in the middle of the car as you drove with your free hand, but as you glanced over you saw that she was sitting on hers. A clear sign that you were not supposed to touch her. It killed you and so your hands remained at ten and two on the steering wheel in a white-knuckle grip as you fought the urge not to reach over and grab her.

 You glanced every so often at her, wondering what was going through her mind. It killed you that she wasn't saying anything. "How was your flight?" you finally blurted out when you were halfway home.

 "It was good. Had a bit of a layover in Philly. So not as good as flying privately with you."

 That flight was one you wouldn't forget. It was the first time you'd been thirty thousand feet in the air and buried deep inside (Y/N). Definitely an experience you'd thought you'd be repeating again. You hadn't expected that you'd be in the car with her now wondering if you still had a relationship.

 By the time you pulled into the driveway, your nerves were shot, wondering if (Y/N) had flown all the way just to break up with you. You tried to think logically and tell yourself that if she wanted to do that, she would've done it on the phone, but knowing (Y/N), she would have to tell you that in person and not take the cowardly way out. She followed you into the house, where you sat your bag down at the door before Sammy came wondering up for her nightly pats. "Hey Sammy, how are you sweet girl?" (Y/N) said bending down to show your dog more affection than she'd shown you.

 You coughed trying to work the lump that was in your throat out. "Can I get you something to drink?"

 "A water would be great." You grabbed two bottles out of the fridge, opening hers like you always did, before handing it over to her, both of you taking a drink.

 "(Y/N), I'm…" you started to say right as (Y/N) said "Sid, I…" The two of you laughed, even though it was hollow, it still broke the tension.

 "Do you mind if I go first?" (Y/N) asked though she didn't really need to as you'd gladly give her anything as long as she didn't say she never wanted to see you again. "I hope you know that I would never, not in a million years, cheat on you. I'm not sure how you jumped to that conclusion but I'm not that kind of person, Sid. If I wanted to be with someone else, I'd be upfront with you and tell you. I wouldn't go running off and sneak behind your back."

 When she took a breath, you jumped in. "I know that (Y/N). I truly do. I don't have an excuse for why I said that other than to say that I was jealous and upset, but I'm truly sorry for saying it. I don't know how I can make it up to you."

 "I just don't understand why you think that. Have I ever given you a reason to believe that I would do something like that?"

 "NO!" You shouted, not really yelling at her but wanting her to know it wasn't her fault. "I'm just stupid. Stupid and crazy in love with you, and sometimes…" you blew out a breath. "I'm just so worried I'm going to lose you or you won't love me anymore. I'm not good at this (Y/N). I've never had a relationship last over a couple weeks. I'm afraid I'll do something wrong and push you away, but that's what I did anyhow."

 "Sid," (Y/N) said taking your hands in hers. You relished even that small contact. "You're not going to lose me or do something wrong." She moved a step closer to you, and you breathed in the intoxicating fragrance that was (Y/N). "I love you silly, and yes I was upset that you didn't see my point about staying here, and we both did stupid things, but that doesn't mean I stopped loving you." Her hand came up and cupped your cheek and you found yourself melting into her touch. "We both need to learn to communicate better. No more running away, for either of us." You were surprised she was including herself in this part, but you supposed she considered taking an earlier flight to Pittsburgh running away as well. "Do you think we can do that?"

 "Of course, if you think you can forgive me for being a selfish jerk and wanting you with me all the time."

 She rocked her head from side to side a small little smile playing across her lips. "I think I can do that. Besides, I kind of like that you want me around all the time."

 You pulled her close, so that no distance separated the two of you, as you wrapped your arms around her waist. "You do huh?"

 "MmmHmm." It was then that she leaned up and captured your lips. God, she tasted like heaven. It had been almost four days since you'd kissed her, yet it felt like four million years. You poured all your love into the kiss hoping to show her how much you not only loved her but how sorry you were for everything that you had done.

 When the two of you finally came up for air, you asked her, "So when are you flying back? Tell me that there won't be a car here in fifteen minutes to pick you up."

 "It's actually thirty."

 "That would've been so much more convincing if you weren't smirking the entire time," you told her giving her hips a little squeeze.

 "You're stuck with me until Sunday night. That is if I can stay?"

 "Are you crazy? Of course, you can stay, but where's your stuff?" You distinctly remember seeing her have only her purse with her when she was leaning against the car.

 "Oh, well. I stashed it in the garage before I had the car drop me off at the rink."

 "So, you mean to tell me you planned on forgiving me all along?"

 "I had some very good advice from a mutual friend, that lead me here." She had to be referring to Cully. You definitely owed him when you got back in town.

 "Well, I'll be sure to thank him." You dropped a kiss to her lips again, just needing to touch her in any way possible. "Did you want to go out for dinner? I can change and be ready in ten minutes."

 Her arms tightened around your neck, as your hands moved up and down her sides. "I'd rather just stay in and order if you don't mind."

 "Not at all," you answered with a raise of your eyebrows. "Though there is something I have to ask you." She pulled back slightly and cocked her head to the side in question. "I was stupid before to assume that you'd just move in with me. So now, this is me asking. (Y/N), I know I can be extremely difficult and stupid at times, but there's nothing I want more than to go to sleep every night lying beside you and to have you wake up next to me every morning. Any chance of making this happen?"

 You could see her thinking it over and you weren't sure if she was trying to be cute and make you wait for an answer or if she truly had concerns. "I would love to, on one condition." It was your turn to give her that questioning look. "If it becomes too much, you know being with each other at home and at work; you'll tell me so I can move back to my place."

 "Babe, it's not going to be too much. I don't want you six feet from me now. That's not going to change."

 "I know but if it does…"

 "If it does, we'll talk about it. Like mature adults. I will not storm out of the house and go stay with Geno." She laughed then, the sound music to your ears.

 "Well, then Mr. Crosby it looks like you just got yourself a roommate."

 "And a pretty one at that," you said kissing her soundly on the lips. "Now, what would you like for dinner?"

 "Maybe we should skip that and go straight for dessert?" (Y/N) was peppering you with kisses and making it hard to concentrate. This was your first fight and you weren't sure if you should just give in and go all out for makeup sex or take things slow and continue to talk things over at dinner. The last thing you needed was to make another mistake that's for sure.

 Pulling back ever so slightly from the embrace, you gazed at (Y/N). "Are you sure about skipping dinner?"

 (Y/N)'s hand slid down to your crotch where she cupped your ever-growing erection. "Yes, I missed you." You didn't ask anything more, knowing that you could always order a pizza later. Instead, your lips captured hers, stealing her breath away before you scooped her up in your arms and headed upstairs. One kiss melted into another and then to another until you were laying her down on the bed that you'd shared only days ago. The same one that had felt too big without her lying beside you.

 The two of you were a mess of tangled limbs and you weren't sure who was removing what clothing. All you knew is that neither one of you could be naked fast enough. Your lips traveled down her neck until you sucked on her nipples. Her body arching into your mouth greedily. One hand slid down her stomach, parting her thighs, leaving her open and wanting for you, as your lips started to travel the same path. (Y/N) stopped you though, her hands cradling your cheeks. "I need you inside me." As much as you wanted to feast on her pussy, the pleading tone in her voice had you giving in to not only her wants but yours as well.

 You settled yourself between her legs, grabbing her hips and edging her just that inch or two closer. You could feel the heat radiating off her body even before your cock slid between her folds. She was deliciously wet, and being inside her felt like coming home after a two-week road trip. (Y/N) was everything. She was your shelter from the worst storm. The light when only darkness surrounded you. There was no other woman in the world that was made for you like she was, and with every thrust of your hips and every kiss from your lips, you tried to tell her that. You would articulate it all into words for her later when you were holding her in your arms, but for now, you let your body speak them for you.

 Her legs started to tremble, and you could feel her fluttering around your cock, as she took you in deeper and deeper. You knew she was close and with a few more thrust, you felt her lose control. "I love you," she cried out, right as she hit that peak, and it was those words that sent you spiraling over the edge with her. Your own declaration of love spilling from your lips.

 The two of you laid there for some time. Soft kisses being exchanged here and there as your breathing returned to normal. "I don't ever want to fight with you again," you told her, as your fingers trailed up and down her heated flesh.

 "Me either." She agreed before kissing you soundly. "Though the makeup sex, was kind of fun."

 You shook your head at her, a soft chuckle escaping you. Sex with (Y/N) was always great. "While that was pretty amazing, I'd rather not have you absent from my life and my bed for four days. I was a mess without you." Just then your stomach growled. "I haven't eaten a decent meal since this whole thing went down."

 "Well then, we better feed you before you wither away to nothing." She reached over and grabbed her phone. "I'll cook for you tomorrow. Tonight, you're getting takeout and then after that, I plan on making up for lost time."

 "Sounds good, but I also plan on stocking up for our days apart." You wrapped your arms around her tightly, hating the thought that she'd be leaving in just a few short days, but you knew that when you finally got back in Pittsburgh, she would be there waiting for you, this time ready to build a home with you.  

[rafael-silva]

in your safety: a tarlos fic

A thought crosses his mind and he finds himself grabbing on to it. He carefully moves up in his bed, turning on the side lamp sitting on his nightstand. He grabs his phone and opens a recent text thread. TK: [11:17 PM] Are you awake?

—

TK can’t really sleep after he’s discharged from the hospital. One night, he goes searching for comfort and a shoulder to lean on. He finds both.

A 1.09 missing scene.

for bad things happen bingo: tarlos + insomnia

emotional hurt/comfort, hurt/comfort, angst, comfort, fluff, worried carlos reyes, cuddles, soft kisses, tk strand needs a hug, missing scene

2.8k | on ao3

*****

TK is no stranger to insomnia.

He’s been dealing with it on and off since his parents’ divorce, trying to come to terms with it. It was hard at first, he’d find himself lying wide awake in bed, thoughts racing as he tossed and turned, sleep never finding him. Other days he’d have a hard time waking up, or he’d wake up exhausted, almost like he didn’t sleep at all.

It got better with time, though. Some remedies helped along the way, as well as talking to his dad about it and working through some of the thoughts that had kept him wide awake, lurking in the depth of his mind.

TK would say he’s been doing better overall, aside from a few nights here and there where sleep had proven to be difficult or he’d be restless, he’d come a long way since he was a little kid.

Until he got shot. And for the nights following his release from the hospital, he found himself transported back to when he was seven years old, staring up at the ceiling. He can’t even burn off the restless and anxious energy with tossing and turning due to the stitches in his still-sore chest.

It doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots between the shooting and the insomnia TK is experiencing. He can’t remember the events, but there is still something nagging at him in his gut, keeping him awake. Keeping his mind switched on.

TK would sometimes find Owen still awake after a round of fitful sleep and they’d talk about anything, falling into a light conversation that would help ease TK’s mind and quieten his thoughts.

But TK had convinced Owen to go back to work once he was settled at home, and Owen was currently halfway into a twenty-four hour shift. TK isn’t the biggest fan of Owen’s well-meant hovering, it sometimes making him climb the walls, but if the firefighter was also being completely honest, the house is too lonely and silent for his liking in this moment. He could use a little bit of comfort or someone to talk to.

A thought crosses his mind and he finds himself grabbing on to it. He carefully moves up in his bed, turning on the side lamp sitting on his nightstand. He grabs his phone and opens a recent text thread.

TK: [11:17 PM] Are you awake?

TK places his phone next to him, worrying his bottom lip as he waits.

His phone pings a minute later.

Carlos: [11:18 PM] Yeah.

Carlos: [11:18 PM] Everything okay?

TK’s anxiety starts getting the best of him, and his mind is suddenly searching for ways out.

He aware he’s taking too long to answer when another message comes through.

Carlos: [11:22 PM] TK?

Carlos’s growing concern is palpable through his text.

TK: [11:23 PM] Sorry. Yeah, everything’s fine.

Then TK realizes he owes Carlos an explanation.

TK: [11:23 PM] I can’t sleep.

Carlos’s reply comes immediately.

Carlos: [11:23 PM] Are you home alone?

TK: [11:24 PM] Yeah. Dad’s on shift.

TK draws in a deep breath and continues to chew on his bottom lip.

TK: [11:25 PM] Can I come over?

TK’s face starts to heat up as the anxiety continues to brew in his gut, watching the three grey dots appear and disappear a few times. He’s starting to dread he’s asked for too much.

He doesn’t know where he stands with Carlos, especially when it comes to a request like this one. He’s gone to Carlos’s place multiple times before, but when the officer had asked him to come over. TK’s never asked himself and he’s worried he crossed a line.

They haven’t talked about what they are, and TK hadn’t even given Owen a straight answer when his father asked. Owen put one and one together when Carlos stood in the doorway of TK’s hospital door with tear-streaked cheeks, figuring out that there’s…something between him and his son, but even after some playful teasing from Owen’s side once TK woke up, the younger man still hadn’t given him much. He didn’t deny it, though.

The truth is, TK is falling for Carlos. And it scares him. Confusion has been his one constant feeling since he woke up in the hospital, feeling like his entire life was turned upside down. Not only was he still healing from what happened in New York, but he had absolutely no intention of starting or getting into anything until he got back on his feet when he moved to Austin.

Then Carlos Reyes strode into his life and effortlessly began tearing down the walls TK had built around himself. After attempts to run and hide and the failure of said attempts, TK let him. Because even a part of him couldn’t deny that it felt right with Carlos, it felt natural. It was a tug of war within TK, the desire to build his walls back up with cement and the desire to let Carlos in. And TK certainly didn’t expect to fall for the other man as quickly as he did.

That doesn’t change the fact that he still doesn’t know what he and Carlos are and where they stand. He felt a shift in their relationship in the couple of weeks prior to getting shot, with a lingering impression that this thing between them might be going somewhere.

Then a bullet to the chest gave TK a run for his money and halted all. It circles back to confusion for TK, about who he is, what he wants to do with his life. And all that confusion inevitably ties in with Carlos, and the nature of their relationship.

The fog of confusion had been growing more and more in the days after his hospital release, as TK began to doubt everything.

TK may not remember getting shot, but he certainly feels his life crumbling in the aftermath.

So yeah, he wasn’t exactly sure how Carlos was going to respond to his request. And he couldn’t really make an educational guess either. He knows Carlos has a kind heart and a warm soul, but everyone has lines and limits, and TK isn’t sure where inviting himself over to Carlos’s place falls on the officer’s. He prays he hadn’t crossed either.

But Carlos is safety, and TK will hold onto that for as long as he can.

TK doesn’t have to wonder about Carlos’s response for much longer because another ping brings him back from his thoughts.

Carlos: [11:26 PM] Of course. I’ll leave the front porch light on.

TK feels a weight lifted off his chest. A small smile tugs on the corner of his lips as he types back a reply.

TK: [11:26 PM] Thanks. I’ll be there in 20.

After throwing on a hoodie and sneakers, TK orders an Uber and waits outside. The car arrives in a matter of minutes, and he finds himself heading to Carlos’s in under five minutes from sending the last text. He sends a message to his father this time, telling him that he’ll be at Carlos’s place.

Carlos is wearing a black t-shirt and grey sweats when he opens the door for TK. He smiles, stepping to the side to let the firefighter in and locking the door behind him.

TK lingers close, hands stuffed into the pocket on the front of his hoodie as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, nervous as he watches the officer.

“Would you like anything? Food or water?” Carlos asks TK once he’s sure everything is locked and the lights are turned off.

“No, thanks, I’m good,” TK replies. “Thanks for letting me come over. Sorry if it was a weird request, I just—”

“TK, it’s okay. You’re welcome here anytime, and I’m glad you reached out,” Carlos’s smile widens a little, reaching his captivating brown eyes.

TK reciprocates, albeit with a smaller smile than Carlos’s and then his eyes go a little wide when Carlos extends his hand towards him.

“I was about to get into bed,” Carlos explains, his face soft.

TK nods and takes Carlos’s hand, letting the slightly larger man lead them up the stairs. The warmth radiating from Carlos’s tough helps calm TK’s racing heart, the touch grounding him and offering comfort. The comfort he was searching for.

TK unconsciously tightens his grip on Carlos’s hand, trying to hold onto that support for as long as he could. Carlos gives him a quick look over his shoulder, and something in his features tells TK he’ll have it for as long as he wants.

They enter Carlos’s bedroom, separating their connection as the officer walks over to his preferred side of the bed. TK makes his way to the other, tipping off his shoes and removing his hoodie. Carlos pulls the duvet back, plugs his phone into the charger and climbs into bed. TK watches him for a few moments before following, crossing his legs on the mattress, sitting criss-crossed now and drops his hands into his lap.

“You okay?”

TK shrugs.

“Have you been sleeping at all since you got home from the hospital?” Carlos asks, having noticed the black bags hanging under TK’s eyes and the exhaustion written on his face.

“Few hours every night,” TK whispers.

“TK…” Carlos sighs.

“I know,” TK looks at Carlos. “But I just can’t sleep.”

Carlos’s response is interrupted by TK’s phone pinging in his pocket.

He fishes it out of his sweats and reads the new text.

“It’s from my dad,” TK says. “I told him I was coming here so he doesn’t worry.”

“And?” Carlos wonders, suddenly nervous himself about Owen’s reaction.

“He said okay and to call or text him if I need anything,” TK answers.

“He’s not surprised,” Carlos states rather than questions.

“No,” TK chuckles weakly. “He knows, about…” he makes a back and forth gesture between him and Carlos with a hand. “He kind of put one and one together. Asked me about it when I woke up. Not directly, though.”

Carlos raises an eyebrow at TK, intrigued about that conversation between father and son.

TK playfully rolls his eyes. “So, he’s been seeing this Psychology professor, head of the department actually and he didn’t mention anything before. And she was at the hospital with him when I woke up. Later I ask how long he’s been seeing her, and he said he’ll tell me when I tell him how long I’ve been seeing the cop. His words.”

Carlos winces slightly, but still a slight blush colors his cheeks. “Yeah, that’s on me. I stopped by after you were out of the surgery.” With tear-stained cheeks goes unsaid.

TK nods. “Yeah, dad mentioned. That’s how he connected the dots.”

“I’m sorry if that made it uncomfortable or anything, or if you weren’t ready for your dad to know about…I just wanted to see you. I was getting updates from Paul but it wasn’t the same,” Carlos confesses.

“No, no,” TK shakes his head. “Not at all. I get it, don’t worry about that. I…wanted you there.”

“I was just…really glad to hear your voice when you called,” Carlos expresses, his voice gentle.

TK gives him a small smile. He had called Carlos after he woke up, and the cop’s heart had soared and the fear lifted upon hearing his name tumble out of TK’s mouth once again. Perhaps his favorite time TK had said his name since they’ve known each other. Carlos stopped by the house once TK was settled in, and now is the second time they’re seeing each other since TK was sent home.

They don’t bring up their relationship status or what they are, both sensing that the other is tired and drained and it’s not really the time or place for said conversation. TK knows they’ll eventually have to talk about it, but for now, he’s satisfied just being close to Carlos. They can deal with the rest later.

“You can sleep, I don’t want to keep you up,” TK speaks. “I’ll probably be up for a while.”

Carlos shakes his head. “I’ll stay up with you. I don’t need to be up early, I have tomorrow off.”

TK gives him a grateful smile in response, happy for the company as they slip into comfortable silence.

It’s Carlos who breaks the quiet. He lifts his arm for TK while moving closer to the firefighter.

“Come here,” Carlos murmurs, an invitation which TK accepts.

TK gets closer to Carlos, and careful about his stitches, glues his side to Carlos’s. He rests his head against Carlos’s shoulder and Carlos wraps an arm around TK’s. Carlos runs his hand up and down TK’s arm, to help sooth and relax the injured man.

“So, there’s something I’ve been thinking about,” TK begins. “Since I got home. My insomnia is definitely related to what happened, falling into the pattern of it getting worse with stressful situations. I can’t remember a thing from getting shot, no nightmares or anything but I keep thinking about the kid.”

Carlos tightens his hold on TK, more instinctively than anything else. And TK’s words take him back to that night.

Carlos could immediately tell it was Judd speaking, his words echoing through the radio, the Texan firefighter’s usually steady tone laced with panic as he reported, dispatch, we have shots fired, firefighter down, I repeat firefighter down…and Carlos will never forget how his heart dropped into his stomach, his gut twisting and turning and there was no way he’d know who was down from the team, not yet, but it’s almost like he sensed it. Like he felt it. He had already driven away from the house and it took every ounce of his control to not take the first u-turn and race towards the hospital.

And when his phone had continuously vibrated in his pocket, Carlos’s heart sped up in his chest, fearing that his gut was right. The caller ID was all the confirmation he needed.

“Is he okay? He’s not…” Carlos had wasted no time after answering Paul’s call, trailing off, not even daring to utter the last word in his thought process. Because if TK was okay, he’d be the one calling him or would have sent him a text.

TK’s voice seeps into his ears and brings him back to the present, Carlos’s grasp on the younger man never faltering or loosening. He knows they both need it.

“That poor kid,” TK continues. “I can’t even imagine what he’s going through. I can’t even remember and I’m struggling with it, how heavy this must be for a little boy…”

Carlos leans in, closing the distance between them by brushing a kiss to TK’s temple. He then drops his head a little, touching his forehead to where he planted the kiss. TK leans into Carlos a little more, as much as he can without pulling at his stitches.

“I want to go see him, the kid,” TK reveals. “I think it’s going to help him, to see that I’m okay and to know that I don’t blame him.”

Carlos pulls back to watch TK, and he notices how his green eyes are glassy with unshed tears.

“That’s very thoughtful and kind, TK,” Carlos softly speaks. “I think you should, too. And I also think it’s going to help you, as well.”

TK turns to face Carlos.

“You’re healing from something you don’t remember happening,” Carlos says. “That in itself is taking a toll on you, it’s tough to deal with. But I think seeing that boy is going to help you come to terms with what happened. I think it’s going to make that weight sitting on your shoulders lighter.”

TK draws in a deep breath at Carlos’s declaration, letting his words sink in and just then realizing how much he needed to hear them.

Without a word, TK cuddles closer to Carlos, resting his head above the officer’s heart and draping an arm over his waist. He closes his eyes, taking even breaths guided by Carlos’s steady heartbeat.

“Do you think it will come back to me? That I’ll remember it?” TK asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe,” Carlos replies. “Only time will tell.”

“I don’t want to feel this pain again if I do remember it one day,” TK swallows against his throat.

“I can’t promise that you won’t feel the pain,” Carlos admits with sadness coating his voice. “But I can promise that I’ll be right here for you. You’re not alone, TK.”

TK sniffs, a tear rolling down his cheek.

He wants to stay here and not move, engulfed in Carlos’s arms, his touch, his scent. In Carlos’s safety. In his heart.

He hears Carlos’s voice from above.

“Get some rest, TK.”

And contradictory to his earlier statement, TK is already drifting off, his mind calm and heartbeat even. He finally feels at peace.

The kiss Carlos presses to the top of his head is the last thing TK feels before falling asleep.

And for the first time since he was discharged from the hospital, TK sleeps through the night.

[pilothusband]

Abducted Amphora

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol (not to an excess), food mention (they eat pizza), non-explicit tension, mentions of stealing shit, hints at a boss/employee relationship so there’s a slight power balance there, age gap that isn’t mentioned (he has years of service and she’s almost brand new)

Word count: 1,972

Author’s note: Written for @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday! Lightly edited, unbeta’d. This one is pretty tame compared to my other works. Thinking about turning it into a snapshot series. Let me know what you think!

A smattering of footsteps clatter throughout the courtyard, echoing off the old walls that surround you. Sprawling greens adorn almost every inch of the balcony, reaching out to an impossibly blue pool situated in the middle. You can’t help but gawk as you walk through the museum, trailing your boss by a few paces who is currently following the curator, a middle-aged woman with bouncy curls and a wardrobe to die for.

A few minutes prior, she had introduced herself as Vanessa Harrington, given a firm handshake to the two of you, and hastily made her way to the exhibit where an expensive piece of artwork was stolen.

“What’s weird is, this isn’t even the most expensive piece the museum owns,” she says, glancing backwards and waving her hands. How she manages to walk briskly in stiletto heels without looking forwards is a mystery to you. 

The stolen piece is a Panathenaic amphora from Hellenistic era Greece. It was most likely used to fill with olive oil to give to Olympic champions. Not to say it isn’t valuable, but it had sat nondescript amongst bright and flashy paintings that were incredibly rare and sought after.

“And the security cameras were disabled prior to the theft?” Your boss, Marcus Pike asks, scribbling in his notepad. Vanessa nods in confirmation. “Then they were enabled right after, as if the thieves knew how to hack into the system.”

“Either they knew how to hack into the security system or they had enough insider knowledge to disable it,” you voice your thoughts, not even aware that you were speaking out loud.

Marcus looks over to you, his warm brown eyes flicking over your face in acknowledgement.

Every time his eyes meet yours, you feel yourself freeze up for a moment. No matter that you’ve been working with him for nearly a year, it’s as if time stops every time you look at him. His jaw, square and strong, along with his soft brown eyes that give away to his emotions at any moment. His broad shoulders always manage to get your pulse going, along with his small waist, showcased by the form-fitting button downs he wore under his suit coat.

“We’re going to need all information regarding museum personnel, as well as any vendors that drop by regularly,” Marcus shifts his attention over to Vanessa, who nods decisively.

“Absolutely. I have that all on my office desktop and can get that to you ASAP.”

Vanessa doles out more details for a few minutes and Marcus jots them down– in his unreadable handwriting no doubt– and then Vanessa bids you adieu and spins on her heel to her office, giving you two free rein over the museum.

There isn’t anymore DNA evidence to go over. The local police already had their personnel collect it days prior and the scene was spotless once you arrived. The thieves had been meticulous in leaving as little evidence as possible. The only fingerprints found were already processed and pending a match. They were most likely from an employee, and there’s a good chance it was just normal prints left behind from dusting priceless artwork.

Once Vanessa is out of the room, Marcus turns and places a big hand on your bicep.

“Good job back there, agent.” He flashes an easy grin. Marcus is an incredible boss. He’s driven, observant, kind, and knows when he has to make the tough calls. He’s a natural-born leader. You haven’t been with the bureau for long, being a junior agent among a team of seasoned professionals, but comparing him to other supervisory agents you have met, he’s warm and kind, always making sure his team is in good shape. He’s the kind of guy who’s prepared for anything, whether it be backup for a shootout with an unsub or someone in the room needs a pen before a staff meeting.

You can’t help but feel flushed at his praise. Despite Marcus’ easygoing nature and his openness with the team, he always seems to keep you at an arms’ length. It was getting to the point where you were wondering if he was regretting hiring you in the first place. Marcus often rotates the team when it comes to working directly with him on cases, and you have only worked directly with him once– your first ever case. 

Initially you’re convinced you fucked up so badly that he didn’t want to pair up with you afterwards, but then the case report made its way back to your desk and your evaluation was normal, good even.

“Thank you,” you reply, ducking your face down to hide the growing heat licking its way up your face.

“Let’s grab some lunch, get those files from Mrs. Harringon and start digging.”

You nod in agreement and turn, walking towards the exit. You don’t notice the subtle movement, but Marcus trails you, arm raised as if he’s about to touch your waist, but pauses halfway through and scratches at his chin.

Later on that night, you’re holed up in Marcus’ hotel room, hunched over your laptop reading up on all of the museum employees. Marcus took on the task of reading over vendor files, his shoulders set much straighter.

Your back is screaming at you and your eyes are sapped of all moisture as you blink rapidly, trying to will your tear ducts into submission. It’s too early in the night to fall asleep with the amount of work you have to look forward to, and the longer it takes you to crack the case, the more likely the thieves are to get away with the crime.

“I think we could use a break,” Marcus says from across the room. You look up blearily, noting the look of concern he’s giving you, brow furrowed. He must have caught you in your tired state somehow, between poring over files and jiggling his leg absent-mindedly.

“Can’t argue with that,” you chuckle, rubbing at your eyes.

“I’ll order room service, compliments of the bureau,” he says, smiling sideways. “I’m feeling pizza, what do you think?”

“Pizza sounds heavenly,” you groan.

“What do you want to drink?” Marcus asks, his eyes scanning over the menu unfolded next to his laptop.

“Oh, uh,” you hesitate, trying to decide on caffeine or something healthier. “I think the room has plenty of water.”

“I was thinking something a little stronger,” he says, a small grin making its way over his features. “Nothing too crazy, since we still have work to do.”

“What’s your opinion on red wine?” You ask, wanting to select something you both can agree on.

“I love it,” he says, giving you a toothy smile. “Pinot Noir?”

“Sounds perfect.”

An hour later, you’re both seated on the floor, pizza box spread open between your bodies, munching away at the slices of pepperoni you both decided on and sharing the bottle of wine Marcus ordered.

“Turns out it’s bad optics for the boss to drunkenly sing 9 to 5 by Dolly Parton off-key, and I still get teased for it to this day, which is why I refuse to join the team on karaoke nights,” Marcus finishes. You’re clutching your stomach as you laugh at his story, head thrown back as you giggle. 

You’ve only had a glass and a half of wine at this point, but you can already feel a persistent buzzing in your brain, your head feeling much lighter and much heavier simultaneously. This is what you get for skipping breakfast and lunch, opting to replace them with an afternoon snack and a late dinner.

Marcus laughs along with you, shaking his head and looking down at his slice of pizza.

Your laughter dies down and there’s a moment where it’s quiet, the only noise in the room being Marcus chewing on the crust of his pizza slice, and you taking a sip from your glass.

“This is a nice change,” you blurt out, immediately regretting your outburst.

“Mmm,” Marcus hums around the bite in his mouth. He swallows and looks up at you in question.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

Your eyes meet after he speaks and you can feel your heartbeat accelerating in your chest. God, why did you have to open your big mouth?

“Oh, nothing,” you shake your head. “It’s just…”

You don’t continue and Marcus shifts on his knees, leaning forwards to spur you on.

“It’s just what?”

“Well, I don’t know, it’s stupid.” You say, studying the box of pizza below you, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Nothing you could ever say is stupid,” he says with conviction. His tone makes you look up at him in wonder.

“Tell me, please,” he adds softly.

“Well, I thought you didn’t like me. Or that you didn’t think I was a good agent.” You can feel your stomach plunging and your cheeks burning at the admission.

“Why would you think that?” Marcus almost looks hurt.

“God, it’s dumb,” you babble. “But I noticed you haven’t had me partner with you on a case in ages, and you seem to get on with the rest of the team so much easier.”

You risk another look into Marcus’ eyes and he looks absolutely crushed. He cards a hand through his locks and his eyes look far away for a moment. You physically deflate, feeling like the biggest asshole on the planet.

“Hey,” he says, scooting forward and moving the pizza box aside. “You’re an amazing agent. Everything I put in your evals are the truth.”

You don’t reply, but smile softly at him.

“I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel undervalued,” he puts a hand on your shoulder and squeezes it. The look on his face, much closer to yours now, is absolutely putting you through the ringer.

Marcus looks disheveled, which is rare for him, as he always looks put-together in the office, not a hair or thread out of place in his tailored suits. His hair is sticking up and his tie is loosened. His brow is furrowed in concern and you have the overwhelming urge to soothe your thumb over it.

“I just–,” he starts and pauses, trying to come up with the right words. “I was so distracted during that case with you, and I never want to put you in that kind of danger again. Especially as a junior agent.”

Distracted?

“What do you mean?” You ask, blinking in confusion. What could have possibly distracted him from the case? This man, so motivated, so focused. He was diligent to a fault, at times.

“I–”

He’s cut off by his cell phone, ringing insistently in his pants pocket. He lifts a finger to pause the conversation and answers the phone.

His expression is focused as he listens to the other end of the line, murmuring affirmations as the call continues.

“Okay, sounds good. We’ll be there first thing in the morning.”

He hangs up the phone, shifts his legs and stuffs it back in his pocket.

“We’ve got a lead on the suspects,” he tells you. “A bodega near the museum has a security camera that caught a large utility van parked in front, right around the time the amphora was stolen. The owner said they’re only available to talk before they open, so we have to be there by 5:30 AM.”

You scramble to your feet and shut your laptop while Marcus clears the pizza and wine. You watch him silently as he finishes the task, noting his stiff shoulders and the carefully neutral expression on his face.

You’ll have to ask Marcus about the conversation later, if you can work yourself up to it. For now, you’ll let your imagination run wild and hope someday you can get over this juvenile crush you have on your boss.

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[a-lil-perspective]

Nepenthe

Your chest fills with a soft gasp. You uncurl your sleep-infused joints, shifting on your back within the bed. Full, tranquil breaths usher you along. You flicker your gaze over to the chrono. Your lashes bat away a lingering bleariness as you acclimate to your obsidian-colored surroundings. You become acutely aware of a calloused hand nestled in your hairline, a thumb now smoothing away the furrow manifested between your brows.

In the pitch black, you feel his eyes cast heavily over you.

“Can’t sleep?” Your voice is still weak with slumber. You reach out a drowsy hand, intuitively finding his jawline and cradling it. There’s a pause, and then you feel his features rearrange with a smirk underneath your fingertips.

“Distracted by something beautiful is more like it.”

“At this hour?” You hum. “Must be a real work of art.”

“Mhm,” his hand slides down from your hair, tapping your nose on the way before ghosting over your now slightly part lips. “You certainly are.”

Something like a giggle escapes you, and you drape the back of your free hand across your face to hide the silly blush he can’t even see in the shadows inking the midnight room. His warm breaths grow closer, peppering across your skin. You gather yourself, hollowing your cheeks. “Well don’t stay awake on my account. You should rest.”

“Trust me...” his knuckles stroke along your cheekbone with a tenderness that nearly makes your heart give out. “It’s a good reason to be awake.”

“But not the only reason.” You scale his words footnoted by affection, bypassing directly to the underlying meaning while he proceeds to mouth your neck in lieu of an explanation.

“You had a nightmare,” you whisper after a moment, stifling a shiver and gliding your fingers through his hair unbound from its usual crimson accessory.

He shakes his head, forcing a reassuring smile. “They don’t visit me when I’m with you.”

“Lies,” you accuse gently, eyes softening as you unravel his plight. Your hand wanders from his jaw to the nape of his neck, in which you collect your evidence in the form of a cold and clingy sheen of sweat that’s clearly been settled for some time. You listen to his deep, burdened inhale that manifests from your discovery. If you squint hard enough you can make out his broad chest swelling with the intake. You mentally count the seconds his breath is held in stasis, and the heady silence that flanks. Four. And then his exhale billows heavily and he’s pressing his forehead to yours in defeat.

Your heart aches for him. You part the dark curtain of hair spilling over the both of you and imprint a sweet kiss to the corner of his lip. “It’s alright, Hunter; I’m here.”

He makes a pained sound against you.

“Was it the boys?”

His silence speaks for itself, waxing the anguish.

“Wake me next time.” It’s a useless plea, you know. You can never remove a soldier from the battlefield, nor stop the tape of death that rolls infinitely behind his closed lids.

From his glued position, he manages a fervent shake of his head. “Seeing you sleep peacefully... it’s soothing to me.”

You frown, fingers threading through his saturated scalp. You peel away from his face and crunch upward into a sitting position.

“I’ll be right back,” you murmur, loving lips tacking against his earlobe as you gently detangle. Hunter’s grip tightens in protest.

“I promise; right back,” you plant a chaste kiss to his cheek and roll out of his hold and off the bed, dashing to the refresher. The faucet shoots on, and you’re back seconds later with a wrung cloth monitored thoughtfully; not too hot or cold. You’ve long learned the extent of Hunter’s restlessness that flourishes in the wake of direct heat, and similarly, an unanticipated chill proves catastrophic to his sensitized nerves and he shoots into overload in no time flat. You, ever the attentive companion, fortunately discovered the most ideal temperatures to coat items before application.

You gingerly drape the rag over the back of his neck, and his shoulders slope at the contact. He nods his thanks and you take up your spot beside him on the edge of the bed.

His head remains cast downward, eyes presumably skimming the dark floor where he no doubt is attempting to shrug off all his troubles onto. You rub between his shoulder blades.

“Do you want to call them?” You ask.

He takes a shaky breath. “I think... that might help. Yes.”

You twist your body around, flopping ridiculously across the bed to reach the nightstand you could’ve just gotten up and walked around to. You fumble briefly for the comm seated there before straightening back up and activating a sequence. The light on the device blinks silently in working to establish a connection. A tremor burgeons from the mattress, a byproduct of Hunter’s bouncing knee. You still his disquiet with a reassuring squeeze. A voice finally crackles to life on the other end.

“Hello?” The greeting is interrupted by a seismic yawn.

“Hey Wrecker,” you greet gently. “Sorry to wake you.”

“Oh, hiya!” Sleep quickly disbands from the large man upon recognition of your voice as he inflates with something more peppy. “What’s up?”

“Oh you know, checking in,” you pause, glancing over at Hunter. “Sarge and I just wanted to say hi.”

“Hey vod!” Wrecker addresses his brother then. “Everything good?”

“Everything’s fine, Wrecker,” Hunter does his best to withhold the weariness lacing his words. “Just wanted to hear your voice. You can go back to sleep now, bud.”

Wrecker hums contemplatively. “Y’sure that’s all? Ain’t sounded like ya slept a wink.”

“I‘ll get there, don’t worry about me.”

“Need a good Wrecker cuddle?”

An unfiltered chuckle sounds through Hunter, and you relish the closest thing to at ease he’s sounded all night. “Maybe later, Wreck. But I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Ohhhh,” Wrecker drawls cheekily, his wicked grin palpable as he recalls that Sarge is already occupied with a warm body. “Well ‘f ya change your mind lemme know! Nighty night you two.”

“Goodnight, Wrecker.” You can’t help your own splitting grin.

Hunter snorts softly as the comm ends. “Feels like I’ve been caught in something scandalous.”

“Yeah, but he’s loyal,” you snicker, contacting the next member.

“Present.” It comes as no surprise that the engineer’s voice rings through with an unnerving level of chipper. Absolutely preposterous, this man. “Where am I needed?”

“In bed,” Hunter grumbles. “Get to sleep, Tech.”

“And yet you are the one who called me,” Tech glides right over the explicit command, the sound of his trinketing flooding the background. “Anyway, I look forward to showing you my newest creation—”

“Goodnight, Tech,” you sever his impending presentation with a snort. “Thanks for picking up. Puts Hunter’s mind at ease. He’s restless tonight.”

“Ah, yes. We will need to work on his subpar development regarding healthy sleep patterns.”

Hunter’s face twists with a frown that doesn’t hold that much weight. “If that ain’t the pot callin’ the kettle black.”

“Indeed. I just thought you might enjoy the humor in that.”

Hunter flashes a smirk he figures his younger brother is probably matching. “You know yours is my favorite, vod’ika.”

“That is good to hear.” A pause. “Goodnight, Hunter. Should you still find yourself restless in the coming hours, I’m happy to assist with my ‘useless trivia’ that inevitably puts you to sleep.”

“By that point you should find yourself asleep,” the ori’vod points out.

“Very well,” Tech relents. “I shall, for you.”

Hunter just shakes his head, unconvinced he won’t discover a sleepy genius slumped over the nearest workbench here within the next few hours.

Another round of brotherly charges are exchanged and then you’re left with one last call to make.

The last member acknowledges in a far less amiable manner.

“Crosshair.” You innately grow solemn with it. “Got a second?”

“Don’t really have a choice now,” he responds curtly, a lingering husk of sleep in his voice.

“Sorry Cross,” Hunter interjects. “My doing. Just wanted to check in on you boys.”

“At two in the morning.”

Hunter manages a wry smile. “Can’t say hi to my vode whenever?”

There’s silence on Crosshair’s end for a moment.

“What’s going on.” He’s returned bearing more sage.

You feel Hunter straighten beside you. “Nothin’, vod. Don’t worry about it.”

“That doesn’t work on me, Hunter. Try again.”

“I’m fine,” Hunter said rushingly. “Promise. Just gets a little stuffy in my head sometimes. But you boys always make it better, y’know?”

Crosshair quiets. “Get some rest. I’ll be here if you need me.”

“Thanks vod. Appreciate it.”

You imagine Crosshair’s eyes searing into you through the comm as his attention shifts. “Keep me updated.”

“I will,” you assure. The connection ends. You eye Hunter, grazing your fingernails along the side of his head, tucking inky strands behind his ear. “Did that help at all?”

Hunter huffs a tired laugh. “Think it just made it worse. Now none of ‘em will sleep because of me.”

“They’ll be just fine,” you begin guiding him back under the covers. “Now to make sure you are.” He resists you for the briefest of moments.

“I am fine, honey.”

“You will be,” you agree, lying back. Hunter soon follows and sprawls out over top of you, wriggling until he’s positioned ideally with his head on your chest yet within proximity of your neck to plaster kisses with ease when the mood strikes.

Hunter makes a little choked sound, and you realize he’s clearing his throat. “Thank you... for doing that for me.”

You flatten his head to your chest with something fiercely protective. “I would do anything for you.”

“Which, by and large, is entirely unnecessary.”

He earns himself a long-suffering sigh at that.

“It is necessary. Because you are my everything.”

“I—”

“Shh,” you rebuke him. “Dammit, Hunter—just let someone take care of you.” You chew your lip. “Let me.”

He inhales deeply through his nose. It is entirely plausible for Sergeant Hunter to be bested in a battle-of-the-wills on the rarest of occasions; this being one of them. You spread your hands across his back and begin a deliberating massage. He groans lightly, his neglected aches and pains woven into the limelight by your touch. You quickly get caught up in your administration. When your breath suddenly hitches, Hunter lifts his head in curiosity.

“I’m just… you...” Words feel thick on your tongue. “You are a remarkable man, you know that?”

The corded muscles of his back tense. Anyone else would bask in such awestruck reverence but not Hunter, who makes haste to override his obvious discomfort with a thoughtful hum.

“I know that’s what you believe,” he answers neutrally.

“Because it’s true.” You reposition the wicking cloth at his neck. “Your brothers and I... we would all be lost without you.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

A pinch to his bicep. “Maybe you’re too hard on yourself.” Too damn stubborn, you nearly add.

His demeanor is colored with remiss. “All in a Sergeant’s work.”

One-hundred percent success rates and elite statuses aside: Hunter carries his tediously bashful disposition in total part.

“You don’t have to be Sergeant around me, you know,” you cup his face, tilting him up to meet yours. “You can just be Hunter.”

He can just be himself.

He shrugs with that pained, dutiful smile. The smile that follows him into adversity, the wry humor that is as much his shield as any. “Guess I don’t know how to separate the two.”

Your eyes well all of a sudden as you gaze upon this beautiful and troubled man with so much love in your heart it sends a keeling pang through you. Of course he doesn’t know how. He’s never known how to truly feel distinguished outside the focal point of soldiering. He’s always been so different, but never an individual. Never his own man. Preordained for responsibilities since before his decant, conducive in parental devices and sibling undertakings and leadership skills interchangeably. Always carrying others but who carries him?

You choke on a verklempt breath.

“I can help you.” You sound so small and desperate, sobbing quietly underneath him as your heart breaks alongside his. “Please let me help you…”

In the dark he captures your salty, stray tear with his lips—he always knows—before moving down and swallowing your mouth. Tenderness blooms from his textured lips, soft and sultry and seeping into every capillary. A soft love note pings from you against him when he’s got you like this, cast in a smelter of dire adoration and the overwhelming need to nurture. His touch, his kiss, is a burning ember that brands you even when he pulls away.

“You already do,” he murmurs sweetly against your lips.

[bbugyu]

how jeonghan knew

a journey with yoon jeonghan, lee seokmin, and you.

there was always something about his infectious laugh and his genuine nature that felt like fate to jeonghan, and maybe you were the muse that kept their red thread in tact.

prelude | part one | part two | part three | epilogue

wc.10662 (LMFAO) | fluff, smut, courtship, angsty in the beginning, polyamory, sugar daddy!jeonghan musician!seokmin escort!reader, hi cheol, hi gyu (again), hi boo, hi wonu, gay pining, jk he's pan probably, discovering sexuality, daddy kink, special guest seokmin!!!!!, threesome, lots of mlm, oral, cumpla, handjobs, choking, butt plugs, male penetration, there's a full on reader-less memberxmember sex scene idk, unprotected sex, please use condoms, jeonghan gets overwhelmed, the TEASING, jeonghan being a home improvement freak, don’t mind han jisung he’s just vibing, required listening is positions (2020) by ariana grande because it’s a perfect album

and here we have poly seokhan: the gayening!!! this is going to be the end of my scheduled updates for neverending artistry, but i’ll be posting an epilogue when i finish it - probably after i post a couple of other fics. this chapter.... is my fave......... i think u will see why lol. i went ahead and got a lil carried away with the house stuff but LISTENNNN i watch a lot of architecture videos ok LFJDSJ

thank you all so much for your continued support and incredible feedback on this series! it seriously means so much to me and i love seeing asks and messages from everyone telling me how excited they are to read more. i hope this satisfies you!!!

~

jeonghan is pretty sure he always loved seokmin. it wasn't something he would ever be able to change about himself, he figured, as he watched his friend date woman after woman in college with varying seriousness. he decidedly ignored any amount of feelings he harbored for the younger, especially after he dropped architecture as his major and he saw less of him. 

jeonghan tried to get over the destined musician (he would always be singing or fiddling with his guitar when he was meant to be helping jeonghan with a diorama) with several women, and after decisively focusing on his career for a couple years, he found success in another man. his short lived gym buddy, but lasted quite a bit longer as his boyfriend. they had connected first when jeonghan had offhandedly commented that he liked the logo on his shirt, to which the long lashed, broad shouldered man had said he had gotten it at the brand's store down the street, making jeonghan chew his cheek before he admitted that he had helped design that location. they connected the second time later that night, clumsily but intensely, and jeonghan liked his plush pouty lips and how his messy black hair felt between his fingers.

while that didn't last forever, he found varied success in other men, and he figured this was why dating women had always been so difficult for him. definitely not that he had been given small choice amongst the rotten apples that attended his college.

he was single again, and at an industry party when he reconnected with an old friend from college who happily reminisced about the fun their small group of friends had back then. he asked if jeonghan remembered seokmin, the guy that dropped the program.

"lee seokmin?" he asked, his brows knitting as he tried to react normally to the name, and mingyu hit his shoulder, laughing.

"yeah! guess what? that son of a bitch is teaching my niece piano!"

jeonghan smiled at the idea of seokmin as a piano teacher, nodding along as mingyu talked about how he had volunteered to take her to her lesson one week, only to be put face to face with a long lost friend. jeonghan laughed as mingyu imitated the face the other had made, laughing harder when he recognized it and remembered seeing it on seokmin's face in the past, then telling mingyu about how he had once pranked him by making the poor guy think that he was going to fail a project because seokmin had accidentally destroyed a diorama. it had already been graded, and he was going to take it apart to save on materials anyways, but the younger nearly cried when he thought he had wasted hours of jeonghan's time and cost him the grade by accidentally kicking it off his desk.

he asked how seokmin was doing these days, and mingyu told him he seemed well, and that he takes his niece to her lessons as often as he can spare, just to chat for a while. "i could give you his number," he said, feeling his pockets for his phone. "i'm sure he'd love to hear from you."

mingyu had been right. seokmin did love hearing from him. and he loved the way seokmin made him laugh with his ever joking tone and physical comedy antics. the way his eyebrows creased as he tried to keep a stern face but was unable to hide the smile across his lips. the way he always fought with him for the check despite jeonghan being older and notably better off.

he didn't love, however, how seokmin nodded his head after the waitress and asked him if he thought he had a shot.

maybe he was desperate, or maybe he wanted an excuse to not date seriously, or maybe he just wasn't ready to let go, but jeonghan continued to invite seokmin out, despite the fact that their relationship would never develop past friends who met in college. he enjoyed his company anyways, even if it felt bittersweet.

he poured himself into his work for several months, taking more contracts than usual and keeping himself occupied, only really seeing others for meetings and constructions, or when he was depressed on a friday night and caved, asking seokmin to join him for drinks somewhere. he continued this cycle for too long, his personal assistant noticing his mood changes before most.

"are you taking your vitamins?"

"yes, seungkwan, i'm taking my vitamins," jeonghan bit back, fully aware that he wasn't asking about vitamins at all, but about his state. confirming he was still making an effort to take care of himself rather than spiraling, sat in his living room on a tuesday after being told by a doctor to rest, for god's sake as a solution to him nearly collapsing several hours earlier. seungkwan shifted on his feet, tongue running over his teeth as he stared at the architect, hands folded in front of him.

"you need to stop seeing him. it only hurts you."

jeonghan sighed, staring at the black screen of his television. "i know."

his assistant studied him. "you should come out with the team sometime," he said. "we get drinks on wednesdays, usually. come tomorrow, it could take your mind off things."

jeonghan looked up at seungkwan, who was clearly sucking on his cheek. he knew he was right. more importantly, seungkwan knew he knew, but jeonghan had a hard time wanting to take his mind off this one specific thing, considering the way this one specific thing laughed like a hyena, poured himself over a piano like an ocean wave, and sang along like an angel. his head fell back on the couch, and he had to take a long, conscious breath to lower the ringing in his ears at the silence. "i'll be there next time."

seungkwan exhaled in defeat, eyes flickering around as he excused himself and said goodnight, knowing his boss was lying.

jeonghan found you on accident - put in an uncomfortable corner by an ultimatum from his publicist and the circulating rumor that he sleeps with men because he can't keep a woman around that seemed to pile on top of everything else on his plate - and the second you opened your mouth, he knew you were special.

he remembered the profile he had seen from your broker, and knew you were attending university. he asked you your major, and when you told him you wanted to produce music for a living, something deep in him stirred. you had been sitting in his car for all of twenty minutes, and you nearly had him under your spell already.

he couldn't understand his fascination with you, but he continued to book you for dates, sometimes deciding what event he would be attending by asking what day you were available that week. he figured if he needed to prove to the world that he wasn't gay (which he was, he was pretty sure), you were the only one he was interested in doing it with.

maybe he had a thing for musicians.

he had taken out quite a few escorts before you, but none of them were nearly as fun. you always did an incredible job engaging in whatever event he brought you to, but also hit his chest as you tried to stifle a laugh at something he muttered into your ear, guiding you away. his friends liked you, too, the few he had. the ones that had met you. yongsun had even tugged him aside briefly, asking if he really liked you. you seemed nice, she had said. and good, in general, but also for him. she wanted to make sure he wasn't just leading you along to quiet some stupid rumor. he glanced at you, smiling wide as you excitedly discussed music with one of his other friends (the fifth and last person he liked at this event, the two of you included), and wasn't quite sure why he told her he actually liked you, but didn't feel the need to correct himself.

then you told him you were quitting, and he realized what he would be losing. then you kissed him, and he realized what he had been feeling. then you looked at him with wide eyes, just as shocked as he was by the explosion of fireworks you had both just experienced, and he realized what he had been missing out on all this time.

he figured he must have always loved you as his eyes scanned the hotel bar, confused at how you had managed to get away so quickly. he was running into the hall to see if you had escaped to the lobby when someone caught his arm.

"hey, you seen yongsun?"

jeonghan blinked at his blonde friend, recognizing her play. "have you seen y/n?"

"try the bathroom," she said, throwing a thumb over her shoulder in the direction she had come from.

he looked down the hall at the restroom signs, nodding. "i saw her at the chocolate fountain a minute ago."

byulyi patted his shoulder as she walked past him. "good luck, yoon."

it felt good telling you the truth, while sitting in your well organized and tastefully decorated studio apartment that you had insisted he would hate, even if he was too scared to admit all of it. why he had needed you before, but wanted you now. his heart nearly beat out of his chest when you agreed to his conditions, though he recognized that he had given you just about every advantage in the deal. it would have been near impossible for you to say no, especially after the way you had kissed him before someone had finally tried to enter the bathroom you were hiding in.

for a while, he only kissed you as a farewell, mostly because he enjoyed the old school romanticism of kissing a beautiful woman in the moonlight, her back against the passenger door of his black vehicle parked on the street outside her studio apartment. then, when he had invited you to his home after the two of you had ditched a boring dinner several hours early, you had curled up in his side to watch a movie. at some point, he caught you staring at him, and you put a hand on his cheek and kissed him sweetly. slowly. kissed him in a way that only made him crave more. you smiled, settling back into his side for the rest of the movie, and even though you had done it unconsciously, the back of your hand rested against his thigh in a way he had a hard time ignoring, and he decided he must have just had real shit taste in women before he had met you. 

the following sunday, when you mentioned how pitch black the sky seemed at that late hour, having gotten caught up binging some drama, he not-so-vaguely hinted that he'd be okay with you spending the night in his bed. you eyed him, and he shrugged playfully.

"or i have guest rooms. up to you."

"i have class tomorrow," you tested.

"i can take you," he responded. "if you want."

you paused, watching him as he recorked the wine bottle the two of you had opened earlier in the evening but only managed to have one glass of each before abandoning it to cuddle on the couch. he was always so thoughtful, even in his teasing. he cared about your comfort. he wanted to maintain your boundaries. but it had been a really long time since you had gotten laid, and everything in you yearned to say yes. jeonghan's voice in your head reminded you, no expectations. this could be whatever you wanted out of it.

so you went to bed with him.

jeonghan would swear up and down that you were the most beautiful woman in the world, and his beliefs were only confirmed when he pulled your shirt off of you, dragging your pants down your legs, and got a real look at you for the first time. you felt unexplainably embarrassed under his gaze, asking if he was okay.

"yeah," he said breathlessly, a hand running up your side, your back arching slightly to his touch. he curled over you before he whispered "god, yeah, i'm more than okay," against your lips.

not even ten minutes had passed before you told him you loved him between your panting, and he was so ecstatic when he could tell you, wholly and truthfully, that he loved you, too. and after your pulses had died down and you were falling asleep in his arms, he said that if you were staying under his roof, you were not allowed in any guest rooms. that if you needed space, he would find a different bed to sleep in, because this one looked best with you in it, and he refused to have it any other way.

jeonghan never got bored with you. over time, you began going to his place after events and dinners more than he dropped you off at your apartment, becoming an often enough occurrence that he had asked you one night to fill an online shopping cart with clothes for you to keep in his closet, so you could stop this silly packing bags nonsense. he had already bought you a full set of toiletries for his bathroom, started keeping your favorite snacks in the pantry, and even gone as far as to buy you the house slippers you had offhandedly said were cute when the two of you wandered aimlessly around a mall together. you were becoming a part of his home in more ways than one, and he was happy to have you.

he offered you an unused office on the second floor when you started studying for finals on the peninsula of his kitchen counter one monday afternoon, and you asked what was wrong with you doing it where you were.

"because you're not going to clean it up," he pointed out.

"maybe if we had a rewards system," you argued. "if i clean up, i get a prize."

he laughed, rounding the small jut of countertop, thinking about how he would probably need a proper kitchen island if you were going to be sticking around. "just because i give you an allowance, doesn't mean you're a child. you're not supposed to focus on the baby part of sugar baby."

you pouted as you turned on the stool to face him, a hand gently tugging his tie to pull him into you. "what if i focus on the daddy part of sugar daddy?"

a hunger dropped in jeonghan, gazing down at you as you sat at his kitchen counter, surrounded by textbooks and notes. your eyes sparkled under the lights, and his fingers went behind your neck before he kissed you, muttering against your lips to try calling him that again, angel.

the kitchen remodel had gone about as smoothly as it could have, given the fact that it was nearly impossible to transport such a large slab of granite for his dream island without it snapping in half from its own weight, but they managed, and when the light fixture finally turned on for the first time after the new cabinet doors had been installed, he felt justified in remodeling a kitchen that had hardly needed updating. he felt even more justified when he came downstairs to find you, having woken up in an empty bed, only to have you yell at him as you flipped pancakes on the griddle of his new gas range, saying you were going to bring him breakfast in bed and if he didn't cooperate, he wouldn't see you for a week. he laughed at your threatening spatula, putting his hands up in surrender, unable to stop smiling as he made his way back up the stairs.

you had enrolled in online courses for your last year of school, mostly so you didn't have to be anywhere specific for several hours every day, and instead could keep your schedule massively open to cater to jeonghan's needs. this also meant you usually attended your afternoon lectures at his home, waiting for him to get off work and distract you.

then the two of you started attended wednesday drinks with the team. seungkwan had thanked you, though you hadn't realized that you were deserving of a thanks.

"he'll tell you when he wants to, i guess," he said, twirling the beer in his hand. "but he wasn't in a great place before he met you."

you could hear the subject of your exchange laughing further down the bar, and you wondered what kind of place he meant, but tapped your glass against seungkwan's instead of asking the question. "to better places."

he chuckled, bringing the beer to his lips. "cheers to that."

jeonghan enjoyed having you on his lap on the couch, listening to whatever r&b record you had chosen as you worked your lips against his. he nudged several kisses down your neck, and you mentioned offhandedly that there was a perfect place in his living room for a bar, pointing at the wall behind him. he pulled away from you, turning his body with an arm over the back of the sofa, and his head cocked as he stared at the wall that only held a painting. he silently agreed with you, wondering why you seemed to inspire all his recent projects as you nipped at his neck, drawing his attention back to you with a smile on his face.

the bar was finished in time to hire a bartender for a halloween party. he hadn't told the guests that it was an anniversary party, but you had been made aware of the secret arrangement during a conversation the two of you had over a private meal in your favorite restaurant the week before. 

"a threesome," you asked, hoping for clarification. 

"with a guy, preferably," jeonghan said. "but i could be convinced to approve of a girl if that's what you would like."

"you're being serious?" you seemed to find yourself asking him that a lot. every time he suggested something that he knew you wanted, you wondered if he was pulling your leg. "and you want me to choose?"

"yeah, at the party," he said, watching you shake your head incredulously with a smile on his face. the two of you had discussed the possibility in the past, and he thought it made a fun gift. an unexpected one, from someone who had enough money to comfortably gift you just about anything. "i have to approve, obviously, but you get to pick the candidates."

you thought a moment. "what if we can't agree on anyone?"

"then i take you to bed alone and we have fun anyways." 

he laughed when you squinted at him.

"if the opportunity comes up down the line, we can try again later," he said. "but i thought this would give you something fun to do while i'm hosting guests."

and it had, as you sneakily scoped out the guests, flitting around the party of both familiar and unfamiliar faces in your angelic cheerleading costume. visiting and laughing heartily with the team, as well as your uni friends that jeonghan insisted you invite, offering them more drinks, then saying something about having to play hostess so you could continue your search. byulyi and yongsun were there, and you complimented their matching rapunzel and flynn get up, jeonghan catching you for just a second to ask if you needed anything.

you settled in on one target perhaps too quickly, without even really having made an effort to see all the options. you had been struck by the same sharp cheekbones, puppy dog eyes, and crooked smile that jeonghan had once fallen for. when he saw you tucked into lee seokmin's side, recognizing your flirting even from a distance and noticing how receptive the musician was to it, his heart fluttered, and he couldn't tell if it was a good or bad thing.

a good thing, he decided, when seokmin had asked him permission before he came in you. because, seemingly, sexuality was much more of a spectrum than jeonghan had once thought, and perhaps his college crush just needed the encouragement of an incredible woman to try something a little beyond his experience, much like he had.

and when you wouldn't stop mentioning the musician the two of you had enjoyed the company of while schmoozing guests at the opening of him and his friend's collaborative art exhibit, he got a slick idea. on the way home, he told you that you weren't allowed to make a noise until he hung up the phone, but you were already writhing in the passenger seat just as the phone rang.

and when he answered, you clamped a hand over your mouth, a bare foot landing on the dashboard as you tried to grind against jeonghan's hand, his voice steady as he talked to the younger.

and when he mentioned you, your walls pulsed around his fingers, a smile finding its way into his lips as he spoke. he tried not to take too much pleasure in the way you looked at him with begging eyes and your fist between your teeth, or in the way seokmin's tone dropped as he confirmed that he would get a cab, but he truly couldn't help himself when he made eye contact with seokmin as you sucked him off, his hips canting into yours recklessly, forcing seokmin to break the contact as he reacted to your moan on his cock. 

he noticed the way seokmin's hips began to move on their own, begging for enough control to chase his nearing high in your mouth but having it brought right to his doorstep instead. jeonghan felt your perfect heat cling to him in reaction, and before he could think to stop himself, he pulled you into his chest by your throat, not daring to let you claim it all as he lapped cum from your mouth. you whimpered against him, your orgasm lasting impossibly long as he fucked into you, getting milked by your needy walls.

when he caught seokmin staring directly at him, he grinned and wiped the back of his hand across his chin and lower lip, languidly licking any escaped cum off it, and asked if he wanted to try his, too.

seokmin agreed, nodding shakily before jeonghan massaged at your sides, pumping himself into you a few more times. he told you to give seokmin's mouth a ride. you groaned, his cum dripping down your thighs.

jeonghan watched the younger's cock twitch as you moaned over him, one hand on the wall and the other on his scalp, his fingers digging into your thighs. he stared at how it never lost hardness. he didn't even realize that his hands were on seokmin's hip and thigh before he even asked if he could touch him, but a large hand left your thigh to shakily bring jeonghan's to his thick cock, answering the question despite you occupying his mouth, his fingers lingering over jeonghan's as he pumped his length.

he couldn't deny that how badly he wanted to fuck seokmin, but he could settle for making him cum in his hands until he was ready for something more, especially with the surprising amount he had to give after already having cum once. he let himself indulge in a single lick across seokmin's sensitive slit - though it was hard to stop there - triggering a garbled moan before he left to shower.

a week or so later, jeonghan asked you if you were interested in dating seokmin. you put your phone down and rolled over in bed, propped up on your elbows as you asked him what he meant.

"i love you," jeonghan assured, pulling you to lay closer to him. "and i can tell you like him."

you studied his face. "but i'm with you."

"that doesn't have to stop," he said, smiling at you as he tucked a hand behind his head. you eyed his arm briefly, then refocused on him. "but you know how things get in the winter, and i would be okay with you trying things out with him while i'm busy."

"you're being serious?"

jeonghan laughed at the familiar question. "yes, y/n, i'm being serious. i know you want me, but i also know you want more than me."

you had never told anyone about your desire for multiple partners, not even admitted it out loud to yourself, so his candid assessment caught you off guard. "how did you-"

"just little things you've said," he teased, leaving you to question how much you had revealed about yourself without realizing. "besides, no one can deny the chemistry."

you paused. "boundaries?"

"just tell me," he said, putting his arms around you and tugging you into him. "i just want to know when you're seeing him. and, eventually, i would like to be invited every once in a while."

"invited to dates?" you asked, throwing a leg over his lap to straddle it as you laid over him. "or invited to bed?"

he smiled up at you, hands running over your rear. "either. both. whatever you two want."

you agreed, but only after you made him promise he would tell you if anything changed for him. that he had to tell you about every doubt and worry he had. "i'll always choose you," you stated plainly, lips brushing against his as he gently rolled his growing length up against your clothed heat. "no matter what, i'll choose you."

"i know, sweetheart," he said, a hand on your cheek as he kissed you. "i promise."

after he came back from a business trip in december, you admitted to him that you and seokmin had exchanged i love yous, and he just put an arm over your shoulder and turned down the volume on the tv, telling you that he was pretty sure he loved seokmin, too.

"it was him, wasn't it?" you asked, studying his profile. "he was the guy you couldn't get over?"

jeonghan rubbed his face with one hand, sighing. "yeah, it was him."

"why didn't you say anything?"

he thought a moment. "i didn't want you to feel obligated, i guess."

your fingers straightened the seams of his long sleeved shirt across his shoulder. "obligated to win him over for you?"

"obligated to love him, too."

"jokes on you," you giggled. "he's very easy to fall in love with."

jeonghan supposed that was true, thinking of how quickly he had fallen for him, even back before he had admitted he liked men. how he had fallen into the same spot even years later, just over a shared meal and a few bottles of soju.

but you were easy to fall in love with too, he thought, remembering how he hadn't even understood his feelings towards you until you had kissed him, but he had felt them strong enough to want you to stay by his side anyways. maybe jeonghan just fell easily, but maybe he was lucky enough to have found his people at such a young age.

you settled back into the crook of his arm and asked him what he thought about seokmin coming over to join you two for christmas. while much of the world celebrated with family, it was more of a hallmark holiday in korea, often times spent with a long time sweetheart or a budding romance. or both, in your case, jeonghan supposed, when you were distracted trying to find the third christmas music lp you had specifically gotten for the occasion (out of eight, of course, because you didn't want to run out of christmas music). he was leaning against the tasteful home bar that had been hardly touched since halloween when seokmin shyly admitted that he knew jeonghan was interested in him.

he said nothing for a moment. "she told you?"

"kind of, back when you were in japan, but-" seokmin paused. "i think she was just suspicious, but i should have known. you were always too kind to me."

"not too kind," jeonghan said, hiding behind his wine as he sipped at it, trying not to show his embarrassment.

"i think i'm interested, too."

he looked at seokmin, who was staring down at his hands. "are you sure?"

"i'm-" he paused, catching jeonghan's eyes for only a second before scratching the back of his neck. "i think so. i've never even thought about doing anything with - uh - men. until you."

"that's okay," jeonghan said, looking to where you were flipping through records. "i didn't like women until y/n."

seokmin faltered. "wait, really?"

he nodded, a small smile on his face. "i thought i was gay. turns out i'm not."

"but you-" the musician stretched his jaw. "weren't you kind of a player in college?"

he almost said something about how having sex to meet an end and keep an appearance was different than enjoying it, but stopped himself when you announced that you had found the lost record, switching the lps with a flourish and setting the player again. and while he was curious about the level of seokmin's interest in him, he was happy to leave the conversation where it stood when you excitedly rejoined them at the bar.

"do you think i could be a bartender?" you asked, leaning over the counter and grabbing an unused shaker.

"probably," seokmin said.

"for sure no," jeonghan laughed.

you pouted at the latter, holding the shaker between your hands as you directed your attention to the former. "thank you, seokmin. i appreciate you encouraging my dreams."

"any time," he joked.

jeonghan rolled his eyes. "what about that music degree i'm paying for?" he asked, taking another sip.

"just because you've known what you wanted to do forever, doesn't mean everyone does. maybe i'll change my mind." you tried to spin the shaker in your hand, but the force you used was too little and it stopped on your palm too quickly, clumsily clattering to the counter. you stilled it, exhaling sharply when jeonghan giggled beside you, looking to seokmin. "he might be right."

"it's almost like i know you," jeonghan teased, nudging you. "she was convinced she could become my personal bartender for all of two weeks."

"i tried," you whined. seokmin laughed. "the tricks are harder than they look."

"and you hated shaking drinks."

you put the shaker back, defeated. "the ice made it cold."

"isn't that the point?" seokmin asked.

jeonghan smiled at you. "you're lucky i like wine."

"i'm gonna talk to you now," you announced, turning your body to seokmin. "because you're nicer to me than he is."

"aw," the architect chuckled, and seokmin watched you react to a squeeze at your butt. "did he make you soft? can't take my teasing anymore?"

you ignored him, trying to ask the man in front of you about his lessons, but you yelped when his hand firmly landed on your ass, grabbing seokmin's arm in reaction. he looked at you, seemingly just as shocked, and you tried to continue the conversation, but jeonghan's hand didn't leave, and your entire body was reacting to the way it was slowly hiking up your skirt and running between your thighs.

your eyes fell shut, and you muttered for him to cut it out as your grip on seokmin's arm tightened, but jeonghan just made eye contact with the other male, asking him instead if he should.

without thinking, seokmin shook his head and put his hands on your jaw, pulling you in to kiss him. your moan against his lips was involuntary, and jeonghan grinned as his fingers ran over your core, making you whine.

"did you tell him?" you gasped out, asking seokmin with hooded eyes. he shook his head, saying that he hadn't told him everything.

"told me what?" jeonghan asked, interest piqued as he put down his glass, pulling his hand out from your skirt and placing them on your hips instead, squeezing gently as he stood behind you, and your head fell back into his shoulder without much intention as you licked your lips. "seokmin?"

he pulled his gaze, trained on your mouth, to look at jeonghan, and he felt his breath stop in his throat as he fully processed the sight in front of him. you gasped again, as jeonghan's hand came up to knead at your breast, and you tried to pull seokmin closer, but he didn't stop moving even when he was pressed against you.

jeonghan thought he might faint. he wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but when seokmin's hand found the back of his neck and pulled him over your shoulder, his mind went blank. when his lips found his, his vision went white. when he felt his tongue against the inside of his teeth, he couldn't help but moan, one hand gripping your waist and the other aimlessly tugging on seokmin's shirt, seemingly just to hold something that belonged to him.

"fuck, okay," jeonghan breathed, staring after the musicians lips even when they left. you giggled, recognizing the feeling. "okay," he repeated. "got it. understood."

you spun around, hands on jeonghan's chest. "we prepared something for you," you said, and seokmin's cheeks and ears were bright red when he sheepishly nodded with you.

jeonghan looked between the two of you, swallowing suddenly. "what?"

you tugged on his hand, then grabbed seokmin's, too, when he didn't move right away, leading them both to walk around the couch. you pulled jeonghan onto the cushions with you, kissing him briefly before he realized someone was between his knees. when he saw him, that was when jeonghan's dick woke up, suddenly realizing what was happening.

"be nice," you muttered against the shell of his ear, your hand running down his torso. "it's his first time."

seokmin's hands were strong but gentle, and despite never having touched a dick that wasn't attached to him, he knew what felt good. he needed a bit of guidance from you to begin, less from lack of knowing the process and more because he was nervous, but quickly found a comfortable rhythm. jeonghan sighed when he finally got pulled out of his pants, and you were sucking a mark into his neck, his arm wrapped around you and his hand kneading at your rear. his eyes could hardly stay open when seokmin ran his flattened tongue up the underside of his cock.

"isn't he pretty?" you asked, whispering, a smile on your lips. 

he groaned, threading his fingers behind seokmin's ear, desperately trying to hold back his release because he hasn't even put you in his mouth, yet, jeonghan, for god's sake, keep it together. the younger's eyes flickered up to his, and he nearly came just from the feeling of his soft lips around his member, sinking slowly.

"fuck, you're too good at this," jeonghan said, the half chuckle on his lips falling quickly when seokmin's tongue ran over a vein, the warmth of his mouth feeling like heaven. his teeth bit down on his lower lip, watching your hand run through seokmin's hair. he hummed at the contact, his grip tightening slightly, sending a jolt through jeonghan's system. "fuck, i'm gonna cum already."

"there were lessons," you giggled, your hands wrapping casually around his neck. his breathing hitched, eyes falling shut, focusing on the mouth sheathing his cock as he recognized your fidgeting fingers over his pulse. "merry christmas, daddy."

he inhaled sharply right before you squeezed at his throat, and he thought that he should maybe let you lead more often if it was going to feel this good. seokmin seemed surprised by the feeling of jeonghan cumming in his mouth, but he did his best to pump every drop from him, swallowing thickly. you only smiled when jeonghan sat up, leaving you behind as he pulled seokmin's face to his, his hands running up jeonghan's thighs as he kissed him.

jeonghan decided the sunroom extension was all wrong, and that he'd have to redo it.

"you just built that," wonwoo said, having been the contractor that oversaw the construction. "besides, it's snowy season, we can't do outdoor construction. you'll have to wait til spring."

"not outdoor," jeonghan said, rolling out the drafting papers he had drawn up over the course of his new year break, the final pieces being completed in the wee hours of that morning. he had sent wonwoo a text as soon as he thought he would be awake, asking for a meeting despite it only being two days after the new year. "the shell can stay the same, we just need to build indoors. besides, i need this done in february."

wonwoo blinked at him. "when in february?"

"it has to be fully furnished by the 18th."

the contractor laughed at the deadline, only a month and a half out, as he looked over jeonghan's drafts. it would be a tight schedule, considering the structural changes he wanted, but he recognized his long time work partner's determination and knew there was little he could do to argue. "okay. let's get to work."

he turned down a contract for a café to make time for the new home project, but not before recommending they contact a kim mingyu, giving him the vaguest thank you for introducing seokmin back into his life. he didn't have time to draw several attempted variations of every café he had ever designed, he was too busy mapping out the logistics of adding a lofted space to the two story sunroom. too busy planning to tear out the outer wall of your office and picking the right sliding glass doors that would lead to the loft. you had to ask him several days in a row before he finally told you what he had planned.

"a music room?"

he tried to gauge your reaction. "is it crazy?"

you broke out into a smile, studying his design, gripping the mug that held your latté that morning. "absolutely, but i love it."

he asked you to help him pick instruments, saying his wishlist included a white grand piano and three to five guitars that could be displayed together. he also told you to pick out your dream computer setup for production - you were graduating that year, afterall, and it was about time you started using something other than your laptop and a midi controller to make music - and you almost started crying from how fucking excited that made you.

hiding the plans from seokmin was the hardest part, especially when he started spending weekends at the house. he saw the construction area often, and one friday afternoon, he had even asked if he could help, leaving you to usher him away and assure him that jeonghan didn't like help when it came to these things. he believed the white lie, allowing you to distract him with the option of watching shit television in bed, even convincing him that tonight was the night to surprise his new boyfriend. seokmin laid in bed with his arms wrapped around you, trying not to move too much, fully aware that even the slightest movements in his body caused his dick to come to life, until the last of the workers left and jeonghan appeared, asking if there were dinner requests before he went to take a shower.

seokmin had been training with you for over a week. you had bought him some toys, even helped him try them out in the comfort of his loft, and he got increasingly excited - generally, but also in those moments - to show jeonghan what he had learned. the surprise he had been keeping had already made him beg you to cockwarm him as he waited, but you refused on account of knowing him, and by extension, knowing that he would not being able to stop himself. he had a bit more confidence, though it may have only been fueled by horniness, when he pulled the vaguely sweaty architect toward him on the bed. he tried to say something about how he should really wash up, but seokmin just kissed him, hands gripping around his skull in desperation, his dick already hard against jeonghan's pelvis.

jeonghan's hands wandered, as they usually did, and when he reached down to palm at seokmin's ass, he reacted in a way that earned him a questioning glance.

"we - ah-" his eyes shut, jeonghan's hands getting closer to his surprise. "she's been helping me-"

and that was when he felt it. the small, hard handle of a plug, situated between seokmin's perky asscheeks, easy to feel through the loose fabric of his shorts, and jeonghan felt his arousal tenting his pants just from the concept.

jeonghan hadn't even noticed your movement off the bed until a bottle of lube hit his leg, looking down at it briefly before looking to you.

"i'm gonna go clean up," you said, running a hand through your hair as you retreated to the bathroom, leaving jeonghan with an already flustered seokmin. 

before long, he had him on his back, naked, and finally got to see how sweet his little ass looked when jeonghan pushed his knees towards his chest. when he saw the black knob fitting tightly into his hole, he groaned, his own bare cock flinching in need. he put a hand on seokmin's dick, gripping it lightly, then put a thumb against the plug.

"nngh- fuck," seokmin stammered, fingers gripping at the bedsheets as his neck stretched out against the pillows, bucking into the hand wrapped around him. "j-jeonghan…"

"this is cute," he said, slowly moving his thumb in a circular motion, the plug's movement making seokmin let out choked moans. "but i really need to play with you now."

seokmin nodded, hurriedly, brows knit together. "please."

he hooked his fingers under the knob of the plug, slowly pulling it out and relishing in the reaction. the younger's back arched in a way that jeonghan wished he could see from every angle, knowing that the way his shoulders and back looked must have been incredible, but satisfied by just watching the way his mouth hung open and his eyes clamped shut, his fingers gripping at jeonghan's hand where it stayed on his dick.

he began to pump the dick in his palm, setting aside the plug and grabbing the lube, popping it open with just his left hand and quickly squirting a healthy amount onto the tip of seokmin's penis, making quick work of spreading it completely over the engorged member, the slickness making him moan even louder and reach out for jeonghan's shoulders.

he let seokmin tug him over him, kissing him briefly before looking down at where the younger's thighs spread over his, wanting nothing more than to just fuck him already.

jeonghan's hand left seokmin's cock, leaving him whining against his lips, but it was short lived as his lubed fingers slid down to his puckered hole.

"seokmin," he muttered, studying his face. "you're sure, right?"

"fuck, i've been wanting this for since christmas, jeonghan," he sputtered out, eyes barely able to focus when there were fingers teasing his entrance. "yes, please, i'm sure."

jeonghan slid a digit into the tight hole, watching seokmin's face as his brows creased and his head fell back, a moan tumbling from his lips. another finger, jeonghan decided, and the reaction was similar, making him smirk.

"god, you're ready, aren't you?"

"please," he begged. "i want you."

jeonghan sat back, and the musician got on his elbows to watch as he readied his cock with lube, putting more on his finger and spreading it around seokmin's hole. he whined when jeonghan placed the head of his dick at his entrance, tugging him over him again.

"i'll go slow, okay?" jeonghan assured him. "tell me if i need to stop."

seokmin just nodded, eyes trained on his, and they locked lips as jeonghan pushed his hips forward slowly, the man under him immediately moaning and huffing against his mouth.

jeonghan really liked sex with seokmin. he also really liked sex with you. but he was pretty sure he liked it the most when you were both present.

seokmin didn't walk right for a day and a half, and while he was slightly embarrassed, you told him it was a badge of honor he should wear proudly. afterall, he had done the same to you on halloween. 

"how's your butt?" you asked when he came down the stairs, the sunday morning after they had done the deed without you, making him choke out a laugh as you got his tea out of a cabinet in jeonghan's kitchen.

"better than yesterday," he said, gingerly seating himself at a stool. "but not as good as friday."

you eyed him. "before or during?"

seokmin thought a second. "both."

"good morning," jeonghan said, quickly planting kisses on the man and then you, cheek and lips respectively based on the convenience as he walked past you, making his way to the espresso machine. "i think i'm gonna work on the sunroom today."

"today?" you asked. "wonwoo's gonna say no."

"wonwoo isn't getting invited. i still have to find furniture," he said, rinsing out the espresso shot glass and wiping down the portafilter. "we're getting close to deadline, i need boo to order the upholstery job on tuesday and i have a meeting tomorrow."

"when's deadline?" seokmin asked, wondering why he had one for a home project.

jeonghan blinked at the wall, not even turning towards the younger. "don't worry your pretty head about it."

you pouted, closing the short distance and wrapping your arms around him, your chin on his shoulder. "it's sunday. can't we cuddled puddle?"

"you mean like we do every night?" jeonghan asked, but grinding espresso beans so you couldn't answer the rhetorical question, packing down the grounds. "if you want to cuddle puddle, don't get out of bed so early."

you huffed as you dropped your arms, leaving him to prep a glass for his americano. "whatever. seokmin and i will have fun without you."

"what kind of fun?"

you stick your tongue out at him, using a teasing voice when you said "wouldn't you like to know."

innocent fun, was the truth, but you thought it was a victimless bluff. you spent the morning sitting on the couch with seokmin while a record played, discussing everything from your favorite movies to your weirdest dreams. you had to get up every six songs or so to flip or change the record, but seokmin liked that every time you rejoined him on the couch, you got closer to his side until you were eventually snuggling into his side, arms wrapped around his torso.

the innocence stopped when jeonghan emerged from his study, joining the two of you for a break. he planted himself on the other side of seokmin, under his arm, letting his hand not-so-subtly run over his thigh. you noticed the contact, peeking around to jeonghan.

"what kind of break are you looking for, hannie?"

he adjusted. "an inspiring one."

you giggled, recognizing the euphemism he used whenever he was stuck on something for work as you leaned back again. "that means he's horny."

seokmin sputtered out a laugh, jeonghan chuckling at your direct observation. "it's hard to not think about you two sitting out here, having fun without me."

"you may not believe it," seokmin said. "but i don't think sex was even on the table for us two today."

jeonghan's eyes met his, and he swallowed harshly. "can it be on the table for all three of us?"

the comfort of returning to bed was hard to deny, especially when they had you laid out against seokmin's chest as he was pressed against the headboard, his mouth attached to your neck and his fingers twisting a nipple, all while jeonghan was digging his digits further into you with his tongue flicking against your clit. 

seokmin grunted, rutting his hips against your back. "fuck, he looks good there."

you gasped, nodding, biting at your lip as he kneaded your breast, your fingers digging into jeonghan's hair. "you both do."

jeonghan never struggled to pull you apart, his deft fingers and teasing lips making you squirm and moan until you were shaking, mouth hanging open as your vision blurred and he told you you tasted like candy.

"minnie," jeonghan prompted, making the younger sit up with you whining against him to clean your taste off his fingers. his dick throbbed in need, watching the singer's agile tongue against him, wishing it wasn't just on his fingers.

seokmin had to practically beg jeonghan to fuck him again, but his only hesitation was that he may not have recovered yet. seokmin  was on his back and gripped at jeonghan's thighs, urging him forward as your hand twisted around his thick, throbbing cock.

jeonghan swallowed, pausing despite being covered in lube and in position. "you're sure?"

"yes," seokmin said, gasping at your hand on him. "jeonghan, i appreciate you asking, but i'm always sure when it comes to you."

you weren't sure you had ever seen jeonghan blush like that in bed, and you smiled against seokmin's neck as he groaned, his cock firming in your grasp as the older pushed into him. you admired seokmin's silent scream, his head lolling to one side at the feeling.

"angel," jeonghan sighed, settling into the way seokmin squeezed around him. "what do you wanna do?"

you teased a thumb over seokmin's slit. "i wanna ride."

"f-fuuck-" seokmin panted, his hips resting against jeonghan's spread thighs as his knees hung to either side. "i'm not- nngh- gonna last."

"you don't have to," you said matter of factly, adjusting to straddle his torso. jeonghan winced, watching your form as he pumped into seokmin. "we're done when daddy says so."

you put your hand, palm up, over your shoulder, and jeonghan chuckled at the recognized motion for him to spit on your fingers - usually, so that you could slick his dick to sit back on it. you worked jeonghan's spit over seokmin's engorged cock, then slowly lowered yourself onto him.

seokmin stared up at you, eyes fluttering and mouth open, suddenly not only feeling impossibly full, but also absolutely stuffed into you. he moaned out loud when jeonghan bumped into his spot, overwhelmed by the simultaneous pleasure. you fell forward onto his chest, holding yourself up with shaky arms as your face hovered over his, both of you trying to hold off your own demises.

then, jeonghan pushed himself deep into seokmin, who whined, his dick pushing up against your cervix. you nearly collapsed, whimpering as your forehead fell to his, gasping into a desperate kiss. jeonghan groaned, his hand running over your hip as he looked at the intersection of you all, staring at the way you barely contained all of seokmin before he leaned forward and kissed your spine.

"you two will kill me," he said, one hand holding you firmly at your waist while the other gripped seokmin's thigh as he picked up his pace. you both moaned, fingernails digging into the plushest part of your thigh when seokmin questioned how much longer he could hold out at jeonghan's unrelenting pace.

a long, high pitched whine fell from his lips. "fuck, i need to cum," he rushed out, bleary eyes barely opening as he looked at you.

"hang on, baby," jeonghan said. "ladies first."

you babbled against seokmin's lips, somehow never being able to get used to the way he filled you, though jeonghan pushing him into you didn't help. you could do nothing but repeat curses in increasing pitch, pushing your face into seokmin's neck as your walls clamped down around him. his mouth gaped, desperately trying to not succumb to your plush insides before he got the okay.

jeonghan smiled at how seokmin tried to focus on him, despite his hands gripping you as you shook against him. "go ahead, baby."

so seokmin went. and god, he went, coating you internally, immediately squeezing out around his stuffed cock and onto his lap, making jeonghan pant as he kept his hips moving, chasing his own end. he leaned forward, chest pressing against your back as he fucked into seokmin, not stopping until his eyes were clamped shut and he was painting his walls white.

there was a long period of time where none of you moved, then another after you had all managed to untangle from each other. jeonghan sat back, leaning against a hand and scratching his brow as he breathed heavily.

"bathtub cuddle puddle?"

you laughed, chest heaving as you looked over to him, but it was seokmin who spoke. "that sounds nice."

he started to get suspicious when his birthday got closer.

jeonghan told you to suggest a dinner outing for that night to divert attention, but he had caught you moving one of the guitars for the music room only a few days before his birthday, and he looked at you with squinted eyes when he asked if it was for him and you hurriedly said no, hiding the guitar behind your back despite him clearly being able to see it. 

"i panicked," you told jeonghan, eyes wide. "he saw it in me. he could tell it wasn't just the guitar."

"it'll be fine, y/n," he said, pushing around potted plants until they satisfied him. "he has to think it's weird that we haven't let him see this room yet, anyways."

you chewed your cheek, looking around the almost completed sunroom. the tall windows showed the light snowflakes falling from the sky, not quite thick enough to leave a layer but enough to make the enclosed yard look slightly pastel. despite the open space that looked out into the cold seoul winter, it stayed cozy, heat radiating from the floorboards and the faux fur rugs laid across them. the space near the entrance had a raised floor with a grand piano, along with several guitars hanging upon the wall, while the area partially covered by the balcony had two heavily cushioned, dark heather gray couches and a bright armchair, adorned with pillows and cable knit blankets.

jeonghan had a slight obsessive nature when it came to his home projects. he was meticulous with contracts, too, but he truly wanted this house to be perfect - not just for him, but for the people he loved. so you watched him rearrange pillows about four more times before you ran up the stairs to the loft to see if he had changed anything there since you had looked the day before.

it almost felt as though it was outdoors, with plants hanging off the edge of the railing and the rustic desk he had originally picked for your office placed to one side. you imagined doing schoolwork here, fantasizing slightly about watching seokmin play piano from your vantage point as you wrote essays. you slid open the glass doors to peek into your new office.

he had painted the walls white, taking a hint from the styling in your own apartment when he picked out a neutral toned couch and light wood shelving, your early graduation present of a computer set up spread across an L shaped desk. he had even paid to have your upright piano moved here, and cut into the next room over to give you more space for an electric drumset. you couldn't help but smile, imagining your friends coming over to record stuff with you. you had always felt strange about inviting them to your rich boyfriend's house, despite him insisting they were welcome, but he had really gone through the trouble of making a room so perfect for all of them that you had no choice.

and it was brighter, you thought. you had told him you worked better in bright spaces.

despite jeonghan's promises, the music room renovation felt like it was as much a gift for you as it was for seokmin. though, maybe he couldn't help it, when the reasons he loved you both overlapped so much.

you went to seokmin's apartment the next day with a bagged gift for him, arriving again right as his client was leaving, and you smiled at the same young man you had seen the first time you had come to visit seokmin. you knew his name now, not because you had spoken to him much, but because you had been told about him by his teacher, and you congratulated him on getting a gig the upcoming weekend.

"oh," jisung said, glancing between the two of you. "he talks about me?"

you laughed and gave him a fighting, seokmin looking upwards to hide his embarrassment as he ushered his student toward the door. "have a nice week, jisung! i'll try to be there this weekend," he said, throwing you a look as you giggled. 

"it's not for guitar, you don't have to come," the younger assured. "but if you want to, bring your girlfriend!"

"yeah!" you said, putting your fists on your hips. "i'm getting you dinner for your birthday tonight, the least you can do is take me to an underground rap show!"

"okay, both of you, no more talking," seokmin said, trying and failing to prevent jisung from stopping in his tracks at the news that it was his birthday.

"woah, teach, happy birthday!" he laughed. "you weren't gonna say anything?" he kept talking even as his teacher pushed him out of his apartment.

you couldn't stop grinning when the door closed, seokmin turning to you. he pointed at you, trying to hide his smile as he could only get out a vaguely annoyed "you."

"happy birthday, baby," you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. he softened against you, smiling as you pulled away, his hands on your waist as he thanked you quietly.

"he asks about you a lot," seokmin said, joining you when you laughed at the fact. "i think he has a crush on you."

you rolled your eyes. "stop bragging about me, then."

"i don't brag," he said, smiling into another kiss. "i just tell the truth. i can't help that you're a dream come true."

you only pulled away from him to grab the two thick paper bags that you had set on his couch. "c'mon, we gotta head out. open your presents."

seokmin's mouth dropped open when he saw the logo on the bag. "wait, you didn't."

"i had to," you said, giggling as he grabbed one and tugged it open, moving to the couch to pull the garment out. "you said you wanted it."

"where did you find one?" he asked, staring at the corduroy parka from the brand you saw him wear constantly. "they've been sold out for weeks!"

"i got it before then, duh." you poked his cheek when he pouted at you, his eyebrows knit. "there's more, stop getting distracted."

seokmin hugged you extra tight as a thank you for his romantic crown haul, and he decisively pulled on the golden yellow shirt with the pizza on the back, making you grin at how perfectly jeonghan had predicted his thought process before you dragged him out of his apartment to go get dinner.

"we're just picking it up," you said, jangling a keychain. he gave you a quirked eyebrow, and you giggled, pulling him over to jeonghan's car. "do you wanna see it self drive?"

you pushed the side door closed with your butt and called out to jeonghan, saying the birthday boy was here. seokmin took the pizza boxes from your arms and put them on the kitchen counter as jeonghan walked around the stairs.

"well one of us has to change," jeonghan said facetiously, and seokmin looked down at the yellow shirt peeking through his half zipped parka, looking back up at jeonghan, who was wearing the same shirt.

"wait wait wait," you giggled, turning around to undo the zipper of your own jacket, pulling it open as you spun around to reveal that you, too, were wearing the shirt.

seokmin looked between you two with wide eyes, his eyebrows creasing. "you got us matching shirts?"

"pizza shirt gang!" you giggled, stripping off your jacket. "do you like them?"

he smiled into a disbelieving laugh. "how did you know i would put it on?"

"because we know you, minnie," jeonghan said, reaching for his hand after he took off his new coat. "before we eat, i finished the sunroom today, wanna see it?"

"hang on," seokmin stopped, making his hand fall from jeonghan's. "that's not the gift, right?" he looked at you. "the sunroom isn't the gift?"

you pursed your lips, looking at the ceiling, and seokmin started to argue, making jeonghan laughed. "who cares if it's for you, i just want you to come look at it."

jeonghan is pretty sure he always loved seokmin. it wasn't something he would ever be able to change about himself, he figured, as he watched his lover cover his face with his hands, sinking to crouch on the floor as his eyes looked around the large room that was lit by fairy light. the first thing he had seen was the piano, which made him gasp, then he saw the guitars, and looked at your smiling face, suddenly connecting dots, unable to stay standing from the shock as he understood why he hadn't been allowed to help.

and then he started crying.

the two of you ushered him to a couch, sitting him down as he sniffed back the tears. you sat beside him, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and cooing, jeonghan crouching on the floor in front of him.

"i'm sorry," jeonghan said, smiling slightly as he gave him an apologetic look. "i didn't mean to overwhelm you."

seokmin choked on a laugh, wiping at his cheeks. "how did you think i'd react?"

"i don't think he thought about it," you whispered, knowing full well jeonghan could hear you.

"i got a little carried away," he admitted, hand rubbing comforting circles on seokmin's leg. "you're special to me, so i wanted to make something special for you."

"this," seokmin said, looking around, gesturing at his surroundings. "this?"

the older huffed out a laugh, almost embarrassed. "yeah, this."

seokmin laughed too, eyes wet as he looked into the other's. "i can't believe you would make something this incredible for me."

"you're incredible," jeonghan said. "i want you to feel welcome in my home."

"i couldn't believe the record wall, either," you offered when seokmin seemed speechless, pressing your cheek against the his shoulder, hand rubbing his back. "jeonghan's love language is a little unique."

seokmin sniffed one more time, studying jeonghan's face, his brow creasing ever so slightly. "holy shit, i'm in love with you."

your heart stopped as you pulled away slightly to look at him, then jeonghan, who was frozen.

"i didn't realize that's what this was," seokmin said, hand gripping the one on his thigh. "i knew i liked you, but this is-"

jeonghan rose quickly, seating himself at seokmin's other side and kissed him. "i love you," he said, thumbs wiping over his slightly damp cheekbones. "it's taken me years to admit it, but i love you."

seokmin kissed him again in response, his face feeling hot from the continued attention. he broke away, only to look around the room again, jeonghan studying his face with a smile as he did.

"i think," seokmin said, clearing his throat when the words came out weak. he looked to you, then to jeonghan. "i think this is the best birthday i've ever had."

jeonghan laughed. "we haven't even had the pizza yet."

[karlyfr13s]

Helping Destiny Along

A fluffy CS one-shot for the lovely @teamhook

Thank you @veryverynotgoodwrites for being one heck of a beta, and @the-darkdragonfly for your brainstorming powers!

Summary: Henry Mills has a theory: for each Captain Hook, there must be an Emma Swan. Well, he found Princess Emma Nolan at long last and is determined to bring her together with Killian Jones now that he's back in the Wishverse version of the Enchanted Forest.

Read it on AO3

At nineteen, Princess Emma Nolan believed in True Love. After all, her parents had found each other, and everyone knew theirs was a legendary love worthy of poetry and song. She watched for a prince from the high windows of her tower bedroom, waiting for someone tall, dark, and handsome to sweep her off her feet. He would be bold, romantic, dashing, and kind-hearted—she just knew it.

At twenty-two, she concluded that such a love was rare and that her parents may be the only two people with a Capital-T, Capital-L True Love, so she started looking for the more run-of-the-mill variety. Instead of waiting for someone to ride up to the castle gate and court her, she took a more active approach and sought her love by traveling and meeting new people. When that didn’t work either, Princess Emma tried for mutual attraction, which was fun at twenty-four, but grew stale by twenty-five. So she resigned herself to loving her kingdom and her people.

At twenty-eight, a man knocked on the door and utterly transformed her life. To be clear, she did not love that particular man. Henry came from a faraway land and told her fantastic tales that seemed beyond the reach of even her magic, and while she did not love him, he told her somewhere out there in a world beyond her grasp there was an Emma Swan who was his mother, and who loved him ferociously. For days, she and her parents welcomed Henry to stay in their home and share meals at their table, and for days he regaled them with stories of his world and of other versions of each member of the Nolan family. They were spellbound by his narratives. He was a gifted storyteller, and as if he’d known this was too fantastic to be believed, he came with something called photographs that showed a still window into his world. She saw a version of her mother, Queen Snow, but much younger and with close-cropped dark hair instead of the silvery tresses she was accustomed to. Her father was another surprise--he looked barely older than Emma herself, sandy hair where now there was gray, and while she knew her father was still a strong and capable swordsman, this version of King David seemed able to challenge even the mightiest ogre.

Princess Emma Nolan even saw herself, but not herself. They looked identical, she and Henry’s mother, and while her style was different from this unknown twin’s, she couldn’t help but notice some similarities. Emma Swan was often pictured in a short red leather coat, while Princess Emma Nolan’s favorite doublet was a rich blue leather. When she commented, Henry told her they both wore them like armor, gesturing to the bruise on his shoulder from their earlier sparring session in the yard. Emma Swan liked to pull her hair back, wearing it high on her head much like Princess Emma Nolan when she wasn’t expected at court or in her regal finest. Henry even had a picture of his mother with a sword--is she trained as well? She’d asked, and Henry grinned at the question, answering with another tale of his mother besting a pirate in single combat!

“I’m pretty sure that fight was rigged though,” he admitted as they walked the castle gardens one afternoon. “And that’s part of why I’m here.” He stopped and faced her, saying he hoped she could believe one more outlandish story before he had to return to his world.

“You seem to come well-armed with evidence, Henry. I don’t see why I should doubt you at this point.”

“My mother, Emma Swan, is an incredible woman. It took her a long time, but she found her True Love, and I think you can find yours. When I learned there was a version of her--of you--here, I had to find out if you were with him too, and when you weren’t…” Henry trailed off, frowning at the ground. He was quiet for a long while, and Emma ran through his words over and over. Henry thought he knew who her True Love was? How? How could he know that his mother and whoever she was with were one another’s True Love?

“I know he’s here now--I’ve met him before, and back in my world--”

“What? Then how can he be my True Love if he’s from your world?” None of this was making sense, and for the first time she doubted Henry. It seemed he could see the uncertainty within her, and he steered them to a bench to sit and talk as he clarified this man was not from his world, but had been brought there by a curse. The same curse that separated Henry from his own family.

“I know you understand curses and magic,” he began and she nodded at his words. “So when I tell you he was swept up in a curse and brought back in time to my world, that should make sense, right?” She nodded again, wondering who could have cursed two men from different worlds at the same time. Someone powerful and dangerous. Henry sighed and continued. “His name is Killian Jones, and he’s the best man I know. He’s my father in every sense of the word, and while there’s a version of him who is my mother’s True Love, I know there is one who is also yours. He has to be.”

Henry told her a lengthy story about a witch who ensnared a group of people from this kingdom, trapping them in a place called Hyperion Heights. He spoke of a coven leader who cursed Killian Jones so he could never be in contact with his daughter—a child she had abandoned him with after tricking him into spending a night with her. “But you see, Emma, you can break that curse. Your love--yours and Killian’s will break that curse. You will have each other and Alice--hell, and Robin! I haven’t even told you about Robin,” he was lost in thought again after that. Emma waited and tried to make sense of all she had learned.

Is it possible? In some way, his tale made sense. If what he said about the curse was true, it would explain The Gap. Emma had never mentioned The Gap to Henry, though he may have learnt of it through other means. It was rarely spoken of, but everyone in the Enchanted Forest shared one simple truth: there was a block of time no one could account for. Whenever Emma or her parents tried to focus on that space, thinking back to her twenty-sixth birthday, there was a strange void where there should be at least some memory of the year. She could remember the celebratory ball and the night of her birthday, but every time she tried to focus on what came next it only earned her a persistent headache.

“Please don’t hate me, Emma,” Henry put a hand on her shoulder, bringing her back to the present. “I told him to meet me here three days after I arrived. That’s tonight. He’ll be here, and he knows what I believe about you two because he also knows my mother and her Killian. He’s, uh...not entirely convinced. He’s been through a lot, but…” He shrugged and gave her a lopsided smile.

“It’s his story to tell, so I won’t go into detail, just...go easy on the guy. He might be a little gun shy—uh, guarded,” he quickly clarified when he saw her blink in confusion. “I don’t think he’s seen anyone since that witch who duped him, led the coven, and tried to destroy Hyperion Heights. Think that might do a number on a guy.” He looked so sincere, so much like he did when telling all his other tales that Emma chose to believe. Henry hadn’t lied to her before, so what would the motivation be to do so now?

She chewed at her lip, fretting over what to do and how to greet someone who might be a part of her very soul--someone who had been through tricks and curses, and had suffered real loss. She couldn’t simply turn him out in the night, that was unthinkable, but what do you say to the other half of your heart? If that is what he is. This had to have been simpler for her mother. At least she’d simply caught her father in a net after robbing him. That seemed easier than calmly welcoming fate to dinner and introducing the man to your parents on day one.

“Well,” she got up and dusted off her breeches, “I suppose we’d best let my parents know we’re expecting another guest. And I may need to change as well. I think I’d rather not smell worse than the stables when I meet him.” Emma faltered on the last word, not knowing how to address Killian Jones. Henry smiled and followed her lead.

-----

One thorough and contemplative bath later, Emma emerged in a blush pink gown that shimmered softly in the waning sunlight. It had taken her three other dresses before she settled on this one. It was simpler than what she wore to galas and State events: tea length and embroidered in sheer flowers. She knew it would glow softly under the lights of the candles and torches at dinner, and Princess Emma Nolan found herself hoping he would like it.

When he arrived, it was Henry who greeted Killian Jones first, clasping the man’s hand and giving Emma a moment to simply observe. His smile was warm, a bright white flash of teeth and Emma noticed the slight creases at his eyes as well. An authentic smile, she noted, enjoying the genuine moment between the two men. He was dashing there was no other word for it--dressed in black and rich crimson, rings and charms gleaming in the firelight, their glimmer echoed in the silver strands that threaded here and there through his otherwise coal-black hair. Where his left hand ought to be, Emma found instead a polished silver hook and she remembered whispered gossip of a pirate captain referred to only by the moniker Hook. Once a fearsome leader of a brutal band of thieves, he had all but vanished into lore years ago. She realized too late that she’d been staring, and cleared her throat softly before curtseying to cover the awkwardness. Henry took the moment to introduce them, “Captain Killian Jones, may I present Emma Nolan, Princess of Misthaven.”

She offered her hand and Killian took it up, placing a chaste kiss across her knuckles. His eyes met hers, their brilliant lapis blue making her breath catch in her throat. Regardless of the formality of their meeting and the fact Henry, her parents, and several serving staff looked on, she felt the pull immediately. From the moment her hand was in his, it felt right. She wanted to keep hold of him more than she’d wanted anything in her life, wanted to memorize the rough calluses formed by his years at sea, but she forced herself to maintain propriety and brought her hand back to her side. Emma reminded herself they did not know one another, to not get swept up in Henry’s notions without evaluating the truth of the situation. Though she saw in his gaze a strange flicker of recognition, a brief knitting of his brow that asked a silent question she could not interpret, she let the moment pass and returned to her expected duties.

Emma introduced him to her parents, watching her father’s scrutinizing gaze contrast with her mother’s brilliant smile. No doubt her father was riddling out Henry’s purpose in inviting this man to dinner, though she couldn’t fathom him guessing the truth. All through dinner, Emma could barely take her eyes off Killian. He shared a few stories from his days at sea, talking of far-off kingdoms and uninhabited islands, and Emma felt a longing take hold of her as he spun a tale of a snow-covered northern kingdom where they carved elaborate ice sculptures, held firelight festivals, and celebrated the beauty of winter rather than fearing its chill. His voice was low, its velvet warmth wrapping around her and pulling her from all sense of time. The evening passed quickly, and long before she was ready, Emma’s parents stood to signal the end of the affair.

“It’s far too late for you to make a return journey, Captain Jones,” Queen Snow spoke. “We welcome you to stay as a guest in our home. We will have a room made up for you at once and hope you will accompany us for breakfast in the morning.” At his thanks, the Queen turned to Emma, “Oh, and Emma, darling?”

“Yes, Mother?”

Emma approached and her mother drew her in for a close hug, whispering softly, “See to it that Captain Jones can find his way. Most of the staff have already retired and I’d hate for him to get lost in search of rest.” With that, the Queen turned and gently tugged her husband toward their own chambers, leaving Emma to escort their two guests.

She could hear her father grumbling about leaving Emma unchaperoned, but Snow’s voice echoed back, “David, she’s twenty-eight, not sixteen, she’ll be fine. Our daughter is perfectly capable--” Their voices were lost as they rounded a corner, and Emma suppressed a smile. It didn’t matter that she was a full grown woman, her father would always be protective of her.

When she turned around, Emma realized Henry had vanished. Someone seems to think himself a matchmaker, she mused and as her eyes fell upon the man who waited by the fireplace she could understand why Henry had made himself scarce. Deep breath, Emma. He’s simply a man like any other. If she tried very hard, she just might convince herself of that. Well, unless she stopped to listen to the way her heart raced when the corner of his mouth ticked up in a smile.

“Did you want--that is,” she faltered and tripped over her tongue, coming to stand near him where he leaned against the back of a chair by the hearth. “I don’t know how long a trip you made today, and so…” Why was this so hard?

“I’m quite alright, Princess. Would it be terribly inappropriate of me to ask you to keep me company and perhaps share a drink?” She smiled in response, slipping a large book from a shelf over the mantle after pointing out where her father kept a set of glasses on a shelf nearby.

“He thinks I don’t know about this,” she opened the volume to reveal a bottle. “Rum he had imported from the south--is that acceptable, Captain?”

“Aye, that will do nicely. Bit of a pirate in you isn’t there, Princess? Pinching a man’s rum while he’s fast asleep.” They shared a conspiratorial grin as she poured and each took up a chair near the fire. “To what shall we toast, love?”

She hummed in thought, considering the man before her. The pull was still there like some invisible thread entwining the two of them and she hoped it wasn’t only she who felt it. “To new beginnings,” she offered, holding her glass aloft. He echoed the sentiment and crystal clinked as their eyes met over the rims of their glasses before both looked away shyly and took a sip. The warmth and spice slid down her throat, settling in her stomach and making her shiver. They were quiet for a time, simply sharing the space while they glanced at one another, eyes never quite meeting, nor acknowledging they were both performing the same dance.

“I take it dear Henry shared his theory with you?” Killian broke the silence, addressing the weight that had settled in the room. She confirmed he had shared that along with several other stories, asking if it were true he’d been swept away to a land without magic. “Aye, and for some time I had no memory of myself or this place. When the truth finally came back to me it was...difficult to deal with. Did he...mention Alice?” He swirled the rum in his glass, eyes flicking up to meet hers.

“Yes, he also mentioned a curse is keeping you apart,” she reached across the small distance that separated them, hand resting on the brace that held his hook. “Killian—if I may call you Killian,” she felt herself flush at the informality and he nodded encouragingly. She said it once more, feeling the musical quality of it as she continued. “What kind of monster keeps a father from his daughter like that?”

His shoulders sagged as he said the story of Gothel was one for another day, that it was a story filled with dark shadows he dare not conjure without the sunlight to dispel them. “I only mention Alice because...well, given what Henry has told both of us I have been...” his brow furrowed as he searched for a word, and she leaned forward, absently running her hand over his sleeve and feeling where the firm leather of his brace ended and the warmth of his arm began. His gaze dropped to where her hand rested and she looked up, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. “Concerned,” he finished at last. “That is, I’d thought perhaps because I have a child with someone else, and because I am obviously older than you are, that you might feel...or not feel a certain…not that I think Henry is necessarily right…”

His words tapered off and she became very aware they were both leaning in now, the distance between them nearly closed. She could see the silver in his hair glinting in the firelight, the strands at his temples more greyed than the rest. Greedily, she took in all she could in this moment. The heat that radiated from where her hand still rested atop his arm, the scents of leather and petrichor that clung to him were so close she could nearly roll them on her tongue. When she searched his eyes she saw a lingering hurt, but behind that was what appeared to be cautious hope. Setting her glass aside, Emma brought her hand up, allowing herself to do what she’d been wanting to all evening and running her fingers through his hair. He held her gaze, eyes wide and uncertain and she realized his past hurts ran deep enough that he wouldn’t act on that hopeful glint she’d seen moments ago. She would have to be brave for both of them.

With a whisper of his name she closed what little distance remained between them. She’d intended a light brush of her lips, had simply wanted to know what may lie between them, but the moment their lips met Emma knew she would never be satisfied with so little. She poured herself into the moment, moving to grip the front of his shirt and pull him tightly to her. He followed her lead, their kiss deepening as he tilted his head, the two of them moving as though they had done this a hundred times before. She heard her pulse pounding away in her head, felt his breath ghosting over her lips as they breathed into one another for a moment before he captured her lips again. Something shifted then, like the single beat of a massive heart, a shockwave rippled outward, though neither could be bothered to break this moment. Finally, the two pulled back, eyes searching one another.

“Was that?” Emma asked, not knowing how to complete the thought. Her parents had told her their story several times: the kiss that broke the curse. The kiss that radiated out from them in a burst of force and light. The kiss that sounded an awful lot like what she had just shared with Captain Killian Jones.

Killian rested his forehead against hers, breathing out slowly before replying in a soft voice, “Aye love, I think it may have been.” She asked how that was possible, neither naming it yet and both quaffing their rum before leaning back in their chairs. “Years ago,” he began, “I ran into a fortune teller on the docks. He told me I would find my happiness though it was presently locked away in a tall tower. So, when the time came and I found myself facing a witch and finding a woman locked away in a tower I had thought my moment had come. Instead, I found Gothel and her tricks. I brought a daughter into this world only to have her freedom snatched away by the cold-hearted woman who bore her.”

Emma watched him closely, he seemed far away and lost in another time. “Tonight,” he continued after several beats, “when I saw the westward tower of this castle I had to stifle my hope that perhaps after so long--what is that tower to you?” He leaned toward her suddenly, his sapphire eyes searching hers as though he could read the truth within them.

“My bedroom,” she admitted. “My parents thought it would keep me safe. With only one known entrance and exit, it was easy to post guards and easy to know who sought my attention. Of course, there is another exit, but no one other than me knows of it. I devised it when I was sixteen and desperately wanted a way out without the entourage of guards.”

He fell silent, his forehead creased in thought as he tapped a finger against the bow of his lips. The mantle clock’s rhythmic ticking was nearly deafening as Emma waited through each drawn out second. Mesmerized by the path he now traced along his bottom lip, her mind drifted back to the soft press of his mouth against hers and she wished fervently to undo whatever had him so lost in his own thoughts. Come back to me, Killian, she sighed aloud and he snapped to attention. “My apologies, love. I believe I may be in need of rest.” His explanation rang hollow and she leveled a gaze at him, knowing this wasn’t the full truth.

“I swear to you, Princess, I will make my theories known. I do not intend to hide anything from you.” He stood then, stretching languidly before offering his arm and waiting for her to rise. She acquiesced if only for the chance to feel the warmth of him once more before she retired for the night. She tried to stifle her yawn behind her hand and heard him chuckle low in response. “It seems I may not be the only one in need of sleep. Lead the way, love.”

She led him to one of the guest rooms not far from Henry’s. As she bid him goodnight, Killian leaned down to brush a featherlight kiss across her lips, wishing her sweet dreams. Emma felt as though she floated on air the whole way up to her room, content to leave him to his musings tonight and trusting he would speak his mind soon enough.

----- The morning saw Emma waking earlier than usual, calling a chipper “Good morning” to her sleep-rumpled lady’s maid before dismissing her and attending to her own routine. Still abed at this hour? It seems dear Tink has been keeping late hours herself. She let herself ponder whose affections might be persuading the spunky blonde to be less than punctual, smiling at her reflection as she brushed out her golden tresses.

Once ready, Emma hummed to herself, making her way down the innumerable stairs in search of breakfast, her parents, and Killian--the thought made her grin. His sudden shift into contemplativeness notwithstanding, he had been the perfect gentleman last night. Thoughtful in their discussion at dinner, genuine and curious without overstepping, and then there was the kiss. She flushed, pausing before the dining room doors to gather her thoughts and put on what she hoped was a soft smile rather than the doe-eyed look she’d undoubtedly been wearing since she woke.

Her parents, Henry, and Killian were already seated when she entered--the latter both rising and inclining their heads in deference. “Good morning, Princess,” they intoned in unison. She laughed, insisting they sit and continue the conversation she had interrupted, taking her place at her father’s right hand and quietly thanking the servingman who filled her cup with coffee and cream.

“Killian, you were asking about the tower, yes?” Queen Snow offered an encouraging half-smile before sipping demurely at her tea. At this, Emma heard her father mutter under his breath about the Captain inquiring about his daughter’s bedroom.

“Yes. You see, Your Majesty, I can’t help but notice it is nearly identical--from the outside,” he clarified at her father’s rapidly reddening face, “to one I encountered years ago. That particular structure was the residence of a rather powerful witch.”

“Gothel,” her father spat, and all eyes shifted to him. Emma saw Killian’s jaw clench at the name and he gave a single, curt nod in affirmation.

With her mother’s hand resting on his shoulder, her father began the story she’d heard many times over the course of her life. The story of how Gothel heard the regents were expecting and deduced there would be a child born of the most powerful magic in all realms: True Love. That she knew as well that child would have light magic, and that even if it never manifested there would be power in their blood. It was the story of why Emma’s parent’s fortified their home so heavily once word of Gothel’s covetous wish reached them, and why they insisted she train with sword and bow.

“It’s why my little girl was taught to ride like a soldier and not a courtier. Hell, it’s why I gave into her frankly dangerous wishes and allowed her to learn to sail--in case she needed to escape quickly.”

“Does it help to know Gothel can’t harm anyone anymore?” Henry offered helpfully, trying to lighten the weight that had settled on the group. There was general agreement at the table that, yes, it did help. Quite a lot, in fact, and it felt as though the sun broke out from beneath the clouds as they returned to their breakfast.

“Is that what you were concerned about, Captain?” Emma caught herself in time and used his title, not yet ready to have that discussion with her parents.

“The thought had crossed my mind, Princess, but it seems your own construction must have inspired hers for some reason.” He dismissed the thought, though she could practically hear the gears of his mind grinding away. The conversation returned to banal pleasantries about the weather and what game was in season. Her father consulted Killian on the conditions at sea, and in general the rest of the meal was like any other. Like any other meal you share with your family, a new friend, and the man you just shared True Love’s Kiss with less than eight hours after meeting him. Perfectly normal. Emma put on her court smile and commented politely, waiting for her moment to pounce.

“Join me for a walk in the gardens, Captain?” The moment arrived after a lengthy debate about the benefits of traveling by horse in comparison to ship. Thank the gods for the momentary lull as her father’s cup was refilled yet again - Emma didn’t think there was enough coffee in the whole of Misthaven to keep her alert on this topic.

“Of course, Princess.” He smiled bashfully, running his hand through his hair and standing as she rose. “May I?” He offered his arm and she accepted, the two making a long overdue exit.

The grass was still damp as they walked the grounds, the morning sun hinting at a warm day to come despite the slight chill that had Emma leaning in close, basking in the warm line of contact with Killian. “So, what was it you held back up there?” She broke the silence and watched the arch of his brow as he glanced at her. “I’ve always known when people are dishonest, or not fully honest in this case,” she explained. “It’s a feeling, sort of like a rock settling into my stomach. I don’t know if it’s part of my magic or something else,” she shrugged at this and watched his expression shift from curiosity to contemplation. No doubt he was thinking up a way to explain whatever was plaguing his mind.

He remained in that state as they passed her mother’s bed of crimson roses and all the way through the lilies that always made her nose twitch, their heady scent overpowering. Spotting the bench she and Henry had sat on—was that only yesterday?—she took the lead, turning to face him as they sat.

“There are some strange coincidences,” he began. Their knees brushed and she leaned into the contact, hoping her touch might ground him in the present. His past included darkness, and here in the bright morning sun amongst the flowers she hoped to keep those grim memories at bay.

“The tower is the first of them, and I’ve no idea which came first. Given Gothel’s numerous deceits, I’m not inclined to believe any of her tales nor any of Belfry’s—the woman who claimed to be the missing princess, Rapunzel,” he clarified when he saw her puzzled look. “Did you know the witch?”

She shook her head, “Only what my parents told me: that she was interested in my magic and had a reputation for taking what she desired by force.” He expressed clear agreement, and when his focus became distant Emma took hold of both hand and hook. “Whatever it is, that doesn’t change who we are to one another, Killian.”

That must have heartened him, for it earned her a gentle smile. “Aye, love, I suppose you’re right. You see, the other strangeness was Gothel’s impersonation. I’ve never given it much thought, but why should she play at being a princess? I’d no notion who the woman was, yet she changed her appearance, her voice, her name. Why?” He hypothesized then that either Gothel bribed the fortune-teller, planting the man in Killian’s path with a bogus story about happiness in a tower, or that she somehow knew Emma would be important and hedged her bets by occupying her own tower and putting herself in Killian’s path.

“You see, I’ve considered the strangeness of these overlaps and in part I wonder if one of the gifts she or a fellow witch of her coven acquired was prophecy. She seemed to know far more than anyone ought to, and perhaps thought to entrap me and use me to get to you.

“If she knew we were, uh,” he gulped, and flushed a charming shade of pink all the way to his ears. “Destined for one another, then it would be well within her character to exploit that. To make me think she could lead me to my happiness, then snatch you away for her own nefarious purposes. As well, I’m starting to suspect the unaccounted year the townsfolk allude to may well have been a longer span of time than any of you realize.”

It made sense in a way, and while they couldn’t be certain of Gothel’s intentions, Emma was definitely grateful the woman was gone and could do them no further harm. As far as The Gap was concerned, she supposed there was no real way of knowing how much time had passed, only that it seemed like a year. Had she slept as Aurora once had? Every answer seemed to lead to more questions, but Emma resolved herself to focusing on what mattered most first: reuniting Killian with his Alice.

“Despite her purposes, Killian, whatever they may have been,” she reached up and cupped his cheek. His eyes were blue as the sea and she let herself fall into their depths as she brought him back to the present. “Last night, Killian, True Love’s Kiss is potent magic and I think—I’m almost certain, actually—that we broke your curse. We can find Alice, and you can finally hold your daughter in your arms again.”

“We?” He grinned at her, nuzzling against her hand before turning to kiss her palm. “Then you’ll accompany me, love?”

“Of course! I know we’ve only just met, but I think it’s more than obvious how I feel about you given the fact we broke a witch’s curse with our first kiss.” They shared a laugh, shifting so she could rest her head against his shoulder as he draped his arm around her.

“She’s a bit different, my Alice,” he cautioned.

“And we aren’t?” she challenged. “Tonight at dinner, let me handle my parents. We’ll tell them what happened and make plans to seek out Alice. Henry said she’s with someone called Robin—does that name mean anything to you?”

“Aye, that’s Alice’s love. I know where to find them.”

“Then that’s our next course. Reuniting you with your daughter is the first step toward, well, I guess…” she paused, pulling back to meet his gaze again. “I guess toward becoming a family, right? I mean, my parents will have questions and all things considered, I guess we have other planning we’ll need to do in the future, but—“ he cut off her monologue with a kiss. It was sweet and slow, like he was trying to memorize the feel of her lips on his. His tongue flirted with her bottom lip and she twined her fingers in his hair.

Pulling back to meet her eyes, Killian smiled. “I love you, Princess Emma Nolan,” he whispered.

She felt warm all the way to her toes, grinning as she replied, “I love you, Captain Killian Jones.” The two shared a lingering kiss, the spell suddenly broken by a loud whoop of excitement.

“I told you both!” Henry hollered, emerging from his hiding place behind a large oak tree and performing some bizarre dance Emma had never seen. The three laughed, Henry congratulating them on their newly blossoming relationship while Emma and Killian thanked him for the unlooked-for but welcome help.

“What can I say except: you’re welcome.” His smile was bright at the sun and he slung an arm over both their shoulders, walking between them as the three returned to the house and, for Emma and Killian, toward the start of a new life together.

Tagging the usual suspects: @kmomof4, @teamhook, @veryverynotgood, @caught-in-the-filter, @hollyethecurious, @laschatzi, @donteattheappleshook, @lonelyspectator12, @the-darkdragonfly, @zaharadessert, @winterbaby89, @jrob64, @wefoundloveunderthelight, @ultraluckycatnd, @stahlop, @alexa-fangirl-forever, @superchocovian, @monosalvatore16, @snowbellewells, @batana54

[agntofhydra]

Sawbones

summary: Red String of Fate Soulmate AU 

Soul mates have a red thread tied to each others pinkies that only one of them can see. 

You're the Resistance's head medic. You can see the red thread of fate that leads you to your soulmate. Poe doesn't believe in the soulmate / thread theory. You don't agree with his tactics, nor does he approve of yours. Leia and Holdo just really want a win. 

pairing: poe dameron x reader

rating: mature for later chapters

read me on ao3!

SAWBONES

ONE // TANGIBLE

You’d never given much thought to it, too many other obligations and priorities took precedence over where exactly that small, red thread tied around your pinky led. 

When you weren’t completely swamped, however, you’d like to see how far your eyes could follow the trail until it seemed to fade, yet still pulled taught by whomever was on the other end. You’d find yourself atop one of the many hills in D’Qar, wishing it was tangible, wishing you could actually pluck and feel the twang of the vibrations across the string. Maybe they could feel it too, wherever they were. They could be anywhere. The galaxy was infinite, and it was slim that people ever discovered their soulmate. Only one could see it, the other one blind until they had developed feelings for the other. 

A mechanical whir knocked you out from inside your head. A meddroid was standing to your left, waiting for you to take the chart from its grasp. 

“Sorry, FX-7,” you grabbed the stack of papers. 

“Engineer Jasti almost blew their left upper appendage off due to a malfunction in the blaster cannon of the x-wing they were working on,” FX-7 informed you. 

You blinked at the droid. Left arm, you thought. Just say left arm. 

“Bed 5,” the droid finished, walking away. 

Flipping through the pages, though you really didn’t have to because Jasti - along with several other engineers - frequented your medbay. You sighed as you pulled back the curtain. 

“Again?” 

Jasti shrugged. “Blame Dameron. He’s the one who puts these x-wings through hell.” 

You rolled your eyes, checking over the bandaging FX-7 had applied. Satisfied, you gave Jasti a bacta-shot just for good measure. She yelped and you threw the needle in the bin. 

“I’ve had words with General Organa. Is he scouting for First Order intel or is he just taking them out for the fun of it?” 

A snort came from the bed behind you, and you threw back the curtain. Laying in the bed with an arm over his eyes was Yolo Ziff, a pilot in Blue Squadron. Confused, you flipped through the pages in your hand, wondering why you hadn’t seen his name come up. 

“Snuck in here for a few seconds of peace, Doc,” he said, arm still over his eyes. “Dameron’s got us practicing escape maneuvers and barrel rolls until we run out of fuel. Even when I’m out of the seat I feel like I’m still piloting.” 

You audibly scoffed, handing him a small vial of blue liquid to quell his motion sickness. He took it gratefully as you dimmed the light above his bed. 

“The audacity this man has, to have his pilots coming to the med bay just to escape him.” you chewed the inside of your cheeks. “Doesn’t even check on them. I’ve never even met the guy.” 

“I’ve seen him maybe twice,” Jasti interrupted your rambling. “When he’s not in an x-wing, he’s in someone’s room. I think it’s Galen, that sweet holographer this week.” 

“That was the beginning of this week,” Ziff laughed. “She tried to soulmate trick him the other day. He got so pissed he took off into the hills with BB-8 and came back this morning.” 

“Soulmate trick?” You asked. 

“He can’t see the thread,” Ziff explained, arm now by his side and making eye contact with you. “Countless women have tried to convince him they can, and theirs leads to him. He doesn’t trust the concept anymore.”

“Can’t you see your thread, doc?” Jasti said quietly. 

You looked down at your right pinky, following the thread as it cut through the wall, leading to Maker knows where. The small action was an answer in itself and Ziff let out a low whistle. You don’t know how it got out amongst the Resistance base, and right now you wish you could slingshot whoever it came from into Dathomir.

“I’ve never met someone who could,” he said, now sitting up. “Can you just see yours or everyone else’s too?”

Uncomfortable with the topic, you had busied yourself with organizing the vials and beakers in the medicine cabinet between the two beds. 

“Just my own.” 

Both Ziff and Jasti seemed to deflate - just a little. 

“Do you know who yours is? Have you ever gotten close?” Jasti questioned. You locked the cabinet once you were finished and put both your hands in the pockets of your uniform. 

“It sort of disappears after a couple hundred meters…” you shrugged. “I’ve tried to see how long it goes for, but I think I’d need to be in somewhat close proximity to figure it out.”

“How close do you think?” 

“Same planet as least,” you reasoned. “Sometimes, I feel a vibration, a pluck from the string that makes me feel like whoever it is is near. I don’t investigate, though.” 

“Why not?” both Jasti and Ziff said in unison. 

“I’ve got my hands full with injured engineers and runaway pilots,” You replied, grabbing Ziff’s empty vial and tucking Jasti’s chart into the designated spot on the wall above her bed.

 “Get some rest. Both of you.” 

 ✗ ✗ ✗

 Vice Admiral Holdo regarded you with a small smile. Even through the hologram, she put you at ease. 

“I’m at about 35% of max occupancy,” you updated her, reading off your list you’d created only an hour ago with the help of FX-7. “Minor scrapes and injuries, nothing bacta and my steady hands can’t handle.” The corners of your mouth pulled upwards. 

“Thank you for being our most consistent asset, Doctor. Your work is truly invaluable.” 

“One thing, Vice Admiral,” you caught her before she signed off. “I have concerns about the quality of our x-wings and those piloting them. Do these constant missions hold any worth?” You almost winced at your bluntness. Of course, Organa, Ackbar and Holdo herself wouldn’t let Dameron and his squadron joy ride whenever they pleased. Yet, from what you’d heard of Poe Dameron, it seemed as though he could truly get away with whatever he wanted. 

Her soft smile remained. “I’m glad you’ve brought this up,” she began. “We’ve recently come into some intelligence that calls for the creation of a true operation. I would like for you to be in attendance, inform the squadron of any risks and avoidances they should be attuned to.” 

“I will, gladly. When?” 

Upon your response, Leia Organa appeared over Holdo’s shoulder. 

“Whenever you get here. I advise you to walk fast,” Leia said with a wicked smile. 

Shaking your head, the hologram disappeared and you quickly buttoned your medical coat, making sure you didn’t have any mystery stains on yourself before beginning the trek through the underground hallway into the meeting room. 

You could hear the murmur of voices amongst the team, and as you entered, you were met with a rather small gathering. A few faces you hadn’t recognized, along with a few pilots, and of course Admirals Ackbar, Organa and Holdo gathered around the central table. Although you had never actually laid your eyes on him, you knew the man who also occupied the table was the one who had been the talk around D’Qar for months.

Poe Dameron was truly as striking as he was described. His gaze was locked on the planet slowly spinning in the middle of the table until the whoosh of the doors slid open, announcing your entrance. His palms pressed to the table’s edge, he straightened when he saw you, dark eyes making your stomach churn.  The room quieted as you took your place to the left of Holdo, across the table from Poe. 

“You must be the Doctor,” he smiled. His teeth seemed to illuminate the room and you hesitated for a second. A small, split second.

“You’d be correct. And you are…” you trailed off, feigning ignorance. You knew that a man like Poe Dameron was never not known, and you thought he could be knocked down a peg or seven. 

“Poe Dameron,” his hands folded behind his back. “Black Squadron Leader. We haven’t had the pleasure,” he lifted an eyebrow. “Yet.”

“No, we haven’t,” you responded, disregarding his innuendo. “I have, however, met several of your pilots. I wish the circumstances weren’t in the environment of my medbay.” 

Poe furrowed his brow at that, and you stopped yourself from widening his eyes from the realization that he wasn’t aware of his pilots basically hiding from him by coming to her med bay, feigning illness or just needing a quiet place to rest. This either meant that Poe was completely oblivious to the fact that he was working his pilots too hard, or didn’t care and wasn’t too happy with the fact that they’d sought you out before or after flights. 

Some leader, you quipped in your head. 

“I’m glad you could join us on such short notice,” General Organa said with a knowing smile. You nodded politely and Ackbar increased the size of the holograms of information on the table so it was visible to the rest of the room. 

“Our flight squadrons have recovered intel on a possible smuggling ship floating within the orbit of Kessel,” Leia nodded her head towards the planet, the cynosure of the table. “It’s been in our knowledge for a while, and we’d received no information that it didn’t simply belong to a spice smuggler.” 

“Until now,” Poe chimed in. “It’s been stationary, in the orbit of Kessel for too long not to be something, our intel suggests it’s a storage unit or pit stop for the First Order.”

“How do we know it holds something valuable, of interest?” a technician asked. 

“Red squadron and I flew by it last week. No need for there to be sleeping TIE fighters guarding it. I’m assuming the TIE fighters were manned, but off so they didn’t show up on our radars.” 

The technician nodded. 

“So, we aren’t gonna try our hand at the Kessel run?” one pilot muttered to another behind her and she pursed her lips, trying not to let out a chuckle. Especially in Leia’s presence. In all actuality, she’d probably laugh too. 

“What’s your plan?” you asked, eyes locking with Poe’s. You fought to keep the air in your lungs. 

“I take Red and Blue Squadron, and we find out what’s on that ship.”

That wasn’t enough for you. “You take your best pilots, blasters hot - and if it backfires? If you’re met with First Order reinforcements, a Star Destroyer?” Poe narrowed his eyes at you, but you weren’t going to stand across the table and let him flip a coin with lives. You continued.

“What if the ship is just spice?”

Poe clenches his jaw, rolling back his shoulders and you definitely don’t focus on the thick muscle peeking out from his unbuttoned flight suit, veins traveling up from his clavicle to his mandible. You wonder where he’s sensitive - the curve of his neck? His carotid? Maybe it was right under the curve of his mandible. Your mind berated you shortly after your thoughts dissipated for asking. 

“If it’s not? If we uncover invaluable information that could give us the upper hand on those bastards?” 

Carotid, you decide. 

“It seems too hasty,” you defend. “No extraction plan, no real strategy. I’ve heard plenty about you, Dameron. I know you’re good, but are you so good that you can protect all your pilots if it goes sideways? Are you able to abandon the mission without finding out what the ship holds?” 

It’s surprising that Ackbar, Organa and Holdo would let you two bicker this out. However, Holdo and Organa did ask for your presence and your insight, so they couldn’t really object to your extremely plausible concerns. 

“Would you like to hop in a ship and come with? Oversee the operation yourself, Doctor?” Poe said slowly. The edge he gave to your title made your blood burn. Never had someone ever used your title as an insult, made it sound like a slur. It was something you sacrificed everything for. More than he could ever know. 

“I’m sure you’re more than capable of overseeing an operation, Commander.” Two could definitely play this game. “But this isn’t an operation, this is you crossing your fingers and hoping your intel is reliable.” 

“I’d have to agree,” Holdo nodded. Ackbar threw his hands up in exasperation. 

“How are we supposed to gain anything by risking nothing?” He turned to you. Poe smirked at his words. You suppressed yourself from opening glaring at your superior and instead turned your direction back to Poe. 

“You risk these lives, you’re in charge of contacting the families of the fallen. You deal with the fact that it was all your call, despite the glaring fact that you need more information.” You bit the inside of your cheek - hard. It didn’t matter how good Poe Dameron was. The information and operation was too risky, too murky and grey when, for everything at stake, it should be a little more clean cut. 

“These pilots know what they’re risking every time they get in an x-wing. It’s why they joined. Do tell me Doctor, why exactly did you join?”

The tension in the air was so thick, you and Poe were mere centimeters from each other's throats. If he was close enough and you had a scalpel, you no doubt would slash at his. Leia minimized the holograms and cleared her throat. 

“We need to find out what’s on that ship, but I have to agree that we do need more reliable intel. Do some more scouting, more recon, and we’ll reconvene when there’s more to go off of.” She then turned the table off and it seemed that the meeting was over. Poe still held your gaze, his eyes never leaving yours as you sighed. 

“I can’t fix them out there,” you softened. “I can’t help. Understand that.” 

“Then you picked the wrong role,” Poe responded, crossing the table and coming towards you. “If we lose that ship and it turns out to be valuable, all because you want more information, that’s your call.”  

“As much as you may hate it, my judgement was asked for. I won’t apologize for having a conflicting opinion.” 

You swear his gaze flickered somewhere below your eyes before darting back, too quick to realize where exactly he had looked. He swallowed. 

“Neither will I. Pleasure to finally meet you,” he nodded curtly.  

A sharp twang vibrated your smallest finger on your right hand, the thread tied there felt like it was physically being pulled forwards from its resting place at your side. Now, the thread felt tangible. You could feel the cut into your skin, the pressure from the pull. You looked down, following the thread not even a meter away to see it end in a perfect loop tied to the pinky of Poe. 

He wrinkled his forehead as you looked up at him, face flushed pale and blood rushing and pumping so hard it was all you could hear. The room suddenly felt so loud and so small. It felt like you were trapped under Kaminoan waves, fighting for breath, fighting to surface but you were paralyzed. Poe voiced your name in concern and you barely registered it. Swallowing hard, your gaze flickered back down to his left hand that was now reaching up to grip your shoulder. You stepped back before he could make contact. 

“I will see you around, Commander.” 

And with that, you fled the room, all but sprinting to your medbay, your sanctuary, your haven.  You emptied the contents of your stomach in the refresher.

[coldflame96]

Lunch Break

Summary: Tohru skips lunch to avoid being an inconvenience. Thankfully, she has a loving huband to set her straight. 

Rating: G

Also found on AO3 and FF.net

Inspired by a RL situation with a friend of mine. 

The store was busy today. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast and she was starting to get hungry. They had just finished with the last customer in line. 

“Hey, Tohru-kun,” Her supervisor got her attention, “I know it’s kinda late, but did you wanna take your lunch break?”

“Yes,” she sighed in relief. “Thank you, Kaori-san.”

She opened the mini fridge and felt her heart skip a beat. It was empty...She thought back to when she had left this morning and rested her head on the counter, groaning. She must’ve forgotten it in the fridge this morning.

“What’s wrong?” Kaori-san asked. 

“I was in such a rush this morning I forgot my lunch,” she admitted shamefully. 

“Oh, well that’s no big deal! Just go to the cafe around the corner. Kenji-kun is working and he likes me so just tell him I sent you and he’ll make whatever you want for free.”

“I can’t do that!” 

“Eh? Why? Will your husband get jealous? He doesn’t have to know.”

She shook her head. “Kenji-kun is always working so hard I can’t trouble him like that!”

“Trouble him?” Kaori-san laughed. “Man, you’re really funny sometimes, Tohru-kun.” She frowned. She was sure Kaori-san didn’t mean anything by it, but sometimes it felt like she was a small child being dismissed even though they were close to the same age. She didn’t really like it...

“Oh! Good afternoon!” Kaori-san greeted as the bell rung. 

Well...her shift was over soon anyway. Might as well just hold out until she got home. She would be fine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She wasn’t fine. It had been a rough day. She ended up having to stay three hours later than initially planned due to a coworker calling off sick. She clenched her stomach. She was so hungry! 

On shaky legs, she managed to let herself into their apartment. Thankfully, her and Kyo-kun had gone grocery shopping yesterday so there was enough there to make something easy. 

Just the thought of eating made her stomach yowl in protest. 

She set up two boiling pots of water, one for rice, the other for the potatoes. 

She mustered up whatever energy she could to start peeling the potatoes, arms heavy with fatigue. She was really tired. Hopefully Kyo-kun wouldn’t be too disappointed if she tucked in early after dinner. 

She heard the creak of the door. “Tohru?” Oh, so he was home already. 

“Kyo-kun!” she jumped up from the table, apparently too fast as it made her woozy, and tried to run to greet her husband but ended up tripping on the way, strong arms keeping her afloat from under her shoulders. 

“Whoa! Clumsier than usual, huh?”

This would normally be the time when she would defend herself, but her tongue was...stuck. 

Kyo-kun, always so perceptive, cocked his head in concern. “Tohru, are you okay?” he stroked her cheek. “You look pale.”

Say something. “I-I’m fine, Kyo-kun.”

He wasn’t convinced. “You don’t really look fine.” He put a warm hand on her forehead, brow furrowed. “You don’t have a fever..”

She pulled away, careful not to be too abrupt. “I’m fine, really! I just feel a bit faint. Once I get something to eat, I’m sure I’ll be right as rain!”

“What, did you take your lunch break really early today or something?”

She giggled nervously. “Yeah, something like that.”

“What time did you eat?”

She froze, blanching. She was never a very good liar, and with the way he was staring at her now, she knew she wasn’t getting anything past him. 

“Before I left,” she mumbled.

“Huh?”

She cleared her throat. “Last time I ate was...before I left.”

Kyo-kun gave her a steady look. “That was over 11 hours ago.”

She averted her eyes shamefully. His fingers crooked her chin up so they were facing each other. “Tohru, why would you not eat?”

“I-um-” she floundered, “I was in a rush this morning and I completely forgot to pack my lunch and I didn’t realize it until I was already there.”

“There’s a cafe down the street from you. Why didn’t you just order from them?”

“W-well, I-I thought about it but I didn’t really have time to go pick anything up.”

“So have someone else do it. You could’ve called me and I would’ve brought you something.”

She waved her hands. “Well, everyone was really busy and I didn’t wanna bother them and have them make food for me. It’s my own fault I forgot my lunch, not theirs and-”

He groaned, “Tohru, you’re not bothering anyone, that’s literally their job. They get paid to make food for people. Including you.”

She knew that. Of course she knew that. She’d been kicking herself for it all day. “By the time I had time for a break, I was already almost off anyway, so I figured I would just wait til I got home.”

He cupped her cheeks. “You should’ve eaten something sooner, a pack of crackers, anything. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

She jerked away. “I’m fine, really!” And then she swayed and soon enough she was in the air, tossed over her husband's shoulder like a sack. 

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” he asked nonchalantly, not even grunting with the effort of carrying her at all, which she vowed to file away for future use. “I’m taking my wife to bed.” Almost married for a year now and she still felt a tingle in her chest when he called her that.

“What?! But- but dinner!-”

“I’ll finish it.” And then he gently tossed her on their bed. “Last thing we need is for you to pass out while cooking.”

She wanted to argue, to protest, but the longer she sat, the more the energy left her. And all that was left...was shame. Shame at herself for not eating over something so silly, shame that Kyo-kun had to come home from a long day just to worry about her...Her throat got choked up and she felt her eyes go misty.

“Tohru?” He asked softly. He was always so kind, so much kinder than she ever deserved. Long fingers fanned her cheeks, wiping away the tears at the corner of her eyes and he was kneeling in front of her now at eye level. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m always being stupid and making you worry about me.”

“You’re not stupid and if I don’t worry about you, then who will?” She didn’t have much of an answer to that. “I’m not mad at you,” he sighed out, “And I don’t mind taking care of you. If you don’t want me to worry, then you should be better at taking care of yourself once in a while.”

She sniffed, nodding. “Right. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” He grabbed something out of his pocket. “Here.” 

She scrunched her eyebrow at the wrapped snack. “A granola bar?”

“You need something in your system before dinner. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”

He was always so rational. She smiled softly. “Thank you.”

He hummed in response, pushing her hair back to kiss her forehead. “I’ll come get you when dinner’s ready. Just sit here and relax for a bit.”

And then he was gone. 

She obediently opened her granola bar, chewing in slow, careful bites. She really would have to be more careful, wouldn’t she? It wasn’t like Kyo-kun could trail her around to make sure she wasn’t hurting. She smiled at that visual image. Cute. 

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, sinking into the mattress, slowly getting through her granola. 

“Oi,” she got a light bonk on the head and she jolted. 

“Oh, Kyo-kun! You’re back already?”

He raised an eyebrow and then burst into chuckles. 

“What?”

“I’ve never seen someone space out while eating a granola bar.” he stroked her hair. “You’re really adorable sometimes.”

She blushed and he just laughed some more and she felt her breath leave her a bit. He really was beautiful, wasn’t he?

“C’mon, come eat with me. I’ve missed you.” She knew he meant it. Kyo-kun didn’t just say things to butter her up. Before she could respond though, she was being hoisted from under her knees into the air. 

She squeaked in surprise and wrapped her arms instinctively around his neck. “Kyo-kun, I can walk on my own,” she protested weakly. 

He shrugged, smirking. “It’s more fun this way.”

He started walking out, effortlessly. Did she weigh anything to him at all?

“Nah, you’re pretty light.” he responded, and she stiffened as she realized she said that out loud. 

“Am I?” She’d always thought she was pretty average sized. 

“I’ve held kittens heavier than you,” he drawled. 

She pouted, huffing, “Now you’re just bullying me.”

He snorted. “You love it though, don’t you?”

Well, two could play at that game. “Of course!” she chirped innocently, “I love everything about you.” And then she kissed his jawline sweetly and watched with delight as his cheeks turned pink and his grip slackened enough that she could slide down to the floor gently. 

She saw the spread on the table and clapped her hands together. “Wow, Kyo-kun! It looks so good!” Then she grinned at him. “You’re so amazing!” 

His face almost matched his hair now. “It’s not a big deal,” he mumbled, “It’s just dinner.”

They’ve known each other for almost half a decade now and he still got so bashful over the smallest things. 

She threaded her fingers through his. “Thank you.”

The shy smile he gave her made it all worth it. 

“Hey, Tohru?” he asked as she sat down to eat. She looked up at him curiously. “Please don’t do this to yourself again. Just call next time. You’re never a bother. Not to me.”

Of course she knew that. It had been clear to her for a long time, but it didn't stop her eyes from getting watery. Her traitorous brain still sometimes told her she wasn't worth it, and here he was to tell her otherwise. She wondered if she'd ever get used to it. 

"Oi, don't get all weepy on me now," he scolded gently. "You need to eat." 

She rubbed her eyes. "Right." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’d been over two weeks since that incident and she’d been extra diligent to make sure she brought her lunch with her every day.

Kyo-kun had said she could call him if she needed to, but she still wanted to avoid doing that if she could. 

She felt the rumble of her stomach. She had finished with wiping the counters, cleaning the windows, and organizing the snack areas. She should ask Kaori-san for a break soon…

"Hey, Tohru-kun," oh! And there she was! "There's a super hot guy over there checking you out! I know you're married so you want me to send him away?" 

She scrunched her brow. Super hot…? She looked where Kaori-san was pointing and her eyes widened at the familiar copper hair. 

"Kyo-kun!" She gasped. 

"Wait, you know him?" But she was already running from behind the counter, only vaguely registering Kaori-san calling her. 

She only had eyes for the man in front of her, still in his gi and looking so effortlessly handsome. 

"Kyo-kun!" She grabbed his sleeve.

He smiled at her. "Oh, hey. That was quick." 

"Wh-what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the dojo?" 

"I'm on lunch. I wanted to see you. Have you taken your break yet?" 

"Uhh, no, I was just about to…"

"Take it now." He nodded towards the counter where Kaori-san was watching them with rapt attention. "That's your supervisor?" 

"Yes."

"Want me to tell her?" The woman in question narrowed her eyes. 

"No, that's okay!" She waved her hands. "I've gotten a lot done already so I'm sure she won't mind! I can..ask her." 

"Alright, I'll wait here then." 

His eyes lingered on her as she carefully made her way behind the counter to grab her lunch. 

"Sorry for the short notice, Kaori-san, but I wanted to take my break now if you don't mind." 

"Just a minute, Tohru-kun," Kaori-san stopped her in her tracks. And then she lowered her voice. "Who is that guy?" 

"Eh? He's my husband!" 

"Him?" Then she put her chin in her hands. "Wow, no wonder you're always talking about him. You hit the jackpot, didn’t you?" 

Tohru felt something warm in her chest and she whispered fondly, "Yeah, I did." 

"Does he have a twin by any chance? Brother, sister, it doesn't matter to me." 

"Sorry, Kaori-san," she said sheepishly, "he's one of a kind." And he’s mine, a tiny, possessive part of her brain whispered. "I'm going on break now so I'll see you later." 

And she left before Kaori-san could give a proper response. In the past, she would be worried about coming off rude and she would probably apologize later, but she had a wonderful husband waiting for her and he was first priority. 

And as they walked out hand in hand, she was reminded not for the first time and certainly not the last, how blessed she was to have him.

[hughiecampbelle]

You Remind Me Of My Own Unhappiness (Thomas Shelby Oneshot)

Character/s: Thomas

Word Count: 1,587

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @writerdream22 @brithedemonspawn @megnotfound @death-of-a-mermaid @woahitslucyylu @obsessedunicorn24 @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @captivatedbycillianmurphy @theshelbyclan @creativemayhems @soleil-dor @thegirlwithoutaname87 @babylooneytoonz @peakyxtommy @locke-writes @lucillethings @miahelen @valkyrie-2312

A/N: A lil writing before I start requested prompt fics, which are still open btw!!!! Ngl, I've had this is my head for a while, and it turned out better than I expected!!!!! I've been reading for my horror fiction class, so I guess this is kind of based off/inspired by all of it (lots of Poe, Jackson, King, etc.) so be warned my loveliest of loves!!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

Summary: You knew too much for his comfort 💕

Gif Credit: @peakycillianblinders :)

FIC MASTERLIST PARTS 1 -> 3 / WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

The earth is soft in your palms, loose as your dig away, your fingers aching amidst the clumps and rocks. The maggots fall one by one off the bone, disturbed in their everlasting feast. Fresh in his mind, an open wound he leaves exposed, to bleed, to breath, to eat him alive. Shallow, as expected. Careless in execution. Impatient, your husband always in such a hurry. Even with this. Handful by handful, muddied, the morning dew undisturbed even as nightfall came. Smelling faintly of a sweet memory, that of the first time you kissed. The raindrops coming between you. Pulling away with a laugh, in awe, at how his beauty compared to that of a rainy day. Your shoes sinking deep, your hands clutching his arms as he pulls you from the muck, letting the slightest hint of a smile slip. The noise of that day, the plops from the pond, the quiet, yet powerful, taps of the leaves, the shudder of branches and bones alike cold from the breeze, the soft of his voice, low, teasing of all the things he'd do when you were alone. Lost, but not forgotten.

It doesn't exist here. The silence is heavy, deadly, respectful. Something he is not. Early, before the sun has her chance to even set and paint the sky. The in between, the dark not as inky as you remember, the stars fading in, resting for their show ahead. A creature of habit, your husban. Every night, at the same time, no matter what. Day by day, you grow less and less, and this becomes an ever harder task than before. Time staking, your movements slow, weary, all knowing of the journey ahead. There is an ache of gratefulness, a nod to the thoughtfulness you assumed he was lacking in, though it could have come out of selfishness none of the less. Not far from home. A quiet walk, that of seclusion. A quick pace, a tight jaw, he could have made the journey in no time. Your body was not as forgiving

No wooden box. Not eternal flame. A sheet, dirty now, and spotted in red, tangled around you. Wet and cold. The same sheets you used to wash, scrubbing clean, that thick soap smell no longer. One more thing you'd miss, the newness of this dying as each minute ticked by. That excitement, that joy, that want for anything more fades as all things do, decomposing with the rest of you. It's become a duty, an obligation, to him, to your marriage, as all things had been, or would become.

There is no where else to go. Nothing more to do. A broken routine was a broken man. Fight it, resist, and you might find him in the tub again, his spine kissing the porcelain, neck bent, waiting to sink until he finds the bottom. You might find him in the bed you shared, eyes open, never crossing that split down the middle, always faced away from your side. You might find him out, at the bar, a job, surrounded, your presence striking him, bloodying his lip. He stares, his balance off, truly shaken to his core. You are a guest he does not share, a secret he locks in his closet, a beating heartbeat under his floorboards.

So, you give up fighting, as you had the last time, and accept this battle lost. Wave your white flag, shaking yourself free of the sheets, standing uneasily on your own rotting skeketon. Step by step, your toes tearing, soles wasting, the entirety of you threatening to cave, making your way home. Tendons frayed, splitting apart. Your flesh bloated, runny, what's left is chewed away. You can feel it all. Your teeth chatter by the openings that were your cheeks, the cold passing right through you, whistling through your open ribcage. Dreadfully exposed. All of it is heavy. With nothing to hold, to cling to, you're stitched together by a single thread. You pull forward with all your strength, choking back a scream. It wasn't pain, not anymore, your nervous system long gone, but the memory of it bursts through your open chest the way it had in that moment, before everything seeped away in a puddle beneath you, and the warmth of your body grew into icy cold.

Your hair is all but gone, just like your middle. Innards spilling into your clothes, filling out, everything once protected inside catching their first taste of freedom. You give up making yourself anymore presentable. You could pass for sickly, at your best, even tired in the beginning. The bags under your eyes gone now, eaten away, the green tint to your demeanor disappeared, leaving nothing but a rotting smell. There was no hiding this, hiding the time that's passed. The flies buzz, bugs crawl freely. It's much their home as yours. You click, a tune you suspect is music to his ears, but it only leaves an ache in your hollow chest. There isn't much left of you, there isn't much more time.

How long does he want to do this?

How much longer can you?

The light streams through the windows, a welcomed warmth. You missed it. You missed that comfort, that knowledge of a place being yours. All you had left to your name was a hole in the ground, weak and muddy. Even then, few knew it was yours at all. The back door, the one only homeowners used. You could see it, your skeletal hand resting weakly on the heavy door. A night like every other. Pressing your ear to the door, listening, as if the pull from his want, his need to see you, hadn't tugged you the whole way here. This act, so small, so innocent, had lead to consequences he could never take back.

Listening, waiting, your own breath no longer a distraction, your own heartbeat no longer drumming through your veins, interrupting every word. It was the only way. Banished, shunned, turned away. Though you wrote his name, you did not share blood, a defining trait he could not look past. The business, family business, turned you away. Complicit, docile, that's what he expected, what you tried to be. Yes, Love. No, Love. For your own protection, Love, as if it hadn't been the barrel of his gun pointed at your chest.

Not everything, but enough, your first mistake was making it known. Invading his world one word at a time, overstepping boundaries with a bit of advice. That was all it took. You realized too late, none of it you could ever take back. Pleading, wide eyed, you promised not to say anything more, to keep your distance between the job, but the damage was done. He changed before your eyes. Tight, rigid, masking himself, crawling back into his shell. He trusted you, he did, but not after that. A man like him could trust no one, not even the person he married. If you knew, who else did? Even the smallest detail could be dangerous. It could coolapse his entire empire. He didn't want to, insisting there was another way, but they agreed as long as you lived, knowing what you did, none of them were safe. A family by name, hardly by choice.

So, by their insistence, he pulled the trigger.

He dragged the body.

He dug a shallow grave.

He made an elaborate story, one of belief, of half-truths, and throw away lines about your solemn departure seeking a new life, abandoning your husband for something else, each of them chipping pieces and plots to the story, anything to help them sleep a little easier.

And here you sat, the hard wood of your dining room chairs puncturing your back. There are two plates, and two sets of silverware. A candle is lit between you. Not always, but tonight it seems he's been missing you more. A napkin sits on your lap, waiting, covering the mangled mass that used to be your lower half. He sits across from you, the space between you large enough to seat the entire family. Only two, though. Everyone else has left, gone, suspecting what it is Mr. Shelby is up to, wondering why they are let go more frequently, always at the exact same time. He musters up a smile, that of pain, with horror in his eyes, finally realizing just how cruel this has all been for you. You smile back, pieces of you ripping open, your lips uncurling, splitting in two, revealing a mouth empty of teeth.

Thomas speaks lightly of the day passed. The endless dread of paperwork, the faint gnaw that someone has been following him lately, a special nod to the advice he took from you that had been successful. No thank you, though. No admittance of grief or wrongdoing, no apology, not even a word of what you were really doing here. He couldn't let go, move on, he couldn't shake the guilt that woke you each night and put you to bed hours later. You were dead, killed by his own hand, had been for quite some time. Yet, every night after the murder you joined him. For dinner, for drinks, to sleep beside him in the bed you shared since your wedding day. Step by step, decaying in your time of rest, the same thought in your mind over and over, never letting it escape your lips, you knew better from the last time: when would he let you rest in peace?

[crowtoed]

Sybil’s 1740s Stays Build: Part 2, Handsewing

When you’re working with a nice, new material a lot of times you practice a bit before making the real garment to make sure Providence doesn’t throw you a curve ball.

Oh thanks, Providence, you bastard. This is when I should’ve realized that I was trying to punch above my weight class. 

If tumblr tries to flag the above image, I’m not surprised, because my first attempt at a hand-bound eyelet with the shot silk taffeta I chose (Patina from Silk Baron) looks like a festive, but raw anus. But I had bigger issues. 

The fine weave of the silk meant the force of an awl- hell, the force of most SEWING NEEDLES- made it snag and run. Per a tip from someone on facebook’s Elizabethan Costuming group, I’d have to commit a historical costuming anathema and punch my lacing holes.

As you can tell by the test piece above, I’m also not the best handsewist. Obviously I picked a helluva piece to level up with, but I was strangely motivated despite the many, MANY boning channels ahead of me. I did cheat a bit by using the machined lines in the mockup/interlining as a guide though.

Before that, I decided to fill my boning channels. I went panel by panel so that in the event that I ran out of artificial whalebone (or money to buy it) I could make progress while I waited for it to ship. I also started with the back pieces in case my first several yards of hand-stitching was shoddy. I really dig the artificial whalebone. It’s a bit denser and stiffer than plastic cable ties and the shape looks a little more like the baleen or cane you see in extant stays. I used a grease pencil to mark the lengths then cut them to size with tinsnips. Being a thermoplastic, I was able to straighten out each piece by hovering it above a lit candle before shaping it with my hands. The candle wasn’t just for aesthetics, I swear. I wanted to sit on my couch and not deal with the noise of a heat gun or burned fingies. You can also use a hot iron, but this is less fun.

An additional bonus of artificial whalebone is that you can round and smooth the ends of the bones with the grinding wheel of a rotary tool without the plastic getting chewed up. No boning poking out and jabbing my armpits on this build! You can use a hand file of course, but with 44 bones in the stomacher panels alone, I needed to save my energy for literally anything else.

To nobody’s surprise, I ran out of my initial order of 16 yards of whalebone. Seasoned staymakers will have noticed a big mistake in my procedure at this point (but don’t spoil it for the others).

While working on my test scrap I noticed that the boning lines looked REALLY harsh through the taffeta. I stitched between the bones, following the machined lines on the underside and ended up with puckering along the seams. It looked BAD. Someone in the facebook Plus-Sized Costuming Group recommended putting a ‘dampening’ fabric between the canvas and taffeta.

I did the period-accurate thing and used some dinosaur flannel leftover from a commission. Ah, authentic.

This looked a lot better, but I still had some unsightly puckers going on. I chalked this up to inexperience with hand-sewing taffeta, but I was really dealing with the uneven tension on the fabric from having the boning channels filled. Someone mentioned this early on, but I didn’t want to pull out every piece of whalebone. Being a lazy bastard and causing more work for myself later on is a character trait anyhow.

I used Gutermann silk thread, waxed, with a number 10 sharps needle for the topstitching, done in a pretty straightfoward backstitch (oxymoron?). No. 10s ended up being fine enough to poke through the taffeta without disturbing the weave. There were many, many hours of PBS documentaries half-watched... 

When finished with each piece, I folded over the edges of the taffeta and whipstitched them down. Eventually the lining will get matched up to this and sewn so I have clean edges even before the binding goes on. I learned this trick from Koshka-the-Kat.

This post is getting fairly long, so Part 3 I’ll cover MORE handsewing, some construction details, and more or less get caught up to where I am at this moment (10/14/21).

[juliandev0rak]

Into The Wild  

Chapter 3: Goldenrod

✧ Into The Wild Series ✧ playlist ✧

Words: 3055

“Willa! She took my beads!” 

“Willa, Lucio told us there are sharks in the lake, is that true?” 

“Willa I got a paper cut!” 

Willa takes a seat at the front of the arts and crafts cabin and takes a moment to breathe and re-center. She’s been at Camp Vesuvia for two weeks now, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t exhausted from being constantly on. Someone always needs something from her, and there's only so much coffee one person can drink to stay energetic and peppy through it all. 

She gives herself thirty more seconds to wallow a bit, and then she’ll get back to the campers. Willa breathes in slowly as she watches the little hand on her watch tick out the seconds, and exhales. Thirty seconds are up.

“Ok campers, gather up!” Willa calls, her enthusiasm only slightly fabricated, her smile only slightly tired. 

Thirty minutes later, the campers are happily working on their art projects and Willa has another chance for a break. She likes to give them free choice most of the time, they can do anything they want with the supplies in the cabin. Some of the campers are painting, others making bracelets, and one kid in the corner seems to be making a spaceship out of modeling clay. It's chaos, but Willa likes to think it's the organized kind, or at least the fun kind. 

She steps outside to check on a group of campers making flower chains, humming as she walks. The hum gets stuck in her throat as Willa stops, looking around the empty clearing in confusion, and then panic. The kids she’d seen only five minutes before have vanished, and though it's not unusual for campers to wander off to some other activity, they’re supposed to tell her first.

Willa is about to call Nadia for help when she hears a camper’s voice say, “Is that a wolf!?” 

The word “wolf” puts her on alert and Willa hurriedly follows the sound of the camper around the side of the arts and crafts cabin. She sighs in relief at the sight of the kids she’d been looking for. And sure enough, they’re busy petting a large black wolf. 

Her first instinct is to pull the campers away, but the wolf looks up at her with kind eyes and Willa realizes that she knows this wolf. “Inanna! What are you doing here?” She scratches her behind the ears and Inanna sniffs at her hand happily. “Is Muriel around?” 

Inanna stops licking her and turns towards the building next door, a storage shed with a door ajar, and Willa realizes that Inanna is giving her directions. She turns towards the campers first to give them a quick lecture on not approaching unfamiliar animals, especially wolves, and sends them back inside. Muriel steps out of the storage shed and nearly hits his head on the top of the door frame in his surprise as he sees Willa.

“Muriel! Over here!” she calls, waving him over. For a moment it looks like he’s going to walk away, but he finally turns towards her. He stops several feet away and Inanna trots over to his side.

“Can I help you with something?” Muriel asks.

“I was just wondering what you’re doing,” Willa smiles, leaning down to pick up a flower one of the campers had dropped on the path. It’s a dandelion, some people would call it a weed, but Willa has always liked those sorts of flowers best. 

“I’m working.”

“What are you working on?”

Muriel looks at her warily. “You ask a lot of questions.” 

“Yes, I’ve been told that before,” she laughs, her fingers busy twirling the stem of the flower.

“I help Nadia sometimes, around the camp. There was a light out in the shed,” Muriel explains, pointing back towards the small cabin he’d just exited.

“Oh, we’ve got a lightbulb out in the arts and crafts cabin too! I uh, couldn’t reach it and i couldn’t find a ladder or I would’ve changed it myself,” Willa turns towards the still open cabin door. She points to the back corner where a lightbulb flickers faintly. “If you’ve got a minute, could you replace it?” 

Muriel regards her for a moment and then turns to walk away in the opposite direction. She watches him incredulously and walks back into the cabin with a huff, “How rude.”

A few minutes later, Willa is busy helping a camper with a tangled bracelet when Muriel enters the cabin. A few of the campers greet him as “Ranger Muriel” and Willa can’t help but smile at the way he greets the campers back. He knows a lot of their names and seems interested in the projects they’re working on.

“Where did you go?” Willa asks as he approaches her table.

“To get a lightbulb.” He holds it up to show her and crosses over to the left side of the room where the dead light is.

“Oh,” Willa says, feeling bad for assuming he was being rude. “Thank you.” 

It takes him only a minute to change out the lightbulb, but when he’s done he doesn’t leave. Instead, he walks over to where Willa is sitting, awkwardly hovering for a minute before she notices him and looks up.

“What are you working on?” he asks. It takes him a minute to get all of the words out, as if the question took a lot of effort to ask.

“I’m making a friendship bracelet!” She holds it up to show him. It’s a design of her own making, a repeating pattern of different kinds of leaves all made in green thread. If a certain green-eyed park ranger was the inspiration for the color palette, she’ll never tell. 

“It’s nice.” 

“Thank you!” Willa says proudly, setting the bracelet back down carefully. “Would you like to make one?” 

Muriel takes a step towards the door. “I should get back to the station.” 

“Of course. Feel free to stop by any time!” she smiles. He gives her a nod as he leaves, and Willa’s attention is soon pulled away by campers.

Later that evening, Willa finds herself huddled over the fire pit mourning the loss of yet another marshmallow. She can’t seem to toast a marshmallow without catching it on fire. Asra comes over to watch as she tries again, and this time goes marginally better, she’s able to blow the fire out before her marshmallow burns to a crisp. 

“I wouldn’t eat that,” Asra says, eyeing the charcoal colored marshmallow. 

Willa adds a piece of chocolate and smushes it between two graham crackers without a care. She eats the s’more in one giant bite, wiping chocolate off of her chin as she chews. “Well, it’s a good thing that was my marshmallow then.” 

“You’re bad at s’mores,” Asra frowns.

“There’s no wrong way to s’more, Asra, you’re a marshmallow snob!” Willa points the end of her metal marshmallow skewer at him and he backs up, holding his hands up defensively.

“I am not, I just prefer my s’mores to be edible.” 

“Perhaps my tastebuds are more developed than yours,” Willa teases, “I can appreciate the delicate flavor of blackened marshmallow.” 

“Sure, you just keep telling yourself that,” Asra laughs. He walks off to join the rest of the camp staff on the other side of the amphitheater, leaving Willa to her marshmallow pyromania. 

“You’re too impatient, you have to cook it low and slow,” the now-familiar gruff voice comes from behind Willa, startling her.

She turns towards Muriel, her face pulling into a grin at the sight of him, “You came!” 

Muriel’s lips pull up into the barest hint of a smile as he looks back at her, but his eyes quickly shift away. “You’re a fire hazard, I had to make sure you weren’t going to set the forest on fire.” 

“It’s not my fault all the marshmallows spontaneously combust!” 

“You’re too impatient,” Muriel repeats.

“I am not impatient!” Willa frowns and shoves another marshmallow onto her skewer, nearly stabbing her hand on the pointy end. 

“Careful,” Muriel eyes her cautiously, keeping a safe distance away from the sharp end of her stick.

“Fine, if you’re so good at roasting marshmallows show me how to do it.” Willa holds the skewer out to him and he grabs it, their hands briefly touching as she passes it over. They both recoil as if they’ve been burned and Muriel clears his throat as he turns away from her and towards the fire. 

“Hold it over a smaller piece of wood, away from the fire.” Muriel demonstrates, holding the marshmallow low over one of the smoldering logs instead of putting it directly into the fire as Willa does. She watches him intently, but she’s looking at his face rather than the marshmallow lesson. In the firelight, she traces the sharp line of his jaw with her eyes, marking the shape of his nose, his eyebrows, his lips. 

“See?” Muriel hands her the skewer, breaking her out of her daze. Sure enough, the marshmallow is perfectly golden brown, not a burn mark in sight.

“You’re a wizard, this has to be witchcraft,” Willa marvels. But even magical marshmallows need to be eaten. She prepares a s’more and hands it to Muriel, who seems quite surprised to be handed the sweet treat.

“It’s not magic, it’s patience.” Muriel takes a bite of the s’more and Willa watches as his eyes close halfway and his lips pull into another rare smile at the taste. He must like sweets, Willa makes a note to remember that. Maybe she’ll bake him something. She notices a bit of chocolate on his cheek, next to his lips, and reaches up to brush it off without a thought. 

“You had chocolate on your face,” she explains as Muriel pulls back in surprise. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok.” Muriel looks away, but the fire is just bright enough to illuminate his blushing face.

“Alright, I’m gonna try it,” Willa changes the subject, sparing them both the awkwardness. She prepares another marshmallow, gently rotating it over the log as she’d seen Muriel do. 

Her marshmallow is not quite as perfect as Muriel’s was, but it still tastes great. Whether it's the amount of sugar she’s had or her proximity to Muriel, she feels more awake than she has all week, and bolder too. “I made you something.” 

“You— what?” Muriel’s eyes widen as he looks at her.

“I made you a friendship bracelet.” Willa reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls the bracelet out. She doesn’t know when she decided to give it to him, but it feels like he should have it. 

“A friendship bracelet?”

“Yes! We’re friends, aren’t we?” Willa holds it out to him and he takes it, holding it carefully as if it’s breakable.

“I guess.” 

Willa laughs, shaking her head at his comment. “You saved me from a bear, that makes us friends.” 

Muriel holds the bracelet in the palm of his hand, his eyes still glued to the green woven threads. “You don’t have to give me this, are you sure?” 

“Of course I’m sure, I made it with you in mind,” Willa admits. “Here let me help you put it on, if you want.” 

Muriel holds his wrist out, and when Willa’s hand rests on his arm they both freeze, looking at each other briefly before their eyes move away. She tries to focus on the task at hand and carefully ties the bracelet onto his wrist. His skin is so warm against hers, and his hand is calloused. Willa resists the urge to run her fingers along the lines of his palm, but she still lets her hands linger longer than they should. 

“There. I think it suits you.” Willa takes a step back and sits down on the amphitheater bench, stretching her legs out in front of her. Muriel hesitates for a moment before taking a seat next to her, closer than she would’ve expected. They sit in companionable silence for a minute until two campers run up to ask Willa a question. 

“You’re good with them,” Muriel comments after the kids have scampered off.

“The campers are sweet, most of the time,” Willa smiles, thinking of some of the more mischievous kids she’s met over the last few weeks. “I think it must be hard to be away from your family for so long, eight weeks is a long time for a child.” 

“Mmm,” Muriel agrees. He busies himself with tracing the leaf pattern on his bracelet, his fingers working their way around the trail of leaves and back around again. 

Willa leans back, tilting her head up towards the sky and the stars which are just starting to appear. “I was shy as a kid, and I pretty much only had my family since we lived in the middle of nowhere. I think a camp like this would’ve been good for me. I did go camping with my family a few times, but that’s not the same. Did you ever go to camp as a kid?” 

“No.” 

“Do you have any siblings?” 

“I never knew my family,”  Muriel replies, looking vaguely uncomfortable at the admission.  

She turns to look at him, but he keeps his gaze fixed to the ground. “I’m sorry.” 

Muriel nods at her sympathetic comment and turns to look up at the sky. He shoves his hands into his jacket pocket and sighs, his voice a bit softer as he asks, “Do you have siblings?” 

“I’ve got two brothers, one older and one younger,” Willa replies, her thoughts turning to the family she left behind to move to the city. It's been years since she last saw her brothers, and being in a place like this makes her miss them more than usual.

“Do you miss your family?” Muriel seems surprised at his own question, as if he didn’t mean to say it aloud.

“I miss my brothers, but my parents... well, I think we get along better from a distance,” she sighs. “Things are complicated.”   

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s ok.” For a moment Willa thinks about saying more. She wants to tell him everything, where she’s been, where she wants to go. She’s pretty sure that he’d listen. But Willa’s not ready for that yet, she doesn’t want to ruin the fragile friendship they have, so she changes the subject again.

“A few of us are going into town later since we have tomorrow off. There’s a little bar that does karaoke on Friday nights, Asra and Portia roped me into it. You could come with us if you want.” She has a feeling she already knows what his answer will be, but she doesn’t want to miss out on the slight chance of spending more time with him. 

“I don’t sing.” 

“Well, I must warn you, if you don’t go you’ll be missing out on Asra and I dueting every song in ABBA’s discography, complete with choreography,” she says. To her surprise Muriel laughs, the sound deep and gravely and somehow very comforting. Willa joins in with him, unable to stop the smile spreading across her face.

“I hope you have fun.” 

“If I come back tomorrow with my voice gone, blame Asra,” she laughs, looking across the fire at her friend who is busy talking to Nadia. 

A few moments pass in silence as Willa watches sparks fly from the fire, bright spots of gold standing out against the dark sky. Finally she looks up at Muriel, her breath catching a little in her throat as she tries to think of something to say. She wants to ask him to stay, to spend more time with her, but instead she says, “Thanks for showing me how to roast the perfect marshmallow.” 

She playfully nudges his shoulder with hers and Muriel looks down at her. He stiffens a bit but doesn’t pull away as she lets her shoulder rest against his arm. Then suddenly Asra is standing in front of her and Willa pulls away from Muriel, trying to hide the way her face flushes. 

“Willa, you ready to go?” Asra asks, giving her a teasing grin.

“Yep!” Her voice is a tad too loud and she winces at the squeakiness. She stands up and brushes dirt off of her jeans, turning back to look at Muriel again. “You sure you don’t want to come?”

“I’m sure.” 

“I’ll see you around, then.” Willa turns away, taking a step towards Asra.

“Willa, wait,” Muriel calls, and her heart leaps into her throat as she looks back at him.

“Yeah?” 

“Thank you for the bracelet. It’s nice,” he says, just loud enough for her to hear him.

“You’re welcome! We’re friends, that’s what friends do.” She gives him one last smile and turns to follow Asra and Portia out of the amphitheater.

“So, ‘friends’ huh?” Asra teases.

“Shut up or I’m not singing Mamma Mia with you,” Willa grumbles.

Asra puts his arm around her shoulders, giving her a quick squeeze. “You wouldn’t be able to resist.” 

“I hate that you’re right.”

“I’m usually right. And am I also right in guessing that you have a crush on Muriel?” 

“Oh please, that’s not a guess, that's just an obvious fact,” Portia adds. “Even the campers know about it.” 

“They do!?” Willa’s eyes go wide, wondering how the whole camp could possibly know when she’s only just figuring it out herself.  

“Yeah, earlier I heard a camper say that they ‘ship it’,” Asra laughs. 

Willa puts her head in her hands, shaking her head in dismay. “Oh no.” 

“So...you’re not denying it?” Asra asks. Willa’s car comes into view as they walk up the hill towards the front of camp and she tosses her keys at Asra.

“You can drive.” 

“Answer the question,” Portia prods as she gets into the back seat of the car. 

“I’m not denying it.” Both of her friends turn to look at her with mouths wide open in surprise and Willa flushes red, focusing her attention on buckling her seatbelt. 

“So you admit it then, you have a crush on him?” Portia grins. “Oh, I definitely have a crush on him,” Willa sighs.

“And what are you going to do about it?” Asra asks. 

“Honestly? I have no idea.”

✧