#i think my brain has been toasted over an open fire after that first week and a half of busy season

[protectgeorgeweasley]

[This sprint’s section is drafted, and it just needs to be polished before being sent to the beta team. Hoping to do that tomorrow, and I’ll report back when it’s sent!]

[onlydreamofmysoul]

Wanna Be Kissed (Wolfstar)

Okay! So I’ve decided to start bringing some of my fics from Ao3 over here, mostly because I think it makes it a lil easier for people to find! Here’s the first one anyways! (Side note - any remus/sirius transferred will be wolfstar, not coops)

Sirius Black has never kissed a girl. In fact, Sirius Black has never kissed anyone, ever.

It’s not that the opportunity hadn’t presented itself, because Merlin, it had. Sirius was infamous in Hogwarts, the brooding Black boy, the first to not be sorted into Slytherin. The boy who ran away from home. The leather jacket wearing, wild haired, grey eyed mystery man.

Apparently girls were into that, if Sirius’s friends were to be trusted.

“What about Lucy Lancaster?” Peter whispered as the Marauders sat curled up in a corner, their corner, of the Gryffindor common room.

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows, looking across the room to the blonde girl in question. “The fourth year?”

Peter nodded, “Yeah, I mean, she’s only one year younger than us and she’s really pretty and smart.” He gushed.

Sirius looked over at his friend. “I think she sounds more like your kind of girl Wormy.” He said, standing up and moving to sit closer to the fire, grabbing his book off the coffee table as he went. He curled up on the cushy red sofa, but had barely opened the book to the latest page when James Potter himself flopped down next to him.

“I know there’s someone you fancy.”

Sirius didn’t look up from his book. “Do you now?” He didn’t need to look at James to know his friend was flushing a little red.

“Okay well, I don’t know.” He admitted. “But I do suspect.”

Sirius met his eyes, amused. “There’s a fair bit of a difference between knowing and suspecting Prongs. For example, I know that you’re one hundred percent head-over-heels in love with Lily Evans, but I only suspect that you were the one who put itching powder in Lucius Malfoy’s quidditch robes.”

“It wasn’t me.” James grumbled and continued when Sirius looked at him disbelievingly. “Really it wasn’t. That’s not my style… anymore.”

Sirius laughed, patting him on the shoulder. “Yeah I know, Evans wouldn’t approve.”

“Yeah but also I just think we’re a bit too mature for stuff like itching powder when our time could be much more productively dedicated to tasks such as perfecting the map.”

Both boys sighed longingly. The map, their pride and joy. It wasn’t quite perfect yet - they still had a few passages to fill in, but it was getting pretty close.

James shifted in his seat to face Sirius properly, and Sirius mirrored his movements.

“In all seriousness though Pads, you know you can talk to me, right?”

Sirius smiled at his friend in a way that he could only pray was reassuring and nodded. “Of course I know James. I promise if there was anything to know, I would tell you.”

James nodded and stood up. “Good. Okay, I’ll uh, leave you to your reading.”

James retreated back to the others and Sirius watched him go, watched him sit down next to Remus. Watched as Remus offered him a chocolate frog.

Sirius hadn’t been lying to James, unless you counted a lie of omission. There really was nothing to tell - nothing had happened per se. Nothing had happened… recently. Because Sirius Black had been in love with Remus Lupin for a long time.

Remus-motherfucking-Lupin. The bane of Sirius’s existence. The love of Sirius’s life. He had known for years. Known that the love he felt for James and Peter was very, very different to the love he felt for Remus. He didn’t imagine James kissing him. He didn’t take a deep breath whenever Peter hugged him, trying to memorise his scent. So yeah, Sirius has never kissed anyone, simply because it wouldn’t be fair. Not to anyone. Not when Sirius’s heart was no longer his own to give away.

“Pads, we’re playing exploding snap, do you wanna join?” Remus called from where they were all laughing and Sirius sighed, already standing up. He’d never been able to say no to his tawny haired friend.

“Deal me in.”

****

“Fuck!”

Sirius’s head whipped up at the sound of Remus cursing. “Moons?” He called, swinging his legs off the side of his bed and drawing back his curtains, “Are you okay?”

Remus sat on his own bed, a dripping mug in his hand. “Yeah sorry,” he grumbled. “I’m just a twat, I spilled my tea all over myself.”

Sirius but his lip laughing even as he grabbed his wand and spelled away the puddle on the floor. Remus caught the back of his t-shirt and pulled it off over his head in one swift movement that took Sirius’s breath away.

“I cast a cleaning charm.” Sirius stuttered uselessly, his eyes focused on Remus’s lightly tanned skin, the faint whisper of shining scars that moved as Remus stood up.

“I know.” Remus shrugged and Sirius just gazed at those powerful shoulders. “But I still feel it, you know? I just need a new shirt.”

Sirius nodded helplessly as Remus walked to the trunk at the end of his bed and pulled out another shirt. Sirius thanked Merlin that the other boy was faced away from him because there was no way he could disguise his gawking at the dips of Remus’s shoulder blades, the curved run of his spine. Fuck, Sirius would give anything to trace his fingers over that soft skin.

Remus tugged the shirt over his head and crawled back onto his bed leisurely. Sirius’s heart rate was anything but. Everyone assumed that Remus was super scrawny, and they had been right, at least at first. When Remus had arrived at Hogwarts, that’s exactly what he had been - a stick thin little boy with big caramel eyes. But a wonderful combination of a solid three meals a day, a growth spurt and having to stay fit in order to help him recover from his monthly adventures had resulted in Remus Lupin looking like he starred in wet dreams.

(Never mind the fact that he starred in all of Sirius’s dreams).

“G’night guys.” Peter called from behind his curtains, the rest of the Marauders chorused a sleepy response and once again, the dorm room was silent, unlike Sirius’s brain. No, his traitorous thoughts just kept thinking about what it would be like to make Remus shout ‘fuck’ again in a non-tea related incident.

(They were some pretty good thoughts).

****

“Hey Sirius.”

Sirius looked up from his breakfast to see Anna O’ Connell sliding onto the bench next to him.

“Hi?”

“There’s a trip to Hogsmeade today.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Sirius couldn’t quite decipher the look on Anna’s face at his response.

“So… are you going?” She asked, reaching forward and touching Sirius’s wrist lightly. Sirius looked over at the other Marauders who had all stopped eating to listen in.

“Yeah we’re all going.” Sirius said nodding his head at the others. “Aren’t we lads?”

Sirius could see James looking at him with wide eyes and a ‘what the hell are you doing?’ expression and Remus wasn’t looking at him at all. Peter looked nervously between Anna and Sirius for a moment before nodding. “Yeah we are.”

“Oh right, yeah okay.” Anna said, beginning to stand up. “I guess I might see you there so.”

Sirius shrugged. “I guess so.”

Anna walked away and before she was even out of hearing range, James punched his shoulder not-so-lightly. “Mate, what the hell?”

Sirius rubber his throbbing arm. “What was that for?”

“She was obviously asking you out!”

Sirius choked on his pumpkin juice. “Well apparently it wasn’t that obvious, cause I didn't know about it.”

Remus finally met his eyes, wincing slightly. “It was pretty blatant.”

Sirius sighed and slumped forward, resting his head in his hands. “Oh my god I’m so dumb.”

James nodded in agreement. “Yeah you are. But if you went after her now and just explained what happened I’m sure she’ll still go out with you.”

Sirius shook his head. “No I don’t want to go out with her. I just wish I could tell when people are asking me out. I feel like it’s probably something I should be aware of.”

Remus smirked and Sirius’s gut twisted. He loved that little twitch of the other boys lips. “Probably.”

Peter patted Sirius’s shoulder sympathetically. “Don’t worry about it Pads, I’m sure you’ll get it the next time.”

Sirius just stared down at his now-cold toast. “Yeah.” He mumbled. “Next time.”

Sirius sat down on his bed and fell back dramatically, staring up at the rafters of the dorm. His radar for girls asking him out had not improved, according to his friends a grand total of five girls approached him that week alone. He had only known one of them asked him out on a date.

(That was only because she said “Hey, wanna go on a date with me?”)

He had politely declined.

Sirius sighed and grabbed his little red ball he kept on his locker and threw it up in the air as he lay on the bed, finding the steady rise and fall soothing. Most of Gryffindor, most of the castle really, were all outdoors enjoying the first properly sunny day in a long while. He knew if he looked out the window, he could probably spot James, Peter and Remus all sitting under the oak tree they tended to frequent.

There was a knock on the door. “Sirius?” Remus asked, poking his head in.

Or maybe Sirius wouldn’t find them all outside after all.

“Hey.” Sirius said, stopping throwing the ball but not sitting up.

Remus lay down next to him. On the small bed, their shoulders were pressing together and Sirius could feel the heat radiating off the other boy.

“Why aren’t you outside?”

Sirius shrugged. “Just wanted to think I guess.”

“Will I leave you alone?”

If it had been anyone else asking? Yes, Sirius wanted to be alone. But for Remus?

“No, you can stay.”

Sirius resumed throwing the ball, every so often passing it to Remus to give him a go. They lay side by side in silence for several minutes before Remus spoke again.

“Hey Pads? Could I… ask you something?”

Sirius turned his head slightly just for a second to glance at him. “You can ask me anything.”

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Remus biting his lip for a moment as if choosing his words carefully.

“Why do you… why do you never say yes to any of those girls?”

Sirius’s heart stuttered for a moment but he took a steadying breath. “I just don’t fancy any of them.”

“But isn’t that the point of dating? To see if you could maybe fancy someone?”

Sirius laughed nervously. “I guess I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been on a date.”

Remus fiddled with the fraying cuff of his jumper. “Yeah me neither.”

They were quiet again for a moment before Remus started talking again. “Do you think you’ll ever ask one of them out?”

“The girls?”

“Yeah.”

Sirius shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wouldn’t be fair.”

Remus huffed our a breath. “Come on Pads, that’s a non-answer.”

Sirius rolled his eyes at the typical Remus response, but his lips twitched. “I don’t fancy girls.”

He held his breath, waiting for Remus’s response. He didn’t think it would be bad exactly - he knew his friends! He knew he could trust them, he knew they loved him but sometimes no matter how much logic dictates otherwise, a tiny inkling of doubt can creep in.

“I’m not so sure I do either.”

Sirius wasn’t sure what kind of response he was expecting but it definitely was not that. He turned his head to see Moony already staring at him. They didn’t say anything - they didn’t need to, the look that flashed between them said enough. A quiet understanding. Remus’s lips quirked and Sirius’s eyes followed the movement before they resumed speaking.

“So is there a guy you fancy?”

Fuck this was dangerous territory. But Sirius couldn’t lie, not to Remus.

“Yeah.”

This time it was Remus who rolled his eyes. “Wow that was so descriptive.”

Sirius’s eyebrow arched. “It was a yes or no question.”

Remus huffed. “Fine, fine, don’t tell me.”

Sirius bit his lip. And rolled onto his side to face Remus. The taller boy did the same. “I don’t just fancy him, I’m in love with him.”

Remus’s breathing sounded uneven. “He must be incredible if you feel that way.”

It felt like there was an elephant standing on Sirius’s chest. “Merlin yes. He’s kind and thoughtful and I could get lost in his eyes forever. He runs his fingers through his hair when he’s thinking, when he’s studying I know he bites the top of his quill even though he denies it and when he’s nervous he plays with the cuffs on his jumper and it’s so cute and I -“

Sirius cut off as Remus’s hands stilled. Hands that had been fiddling with the cuff of his jumper.

“-And he’s one of my best friends in the entire world. He’s brave and strong and the best person I know. I would do anything for him.”

Remus stared into his eyes for, Sirius couldn’t even tell how long. It could have been seconds or hours but to be frank, Sirius couldn’t give a fuck either way. Remus’s honey eyes had flecks of dark brown in them and all Sirius wanted to do was map the splash of freckles on his nose. Remus bit his lip so hard Sirius was nearly worried he’d draw blood before his eyes became steadier, more decided. Sirius watched as Remus’s chest rose unsteadily as he took a breath.

“He’d do anything for you too.”

And fuck if Sirius didn’t want to cry. Or jump around laughing. Or shout with delight from the tower. But most of all, he wanted Remus.

Cautiously, so cautiously, he reached his hand out and traced the cheekbones he had so often admired, Remus shivering lightly under his touch. His hand dropped lower as he ran his thumb over Remus’s ever so slightly parted lips, able to feel his hot breath on his skin.

“Are you ever going to kiss me or am I going to have to do it myself?”

“Merlin, I love you.” Sirius breathed before doing exactly that. He leaned down and connected their lips, at first, just a bare brush, Sirius was being so careful, waiting to see if Moony would decide that, actually no, he wouldn’t be making out with one of his best mates today, but that never happened. Instead, Remus tangled one hand in Sirius’s hair and wrapped the other tightly around his waist.

“Kiss me properly you wanker.” Remus demanded and Sirius smirked before pressing his lips against Remus’s and for a moment, that was all he knew. The world could have exploded but all Sirius would have registered was the hot force of Remus’s lips on his own, the fingers curling in his hair and the hand pressing steadily into his waist.

They pulled away gasping, Sirius looking at Remus’s swollen lips with a smug delight. He had always wondered what Remus would look like after a good snog. Now he knew.

“I love you too.” Remus said simply, cupping Sirius’s jaw in his hand and caressing thumb over Sirius’s cheekbone. Sirius’s heart just about exploded and he quickly leaned down to reconnect their lips, gasping as he felt Moony’s leg wrap tightly around his waist and he pressed himself impossibly closer.

“I love you.” He murmured against Remus’s lips. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Sirius has never kissed a girl. But he has kissed someone. The best someone in his opinion. The only someone really. Remus-motherfucking-Lupin; no longer the bane of Sirius’s existence.

(But still the love of his life).

[fruitcoops]

Could we please have a prequel to the praise kink fic? Because i really want to know why were Sirius and Remus not together and what did Remus send him. I really need context

I was hoping somebody would ask for this!! The aforementioned fic is here for any curious souls (18+ please) and SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for spicy texts (not exactly nudes), and smutty feelings with nothing explicit

The bus went over a bump and Sirius winced as his shins knocked against the back of the seat in front of him, connecting with the metal brace inside. “Fuck.”

“You sure you don’t want to switch?” James asked next to him. Sirius glanced down at the veritable wall of gear and empty snack bags between them, then back to James in disbelief. He shrugged, then set his headphones back over his ears. “Worth a shot.”

“Merde,” Sirius hissed as a pothole nearly took off his kneecap. He gritted his teeth and readjusted, drawing his legs closer to his chest. I want to be home, he thought, allowing himself an internal moment to whine.

He checked his phone—not even ten in the morning. It was a Saturday, so Remus would probably just be rolling out of bed, still sleepy and soft with his hair sticking up like a disgruntled cat’s. Sirius sighed heavily and stared out the window at the small town rolling past in the distance; there was little he wouldn’t give to be back with him instead of on the way to a full week of conferences.

“Why did we have to win the Cup?” he grumbled.

James lifted one side of his headphones. “What?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t like they had had much time to themselves before that, either—Sirius’ schedule was packed with interviews that felt more like interrogations, and Remus had been running the PT department mostly by himself while Moody took a well-deserved vacation. They were dead on their feet every night, worked to the bone with little energy left to do more than cuddle and fall asleep. Still, Sirius was grateful for every second of it.

He waited ten more minutes before giving in.

New Message To: Re

Bonjour mon loup <3

There was no immediate response, which made sense, though he was a little bit disappointed. Sirius closed his eyes and tried to make himself relax; it would be at least another six hours before they arrived at their destination, and the bad weather gathering overhead didn’t bode well for quick travel.

His phone buzzed gently and he scrambled to answer. Don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg—

New Message From: Re

Morning love!

Thanks for the bagels <3

“Fuck yes,” Sirius said under his breath. The bagels had been a last-minute decision as he crept through the house in the early hours of the morning after carefully detaching himself from Remus with a final half-asleep farewell kiss. There was no guarantee he would remember breakfast with everything going on, so Sirius figured it was a safe bet to toast them and leave them on the countertop before heading out.

Message To: Re

Pas de problem

Sleep well?

Message From: Re

Decent

Missed you :(

Sirius rested his temple against the cold window with a soft sound. He hated leaving at different times, but that was just how their life worked at the moment.

Message To: Re

Missed you too <3

Three small dots appeared for a long moment before vanishing without a trace just as his heart rate began picking up. Where’d you go? he almost wondered aloud. Something bumped his arm and James raised a quizzical brow. “Loops,” Sirius said by way of explanation.

“I figured. He okay?”

“I think so? He just…disappeared on me.” Sirius was well-aware of how plaintive he sounded—James’ teasing smile was completely unnecessary.

“Aw, Cap,” he laughed, reaching over to mess with his beanie until Sirius slapped his hand away. “It’s alright, buddy, it’s just a couple days.”

Sirius jammed his hat back on his head and flicked James on the unprotected bit of his ear, making him yelp. “Fuck off, I know you’ll be a mess as soon as Lily FaceTimes with my godson.”

“He has a name, you know.”

“Sorry. You’ll be a mess as soon as she FaceTimes with Pocket Pots, who happens to be my godson.”

James rolled his eyes. “I regret giving you that title.”

“Nah, you don’t.”

As if on cue, his phone lit up again; Sirius ignored James’ snickering as he quickly unlocked it.

New Message From: Re

When will you be at the hotel?

“That’s it?” he muttered.

Message To: Re

That was a lot of typing for one sentence

6-7 hrs, if the weather holds

Why?

Message From: Re

Sorry lmao Reg came in for a bit

Just curious :) Keep me updated?

Message To: Re

Will do <3

Tell Reg he needs to wash his sheets. It’s been over a month.

A small thumbs-up emoji was his only answer, and he tried not to be too bummed. Remus liked having things to do; sitting there and texting Sirius while he slowly got further and further away was probably not his preferred way to spend a morning. With a sigh that was likely a bit too dramatic for the situation he was in, Sirius faced the window once more and buckled in for a long ride.

He chatted off and on with the others when they stopped for lunch, but everyone was exhausted from the combination of a packed week and an early morning. Even Talker stayed fairly quiet, and James kept his headphones on for most of the trip.

Sirius finally succumbed to his tiredness and put some music on, then dozed for an hour or three while they traveled through yet another field. A few halfhearted calls of “cows” made their way around the bus, though nobody seemed particularly enthused about being packed in with double the gear due to a broken storage compartment. Donuts and gas station coffee could only do so much.

“Just crossed the state border,” Arthur called from the front of the bus as Sirius tried to ignore the cramping in his thighs. Three hours. Just three more.

His music was interrupted by a soft jingle alert and he pulled his phone out, hoping against hope that Regulus hadn’t caused a fire anywhere. It was unlikely given the…well, everything about him, but with Sirius’ luck it could happen.

New Message From: Re

How far?

Message To: Re

About 3 hrs. Ran into some detours

Good day?

Remus remained silent on the other end and Sirius frowned. That was rather rude, and highly unusual. Between the two of them, Remus was the one who kept conversations going past the initial question to be answered.

Message From: Re

Attachment: 1 Image

Love you! Call me when you get there : )

Sirius opened the attachment and almost threw his phone in utter shock. Skin. Bare skin everywhere, its smooth edges broken up only by tight black fabric that may as well have been painted onto the curve of Remus’ ass. “Oh my god,” he whimpered, voice barely audible even to his own ears. It had been taken in their bedroom mirror; Remus looked over his shoulder, and Sirius caught the corner of a devious smirk on his lips. “Oh, you fucker.”

Message From: Re

Thoughts? They’re cozy

Message To: Re

Did you miss the part where I said three (3) hours

Message From: Re

Nope

Second one is a guessing game and u get a prize if u get it right : )

The second photograph was more zoomed-in than the first and Sirius wracked his brain, running through his mental catalogue of Remus’ body to figure out the answer. It did absolutely nothing to calm the situation in his pants.

He had no idea what the promised prize was, but anticipation made his hands shake slightly as he carefully scanned the picture. The shadows caught it at an odd angle—it wasn’t the steady slopes of his face or neck, nor was it the strong curve of a shoulder. Not enough freckles, either, he thought.

A lightbulb lit in the back of his mind.

Message To: Re

Right hip

Another thought connected half a second later.

Holy fuck you took them off

Is that my prize?

Re?

Remus Lupin I swear to god

TEXT ME BACK

Message From: Re

Bingo!

Christ you’re impatient, I was gone for like 2 mins

He chanced a look toward Pots, whose head lolled to the side as he snored.

Message To: Re

Hey quick question why are you like this

It’s a good thing Pots is out cold bc this bus is too small to hide anything

Message From: Re

Haha sux to be you

Sirius’ cheeks heated with a whole cocktail of different emotions as he furiously typed a response.

Message To: Re

‘Sux to be you’???

Are you 13 yrs old????

Message From: Re

Do you want your prize or not u horndog

Message To: Re

YOU MADE ME THIS WAY

He took a deep breath through his nose and flexed his fingers.

Yes please

A simple smiley face—Sirius would never see those things the same—popped up, followed by an audio file. He triple-checked that his headphones were plugged in before tapping ‘play’ with an unsteady thumb.

His face went very, very hot before all the blood went straight to his groin and he closed his eyes, covering his mouth with his hand. Breathy sounds came through the heavy earphones, a little more crackly than they would be in-person; he heard Remus’ gasp catch in his throat and crossed his legs as best he could in the too-small seat, torn between thanking and cursing any higher power. He could practically see Remus’ face in his mind’s eye as the noises continued, intermixed with fragments of desperate words.

The file came to an end after what felt like the blink of an eye and a hundred years, and Sirius did not look away from the violently red seat cushion in front of him for a long moment as his brain came back online. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so turned on.

He took a few deep breaths, though it did nothing to erase the poorly-muffled whines that still rang between his ears like church bells. Sirius huffed and turned to grab his waterbottle out of his duffel, only to make direct eye contact with Finn across the aisle.

Sirius froze.

Finn grinned.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed, too low to wake James but just loud enough to carry over the four feet separating them. Finn’s smile widened. “Stop it. Stop it right now.”

“How’s Loops?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“That good, huh?”

“O’Hara, I swear to god—”

“Oh, is Cap spilling secrets?” Kasey asked, poking his head over the back of the seat.

Finn opened his mouth, but the force of Sirius’ glare must have been enough to at least intimidate him a little, because he shook his head. The smug Cheshire grin remained. “Nah, just having a chat about our plans when we get home.”

Kasey groaned. “You’re a lucky man, O’Hara. Both your people get to come with you. Nat sent me a promise, like, twenty minutes ago and I can’t stop thinking about it. I won’t be available tonight from six to eight if anyone was wondering.”

“Did she really?” Finn looked back to Sirius, who bit the inside of his cheek and tried to keep his cool. Two and a half hours, and then he would be safe. Just two and a half more hours.

[sebstanseabass]

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 13

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

A/N: Future you, r u okkkk

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

You stared at Bucky and the gentleman who was with him named Sam Wilson, completely dumbfounded; as if they both had three heads. They were seated across from you, Bucky with a glass of water, and Sam with a bottle of beer in his hand. Sam was just finishing his beer, as well as his speech about his business proposal which had to do with you taking photos of his new products, and models.

Bucky introduced Sam as a long-time friend and an owner of a sporting fit apparel named The Falcons. The name did ring a bell as soon as you heard it. You suddenly remembered passing through it while you and Bucky were strolling down Fifth Street, vaguely telling you about a friend who owned it and six other stores scattered in California, Chicago, London, and Australia (and was planning to branch out more in Asian countries); and here he was right in front of you, hiring you as a photographer for his big-time business.

Sam didn't give you a sliver of time to intervene with his flawless little speech he had committed to memory, as he spoke so fast. Some words were even incomprehensible to you — or perhaps it was just because the world was still whirling around you, given the prior event that just took place.

And now this.

You tried to give Bucky some kind of signal by giving him a look but he encouraged Sam further and urged you to listen to his proposal.

"So, y/n..." Sam rested his hands on the wooden table, his attention solely focused on you. "What do you think?"

If only you could tell him the truth that your mind was completely blank, you would. But you didn't want to embarrass yourself or Bucky for that matter, so you just gave him a smile and did the first thing you could think of. "Mr. Wilson — "

"Oh, you can just call me Sam. There's no need for formalities."

You nodded. "Sam... Do you mind if I have a little discussion with Bucky? It will just take a moment."

Sam leaned back on the cushioned couch of the booth and nodded. "Of course. Take all the time you need."

You didn't give Bucky the time to question why so you immediately stood up, grabbed Bucky's hand from across the booth and dragged his body towards one of the closets the bar rarely used. You closed the door behind you, and switched the light on. Even with the small lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, the inside of the closet still looked dingy, and the dust crawling on the walls and flying in the tight air space were clearly evident.

"Bucky, what the hell is going on?"

"Isn't it great?"

You smacked his arm. "Steve just told me he's getting me fired so that I can focus on my career as a photographer."

"That's even greater!"

You smacked his arm harder this time. "I'm not done." You hissed. "He's giving me one week to figure things out and then I'm fired. If I don't have shit figured out in that one week, I'm not gonna be able to pay for bills. Did you say something to Steve when you came here this morning? Don't lie to me, James."

He was rubbing his arm, brows furrowed. "I told him nothing."

"You showed him the photos I took last night. What was that all about?"

He sighed in defeat. "I just made him realize that you needed to be out there and not stuck here. You said it yourself, y/n, you're stuck in a rut and the only way to get yourself moving is to break from that routine. To go out there and explore the world."

"And then you just swoop in and bring your friend?"

"Yes."

"So, Steve just happens to realize that I needed to go out there and explore the world, and then it just so happens that your friend needs someone to photograph for his business?" You scoffed. "Bucky, do you expect me to believe that this is just one big coincidence? That you're not the one pulling all the strings in this little weird puppet show?"

"Yes, okay, I may have done something about those, said something, but — "

"Oh my god, you can't do that." You had the urge to get some air, and to pace back and forth as you tried to put your thoughts into words, but the space felt tighter the more you spoke. "You can't just walk into people's lives and, and... control everything! This is not just about chasing a dream, this is also about survival. I'm not rich like you. I don't have a safety net when things fall apart. You... You can't put all your trust in me."

"Well, someone needs to." Bucky sternly answered. "And if that someone should be me then so be it."

"I don't even know why you're going to great lengths for me." You looked down on the floor. "I... I don't get it, Bucky. I don't get you at all."

"Hey, hey, hey, listen to me, doll." His hands made contact with your skin, lifting your face to look at his blue eyes. "I apologize for taking things too far, I guess I could act so rash as well but I just wanted to do what I know is right and what would make you happy. Seeing you last night was... heartbreaking."

"So, you pity me." You sighed. "Everybody does."

"Call it what you want, y/n. But people who pity you won't ever believe in you and in what you do. But here I am putting all my trust in you. Your boss Steve does too. And Sam." A smile formed on his lips, making the insides of you flip.

"Your friend Sam sounds like a big deal and he hasn't even seen my photos. How can he trust me to do all this for him?"

"I put my word in for you. I told him if I was wrong, then to hell with me. And if you're worried about people assisting you during the shoot, don't. Sam has people all over and he just needs your beautiful eyes and hands and brain." He laughed. "Sam's a good guy and you're not going to be working for some big corporation. I know you hate those. This is perfect for you, trust me. And right now, all I need you to do is say yes to Sam, say yes to me, and most especially say yes to yourself. Please?"

The atmosphere became lighter, and the room didn't feel that tight any longer. His flattering words forever engraved in your mind. His warm hands stayed on both sides of your face, his face pleading.

You sighed and nodded your head slowly, finally convinced. "Okay, yes."

A grin started to crawl to his face and for a moment, his face drew closer to yours. "Okay, good. Now let's get out of here and tell Sam the good news."

You nodded but a touch of disappointment came, as Bucky's hands left your face. You never knew the presence of Bucky's skin against yours was one thing you could miss. You didn't even know if you should.

As soon as you sat down, you told Sam the good news and quickly ordered a bottle of champagne. You were supposed to get it for them but Bucky told you to sit down and let loose for a while, so you did.

Nat approached the booth with the cold champagne, and some glasses. She bent down and whispered to you, "You better tell me what's going on here. I wanna hear everything."

Sure, she did. Nat always wanted to. When it comes to water cooler gossip or any kind of gossip for that matter, Nat always wanted to dig her nose into other people's stuff. With a wink and a slight sway on the hips, she retreated to the counter and took more of people's orders. Beside her, you noticed Nick steal a glance in your direction but was averted away by people trying to get their drinks.

"Alright, let's toast." Sam declared. Bucky was just finishing filling yours when you focused your attention back at the two gentlemen in front of you. You thanked Bucky and mirrored Sam as he raised his glass. Bucky followed, his eyes with a luster glaze on you. "To new partners, beginnings, and to y/n."

"Thank you, Sam." You laughed, clinking your glasses. "And to Bucky, for trusting me enough to do this."

"To Bucky who wouldn't leave me alone until I said yes." Sam replied, emptying his glass.

You gave Bucky a look and shook your head. Being the cheeky man he was, the ends of his lips curved slightly which triggered the beat of your heart. The sudden changes you have been feeling when it came to Bucky have been scaring you but it wasn't a "bad scary"; it was the kind that excited everything inside you. A thrilling feeling that left you wanting more.

At the taste of the sprinkling cold champagne, for a moment, you were brought back to last night's events. A montage-like of red, blue and white lights illuminating the street, Howard waiting in the limousine, Wandavision, and then Bucky. After that, it was just Bucky's presence beside you and as you looked back at him, all you could think about was his soft warm lips pressed on your forehead. The entirety of it felt like you were living a dream — there were parts you couldn't remember and parts that you could, and the latter were just the ones you kept replaying in mind (even with Bucky in front of you), trying to imbue this dream-like memory and convince yourself that it was a memory.

Nat's voice pulled you out of your thoughts (and boy, were you thankful for it). "Hey, your shift's almost ending." She reminded you, passing by the booth, then turned to face Bucky and Sam. "Anything you want from the menu, boys?"

"No, thank you." Bucky replied then turned to you. "We should also be heading up."

"Oh." Nat's change in voice was so evident that you wanted to pull her out of here as soon as possible. "You guys are heading up, huh?" She teased, her eyes now on you.

"It's not what you think." You said. "He's just looking after me. Parker's gone to some corporate retreat for a week."

"Man, you're a babysitter!" Sam butted in, punching Bucky's arm lightly. "Oh, I can't believe this."

"No, I'm not."

"You can't even take care of your damn self, how are you gonna take care of her?"

"Shut up, Sam!"

"He's actually taking good care of me." You said, looking at Bucky.

"I'm sure he is." Nat chuckled which made you step on her foot. She cleared her throat in response.

"Anyway, I gotta go say goodbye to Steve." You said, standing up. "Hey Nat, do you want me to say hi to him for you?"

With her mouth slightly open, and eyes furrowed, she replied very slowly. "No."

You smirked. "Okay then."

You headed towards Steve's office, leaving Nat stunned in her place. Steve's office was slightly open so you didn't bother knocking and just went inside. "Hey, Steve. I'm off for tonight."

"Sure." He replied. "Hey, about earlier."

"What about it?"

"I'm doing it because I truly believe in you." He smiled. "And your new friend Bucky does so too."

You smiled at him right back. "Yes, Steve. Thank you."

"Take care, y/n."

"You too, boss!"

And with that, you headed towards the booth where Bucky and Sam were.

Out on the side of the street, the three of you parted ways, Sam hailing a cab and you and Bucky heading towards the apartment building. Once the elevator doors opened, you stepped inside and was greeted by its metallic smell.

"Hey, Bucky?" You said, quickly grabbing his attention. "T-thank you for this and for basically everything you've done for me for the past few days."

"Please, you don't have to thank me for this. I'm just really glad I'll be able to help you."

"And I promise once I get my shit done, have money and everything, I'm gonna pay you back — "

"Hey, hey, hey." He cut you off. "Who said anything about paying me back? You don't have to do that, okay?"

"But I feel like this is all too much, like, there's this thing tying me to you."

"Is that a bad thing?" He asked.

"When it comes to money, yeah kinda. And you've bought me all kinds of stuff — "

"Y/n, just..." He sighed. "You don't have to do or say anything. You don't have to worry about paying me back and even if you will, I won't ever ever accept it. Can we leave it at that?"

You sighed in response, the little ding! right on time. "Yeah, okay."

By the time you got in the apartment, you practically ran towards your room because of how exhausted you were but before you could even open the door, there was one more thing you needed to do.

"Bucky?"

“Yes?”

"I-I'm sorry again about last night and no," he was about to do his face whenever he cuts you off, "please, don't cut me off, let me finish."

Bucky walked towards you, his back facing Peter's room.

"This is about what I said... when I asked you to, uh, kiss me. You were right to stop me. I was drunk, sad and vulnerable and the moment wasn't right. It wasn't right. I would have regretted it the next day and would be so ashamed to face you. I might actually avoid you for a month." You sighed. "I'm really sorry you had to see that side of me. A kiss at that moment would be really inappropriate. When we — if we ever do, um, it wouldn't be like that... just like what you said. You said that right? You said, and I quote, not like this. 'Cause I keep hearing your voice saying that in my head." Bucky nodded, affirming it. "Okay. Um, yeah so in conclusion... I am sorry."

He slowly smiled, nodding his head. "You make a lot of speeches."

"Yeah, I'm the queen when it comes to it."

"And apology accepted, of course."

You warmed up with a smile. "Okay, thank you. Good night."

“Good night, doll."

Once you turned around, you felt a strong force on your arm, spinning your body which then collided with Bucky's, together with his lips crashing on yours.

It was like an impulse you couldn't avoid: for you to close your eyes, to move your lips in his rhythm, and to savor his breath. He tasted like cold champagne, and mint, with a hint of coffee. His lips, luscious, warm and soft; you were afraid of tearing them apart with your teeth. He kissed you with all the fervor of a lover. A lover talked about in books, movies, in fairytales.

Bucky's hands found their way around your hips, pulling you closer towards his body, while you rested yours on the sides of his face, pulling every inch of him, craving more of him. Slowly, you opened your eyes and tore your faces only an inch apart, foreheads touching. Lips empty but still hungry. You stayed right where you were; You never dared move an inch and so did he. You were still like statues. The only movement was the rapid rise and fall of your breathing.

Bucky's hands slid from your waist. You felt his fingers on the nape of your neck, his thumb tracing your lower lip and giving it a small, passionate kiss.

"Just like this, doll." He whispered. "Just like this."

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Notting Hill AU Snippet #8

"It happened. Feel it, and let it go."

Her therapist's words are easier said than done. Lena does her best, she really does, but every time she almost feels over Kara Danvers, she sees a film trailer or a tabloid headline and her world spirals again.

It's silly. Lena knows she shouldn't be so affected. She only knew Kara Danvers for a few days across a few weeks, but then again... as her therapist likes to say: Lena never learned how to love half way.

When news of a nude photo scandal breaks, Lena finds out about it with the rest of the world, but instead of watching in sick fascination, Lena feels only horror for the woman behind it all. Her heart, broken though it is, goes out to Kara, and the devastation she must be going through. Because Lena more than anyone else knows how carefully crafted Kara's image is, how carefully precise every word and movement is lest she lose the love of the audience and the industry itself.

But as much as Lena might want to, she doesn't call. She doesn't write. She doesn't even know if Kara is in Britain at all, until one morning there's a knock on her front door.

There, with an overnight bag, is Kara.

Her eyes are hidden behind large sunglasses, and her arms are crossed over her chest, tight with anxiety. Before Lena can think to do anything otherwise, she wordlessly steps aside to invite Kara into her flat.

"Thank you," Kara murmurs. Her voice quivers, her jaw clenched against brimming tears. Lena briefly scans the street outside before closing the door, relieved to find it empty of press.

They slowly migrate to the kitchen, where Kara pauses, uncertain of what to do next.

"Tea?" Lena offers.

Kara nods faintly. Over tea, the situation Lena had avoided reading about about in the tabloids comes spilling out as Kara vents, finally able to explain to someone-- anyone-- who would listen.

"I was young, and I was angry, and... and you want to know the saddest part? I enjoyed that shoot! It was one of the healthiest, most open working environments I'd ever been in. The level of trust, and respect... god-- they talked to me like a person, and I just-- for the first time, it felt like I had complete agency. Except I didn't, because they also filmed it, which they didn't tell me, and now... now my entire career, the only thing I've ever done in my entire life, might be over."

Lena listens to it all. She can't offer anything more than that. She doesn't know what to say, even if she could speak under the weight of being in Kara's presence again. Kara fills the entire room, even dressed down in jeans and a trim sweater.

The hurt of their last parting feels a million miles away for the first time since it happened, and all Lena wants to do is kiss her.

"What does your boyfriend think?" Lena blurts softly.

Kara blinks, staring at her. "I don't know," she confesses silently. "I haven't heard from him since before... I don't even know if I have a boyfriend anymore. I didn't even really know I had one then, until he showed up in my hotel room."

She pauses, finally meeting Lena's. "I am so sorry for what happened. I wanted to call so many times, I just-- I just didn't know what to say. And now-- now I'm invading your home like--"

"It's okay," Lena assures her, heading her off at the pass. She rises, taking Kara's hands in hers and offering a reassuring squeeze. "I'm glad you're here, and that you're safe."

Blinking away tears, Kara nods, sniffling.

"What do you need?" Lena asks. "Food, nap, bath...?"

"A bath sounds... really nice right now. And food. And a nap. Maybe in that order?"

Lena smiles. "Okay. We can do that."

---

After Kara's bath, they chat quietly over Notting Hill's finest fish and chips. It feels like no time has passed at all, like they didn't ever part that night at the hotel. Lena revels in it, and in the fact that Kara's nap is taken resting against her shoulder as Lena reads on the couch.

Her therapist would be so disappointed in her.

There's no boundary Lena could throw between them that Kara isn't already well past, and Lena finds she simply doesn't want to. As dangerous as she knows it is, she enjoys their time together. She's addicted to it, like a moth to flame.

The first night, Lena gives Kara her bed, and sleeps on the couch. The second night, after a day filled with running lines for Kara's next project, Lena's awoken from a light doze by a creak on the stair. Despite having a flatmate, Lena instinctively knows it's not Querl, and meets Kara at the foot of the stair.

"Is everything all right?" she asks.

In the dark, Kara nods, a dark shape bobbing in the shadows. "Yes, I-- I just wanted to say thank you. For everything you've done for me. I know you have no reason to help--"

Lena leans in and kisses her. Before her brain can catch up, Kara is kissing her back, burying her hands in Lena's tangled hair before slipping down to brush the edge of Lena's breast through the fabric of her tank top.

Lena covers the exploring hand, pressing it in place against her chest before it could go any further.

"Do you want this?" is all she asks.

Kara nods again, this time their noses brushing at the tips. "Yes," she breathes. "I want you."

----

Waking up in the morning, Lena feels as though she's still dreaming. Her body aches pleasantly, and today the sunlight streaming through her windows falls softly on the figure fast asleep beside her.

Kara Danvers' features are soft in sleep, unschooled for the first time Lena's ever seen. She looks younger, and impossibly more beautiful-- until Kara shifts, and wakes with a smile that puts Lena's previous observations to shame.

"Hi," Kara whispers.

"Hi," Lena whispers back. "Sweet dreams?"

"Mmmmmm," Kara hums, rolling to face her. "Remind me."

Lena obliges with a kiss, ignoring the sour taste of morning breath. Her hand cups Kara's jaw, her thumb brushing lightly against a soft cheek.

Before long, they're interrupted by a low growl in Kara's belly, prompting Lena to laugh against Kara's lips.

"Message received. Stay here," she urges, slipping out of bed.

She pulls on a pair of boxers and her tank top from the night before, wrinkled from being tossed unceremoniously across the room, before heading downstairs to make breakfast.

Lena barely has the bread in the toaster before warm arms encircle her waist from behind. Soft lips press against the join of Lena's neck, blonde hair tickling her skin. She hums low in her throat.

"I like that," she says. She leans her head against Kara's. "Butter and jam's in the fridge."

Kara grins against her and parts with another kiss, finding her way around Lena's kitchen as though she's always been there. Lena takes in the sight of Kara in one of her old oversized sweaters, barely enough to keep her decent. It's a pleasant sight, Kara's ease. Lena wants it to stick around forever.

Their peace is interrupted a moment later when the doorbell rings.

"I've got it," Lena says. "You stay here and butter the toast."

She hops down the narrow steps to the front hall, and opens the door without a second thought as to who could be behind it.

A barrage of camera shutters clicking and the bright flash of dozens of cameras going off at once stuns her. Blinded, she can barely make out the sea of paparazzi, and the questions she barely hears through the buzz of utter noise.

In the next moment, Lena regains her senses and slams the door shut. The heavy old door does well to muffle the sound, so that when Kara comes traipsing down the steps behind her she doesn't notice the hubbub.

"What is it?"

Before Lena can stop her, a shout on her lips, Kara opens the door and faces the sea of cameras with nothing but a piece of toast in her hand and an old sweater between them.

Kara reacts faster than Lena did, instantly whirling and shutting the door behind her. In that moment, Kara's ease disappears. Her body stiffens and her skin heats with flush of shame.

"They... you..." Kara stammers. She looks at Lena, then glares at her. "You told them I was here?!"

"What? Why would I do that?"

"Well, if it wasn't you, it was that weirdo of a roommate!" Kara exclaims, voice climbing in pitch and volume. "Finally decided to make a quick buck by giving a tip to the tabloids!"

"That's uncalled for," Lena counters. Querl is odd, but he'd only ever been kind to Kara, in his own strange way. "Let's just... let's just breathe for a second--"

"You breathe. I'm leaving."

Without another word, Kara disappears back into the kitchen. After an urgent call to whom Lena can only guess is her publicist, Kara disappears towards the bedroom. Lena gives her space, lingering in the living room long enough for Kara to catch her breath. By the time she finally pokes her head into the bedroom, Kara is already dressed and throwing her items into her overnight bag.

"Kara..."

"Don't. Don't say my name like you know how I feel."

Lena swallows thickly. "I don't... I don't know what to say. I'm sorry they're here, but I'm not sorry you are."

"Well, I am," Kara snaps, snatching her top from the night before and slamming it into her bag. "I never should have come here. I have a boyfriend for Christ's sake!"

Lena freezes, her blood running cold. "You do?"

"As far as they're concerned I do! And now pictures of us are going to be on every paper from here to Star City!!"

Kara lugs her bag over her shoulder and storms out of the room. "And your friend, your friend owes you a nice dinner. Lobster at least, if he's smart enough to get the going rate on betrayal."

"You leave Querl out of this!" Lena snaps, her temper fraying as she chases after Kara. "Okay? I understand that you're upset, and I am too, but we don't know that he has anything to do with this!"

Kara rounds on her with fury in her eyes. "All I know is that they didn't follow me here, and we didn't go anywhere. So if wasn't me, and it wasn't him, who was it? Hm?"

Angry tears burn at the backs of Lena's eyes. She blinks them away, and struggles breathe past the lump in her throat.

"It's okay, Lena," Kara continues firing, "I get it. Okay? It's natural to want your name out there, to drum up business. Come, get a boring book about Egypt from the chick who fucked Kara Danvers!"

The accusation drives all the breath from Lena's body. She stares, and sees the moment Kara realizes she's crossed a line. She softens then, but not enough.

"You may only get fifteen minutes of this, Lena,  but I have had this my entire life. These pictures will last forever. They will follow me FOREVER, and I will regret this forever!"

The doorbell rings, cleaving through the moment of Lena's heartbreak. Surprisingly, Kara doesn't immediately leave, her shock at her own words evident in the gape of her mouth and the tears in her eyes.

Finally, Lena looks away, clearing her throat.

"You don't want to keep your team waiting," she grinds out, her voice full of gravel. It hurts to speak, to breathe, to even look at Kara. But watch she does as Kara's mouth closes to a resolute line before she turns and leaves without looking back.

previous / next

[jetaime-jespere]

Under The Weather

Some pointless fluff that's been floating around my head for a few days. Also on ao3 🙂

It’s not the usual alarm clock that wakes her this time - the tauntingly peaceful melody that she now associates with being ousted from a dream every morning.

In fact, Emily is hardly awake. Her eyes are still sealed shut, she’s still nestled under the covers because the thought of moving is almost unbearable. Even in her sleep induced haze, the only thing she’s fully aware of is just how shitty she feels, like every part of her body has somehow teamed up against her in unison. What started last night as a subtle headache is now accompanied by a persistent rawness in the back of her throat. The same pain has crept in to settle behind her eyes, and now radiates around her head, like a pair of gnarled hands wrapped and clenched around her brain. But that isn’t the only thing - everything just hurts. Her limbs feel like lead, her throat is now on fire, lips cracked and chapped from the winter air. Her mouth is dry as dust as she grapples for the glass of water Aaron had left on her nightstand hours ago - something he’s done since they moved in together.

Cracking one eye open takes monumentally more effort than it should. The wind rattles against the windows, whistling through the bitterly cold February morning and Emily groans at the prospect of even moving from the safety of their warm bed. A glance at the clock tells her it’s 5:40. Aaron’s side is empty, the sheets cooled, but she can hear the steady pulse of the shower, see the steam curling out from under the door. The cloying pull of sleep is too consuming, the glass of water all but forgotten as Emily groans. The notion of having to get up in less than a half an hour is making her stomach roil in protest.

Instead, she burrows herself deeper into the blankets, wishing somehow this day would somehow restart itself. Her eyelids are too heavy to stay open, even though the looming reality of her alarm hovers over her, along with the daunting challenge of making it through the day. Emily remembers the stack of unfinished case reports left on her desk from yesterday, abandoned in the wake of remembering Ava’s ballet class just a few minutes too late to be early for once. That’s about the time the headache started, subtle enough to temporarily ignore as their daughter happily chattered away in the backseat, little legs kicking against the leather upholstered seat - a story about unicorns and fairies, one Emily could probably retell herself she’s heard it so many times. If only she knew then.

The next thing she’s aware of is Aaron bending down to kiss her awake, fresh from the shower and half dressed in an undershirt, his skin still damp as he murmurs good morning . The whiff of eucalyptus soap and his mouthwash only makes her dizzy as she all but pushes her husband away from her with an ill attempted protest against his affection. “Five more minutes,” she croaks. “S’tired.”

“Sweetheart?” Aaron questions even though he doesn’t have to. He’s no stranger to her indifference to early mornings, the way her arms wind around his neck to pull him close most days when he wakes her with the same kisses, the same sweet nothings in her ear. On the rare occasion when they have more time, he ends up back in bed with her, making the most of a few precious moments. Those mornings are his favorites - the ones where he gets to press her into the mattress, get her leg over his shoulder, seal his mouth against hers to muffle the moans he hasn’t grown tired of hearing even years after he first heard them. But this is different. He figures it out immediately, knuckles brushing against her flaming cheek, skin clammy under his touch.

“Hmmph?” Emily shrugs out from under his touch, the cool hand on her burning forehead a reminder of just how awful she feels. “Five more minutes and I’ll get up.”

Aaron laughs softly, already reaching for his phone on the dresser. “Not a chance.”

“I’ll be fine in a half hour.” It’s a futile attempt; Aaron knows her better than she knows herself by now. Emily doesn’t get sick often, maybe once every few years. But when she does, it hits hard and fast, rendering her inherently useless for a day or two, and they’re all a little thrown off kilter without her. Even though her eyes are closed she can practically see him making arrangements - school dropoff and pickup, soccer practice for Jack, ice skating lessons for Ava. It’s also a Wednesday, the one day a week he spends mostly in meetings as unit chief. It’s the day she picks up more slack around the house, handles the after school activities in addition to her own professional responsibilities. It’s a routine they’ve perfected through trial and error over time.

“You weren’t yourself last night,” he sinks down beside her, his weight dipping the mattress down as he pushes some hair from her face. “You barely touched your dinner. You fell asleep with the light on,” he adds pointedly, pressing his lips to his wife’s forehead for confirmation. “And you definitely have a fever.”

“Do not,” she argues. It’s becoming harder and harder to challenge him, a battle she knows she’ll ultimately lose. There’s no way he’ll let her out the door let alone into the BAU at this point. Despite the sweat that trickles down her back, her teeth chatter together.

Aaron wraps her into his arms, aware of how she melds against his chest as she seeks the warm comfort of his body. “Do too.” His tone is light, which only manages to frustrate her more. “And you’re staying home today. Don’t even try to argue with me.”

Emily attempts to pull away from his embrace. “I have a meeting too, you know. Jack has practice and Ava -”

“Has ice skating. I know, Sweetheart.” Aaron gently pushes her back down, tucking the blankets around her. “I know their schedule. And yours. We’ll manage.” But he’s already reaching for his phone, dialing a number he knows by heart.

“Who are you calling?” She asks weakly, succumbing to his insistence. The sky has lightened to a shade of dark blue instead of inky black, the first traces of the winter morning starting to peek through the curtains.

“I’m texting Garcia. If she can take Ava this afternoon, I can get Jack to soccer after my last meeting.”

Emily grumbles while he taps out a message as she runs through her day ahead. There are her own meetings, of course, a slew of chores around the house waiting when she gets home, all the little things that accumulate during the week without fail, over and over. Aaron can almost read her mind as he gets dressed, disappearing into the depths of their closet to pluck a suit from the rack on his side. “Things won’t implode without you, Em. We can survive one day.”

From her place in bed, Emily watches him dress, securing the sleeves of his dress shirt, the jacket stretching across his broad shoulders over the crisp fabric of his shirt. Some days, she can’t believe they’ve come this far. Seven years of marriage has brought its fair share of ups and downs, most recently an ill-timed miscarriage in the days before Christmas. She hadn’t been too far along - ten weeks - but December 23rd was spent at her doctor, Aaron’s hand wrapped around hers as the news was broken, their eyes glued to the ultrasound screen. They hadn’t been trying at all. It was a surprise neither of them expected, which only seemed to worsen the blow when it abruptly ended. Emily had been the picture of composed, smiling through her grief on Christmas Eve, distracted by Ava and Jack’s excitement, the endless mountain of gifts to smuggle from their closet under the tree, only to spend the early hours of Christmas morning crying in his arms until he rocked her to sleep. She closes her eyes, wills herself not to think of it. It’s still a little too soon.

When he’s fully dressed, traces of cologne lingering in the air, Aaron gathers a box of tissues and fills a glass of water, setting both down next to Emily. “I’ll bring you some toast before I leave. You need to eat something.”

“You need to wake -”

“I’m already -”

“Mommy?” The voice outside the door tells them at least one more Hotchner is already awake. Aaron drops a quick kiss on Emily’s head, frowning when he notes how warm she is. He makes a mental note to bring some ibuprofen with the toast and opens the door just a crack to find their daughter on the other side, fully dressed, not a hair out of place.

“Where’s Mommy?” He’s met with the round, concerned eyes that belong to Ava. Even at six, she could be Emily’s clone, with sleek dark locks and the same pale skin. Ava is precocious, sharp as a tack yet sensitive, hesitant to trust but loyal to a fault. Her arrival in the world had been dramatic, at one point downright terrifying for a few minutes, shoulder dystocia to blame. Aaron had turned ghostly pale as the doctors rattled off medical jargon he’d only ever seen dramatized on primetime television. Yet it was that same efficiency and urgency that ultimately brought their daughter safely into the world a short time later. The moment she was placed in his hands, Aaron was completely smitten, his world forever changed.

“Mommy isn’t feeling well, Ava.” Aaron explains with an abundance of patience, his tone soft and reassuring. In the days after Christmas, following the miscarriage, Ava had been confused when Aaron took Emily’s usual place at the new, massive dollhouse from Santa, doing his best to display the same enthusiasm his wife so effortlessly showed. He’d uttered the same words - Mommy isn't feeling well - when she protested, complaining about his doll handling skills and seeming inability to make their hair look half as good as Emily did. Even though his placations  held an entirely different meaning then, Ava questioned him relentlessly. Telling a version of the truth had been harder than he anticipated, for more reasons that one.

“Is Mommy okay?” Ava asks, persistent as ever.

“She’s fine, honey. Just the flu. Remember when you had it in Kindergarten? You got to stay home while Jack went to school. Mommy and I took turns staying home with you? You got to eat popsicles in bed and watch TV during the day?”

Ava nods, not fully convinced as she tries to poke her head further into their bedroom. “I guess.”

“That’s what Mommy has, honey. Grown-ups get sick too. So Daddy is going to drive you to school. Aunt Penelope is going to take you to ice skating lessons this afternoon.”

Ava squeals with delight at the mention of Garcia, clapping her tiny hands together, only to have the expression melt off her face seconds later. Then she frowns. “But Daddy,” she whispers slowly, her resemblance to Emily and similar mannerisms uncanny, as if profiling him even at the tender age of six. “You don’t know the Good Morning song.”

Aaron checks his watch and pinches the bridge of his nose as he peers into the hallway. Jack’s bedroom door is still firmly closed, indicating his son is most likely still sound asleep. Waking him is the next battle, one of his least favorite tasks as of late. “What song, Ava?” He sighs, not missing the fleeting touch of amusement that crosses Emily’s face from across the room, the softest of laughs. Even in her current state, pale and tired, clearly more than under the weather, Aaron thinks she’s stunning.

“Mommy and I always sing the Good Morning song on the way to school.” Ava folds her arms across her chest, tapping her foot against the floor. “If you don’t know the words -” Her dark eyes double in size, widening impossibly as she stubs her toe with disappointment. “How can you drive me to school?”

“Honey -”

“Mommy knows all the words.”

“Ava - “

“Daddy.” She challenges, sticking her lower lip out in a whiny pout. Aaron knows what’s ahead. Even though Ava has him completely wrapped around her tiny finger, their daughter absolutely adores her mother, never missing an opportunity to steal a few quiet moments together. He often finds Ava curled in Emily’s lap, listening to a story, or playing dress up with some of Emily’s old clothes. Aaron has caught a few misplaced tubes of lipstick hidden in her dress-up box, ones Emily thought she lost long ago. He’s seen the pictures she draws, the way Ava always draws Emily next to her in each one. It tugs on every single one of his heartstrings, every single time.

“Mommy will teach me,” he assures her, crouching down to her level, bringing her to lean on his knee. “Daddy will do his best to know all the words before I take you to school.” He ruffles Ava’s hair as she beams, seemingly appeased by his effort. “Can you be my special helper this morning and wake Jack for me?”

Her face brightens instantly, a mischievous grin spreading across her face at the thought of what she’s being asked to do - something that, most of the time, she’s actively told not to do. “Okay!”

Aaron grimaces slightly as Ava skips off down the hall. There’s a finite window of time until he’s left to deal with Jack’s morning moodiness, exacerbated by his sister’s surprise wakeup call. But it’s worth the few extra minutes he’ll get to spend with his wife. Emily is now fully awake, looking even more miserable than she had moments before.

“You’re on your own for the good morning song,” she rasps sarcastically. Her voice is hoarse, even as she tries to smile. “Couldn’t sing it for you if I tried.”

“I think I’m going to take her for donuts. Those strawberry frosted ones she loves?” He slips back in bed beside Emily, pulling her into his arms once again. “Distraction at its finest.”

“The ones I love,” Emily reminds him, swiping her thumb across his cheek. “Good luck.”

“Right. Hopefully she’ll forget all about it.” Then he remembers just who he’s talking about - a miniature version of the woman he somehow got lucky enough to call his wife, instantly realizing how wrong he is. He’s a goner; he won’t hear the end of this for days.

“I doubt it. But you can give it a try.” Emily snuggles into his chest, savoring their final few minutes of peace.

…

Winter sun streams through the windows, casting the bedroom in a mix of shadows and blinding light.

She isn’t sure how much time has passed - an hour could easily be three, maybe five. Sleep has consumed her, on and off all morning. Yet she’s uncomfortable, alternating between throwing the covers off and disappearing into them, unable to seek enough warmth as she reaches for one more blanket. Everything still hurts, and topped off by a congestion that settles deep in her lungs, rattles her chest with every cough. She almost feels worse now than she did earlier, if that’s even possible.

The house is quiet, so she hears the subtle rumbling of the garage opening, the soft creak of the door leading into the house. Emily smiles to herself - she’d recognize his footsteps anywhere as he makes his way through the living room. He’s undoubtedly picking up wayward shoes and toys along the way, most likely grumbling about the clutter. He’d never admit it (even if she knows it to be true) but it’s one of his favorite tasks. The mess is a reminder of what they’ve built over time, that sometimes things work out just as they were meant to. Even if it means their house will never be spotless.

She pries one eye open as he shoulders through the bedroom door, slipping his suit jacket off to drape over a chair. “You could have stayed at work.” Emily isn’t surprised at all. She knows him sell enough by now.

“I know.” And while Aaron is fully aware of that, there was never a chance he wasn’t going to come home to tend to her. He stayed at the BAU long enough to get things squared away, arranging plans for the kids, and delegating tasks as needed before making a hasty exit. And now, only a few hours later, he’s back. He checks her forehead, refreshes the glass of water on the nightstand and tosses some tissues into the trash. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Emily shifts to make room beside her. “Worse than before, if that’s possible.” She sighs a little when he wraps her into his embrace. Her head falls against his chest on its own accord. “Ava and Jack?”

“Garcia is taking Ava to ice skating. She’s taking her out for ice cream afterward.” He gets a hand in her hair, rocks her back and forth a little bit until she relaxes fully against him. Almost.

“What about dinner?” Emily mumbles, stifling a cough into her fist. It rattles within her chest, reverberating through her ribs. “She needs real dinner, Aaron.”

“I think she’ll live without vegetables for one night, Emily.”

She’s too tired to argue. “Jack?”

“Dave offered to take him to soccer,” Aaron says, patting her back through the last of the coughing fit and grappling for the water glass on the table. “It’s all taken care of.” His hands are soothing, gentle and strong against the sore, stiff muscles. “You sound terrible.”

Emily pointedly ignores him. “What about you?”

“I cleared my schedule for the rest of the day. Tomorrow too,” he adds with a wink, taking her hands in his own when she starts to object. “I’m making it my mission to get you better.” He shows her the package of popsicles he’d stopped for on the way home, tosses the bag away to the floor. “And I got some of these. Just for you.”

The soft laughter that comes from her is accompanied by yet another hacking cough. It’s the little things he does that are the most thoughtful - a pit stop to the grocery store in the middle of a work day is just one example. “Sounds like you have quite the job ahead of you.” But she’s eyeing the popsicles - it’s the first thing that’s sounded appealing all morning.

“You’re not an easy patient,” Aaron chides as he hands her a cherry flavored one, taking a lemon flavored for himself. “One of the worst I’ve ever dealt with, actually.” He flicks her nose lovingly.

“Is that so?” The cool chill of the frozen ice against her lips and throat is a temporary relief, a moment of reprieve. She doesn’t even notice when a little piece of it breaks off to leave a tiny red stain on the sheets. “You’re no picnic yourself, you know.”

It’s his turn to laugh, because she’s right. He’s just as stubborn, the art of rest and healing lost on them both. “I feel called out.”

“It’s because I’m right,” she quips. And she is.

Emily sleeps fitfully in his arms, only waking up once as the sun sets over the trees in the distance. When her eyes drift open, he has the television remote in one hand, the other anchoring her across his chest. “What time is it?” She mumbles, blinking furiously as her eyes adjust to the dim light.

“Close to five.” He kisses her, rocks her a little to wake her up. “You’ve been sleeping for hours.” Aaron sounds almost pleased that she finally got some solid rest. “I’m going to make you some soup. And don’t tell me I don’t have to.” He untangles himself from her, somehow without disturbing her comfort within their bed. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

His fingers brush across her cheek; she’s not as hot to the touch this time. Emily leans into his hand, curling her fingers around his wrist.

“Thank you for coming home.” She hardly sounds any better, certainly doesn’t feel it either. But having him there somehow makes it slightly more bearable, an unexpected silver lining to all of this. And the reverence in his eyes, the same one she sees every time he looks at her, confirms the fact that he’d do it without question. Another example of the unconditional love he’d promised years before when they exchanged vows in Dave’s backyard.

“There’s nowhere else I should be, Sweetheart.”

Four days later, Aaron wakes up with the same aching muscles and raw throat, barely able to keep his eyes open as a new week awaits them. Emily is only more than happy to return his favor.

[caterpellas]

munich nights • harry styles

summary: touring inseparably as best friends and musicians, yours and harry’s relationship takes a cruel turn in munich.

warnings: smut (oral m recieving) 

genre: bestfriend!harry, friends to lovers(?), angst, smut

pt 1/? (two is here)         word count: 4k

a/n: this is my first time writing in like a year so some feedback would be amazing, pls be kind and show some love to my crumby attempt lol

chapter playlist :D

harry.

he was sort of your anchor. unspoken, of course, that he had taken such a high profile role in your life. he didn’t need to know, to know. you were certain it worked in reverse, that you grounded him just like he did for you.

you’re not sure of the timestamp on the beginning of your friendship, sometime 3 years ago after mindlessly chatting in a shoreditch bar, at the sort of venue you were both cackling over after a couple of overpriced gin and tonics.

“i’m not sure why i came here, it really isn’t my scene,” you said after calming your laughter down.

“me neither. i’m not all that into £18 cocktails made with organic fruit juice,” he jested back, although you felt a hint of sadness in the next, “it makes me miss home.”

after that you clicked instantly.

you both bonded over being musicians; your styles contrasted entirely though. his band, who you met a few occasions later, were the antithesis to yours. mitch and sarah looked and sounded like they were fresh from a 70’s pop rock band, whilst your bassist and drummer, both twins, had buzzed heads and black dr martens on 24/7. the differences between you and him didn’t matter in the slightest. which is why, after 18 months of building the strongest friendship you’d had in your life, he asked you and your band to come on tour with him.

touring with your best friend and now biggest fan was the single greatest experience of your life. you would admit to the apprehension you first felt about opening for harry as your music wasn’t exactly in keeping with his genre- you were a little grungier then his soft style. i suppose the opposites between you is what enhanced everything about your relationship, musically and personally. in articles harry was always praised for his effeminate fashion choices, and since gaining some recognition as his opener, the articles were now mentioning how you dressed too, hyping up your more boyish, ‘can’t be bothered’ clothing taste you’d developed over your years in the band. your shoes were always chunky and platform, your top or bottoms usually oversized and always with the same thick chain around your neck. to some, your style seemed intimidating but it couldn’t be further from the truth. harry knew that best of all.

3 months into the tour now, you had made it to munich for the 1st night of your european portion of the tour. you and harry were sat next to one another on the plane, sharing an earpod each, playing music from your playlist titled “h”. you hadn’t been able to sleep on the overnight flight, after reading a particularly disturbing article about harry’s recent paparazzi shots. “harry styles’ player ways making a comeback?” it read, and pictured him with a couple models you’d met in new york together after going out for the night. you couldn’t place why but the article made you feel sick. you put it down to seeing such a close friend’s name slandered in the press, and you hoped he hadn’t read it yet. harry was often disheartened after reading the gossip people like to spread about him, occasionally involving you as well.

“you seem very deep in thought.” harry’s morning voice could be heard over the sound of steely dan in your ears. turning to him, one of his eye’s peering at you, you reply, “not really- just thinking about the set list.”

“you need to switch off your work brain sometimes,” he grins up at you, “have a little more fun! munich will be great, lots of beer to try.”

“of course that’s what you look forward to most. you know munich is filled with some beautiful architecture and history right?”

“that’s great and all, but you know what else they have?” harry questions you and you shake your head.

“oktoberfest.”

-

you arrived at your airbnb not long after- harry’s band and yours all preferred staying in a large house or apartment then some posh hotel that didn’t feel quite as welcoming. harry’s manager picked the place out, opting for a villa that sleeps 10 people, filled to the brim with oak panelling and a big fire place in the centre of the room. there was a hot tub outside that would probably never be used in your short stay there. the kitchen had a large island in the middle and a big aga keeping the place warm in the late september weather. his manager really outdid herself this time.

“this is place is so beautiful,” you still weren’t over all of the beautiful places this tour had taken you, the short time you’d been travelling had been a sensory overload.

“you’ll really like munich, y/n,” harry said yawning, grabbing both your shoulders from behind. his touch took your mind back to the article.

“harry,” you started, reluctantly turning to face him, “i know it’s none of my business who you, you know- fuck, but i was just wondering what happened with those models after i left?” harry’s calm expression never faltered as he answered, “me and camila kissed in the taxi but then i went back to the hotel. why?” you didn’t have the strength to answer honestly, and tell him it was because the thought of him having a threesome with two supermodels made you physically wretch, but you felt an obligation to give him a somewhat truthful answer.

“i saw an article about it, the paps caught a glimpse of it,” you white-lied. if you were going to be honest with yourself, the reason him with people like camila and gina bothered you so much is because of the way you compared yourself to them. you were overall confident, you were proud of your style and “gives no fucks” attitude you’d built up over the years, but these were literal models. women who were paid, like paid a lot, because they were beautiful. harry’s dating history has had a lot of women you could never measure up to be as good as and that was a real confidence breaker.

“well anyway, are you ready for tonight’s show? we were thinking it would be cool if you guys came on with us and...”

-

harry, as per usual, performed with all of his heart and soul and yet again amazed you. he had been doing this for three months, playing at least three shows a week and his energy levels were still unmatchable. you were back in your dressing room, taking off your stage clothes and putting on an almost identical outfit, wiping the sweat off your brow and upper lip. the monitor in your room played harry’s set, and you had to find any way you could to distract yourself from his performance before you ended up fantasising about the way his sweaty curls cling to his neck and how you wished he was sweating like that just for you, for an entirely different reason.

“thank you so much munich!” you hear harry’s accent through the small tv, and look up to see him panting and grinning, before running off stage. you had no idea why, but tonight there was a small amount of nervousness about you. since reading the article, you’ve had to address the gnawing idea that you could possibly have feelings for harry that were more than just your deep set friendship. would you act differently about the man you loved more than anyone in this world? you didn’t want things to change- they were perfect with him. he’d jest with you when you became too much of a perfectionist about your latest song, telling you to stop thinking so hard or you’ll have an aneurysm. if people commented on his style or yours, he’d laugh it off and tell everyone he’s “the woman in the relationship” sarcastically, and you’d be in awe at how he essentially said a huge “fuck you” to gender norms. he made you comfortable being you and you coveted his ability to be so happy being him. the thought of this bond being broken frightened you to your core. the knock at your door was a good signal for your thoughts to end.

“you coming y/n?” the group of you were all headed to a german beer bar, since harry was so eager to try the world famous pilsner. finding a large lounge space with sofas inside the bar, you all sat and ordered a round, celebrating a good night’s work.

“to the first night in europe,” you toasted, “cheers!” all your glasses clinked together and the nervous feeling started to fade finally. sat next to harry, you discussed the tour so far, he told a story about being in one direction and it reminded you of a hilarious story from when you were 15, when you used to listen to emo music and swore how much you hated one direction, and they all laughed at the irony. if you had told your 15 year old self this was where you’d be at 21, you’d have snorted and laughed till you cried. but life works out in strange ways and you wouldn’t change it for a second. a few drinks in and any of those nervous feelings about what harry was to you had evaporated like alcohol till you eventually had to remind yourself that whilst your hand was on harry’s knee, it meant nothing. and the way he leans forward to you as he laughed at your not-so-funny joke. but those reminders were getting weaker the more his touch started to linger after he went to go and grab his pint the same time you did.

“we really must stop meeting like this,” he jokes as your hand rubs against his for the 50th time that might and you laugh at him because your afraid if you don’t play it off as a joke you’ll lean over and kiss him. you find yourself in need of a distraction from his low buttoned shirt and endless black ink drawn across his chest that you can see in high definition when your this close to him.

“i’m going to get another round,” you exclaim dramatically, telling yourself more than the rest of the group. making your way over to the bar, you can feel harry’s vision bearing into your back as you lean against the counter to get service.

“another round of pilsners on the table’s tab please,” you ask as soberly as you can. you’re not off your face yet, but the alcohol is definitely present, surrounding the corners of your vision.

“i’d rather by you a drink.” a slightly german accent crowds your ears and you look over to see a man, not all that different to some of the guys in harry’s band, smirking at you.

nervous, you reply, “no you don’t need to do that we have a tab here.”

“i insist.” afraid to be impolite you quietly thank him, and turn back to the bar. you can’t even think of chatting to guy at a bar whilst the man you love is sat so close by. even though it’s not returned, the pain of giving him up to flirt with a stranger is too much to bare.

“so what brings you to a local’s bar like this one?”

“me and my friends are working here for the night.”

“just here for the night? such a shame,” his smile, although attempting to seem unthreatening, is making you uncomfortable. the bartender seems to be taking forever with your order.

“i’m staying in a hotel a few minutes away, come and join me and their bar for a real drink?” your heart was pounding. you rarely got hit on so you were a little out of practice on how to deal with persistent assholes like these ones.

“i can show you how the germans like to do it.” that was it- he’d gone too far and you were so embarrassed by this point you were too humiliated to even reply to him. your neck was getting hotter and you could feel your cheeks reddening.

“you okay?” harry’s voice took you out of your panic-stricken state, “you were taking a while.”

turning to harry and preparing to tell him how this man won’t get the message, the german creep pipes up, “she’s fine mate. we were just discussing a date.”

“listen mate, i suggest you back off. alright?” harry grabbed your hand, tightly, and guided you out of the bar.

“harry where are we going?” you could barely comprehend what had happened in the last five minutes to even realise he was hailing a taxi.

“back to the house. i’ll text the others.”

“harry i’m fine honestly it’s no-“

“who said i was fine? i wanted to leave and i thought maybe you did too.” he was angry, which wasn’t something you saw in harry often. he was a happy guy, and optimistic about most things in life.

“is this because of that guy?”

“of course it is y/n.”

“i’m sorry i didn’t realise he’d be an assho-“

“why’re you apologising?”

this shut you up. you didn’t know why. this wasn’t the first time a guy had been slightly predatory towards you and you doubted it would be the last. after the first couple times your in situations like this you tend to see yourself as the problem and not the guys doing it.

“i don’t know, harry.” you climbed into the cab together and harry gave them the address, seeming somewhat cooled off from earlier. your head was buzzing from the alcohol and the fact that harry had essentially rescued you from what could have been a scary situation.

“harry?”

“yeah, y/n?”

“why did you kiss camila?” alcohol had made you more outspoken and you asked the question that had been driving your nervous energy all night.

“why are you asking?”

a little more honestly then last time, you answered, “i’m just curious.” harry shifted in his chair, slightly unnerved by the question. his whole demeanour had shifted entirely from earlier. he was close and warm with you, the friend you’d become addicted to being with. now he was closed off and moody- a rare sight for anyone who knew him well. you could have picked a better time to ask the question, of course, but you had to know. you had other questions too, like why he was so angry right now, and why did he care that i was chatting with a guy at the bar, even if he was a creep.

“because she wanted to kiss me and i wanted to kiss her. the same reason most humans kiss,” there was a slight element of humour back in his voice now.

“and that was it?”

“yep.”

“hmm.” you tried to ponder this, but your attention span was limited when you were this inebriated. your thought process had quickly moved from harry’s sex life to harry in general and his outfit of the evening- a personal favourite. he’d worn white cream trousers with a vest top and an unbuttoned short sleeve shirt, along with the necklace you’d given him last christmas. you could see his two swallows peaking from the straps of his wife beater and your mind wandered to the thought of having your mouth against them. against all his tattoos, individually placing a kiss on each and everyone that you had grown to fall in love with.

you remembered the memory of harry coming with you to get your largest tattoo,  a greek statue on your upper arm.

“harry you know this isn’t the first one i’ve gotten?” you laugh at how hard he was clutching your hand in the chair next to your seat.

“i know but i’m so excited for you. i want you to know i’ll be sat here the whole time to hold your hand,” he squeezes your hand to emphasise his point.

“harry i’m getting another tattoo not going into life-altering surgery.”

but inside, you were squealing at his words.

“y/n?”

harry’s less chipper current voice took you out of your memory and back to the cab in munich.

“you’ve been staring at my chest for a couple minutes,” his brows were furrowed as he studied your face.

“i want to lick it.” if someone had asked you why you answered with that, you genuinely couldn’t give them a good answer. alcohol didn’t do much to you, except allow you to have fun, and lose any sense of a filter. now was a perfect example of the effects. harry’s eyes widened at your candour- and so did yours. his calm expression only faltered for a few seconds though, before it returned to his neutral, warm face.

“what else?”

“i-uh- what?”

“what else were you thinking about?” your heart was beating so loudly you were sure harry could feel it across in his seat. why was harry asking this? you didn’t want him to know about your thoughts- they were far too embarrassing and far too private.

“i was thinking about all your tattoos,” you confessed.

“i was thinking about yours too.” you thought about all of your tattoos and remembered the dog rose you had on the back of your thigh, as well as the koi carp on your hip bone.

“which ones?”

“the flowers and the fish.” you gulped, knowing he was thinking of your most risqué tattoos.

harry, unusually, was completely serious as he said, “i thought about licking yours too.” you didn’t know where you stood with harry now. you were sat in a taxi, having the conversation with him that you thought would never happen. he wants you the same way you want him. he may not want you the same way a nagging voice told you. he could just be looking for an easy fuck, and you thought to yourself that even if that was all he wanted, you’d still give yourself to him.

“harry-“

“maybe we shouldn’t talk anymore, yeah?” you felt like you could cry- how could he not want to talk, and you were on tour together? this was the most gut wrenching feeling to have him tell you not to talk anymore. harry studied your face as you lip began to quiver, “jesus y/n i meant about the current conversation. of course i want to keep talking to you, i love you- you know, like a friend.”

“like a friend?” you couldn’t ever begin to describe how your heart felt like it fell to the pit of your stomach whilst the acid slowly burnt it away. friends is it. harry isn’t yours to have and he never will be, he just had to remind you in words of this.

“well we’re both a little drunk and clearly turned on- maybe just this once it could be more than friends? just for tonight, i mean?” harry’s clear green eyes didn’t stop looking into yours, and he seemed, i’m not sure, hopeful? as if on cue, the taxi took you back to your villa which was warmly lit from inside and you felt a nervous excitement crawl up your arms and legs at what could possibly come next. harry gave the driver the cash and you dashed quickly to the door of the house, the cool september air cutting through you both dressed inappropriately for the time of year. it dawned on you that your outfit- a big vintage men’s shirt with your oldest and favourite pair of dr martens with sheer tights- wasn’t the wisest choice. harry fumbled with unlocking the door and opened it to find the fire lit and the lights dimmed. it was more romantic than either of you would ever mention out loud but it felt like the house was routing for you. you weren’t sure where harry wanted this to go next, the air beginning to stiffen and feel awkward.

turning to face him, you started, “harry i-“ his lips met yours in an instance and any of the awkwardness left in the room had been dissolved by harry’s soft kiss. he tasted good, despite the beer you’d both been drinking and had you not been intoxicated by the pilsner and harry’s gentle touch, you’d probably care about things like breath. harry grabbed you by the shoulders, much like he did earlier that same day, and guided you into the room further, finding the large sofa and pushing you onto it. falling back, you glanced up at his towering figure. harry was already tall, but his powerful presence added a less literal height to him, and his shadow looked over you. you couldn’t help but stare at him as he shrugged his shirt off his shoulders, exposing some of your favourite tattoos of his. you got to your knees so that you were closer to his body and you finally relaxed in his presence, touching all the places you’d dreamed about. your hands raked up his torso to his chest and his head leant down to kiss you again. his lips were perfect and seemed made to be against yours so tightly, and made for the crook of your neck as well as they kissed and sucked there too. the fire in the corner of your eyes illuminated the small amount of gold in harry’s hair and he looked as angelic as he always did in your dreams.

“am i better than him?” harry murmured against your neck. the question caught you off guard. he’d only known one other person you’d had a sexual relationship with since you two became friends and that was a sound tech from one of his old touring groups that you had a small fling with. him and harry never got along and harry even accused him of purposely messing his sound up during a performance once. harry has walked in on you giving him head in your dressing room once and it was incredibly awkward but you both moved past it.

“who are you talking about?”

“you know, that arsehole sound tech from the american tour. do i kiss you better than him?” you could hear the layers to his voice- he was asking with a confidence that you felt straight in your core, but there was another layer to it- insecurity.

“god yes,” you gushed, he had to at least know how he physically made you feel even if you can’t admit your feelings, “you kiss far better then he ever could.”

an idea came into your head at this, “in fact, i bet you’ll feel better in my mouth then he did.” harry jaw slacks slightly and you give him a shy smile. talking like this wasn’t something you ever tried when you were having sex, but harry made you want to be honest. it was the closest you could get to confessing your love to him, and you’d take what you could get from harry right now. stunned into silence, you continue to undress harry, removing his vest to expose his lean stomach and small trail of hair from his belly button, that you kissed all the way down. he let out a sharp breath as soon as you got to the top of his pubic bone, and you finally noticed just how hard harry already was. with a little fascination, you dared to take it to the next level and cupped his length through his trousers, causing harry to groan at the contact. he felt big in your small hand, you couldn’t wait to reveal him, impatiently struggling with his zipper.

“woah, y/n, slow down,” harry puts a finger under your chin and you look up under your lash at him, knelt below him. his smile is a classic harry smile and for a brief second this feels like more than a casual fuck.

“you’re still wearing too much clothing.” harry bends slightly to get to the bottom of your shirt and speedily pulls it over your head, revealing your black cotton bralet and tights. harry’s mouth watered at the sight of you in nothing but your underwear and boots, your long hair falling in messy waves around your minimally tattooed arms. your sure your black eyeliner is smudged and your gloss practically jin existent but harry’s eyes make you feel like he wants nothing more then to fuck you.

“that’s much better,” he smiles again at you, and you take that as a good cue to continue on his member. eagerly, your hands go straight back to his flies, rapidly undoing them and letting his loose fit trousers fall from his hips, exposing his form fitted boxers and you get a much better idea of just how big harry’s cock really was. without realising you mumble, “i want you in my mouth so bad,” under your breath.

“fuck say that again.”

looking under your lashes again, you repeat, “i want your cock in my mouth so bad.” harry groans as his eyes roll back, his words almost being enough without your touch. but your hand still went back to his dick, pulling it out from the restraint of his boxers. it was thick and bigger then you had been with before. without missing a beat, your hand pumped him a few times, and his hips reacted instantly. as if beckoning for your lips to surround his cock, his hips thrust towards you again, and you obliged, licking and then parting your wetted lips for the head of his dick. the pre-cum touched your tongue and it urged you to take more of him further, swiping your tongue on the underside as you push more in. harry moans, gripping your scruffy hair in his large hand, and had to restrain from pushing your mouth around his whole length. as your mouth got acquainted with him, you started to move up and down the length, as harry’s moans got higher and louder.

“y/n your mouth is fucking magic.” the praise went straight to your clit and your underwear was dampening at the knowledge of the dirty things your mouth was doing.

“can you- fuck- can you grab my balls?” you responded immediately and cupped them lightly whilst continuing to bob your head on his cock.

“didn’t know you could you use your mouth for such dirty things, y/n. do i fill you better then he did?”his jealousy fuelled you to go even quicker, this time switching up to concentrating on his swollen head, your tongue lapping against it feverishly, whilst your hand pumped the rest of him. the combination of your hand and mouth was enough to drive harry insane.

“you do so good y/n, i’m gonna cum soon okay?” you release him from your mouth, and keep stroking him, eager for him to orgasm. you couldn’t describe the desperation you had to see the way he looked as he climaxed. if you were to die after this, you knew you would die happy, if only to have seen harry in that state of euphoria that only you could bring him to.

“fuck y/n i’m gonna cum,” harry pants, his thighs tensing and his eyes glazing over. you aim him over your chest and feel his load fall all over your breasts, soaking your bralet as he lets out a breathy moan. his breathes are loud and aside from the fire crackling are the only noise filling the space of the living room. you let his now soft cock go and fall back onto the sofa, too tired to think about all of what just happened, the only thought on your mind is of harry’s moans on repeat. your chest is sticky but you’re too exhausted to care. harry has slowly crept over to sit next to you on the sofa, and you’re unspokenly thankful he hasn’t distanced himself afterwards.

“i need to clean you up.” harry disappears as quickly as he arrived and comes back with a warm flannel. wiping your chest, you watch his face as his brows furrow delicately on his forehead and his mouth is slightly crooked in concentration. you loved every single portion of his face, and suddenly it meant something different. you had seen his face at it’s most real and vulnerable and you had that memory forever.

unfortunately moments like the one you and harry had finally shared don’t last forever, and once harry’s done wiping your  breasts off, he leaves a kiss on your forehead, grabs his clothes and leaves you on the sofa.

[rosiehunterwolf]

Face the Music

Prompts: Karaoke

Word Count: 5,572

Characters: Cole, Kai, and Jay

Timeline: Between seasons 9 and 10

Trigger Warnings: Brief Mentions of Toxic Parent and Eating Disorder

Summary: If you ask Cole, there are some things in life better left forgotten. Especially embarrassing experiences that you would prefer not to talk about. They certainly shouldn’t be used as blackmail or as entertainment for others, and everyone should just learn to move on. Although maybe his friends aren’t the only ones that need to move on. 

Link to read on Fanfiction.Net:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13904278/1/Face-the-Music

Cole burst onto the deck of the Bounty, swinging the door shut behind him. Zane looked up from the control panel, looking startled. “Cole?”

“Zane!” Cole ran over to him, gasping for breath. “Quick, what’s Kai’s cell phone password?”

Zane pulled back, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“Don’t play coy with me, I know you have the passwords for everything programmed into your database! Now hurry, what is it!”

“I never denied that I did, but why would I tell you? That’s confidential information.” Glancing down at the cell phone, he asked, “Does Kai know you have his phone, Cole?”

“Uh… yeah, if it helps you sleep at night.”

Zane crossed his arms. “Cole…”

“Come on, Zane, help a friend out! It’s important!” “Cole, that is not my secret to tell. Unless it is an emergency, you don’t need to know.”

“But it is an emergency!”

“Oh really? Who’s in danger?”

“My pride,” he snapped. “C’mon, Zane, please, what do you want? I’ll do your dishes for a month! Or- or, uh, take patrol duties for the next three weeks. Hey, hey, what about cooking, you like that, right? I’ll buy you some new appliances!”

“Cole, you cannot bribe me-”

“Hey guuuuys,” Kai larked, popping his head through the door and sliding over to Cole. Before he could even react, the master of fire was plucking the phone out of his hands. “I’ll take that, thanks.”

“Give it back!”

“It’s my phone!”

“I didn’t give you permission to take that video!”

Kai batted his eyes innocently. “What video?”

Cole lunged for him. “I will kill you, spike head-”

“Gotta catch me first,” Kai shrilled, neatly ducking his arm and dashing back belowdeck, laughing maniacally.

“Thanks a lot, Zane. Who knows what he’ll do with that now?”

“I don’t understand. What is going on?”

Cole sighed slowly. “He’s got… a video. I need it to be deleted.”

“What kind of video?”

“Seriously Zane? Can’t you take a hint? I obviously don’t want to tell you.”

Zane just stared at him expectantly.

Cole rubbed his face in his hands. I can’t believe I’m doing this. “He still has the video from… from Laughy’s. With the Sons of Garmadon.”

Zane is smiling now, crossing his arms. “I don’t know why you are embarrassed to tell me, Cole. I was there, remember? I saw you sing-”

“Okay, okay, Zane, I get it! Just stop talking about it!”

“I don’t see why talking about it would be an issue-”

Cole lunged forward, pressing a hand over his mouth. “You don’t understand,” he hissed under his breath. “They’re everywhere. They’re obsessed with that video, and they’ve been dangling it over my head ever since we returned from the First Realm. They’re trying to blackmail me!”

“They?”

“Oh yeah, it’s not just Kai- Jay’s in on it too, the jerk. You think you know who your best friend is.”

“Cole, I think you’re overreacting, what could they possibly do with it? Everyone here already saw you sing, it’s fine.”

“You really think Lloyd, Nya and Pix have spared a second thought to think about me after everything they had going on here? I was hoping they had forgotten about it by now, but if Jay and Kai have their way-”

“I’m not going to help you steal Kai’s phone, Cole. If you need me for anything actually important, let me know.”

“This is important,” Cole yelled after him, but Zane was already gone.

Fine, he huffed. If no one is going to help me, I’ll do it myself.

---

“Hey Cole? Kai and Lloyd want me to play Fist-to-Face 3 with them, will you take patrol duty for me tonight?”

“Yeah?” Cole reclined in the kitchen chair, stretching his arms behind his head. “And why would I do that?”

“Oh, I dunno… perhaps because you wouldn’t want a certain… video to accidentally leak…” Jay waggled his phone teasingly in the air.

Cole stood up sharply. “You wouldn’t.”

“I dunno… would I? I guess we’ll find out.”

“Fine, fine, I’m going, I’m going,” Cole grumbled. “Want anything while I’m out?” “We’re almost out of Doritos. And can you get the strawberry Fanta?”

“Are you a heathen? Who drinks the strawberry?”

“It’s not for you,” Jay snapped. “And for your information, it tastes very nice.”

“Whatever. You at least gonna pay me for this, bozo?”

Jay slapped a twenty into his hand. “This is all I got on me. Buy yourself a little somethin’ with the change.”

Cole mock bowed. “Whatever you say, master.”

“Ah, come on, I’m not cruel, come join us when you get back.” As Cole walked out the door, he called after him, “I’ll save you some Bagel Bites!”

Cole rolled his eyes. He didn’t know how he got into situations like this.

He was really starting to hate that stupid video.

---

By the end of the week, which had been filled with similar scenarios, Cole had had it. I’m not going to take this slander anymore! They can’t just push me around like this, I’m the master of earth!

The monastery was buzzing with the chatter of his friends on the hot afternoon. They were all wearing swimsuits, and Lloyd opened the door, leaning out lazily as a wave of hot air wafted into the cool monastery.

“Stop standing there with the door open, nitwit, you’re letting all the hot air in,” Kai snapped, shoving him out the door, nearly sending him to the floor, before Zane caught him by the wrist with his usual lightning reflexes.

“Kai, there is no need to get physical.”

“Can it, Zane, I’m just playing around, right bud?” Kai slung his arm around Lloyd’s shoulder, ruffling his hair.

Lloyd shot him a glare. “Get off of me, you lump, I’m melting here. Are we going swimming or not?”

“Ouch, looks like someone skipped his coffee today. What’s wrong, baby boy, did I hurt your feewings?”

“You wanna get punched? ‘Cause I will not hesitate to punch you.”

“You wanna throw hands with me, bro? I’d prefer not to have a squished pancake as a brother, but if you say so.”

“As soon as I cool down a bit, you are toast.”

“You cool it, mister. Are you forgetting everything amazing I’ve ever done for you?”

“Don’t mind him,” Nya called to Kai, coming over to elbow Lloyd from the other side. “He gets grumpy when he’s hot.”

“I hate you both.”

Zane sighed. “I swear, it’s like the heat is melting their brains.”

Nya shrugged. “They must have like, low heat tolerance or something. Don’t ask me why they always get so loopy like this.”

“Hey, it’s like 100 degrees, don’t blame me if I’m a little uncomfortable!” Lloyd snapped, his words slurring slightly.

“Yeah, bud, even I think you’re starting to get to be a little much now. Come on, let’s get you in the water.”

As the team shuffled out the door, Jay turned back to face him. “Hey, Cole, aren’t you coming swimming with us?”

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute, just give me a sec.”

Jay shrugged, and Cole waited for a moment, until he heard the door click.

Finally! I thought they’d never leave.

Hurrying down the hallway, he popped his head into the bathroom, where Kai and Jay had just thrown their clothes into a pile on the floor when they had changed. Getting on his knees, he dug through it and pulled out Jay’s shorts, extracting his cell from it. Pulling a slip of paper out from his pocket, he quickly typed the numbers in, and…

The phone unlocked.

Cole broke into a grin, praising Jay’s inability to remember passwords and always writing them down somewhere where a very desperate earth ninja could find them.

He opened the camera app and deleted the video.

There. Halfway done.

Kai’s phone wasn’t in his pocket, so he snuck over to his room and found it charging on the nightstand. Biting his lip, he pulled out his phone and glanced at the camera footage he had captured the previous night.

It showed a bird’s eye view of the living room, and Kai was sitting on the couch, watching TV. As he reached for his phone, Cole zoomed in on the device and watched carefully as he typed in the code.

Okay. Cole repeated the same code on Kai’s phone.

Incorrect Passcode.

Cole felt panic flare inside him. What were the chances that Kai had changed his password in the one night since he’d filmed this?

“It didn’t work because I have one of those fingerprint ones, too.”

Cole whips around to see Kai standing in the doorway, Jay hovering behind him. “Jay told me you were lingering, and I just got a feeling, y’know? That you were up to something.”

Cole huffed, tossing him the phone. “Why won’t you just delete it, Kai? This has gone on for long enough.”

“I like the video, Cole. It puts a smile on my face on the… hard days.”

“Oh, spare me the pity card. I know plenty well that you have more than enough other ways to keep yourself entertained.”

“What about Jay?” Kai grabbed the lightning ninja by the shoulders, shaking him gently. “Think of your friend, Cole. He has no sense of entertainment, he needs something to keep him going.”

“Excuse me-”

“Oh please,” Cole snorted. “Stick Jay on Youtube and he’ll be entertained for hours. He gets distracted way too easily.”

“Oh come on, Cole, this is way better than Jay’s stupid cat videos-”

“I do not watch cat videos!”

“Don’t lie to me, zaptrap, you’re lame.”

“Dude, who’s side are you on?”

“Look guys, I don’t have time for this. Just delete the video, and we can be done with this whole thing.”

“No, that’s not how this is going to work. You’re going to go outside with the others, and forget this whole thing ever happened. Otherwise, this little video might end up on the internet.”

“What?” Cole shrieked. “You can’t do that, dude, it’s an invasion of my privacy!”

“Last time I checked, this was a video of Rocky Dangerbuff, not you. Is it you in this video, Cole?”

Cole felt his face heat as he scowled at them, and Kai and Jay burst into laughter.

Kai slapped a hand on his back. “If it makes you feel any better, it wouldn’t have worked anyway. You really think we’re dumb enough to keep the only copies of the video on our phones? You’d be searching for hours to delete all traces of it.”

Cole balked at him. “Seriously? How many copies did you make?”

Jay grinned. “You forgot this wasn’t a solo operation, dirtclod. I’m the tech guy around here. There’s no way you’ll be able to override my programming.”

Cole groaned, putting his face in his hands. “I hate you guys.”

“Hey, that’s what friends are for, right?” Kai laughed. “C’mon, dude, it’s hot, let’s go swim.” Cole reluctantly followed them out the door, grumbling.

“This won’t go on forever, you guys. Sooner or later, I’m gonna find a way to stop you.”

Kai laughed. “We’ll see about that, Cole, we’ll see.”

---

“Are you sure this is really something I wanna be getting involved in?” The nindroid asked, her glowing green eyes scanning the monitor screen.

“It’ll be fine, Pix, I promise. They might be a little annoyed at first, but within a couple days, they’ll have completely moved on to something else to make fun of. All you have to do is get rid of one measly video for me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it that, exactly. Jay went pretty deep with this program. But I think I’ve located the source material.”

“And?” Cole asked, placing his hands on the table and leaning forward. “Does that mean you can delete all the data?”

“Yes. Every known record of it developed into the Bounty’s database will be erased.”

“Do it, quick!”

Pixal turned to the computer again, and Cole held his breath as her fingers flew over the keys for a moment. Then, she pulled back.

“Is it done? Did you do it?”

“Yes. It’s gone.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Cole sighed, slouching against the wall. “I’m so glad that’s finally over. Pix, you’re a lifesaver.”

A small smile played on her lips. “I do what I can.”

“Well, you’ve just saved me a lot of trouble. I owe ya one.”

“We’ll see. Anyways, if we’re done here, I’m going to go help Zane work on those hull repairs to the Bounty.”

“Thanks, Pix.”

When he walked down to the kitchen for dinner that night, for the first time in weeks he didn’t feel a constant dread hanging over his head.

---

The relief didn’t last long.

It was only the evening of the next day when Kai came marching into his room, Jay on his heels. Cole glanced over at them nonchalantly from where he was laying across his bed, reading a Starfarer comic. “Can I help you?”

“You know what you did, stop acting so innocent.”

Cole grinned, stretching. “What can I say, bro, I outplayed you.”

“You could never,” Jay snorted. “You had help!”

“Hey, two against one was never a fair game. Let’s just say I was evening the odds a little bit.”

“Who helped you?” Kai hissed, pointing at him. “Spill, now!” “Sorry fellas, but I’ve sworn to secrecy. You’ll have to find your information elsewhere.”

“It has to be either Nya, Pixal, or Zane,” Jay insisted. “Nya’s the only one with the advanced enough technical skills to be able to override me, and Zane and Pixal are attached to the system, so they can get pretty much anything they want with enough computer skills.”

Kai rolled his eyes. “Great job, sparky, now we've eliminated it down to three out of the four possible suspects. What amazing deduction skills.”

“Hey, I don’t see you doing any better! And it’s actually three out of five. We know it’s not Master Wu, either.”

Both Kai and Cole raised an eyebrow at that.

“Jay, you’re joking. Master Wu. Helped Cole. Delete a blackmail video?”

Cole snorted. “Zaptrap, if Wu ever found out about what was going on, he’d give us a stern lecture, make us meditate for a few hours, then, probably like, stick us on patrol duty for the rest of the night or something.”

“Shut up! Look, it doesn’t matter, alright? If you just tell us who it is, we’ll leave you alone.”

“Fat chance.” Cole got up out of bed and strolled past them, towards the door. “You don’t have anything against me anymore. That blackmail’s not gonna work anymore.”

“Who told you that?”

Cole stopped, turning towards Kai slowly. “What?”

“Who told you we didn’t have access to the video anymore?”

Cole gaped, glancing back and forth between Kai and Jay. “What!? That’s impossible, she-” he bit his lip sharply, cursing himself. “I mean… we deleted all copies of the video. How could you still have it?”

“Aha!” Jay gasped, pointing at him. “Did you hear that? He said she! Which means we’ve narrowed it down to Pixal or Nya!”

Cole ignored him, narrowing his eyes at Kai. “You’re bluffing. You don’t have the video.”

“Oh yeah? Jay, you still have it?”

The blue ninja stuck a hand into his pocket, and, pulling it out, flashed a small blue object between his fingers. Cole looked closer, and felt his stomach drop as he recognized what it was- a flash drive.

“Yep, it’s all in here! Even the most advanced computer codes will do nothing to reach our backup. Looks like you’ve run out of luck again, Cole.”

“Are you kidding me? This is impossible!”

“Come on, Cole- all we want to do is have a little fun with it. Let us keep the video, and we’ll leave you alone.”

“And if I try to get rid of it again?”

“Oh, I dunno, maybe it could find its way… onto social media.”

Cole nearly choked. “Kai! You wouldn’t!”

“Keep your nose out of it, and I won’t! C’mon, Jay, we’re done here.”

Cole flopped back down onto his bed. Social media. Kai couldn’t put the video on the internet. It would be all over the city by morning.

He had said he wouldn’t do it if Cole stopped trying to get rid of the video, but Cole didn’t trust that one bit. Now that the idea was planted in his head, Cole was afraid he could do it at any time.

There was no question about it. He had to destroy that flash drive.

---

Kai and Jay were out on the last evening patrol.

This was the time.

Glancing down the hallway to make sure no one was there, he eased open the door to Kai’s room and slipped inside.

He was fairly certain they would’ve kept the flash drive in Kai’s room, specifically to throw him off after he had seen Jay holding it earlier. Also, Kai’s room, while still a mess, wasn’t as bad as Jay’s, so Cole much preferred to search his, anyways.

But it was still going to be more difficult than he had hoped, he realized with a groan as he glanced around the room.

Kai’s bed had a small stack of comic books and magazines strewn across it, with more on the nightstand and even a few on the floor. His laundry had been mostly shoved into a corner, but a few lone shirts and socks had been left randomly. Most of his stuff appeared to be in bins that had been stuffed under the bed and in the corners, but there appeared to be no order to what was in them, just a hag-tag of random junk, save for one crate in the corner which was full to the brim with various weapons, leaving several of them spilling out just asking for a sliced toe in the morning.

The worst was the dresser, though- there were several hair products lined up, even though Cole knew he already had more than enough in the bathroom, a handful of letters, only a couple of them opened, some more comics, a couple empty cups, and enough earrings and other jewelry to last him a lifetime. Cole never understood why he needed so many. Sure, Kai had a ton of piercings, more than the rest of them combined, but Cole swore he had never seen him even wear half of these. Kai had almost as much jewelry, (or, as he liked to call it, “bling”) as he did hair products, which was really saying something.

Sighing, Cole walked over to search through one of the bins that looked like it may have had the techy stuff in it- or at least, the somewhat mechanical stuff- maybe- or, actually, not really, he had absolutely no idea what kind of system Kai had going on here.

Reaching in, he pulled out a tablet, a flashlight, a spare video game controller, a baseball cap, a worn stuffed dragon, a barrette that he was pretty sure belonged to Skylor- Cole blushed at that one, shoving the box away. These things were Kai’s. There could likely be things in here he didn’t want Cole to see.

He wasn’t trying to snoop, though- all he wanted to do was find the flash drive, and leave.

Turning away, Cole began to sift through another bin. A sword- small and uneven, but fairly solid- this one wrapped away with much more care than the others- had a label scribbled on that read “Kai’s first sword.” A photograph, ripped down the middle, the remaining side with a very young Kai hugging an even younger Nya, and a ripped shawl stained with blood that had never come out-

Cole jumped back. Okay, so maybe there was some sort of order to these boxes. And that one was none of his business. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to look any further, anyway. He didn’t doubt that Kai and Nya had been reserved about their lives before meeting them for a reason.

Cole was beginning to feel guilt weight down on his chest already, cold and heavy. He shouldn’t have seen that. He shouldn’t have seen any of this. He was blatantly disrespecting one of his closest friend’s privacy just to delete some stupid video he was embarrassed about.

I should go.

As he sped towards the door, he tripped over something and fell to the ground with a thump. Turning back, he saw it was a book that he had set aside while pulling things out of the bin, having spilled open after he tripped on it, allowing him to see that it wasn’t a book at all, but a photo album.

It was open to a page where Cole had his arm slung around a very grumpy-looking Kai, ruffling his hair, with Jay and Lloyd bent over laughing in the background. It was followed by a bunch of pictures of Kai with the worst bed hair Cole had ever seen- desperately reaching towards the camera, presumably to strangle whoever was snapping photos. Occasionally, one of the other ninja would pop in, holding him back for the photographer, or posing goofily next to the groggy fire ninja.

Cole felt a grin spread over his face. He remembered that day, when Kai had stayed up so late playing video games that he had forgotten about his hair in the morning- and the whole team had been more than eager to take advantage of the one time the fire ninja wasn’t looking so attractive. Kai had threatened to murder them in their sleep, but he had been laughing through it all, too.

That’s the same thing happening here, Cole realized. I’m being a baby about this. They’re just playing around with me. Like I haven’t done the same to them a thousand times.

Cole neatly closed the book and slid it back into a bin, leaving the room with his heart feeling significantly lighter.

It hadn’t been a moment too soon, either, as when he was walking down the hallway, he passed Kai and Jay returning from patrol.

“Everything okay, Cole?” “I’m fine,” he said quickly, too quickly. Luckily, Jay didn’t seem to notice. Kai raised his eyebrow slightly but didn’t press the issue. “Whatcha’ up to?”

“Just heading to bed.”

“Sweet dreams, little glow worm.”

Jay burst into snickers, and Kai grinned wickedly. Cole put his face in his hands, and brushed past them. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t quite as over this as he thought.

---

The next morning, he was awoken by a knock on his bedroom door. Pulling on a tank top, he opened the door to find Zane standing there.

“What’s up?”

The nindroid had an apologetic look on his face, holding up his cell phone. “Have you checked social media yet?”

“No, why?”

“Kai posted your karaoke video.”

“He what?!” Cole shrieked, ripping the phone out of his hand. There, right under Kai’s grinning profile picture, was the video of him singing at Laughy’s.

“That dumbass,” Cole cried, flopping back onto his bed. “Do you know how bad this is? And it’s not just any old social media account, it’s Kai’s. The guy has like, seven million followers on Ninjagram, and almost as many on Chirp and ChatSnap. This will ruin me.”

“I’m sorry, Cole. I didn’t think he would do this.”

“I didn’t either. He promised he wouldn’t, as long as I didn’t try to delete the data!”

“...Didn’t you, though?”

Cole glowered at him. “Well, maybe, technically, I did, but he didn’t catch me! How would he know?”

“Cole, what kind of ninja headquarters would this be if we didn’t have security cameras?”

“Shit! Why would he be checking that? Oh, I’m never going to forgive him for this.”

“Cole, forgive me, but I think you’re overreacting a little. Sure, it’ll probably get a few laughs, but in a couple hours, everyone will have moved onto the next thing. You’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that! I’m not just like some random cat video, I’m a famous ninja! Pretty much everyone knows about me, they’re going to linger on this for a while, trust me.”

“Cole,” Zane said patiently, amusement sparkling in his voice. “I think you’ll survive. Come have some breakfast, that always makes you feel a little better.”

Cole opened his mouth to argue, but Zane was already walking out of the room, so Cole reluctantly followed.

Cole sat down at the table, glaring down into his lap, as Zane slipped him a plate of waffles. He couldn’t even make it all the way through his meal before Kai and Jay inevitably showed up.

“Hey Cole,” Kai smiled, “wonderful morning, isn’t it?”

“You shut your dumb mouth,” Cole snapped. “I don’t even want to look at you.”

“Woah, someone’s feisty.”

“I saw what you did! I can’t believe you did that.”

“I can’t believe you went through my stuff,” Kai barked back, and, despite himself, Cole felt himself flinch. “I was just upholding my side of the agreement.”

“Hey, Cole,” Jay interjected. “Look on the bright side. You’re practically famous! The video already has five million views!”

“I’m already famous, you moron, which, in this situation, makes it even worse.”

Jay blinked, obviously not expecting the hostility of his response. “Cole, chill, it’s just a-”

“Hey guys!” Cole looked up to see Lloyd, Nya, and Pixal walking in. Lloyd grinned as he caught sight of Cole’s plate. “Aww, Zane, you made waffles? Did you buy-”

“Yes, Lloyd, there is plenty of whip cream.”

“I’m just checking! It wouldn’t be the first time I was a few minutes late and some hogs ate all the whip cream.” He shot a glare at Jay, who shrugged nonchalantly.

“Ya snooze, ya lose, green machine. It’s not my fault you have no sense of timing.”

“I have plenty of sense of timing! I’m just…”

“Easily distracted,” Nya chimed in.

“Am not! You were just as distracted as I was!” “You’re the one who showed it to me just as we were trying to go to breakfast!” “Well, you didn’t have to watch it, you could’ve just walked away!”

“How could I not? That one’s a keeper-”

“What are you two on about?” Kai laughed.

“There’s this video blowing up on the internet-” Pixal began.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Cole groaned. He glared at Kai. “Now look what you’ve done. You’ve gotten them-” he pointed an accusatory finger at Lloyd and Nya- “laughing at it too.”

“More like them and the rest of Ninjago-”

“Seriously? I can’t with you,” Cole fumed, then promptly spun around and stormed off to his bedroom, locking the door. He flopped onto his bed face first and yelled into his pillow.

He had wanted to laugh this whole thing off. He really had. But how was he expected to be chill when it was all over the internet?

Part of him was just angry with himself, though. Why did he let this rile him up so much? Why was he so upset? Zane was right, it was just another random video, wasn’t it?

Why was it the end of the world if people saw him sing?

---

“Back straighter, Cole.”

Cole flinched at the hit before it came, and the man rolled his eyes. “How do you expect to ever perform well if you can’t even have good posture?”

“I’m trying dad, but I’m tired. We’ve been doing this for hours. Can I go have lunch now?”

“It’s not time for that yet, Cole. First, we need to work on this piece more. Now, start again, from measure twenty-one.

He shuffled through the pages of music, and as he began to sing, all he could imagine was that stern face peering down at him, and all of a sudden his voice was coming out wobbly.

“Tone shape, Cole! You need to keep a consistent tone. Don’t let it sound wavery and messy.”

Cole’s stomach growled loudly, and he flinched at the look on his father’s face. “Please, dad, I’ll be able to concentrate more if I’ve eaten.”

“Fifteen minutes,” his father snapped. “Then right back to work.”

Cole remembered running to the kitchen, worried there wouldn’t be enough time, and eating as much food as he could manage. But it had been too much, his father would be angry with him, what was he going to do-

He had thrown most of it up in the bathroom later that night.

“Cole, you need to try harder. Singing and dancing of just “average” quality aren’t going to cut it when you become part of the next generation of the Royal Blacksmiths.”

“But dad, I don’t want to be a Royal Blacksmith. I don’t even like to sing.”

“Nonsense! This is a family legacy, boy! Do you wish to break such noble tradition just because you weren’t willing to work hard enough?”

“...No, dad.”

“That’s what I thought. Now, back to work.”

---

A knock. “Hey, Cole, can I come in?”

Cole pulled his face out of the pillow, frantic to find it wet. He quickly wiped at his eyes before getting to his feet and trodding to the door, unlocking it and opening it slowly. Kai stood there.

Great.

“What do you want?”

To his surprise, the red ninja flinched. “Can we talk?”

Cole turned and laid across his bed. “What’s there to talk about?”

Kai took a seat on the edge of the bed, keeping his distance from Cole. “Are you… are you actually angry about this? Like, for real? I thought we were joking around.”

Cole didn’t answer, merely grunting into his pillow.

Kai hesitantly scooted a little closer. “I’m sorry. I would’ve stopped if I knew it was making you so uncomfortable. I really wish you had said something about it.”

Cole shrugged. “Well, I didn’t.”

“I’ll take it down, if you want.”

“What?”

“Like, I know it’s too late now,” he said hurriedly, “and that a bunch of people have already seen it, that I’m not fixing my mistake by doing this, but- I can take the video offline now, so at least no one else sees it.”

Cole was about to thank him, when a sudden urge flowed over him. “Y’know what,” he said, sitting up, “No.”

“Huh?” “Don’t bother,” Cole told him. “It’s no big deal. It’s just some stupid video.”

“I thought you were upset.”

“I was. And still am, a little, if I’m being honest. But I’m tired of spending so much time worrying about what others think of me. It’s exhausting, and no fun. It’s time I started thinking about how I view myself.”

“Are you sure? Because I know you hate singing-”

“I don’t, though. I used to like it.”

“What happened?”

Cole shrugged halfheartedly. “Let’s just say… my dad didn’t make the right decisions. Pushed me too hard to be something I wasn’t. Kind of hard to enjoy singing with him barking over my shoulder about it every spare second. Basically sucked all the joy out of it.”

Kai swung his feet back and forth. “That sounds rough. I wonder if my dad would’ve been anything like that, if he… if he’d stayed.”

“You were forced, in a way, too. Forced to grow up too quickly, to raise your sister on your own.”

“Yeah, I guess I was.” He shot him a small grin, although Cole could tell it was forced. “We’re alike in that way.”

“I wish we weren't,” Cole sighed. “No one deserves to go through that.”

Kai laughed dryly. “I learned a long time ago that life’s never been fair.”

“Have you talked to your dad at all, recently?”

“...Not really. I mean, apart from letting him know we were alive and stuff… after the First Realm.”

“Maybe you should reach out to him. Before it’s too late.”

“I know, I know… but I’m not really sure if I want to. I don’t know if that makes me sound like an awful person, but… he was never there for me. They were never there. I know it wasn’t their fault, but… it still stings. Those years, before I came here, were some of the hardest of my life. And I was just a kid! How was I… how was I supposed to…”

“It’s okay,” Cole put an arm around his shoulder and pulled him close. “I’m not sure if I want to forgive my father, either.”

“I wouldn’t blame you. What kind of person treats their kid like that? Judges them so harshly? Oh gosh, why didn’t you say something, Cole, I’m really sorry about that video.”

“I told you, it’s fine. You guys aren’t my father. I know you won’t judge me for my quirks. And, if you want to laugh at me, if the people of Ninjago want to laugh at me, that’s fine. So I’m weird. So I sing stupid songs about glow worms and sing out of key and put on really, really bad disguises. You can tease me all you want, but really, you love me for it, and I’m done doubting that. That’s what true family does.”

Kai smiled sadly at him. “I’m sorry that you didn’t find that out sooner, Cole. You’re an amazing person, and you deserve a family who will treat you like one.”

Cole smiled, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “I already have one.”

[hatterstan-shameblog]

Okay so Aguni is sound asleep, just enjoying the few hours of peace he has, when there's a knock on the door. He ignores it, but the person just keeps knocking and knocking.

"Morizono, open the goddamn door!" he hears Takeru call, "This is an emergency!"

He groans to himself before standing up and opening the door.

"What?"

"So, remember that weird chonky cat Niragi found?"

"Yeah... what about it?"

"It's not fat... and is not a cat."

Where Hatter and apparently every other idiot at the Beach mistake a domesticated pregnant genet for a fat exotic cat. And it just gave birth on Hatter's bed.

I have no idea in what direction this is supposed to go lol but hopefully something chaotic.

alright I had to look up what a genet is and DAMN they are CUTE AS HELL and I’m love them v much

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

Terminator

Rating: PG-13 for dialogue and like one drug reference

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

Aguni Morizono is a simple man who enjoys simple pleasures.

He enjoys a healthy slathering of grape jelly on his toast. He enjoys watching the sunset reflect over the ocean. He enjoys watering his garden and reading the newspaper and taking naps on the sofa on Sunday afternoons after he’s finished his grocery shopping for the week.

What he does not particularly enjoy is being shaken awake by a borderline-frantic Takeru in the middle of the night.

Takeru insists that he has a good reason; that this is an emergency. Aguni reminds him that running out of marijuana does not qualify as an emergency, and pulls the blanket over his head in an attempt to shut the very exuberant man out.

But the aforementioned exuberant man refuses to be shut out, and he references the aforementioned emergency again—this time insisting that it is an actual real emergency and requires immediate attention. Aguni sincerely doubts this and tries his damnedest to fall back to sleep—a truly Herculean task, given Takeru’s incessant talking and the way he’s bouncing on the other side of the mattress like some kind of weird large puppy. Aguni is just about to enter the first misty moments of dozing off as Takeru says words like ‘Niragi’ and ‘cat’ and ‘bed’ and it’s all somewhat possible to ignore until he utters one word that makes Aguni sit straight up.

‘Babies.’

Now, ‘babies’ as a concept does not bother Aguni. He’s actually somewhat fond of them, the way they unabashedly stare at him on the train or in the park, eyes wide and fat little hands waving a clumsy ‘hello’ in his general direction. And if he waves back sometimes, well...that’s his business. (It’s only polite, after all.)

No, the issue here is that ‘babies’ and ‘the Borderlands’ sounds like a terrible, terrible mix. What’s worse is that said babies have, for some reason, been left in Takeru’s care. And, judging from Takeru’s presence in his room, the babies have been left alone.

It takes no time at all for Aguni to throw on a pair of pants and slip into his boots. It takes even less time for him to grab Takeru by the collar of his robe and physically drag him down the hall, the other man switching between heartfelt thank-you’s and desperate pleas for Aguni to be gentle when handling the raw silk of his ensemble.

Now, to those of us on the outside of Aguni’s brain, it may seem like he hasn’t thought this through; that he has tunnel-vision’d his way through the last two paragraphs without a logical thought as to how and why ‘babies’ may be present. That is simply not true. Aguni has considered that ‘babies’ could actually mean a number of things aside from ‘human infants’ and has thus compiled a short list of the three most likely candidates:

The spider plant he had placed on Takeru’s windowsill has propagated—or, as some would call it, ‘had babies.’ This is Aguni’s favorite option of the bunch. It is also the least likely.

Something about the cards. Although Aguni has never Takeru refer to them as ‘his babies,’ it is no secret that he is very protective of his prized collection. Seeing as this may or may not affect the entire Beach, it’s important for him to be aware of the situation.

Takeru is high as a goddamn kite and hallucinating. This is, unfortunately, the most likely scenario.

It is also important to mention that Aguni has taken a good look at his life and his choices throughout this ordeal, particularly when Takeru commented on the state of his biceps and made an off-color insinuation about the right one looking slightly more defined than the left—and then asked if he would like to discuss his love life, with an exaggerated raise of his eyebrows. Aguni chose not to comment. He also chose to push Takeru into the doorframe on the way into his suite, and took a smidge of pleasure when his head collided with the wood with a satisfying clunk-ing sound.

“Look,” Takeru says proudly, pointing a finger at the bed, “babies!”

Nestled in what a bulging nest of fluffy white blankets are...things. Fuzzy things. One big fuzzy thing, with sleepy eyes and what looks to be a long spotted tail wrapped around one, two, three tiny fuzzy things. When Aguni leans in to get a closer look, the big one quirks a corn-chip-shaped ear and gives him a wary glare.

“What,” Aguni asks, “in the goddamn—“

But before Aguni is able to finish his sentence, Takeru is giving him a stinging slap on the arm.

“Aguni Morizono,” he hisses, hands balled into fists and perched on his hips like a mother hen, “I will not have my children exposed to that kind of language.”

There are plenty of things wrong with what Takeru just said, but Aguni is having trouble getting past the idea that these...creatures have somehow been claimed by his very silly friend.

“Think about it,” Takeru continues, swanning his way past a very confused (and tired) Aguni to sit on the edge of the bed just behind the brood of fluffy individuals, “This lovely lady could have given birth on anyone’s bed...but she chose mine.  Why do you think that is?”

“Because you leave the sheets all balled up in the middle and it’s the perfect place for an animal to make a nest?”

“Wrong, but I like how confident you sounded when you said it!”

With his hands pressed together and held in front of his lips, Takeru looks almost prayerful as he very seriously explains his theory.

“A woman alone-- heavily pregnant, scared, and lost in these cold and cruel Borderlands.  Her thoughts shift to her young.  Who will keep them safe?  Who will help take care of them?  That’s when her instincts took over,” Takeru opens his arms, the silken cuffs of his robe pooling around his elbows, “and, using her superior sense of smell, followed her nose to the den of the nearest alpha male for protection.”

Aguni wishes he could say that this is the dumbest thing he’s ever heard. He also wishes he had a cup of coffee (with a healthy glug of Bailey’s in there for good measure) before this whole event took place.

Takeru has since busied himself with the tiny new mother and her young, watching with gentle fascination as the newborns snuffle and snooze against her with unopened eyes and clumsy paws. When he reaches out a ring-bedecked hand to stroke along the bigger one’s head, she gives him a small growl and a pointed glare—to which he laughs and withdraws his touch, saying something cheeky about “the last time she let a man get too close” and quickly following it up with a promise to talk about it “after the kids are asleep.”

Takeru has just held up his hand for a high-five (which Aguni has decided to not reciprocate) when they hear a crash and then a bang and then the thundering thumpthumpthump of angry booted footsteps rapidly approaching their position in the bedroom. For some reason—a reason he’s not very keen to dwell upon at the current moment—Aguni instantly snaps into defense mode, hands curling into fists and shoulders squaring themselves in anticipation of a coming attack.

“WHERE. IS. TERMINATOR!?”

Niragi bursts into the room like a firework, all noise and flash and fire in his eyes. His knuckles strain around the dark of his rifle, ready to shoot at a moment’s notice. Of course, Aguni knows (hopes) he won’t actually resort to filling Takeru full of bullets, but he keeps a close eye on his trigger finger, anyways.

“Ah! There’s my co-parent,” Hatter says with a measure of glee, gesturing with a flourish of his hand towards the cute, hairy pile on his bed, “As you can see, our lovely Terminator is doing very well and—“

“Our? She’s not fucking ours, she’s fucking mine,” Niragi snaps, “and I’m gonna fucking kill you for stealing my cat.”

“Not a cat,” a calm voice says, and Aguni turns to see Last Boss lurking in the doorway, katana sheathed and arms crossed, “She’s a common genet, native to the savanna’s of Africa.”

“Ooh, does that mean the babies have dual citizenship? No, wait,” Hatter claps his hands together with glee, “triple citizenship? Africa, Japan, and the Borderlands?!”

“Africa’s not a country, it’s a continent, dumbass,” Niragi retorts, “and I think we have bigger problems than what’s going to be on their fucking passports.”

It’s probably not the best thing in the world for Aguni to let Takeru and Niragi descend into heated bickering—a back-and-forth of ‘you stole her’ versus ‘no, she chose me’—but Aguni is simply not interested in breaking up their squabbling. Instead he goes to stand by Last Boss, who’s watching the two long-haired men argue like it’s a mildly interesting tennis match.

“So,” Aguni says, “you, uh, seem to know a lot about those things.”

“I did my research when Niragi first brought her back,” Last Boss says calmly, “He’s good with her, but I wanted to make sure we were taking care of her correctly.”

“Did you know she was pregnant?”

“I had my suspicions. Niragi wouldn’t listen, though. Kept telling me she was just fat.”

“Yeah, I thought she was ‘just fat,’” Niragi interjects, his gun no longer pointed at Takeru but a murderous gleam still in his eye, “because this fucking asshole kept feeding her potato chips!”

“Because she loves them,” Takeru shouts back, throwing his arms up in the air, “So shoot me for being a nice guy and sharing my snacks with your weird cat!”

“Don’t,” both Last Boss and Aguni say in unison—which is very uncomfortable for the both of them, but at least it has the desired effect of keeping Niragi from blasting a few dozen holes through Takeru’s person.

With the two of them quickly getting back into their heated back-and-forth, Aguni turns his attention to the creatures on the bed. Somehow, despite all of the noise and excitement, the mother and her babies have curled up and fallen asleep, the rhythmic rise and fall of their bellies a stark contrast to the chaos unfolding around them. Aguni feels jealous, but also, feels bad about feeling jealous because this...Terminator thing has undoubtedly had a rough night, too.

“Luckily,” Last Boss says, “genets are pretty independent creatures. She’ll be fine to take care of the kits on her own, provided that she has access to food and water.”

“So we should just...leave her alone?”

Last Boss shrugs.

“More or less.”

Aguni sighs internally. He sighs externally, too, but the internal sigh is the one that really sums up his thoughts on the whole situation. Just getting one of those hot-headed men to leave those poor animals alone is challenging enough, but both of them? That’s bordering on ‘damn near impossible.’

But, for the sake of those weird fuzzy babies, he has to try.

Takeru jumps when he feels Aguni’s hand on his elbow. He also manages to shut up for a moment, which is a nice bonus. Last Boss has also sprung into action and seems to be talking to Niragi in hushed tones, a hesitant but friendly hand on his shoulder.

“C’mon,” Aguni says, gentle-firm as he guides Takeru into a standing position—much to the other man’s confusion.

“Mori, what—?”

“You’ve had a big night. I’ve had a big night. But do you know whose had the biggest night of us all?” Aguni gestures to the snoozing creatures in front of them, “Terminator. She’s exhausted, and the last thing she needs is the four of us keeping her up. You can stay with me tonight, and we’ll figure the rest out tomorrow.”

“But,” Takeru protests—an iota quieter, now that he’s realized that the pipe on the bed is now a sleeping pile, “we can’t just leave them alone, can we?”

“You’re right. Which is why,” Aguni says, “Last Boss is going to stay with her and keep an eye on things. If he’s okay with that, of course?”

Last Boss offers a solemn nod. Aguni makes a mental note to thank him for this later—maybe he’ll let him pick the music on their next supply run (provided it’s from Aguni’s list of pre-approved artists, of course...)

“You know what? Fucking fine,” Niragi spits, flicking his hair back with a quick jerk of his hand, “it’s too goddamn late to deal with you fucking losers, anyways. I’ll come back to collect my cat and her kittens in the morning.”

Aguni does not risk correcting Niragi on his incorrect terminology regarding his pets—frankly, he’s a little too busy being amazed at how suspiciously easy it was to get him to leave. With a sharp pivot, Niragi is exiting the room in what could be called a ‘brisk saunter,’ no doubt wanting to put as much distance between himself and whatever-the-hell just happened in this room as possible.

Aguni, for once, can relate to Niragi quite well.

With Last Boss keeping vigil over the new little family, Aguni is able to wrangle Takeru away from his room with minimal fuss. It’s probably because the man is very tired—despite multiple claims that he ‘isn’t sleepy yet’ and ‘can stay up for hours.’ This theory is proven when, within a grand total of seven seconds of Takeru flopping face-first onto the middle of Aguni’s bed, he’s managed to slip into what only can be described as a ‘light coma.’

Aguni manages to wrestle a stray pillow away from his sleeping friend’s grasp (he’s a notoriously cuddly sleeper, which has led to some...interesting situations over the course of their friendship) and settles his weary self onto the couch. It’s not quite long enough to accommodate his height, but it’s good enough for what will most likely end up being an extended nap before the sun comes up and he needs to solve whatever other issues have popped up at the Beach overnight.

...But, at least those problems won’t involve babies.

Probably.

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

Also here is a common genet and DAMN SIS U CUTE AS HELL

[himitsu-luna]

Nct 127 - Creature series

File #6 - Jaehyun, the vampire

Genre: angst, supernatural, romance

Warnings: death of characters, mentions of killing methods, mentions of blood, pain, description of vampire bites and perfuration

Pairing: Jaehyun x reader

Featuring: Jeno

Word count: 2.7 k

Nct 127 creature series masterlist

The story

Jaehyun was born in 1797, as a normal human.

At that time, mankind and the vampire breed had a tense relationship. But, very strangely, everything seemed under control

When he was 24, because of a series of unfortunate events, involving conspirations and betrayals, a war broke out between the two races

Jaehyun, as a young soldier and leader of a troop, were sent to the battlefield.

Sad and bitter events happened, and he was turned into a vampire.

Since then, he lives for centuries and centuries, going from place to place, playing hundreds of roles, experiencing hundreds of lives, looking for one thing that keeps him going through his imortal existence

The powers

You either are born as a vampire or you become one.

You only become a vampire if you get bitten by one

However, when you get bitten by a vampire, it doesn't necessarily mean you will become one.

The cruel part of turning into a vampire is that it's not for free. In reality, it's an exchange of a life for another life.

The vampire transformation takes 2 hours to be completed, and it will only fully consolidate if the bitten person drinks a considerably large amount of human or vampire blood before the two hours end. Otherwise, when the time comes to an end, the person dies.

The person or vampire bitten by the incomplete transformed vampire inevitably succumbs.

In other words, the vampire transformation is always tragic, because someone always perishes in the end.

Vampires drink blood to survive, but it doesn't need to be human blood. They can survive with other animal's blood, but human blood is a completely different treat.

Jaehyun has an abnormal strenght, and over developed senses

He has basic telepathic and telekinetic abilities, which gives him great manipulation skills

He has the ability of quickly healing physical wounds

A few things are able to end his life though: fire, drowning, decapitation

– Report: Incident number 1

°°°

[year: 1821]

– "Jaehyun, do you really have to go?", you ask your husband for the 100th time at the doorstep of your house, firmly holding his hands, barely able to see him with your eyes blurred by tears.

– "Y/N, I do. I'm their leader. I need to fight. I need to protect everyone. And most importantly, I need to protect you. Don't worry, my love, I'll be back. I promise..." , Jaehyun responds you with a suplicant tone, his voice sounding deeper than usual, as he tries to hide the shakiness on it.

After a last passionate kiss, a last squeeze of hands, and a last long glance holding the desire of the two of you to freeze time, Jaehyun goes through the door without looking back. He has to admit he is afraid he may not live up to his promise. Vampires are scary beings. Powerful, almost untouchable. It's incredible how humans stand in this war against these creatures so far. Fortunately, some powerful vampires still side mankind, hoping the unlikely coexistence.

Taking a deep breath, Jaehyun jumps into the colourless truck that is going to take him and dozens of other soulless men to the battlefield.

...

[6 months later]

– "CHEERS TO JAEHYUN!!!!!!!"

– "CHEERS!!!!!!!"

– "Guys, guys!! Calm down!!! Hahahaha"

Jaehyun is being carried by dozens of euforic men, acclaimimg their leader for his bravery and determination to get every single one of his mates back to their families. The war is over. The last vampires retreated and, finally, peaceful days can be seen in the horizon. Tears are being shared, parties are being planned, but in the middle of all the deafening happiness, Jaehyun's only desire is to sink into your warm hugs again.

...

Turning around the last corner to reach his home, his heart racing madly, Jaehyun meets your comforting figure, that waited for him every single day at the door since he left, and that now is running to him with arms open. The vision of you completely blinds Jaehyun. He missed you so much. He can't wait to feel you again. But it blinds him so badly that he can't see the bloodthirst creature hidden in a dark alley, ready to jump on him. Still with his eyes glued on you, he watches your smiley face abruptly squirming into pure horror. He was given not even half of a second to process that scene, as he suddenly feels a piercing pain in his jugular, followed by his entire body landing on the ground, then a light breeze brushing his now even paler skin, as the treacherous vampire vanishes from the scene, releasing, with his gutural voice, an almost incomprehensible yet still powerful word: "Revenge".

Jaehyun’s senses are all messed up and his body convulses violently. But even imersed in chaos, his brain tries hard to not lose itself completely, as it percieves you getting closer and closer.

– "DON'T COME!!!" - he desperately yells, in his last effort to maintain his sanity.

But it's too late.

His concious falls apart completely. Everything gets red. Everything is too much, everything is overwhelming. He can clearly hear a rythmic heartbeat, that is not his own, resonating inside of his skull. He can clearly see the tempting purple path under a layer of skin, shining in high saturation in a waving hypnotizing motion. He can clearly feel his teeth landing on a soft surface and sinking deep into it. He can clearly taste the metalic flavor of blood spreading through his tongue. And after all of that, he can clearly smell your floral perfume, he can clearly feel hot heavy tears running down his cheeks, as he realizes what he has done.

Slowly getting his mind back as the sharp fangs retracts to the normal sized canines he is used to, Jaehyun is left in agony, all his face muscles contracted into profound sadness, looking at your fragile figure in his arms.

–"No no no no NOOO!!!! PLEASE NO!! Y/N, TALK TO ME!! Talk to me...please.....", he implores you, swinging his body back and forth, trying to keep you awake.

–"Jae.... It's ok.... It's o..k.... You... Are back... I'm so happy..." - you murmur, lifting your hand to wipe the cheeks of your beloved one.

You know how this works. You know that Jaehyun has become a vampire, and you know he won't die. You know he is safe. With that thought in mind, you smile relieved. You let your eyelids fall along with your hand, and, spending all of your remaining energy, you force your lips to move one last time : – "I love you...".

....

Standing in front of your grave, depositing your favorite flowers on the shining black marble, Jaehyun mentalizes his sorrowfull wishes over and over again, hoping they reach you:

– "I promise, Y/N, I promise you... I'll find you in whenever life you live, I promise I'll go back to you. I promise."

...

[Year: 2021]

–"OmG, I'll be late!! No no noo!!!! Stupid alarm!!" - you yell at the air, tripping on your cozy blankets, from your bed to your way to the ground.

A job like that would never fall on your lap again, for sure. You were a just graduated college student, visibly lost in the adult world, looking for a job so you can survive. You still can't believe that such a big company sent you this unexpected invite, willing to hire you. "I'm not mad, though.", you cheerfully think, while quickly spraying some perfum on the birthmark you have on your neck.

Shoving a piece of dry toast into your mouth while putting on your shoes, you rush to your first day at your new job.

....

You made it in time. Waiting for having a word with your new boss, you briefly look at yourself on the hand mirror you always take with you, fixing your messy hair and straightening your black blazer. Distracted in your own little world, you jump in surprise when an elegant man silently steps in the room, stands by your side without you noticing, and announces, with a resonant voice right into your ear:

– "Boss is ready to see you"

Having a look at the name tag hanging over the man's chest, you thank him:

–"Ohh, thank you.. hmm.. mr. Jeno! And I'm pleased to meet you!"

Jeno gives you a discreet smile, guiding you to a enormous poor iluminated room, in which a gorgeous and imponent figure stands behind an impressive desk. Your pupils take a few seconds to adjust to the weak lighting, but as soon as you exchange stares with that mysterious man, a weird wave of excitement runs throughout your whole body, like your blood is bubbling inside of your veins. You've never felt like this before, and it intensifies when you finally hear a deep, smooth, and weirdly familiar voice coming out of his mouth:

– Report: Incident number two

–"Hello, Y/N. Nice to meet you. You can call me Jaehyun".

–––

It has been five years you're working at Jaehyun's company. And it has been three years you stand beside him not only as his employee, but also as his lover.

Jaehyun is a fascinating man. But there's something very odd about him. You don't know if it's the way he seems to be able to go deep into your mind. If its the way he has the knowledge of an ancient person. If it's the way everything he does feels nostalgic. If it's the way he looks at you and you can see, along with a sincere love, deep sadness and sorrowfullness emanating from his eyes. If it's the way you are sure you knew him already even before your first encounter. If it's the way you feel like you've been waiting for him your whole life. –" Oh well, maybe there's something very odd about me as well." , you think in a dreamy state while watching Jaehyun sleeping peacefully beside you.

...

You are at Jaehyun's house, distractedly walking around and running your fingers through the fancy furniture, waiting for him so you can have the homemade dinner he's been promising you for weeks now. He finally found an empty spot in his busy schedule, and it has been good thirty minutes since Jeno let you know he and your boyfriend were at the supermarket, picking some ingredients. "Jaehyun must be so lost right now", you chuckle to yourself, wondering what weird things he would buy. But with the chuckle, you feel a light discomfort in your chest. You have a weak heart condititon since birth, so you're used to this sensation. "Ahh, not today! Today I have to be 100% good!" , you scold yourself, hoping the annoying feeling ceases soon.

But it's not. The light discomfort turns into a light pain. The light pain turns into a fierce pain. The fierce pain turns into and unbearable pain. Imersed in your suffering, you automatically massage your heart area and sustain your body stood by grabbing the nearest thing you can reach. And, before you lose your senses entirely, you can feel this thing moving, holding you tightly and carefully, and calling your name with that deep voice you loved so much : – " Y/N!!!!!!!!"

....

Staring at your motionless body on his arms, the dejavu Jeahyun is having is breaking him apart. After dozens of peaceful lives with you, he was not expecting losing you like this once more. Gradually and certainly, he is following your heartbeat on its crescent silence. He doesn't want to feel this pain again. If it's selfish, if it's benevolent, it's tricky – and even unfair – to judge the only thought that goes through Jaehyun's mind right now. With a decided and firm tone, he instructs Jeno:

– "Jeno, look after her, please. That's my last order to you."

With an almost imperceptible widening of eyes, seeing how his master determination even made his quivering less severe, Jeno answers him, trying to transmit in his voice the confidence and reliability he knows Jaehyun needs to feel.

– "Yes master, I understand. I will."

This phrase brings a peaceful expression to Jaehyun's face. Focusing completely on you, Jaehyun's fangs sharpen and he plants them into the flesh of your neck. You imediatelly wake up, as a wave of electricity runs through your body and excites every cell of it. You don't know what is happening, everything is so confusing with your blurred red vision. But you know you're thirsty. Your throat feels dry, and it claims something that is not water. You sense someone's body pressing itself on yours and, instinctively, you deep your teeth into the warmness, finding yourself satiating your needs with some unknown viscous liquid.

And a movie starts to play before your eyes. A movie staring you and Jaehyun. A movie showing all of your lives together. A wedding at a beach you've never been before. Jaehyun holding an unfamiliar happy dog you didn't know you missed so badly. You and him wearing antique clothes you've never owned, discussing about what to cook for dinner while watching the sunset. His crying face painted with red blots, his body swinging back and forth holding you in his arms, trying to keep you awake.

Drowning in an ocean of memories, you frantically attempt to resurface back to your present reality. Slowly pulling your teeth out of Jaehyun's neck, you gently wrap your arms around his cold body and sink your forehead onto his shoulders.

– "Jae... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry...."

– "It's.... ok, Y/N, it's ok.... I'm the one who is sorry"

– "No! It must have been so difficult for you... All these years, all this waiting... I'm so sorry... And... thank you so much."

– "I know... You... Would do the same... For me."

At this point, you are not trying to hold your tears anymore. At this point, Jaehyun's life is already hanging by a thin thread. Showing his dimples to you, his last words come faint, but still carry heavily the pure meaning of them:

– "I love you."

[Year: 2058]

– "Master, the apartment was rented successfully.", the serious and steady man says coming out of nowhere, getting by surprise your anxious and wondering mind.

– "OMG, Jeno! Are you a vampire or a ghost, please!! But ok, thank you a lot. Let's prepare everything then." , you respond, barely hiding your excitement.

Packing your things in an untidy chaotic way, you suddenly stop your actions. Hesitantly and avoiding eye contact, you ask Jeno something that has been bothering you for years now:

–" ....Hmm...Jeno.... Do you.... Do you think he will still like me?"

Even though he was caught off guard by your question, Jeno promptly replies:

– "I have no doubt about it, master. Thousand of years could pass, his love for you would remain the very same. I've witnessed it, trust me."

You bite your bottom lip, trying to conceal the wide smile forming on your red crying face.

....

*Knock Knock*

Lying on the couch of his living room, Jaehyun lazily raises only his head, wondering who could be knocking on his door. He definetely is not willing to stop watching his drama to answer the unknown visitor.

*Knock knock*

Finally accepting that staring at the door would not make something magically happen, he decides to get up and open it. However, he was not expecting that such a trivial thing would be so life changing.

– " Hi, I'm your new neighbor! My name is Y/N, nice to meet you!", you nervously say, extending your already sweat hand to the admired boy in front of you.

Jaehyun is astonished. He thought he had his whole life figured out. But, all of sudden, only now he can say that everything makes sense, that everything is where they should be. Only now he truly feels alive. Like a breath of fresh air, like he is living in a completely new world, he grabs your hand firmly, afraid you could vanish, and asks you in disbelief:

–" Do I know you from somewhere?"

–" Maybe...", you answer, with a mischievous yet tender expression painted on your face.

Jaehyun smiles at you softly, feeling the comfort and the sense of familiarity that only centuries of linked lives could bring him.

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[lunapwrites]

Numb

(I am once again posting unedited nightmares to Tumblr.)

CW: strong language, violence, character death. The first thing Remus noticed was that the floor was cold. The texture rough against his stubbled cheek, scraping against his forearms as he slowly pushed himself up. He blinked blearily, eyes adjusting to the dim torchlight. Stone floors, stone walls, iron bars.

A cell.

His head was throbbing; there was dried blood in his hair. This time it might have been his own. He recalled bright lights, curses flying, sizzling past his ear. Red. Darkness.

A Stunner.

How did they find me?

He couldn't remember.

If he concentrated, he could hear breathing, other heartbeats. One, two, three... no, four. He scented the air; three male, one female. Human, goblin. Familiar — very familiar, though he was struggling to think beyond the pounding in his skull. He couldn't recall their faces.

Somewhere out of view, a door swung open: hinges creaking, wood groaning, scraping along the floor. A jangle of keys. This scent... (juniper berry and wood shavings and cheap dusty tea) this scent he knew.

rat rat rat

"Oh good, you're not dead," Peter said in a tone that might have sounded cheerful if not for the underlying tension of attempted murder and heart-wrenching betrayal.

"Sorry to disappoint," Remus replied. His voice was rougher than the stone he'd woken on and twice as cold. On the other side of the wall, two heartbeats quickened; a quiet intake of breath.

They know me.

"Ah, don't be like that, Moony. I've brought you supper."

"Think I'd rather starve, thanks."

Peter gave that snorty little laugh that Remus used to privately think was endearing and now just made him want to yank the bastard's brains out through his nostrils.

"Just as dramatic as ever, I see." He showed the plate to Remus. "It's just a bacon sarnie. Light on the butter and practically raw, just the way you like it."

It was the way he liked it, and Remus hated him for it.

"Why am I here?"

"Skipping right over the small talk, eh? That's not like you at all." Peter opened a small grate, pushing the plate through the bars. "Come on, Moony. You know why."

"Don't call me that."

If he hadn't been watching for it, he'd have missed the tiny flicker of hurt across Peter's face. The twitch of his brows, the near imperceptible thinning of his already too-thin lips. The shadows under his eyes darkening.

He looked terrible. He looked sorry. Remus hated him even more.

"Alright, Remus then. Or would you prefer Lupin?"

"I would prefer you didn't call me anything, honestly."

"Too bad," Peter said briskly. "I'm the jailor, so unless you just don't want to talk at all..."

"That would be lovely, actually."

"Liar." Peter grinned. "You love hearing yourself talk, always did. You were worse than James—"

The bars rattled as Remus slammed into them, fury bubbling in his veins. Peter leapt out of his reach, eyes wide, frightened as he'd been that night in the shack.

"DON'T!" Remus snarled, fangs bared. "Don't you ever speak his name!"

Peter stared at him, his hummingbird pulse slowly steadying as he remembered who was on which side of the bars. He put his hands up, placating.

"Alright, Remus. Fair enough. I'm sorry."

No you're not.

Peter hovered awkwardly for a moment, rocking on his heels like he had something more to say — like there was anything more to say. As if he had a right to be disappointed that Remus would sooner swallow his own tongue than accept anything he offered.

"Right. I'll leave you to it, then. Be back tomorrow."

Remus watched him slip out of the room in silence, the heavy door swinging shut, the lock turning with a dull click just as the plate shattered against the wall.

-

"Brought you some soup today," Peter said conversationally. "Figured you might need it after talking to Bellatrix."

He slipped the bowl through the grate; Remus didn't move from his spot against the opposite wall. Every one of his nerve endings was on fire, but he'd be damned before he'd show it.

"She really needs to work on her conversational skills," he croaked, and immediately regretted it. Peter's eyes sharpened, searching his face.

Nothing to see here. Not for you.

"She was always mad as a hatter before, but Azkaban really didn't do her any favours in that regard." Peter sighed, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed. "Can't say I'm upset about getting out of that one."

It was in that moment that Remus decided that the Killing Curse was too good for Peter.

He hauled himself to his feet, trudging over to the front of the cell on shaky legs, leaning over carefully to pick up his supper.

"I see you remembered my favourite again." He sniffed at the bowl of soup suspiciously, checking for strange ingredients.

Potato. Leek. Broth... chicken I think. Cream. Bacon again, probably leftover.

"Figured a taste of home might not go amiss," Peter said quietly, frowning. "I haven't poisoned it, you know."

"I'm well aware that the only thing you poison is friendships," Remus agreed. "If you wanted to kill me, I should watch for a knife in my back."

"...That's not fair."

"Isn't it?"

They stared one another down silently, Peter with his best rainy morning face on, Remus towering above him like a thundercloud. He slowly poured the soup out onto the floor, flinging the bowl back through the bars. Peter dodged at the last second; it bounced off the wall next to his ear and clattered harmlessly to the floor.

He'd learned his lesson since the plate, apparently.

"Right," Peter declared in an overly plummy tone as he pushed off the wall, "we'll just try again tomorrow, shan't we?"

-

The following day, Peter brought down bangers and mash; it was cold and grainy, and the bangers were burned to hell.

Remus ate it anyway.

-

"You know, as pleased as I am that you've stopped throwing tantrums over the food," Peter mused through a mouthful of toast, "I'm genuinely surprised you haven't asked me why I did it."

Remus paused, looking up from his plate through one, unswollen eye.

"Probably because it doesn't matter."

He spoke slowly, as if to a particularly dim child, as if he weren't lying through his teeth.

Peter scoffed, spots of colour rising to his cheeks.

"Please, like you didn't spend twelve years tearing yourself up over Sirius. Why should my reasons matter less?"

"I'll give you three guesses."

Peter wrinkled his nose, scowling.

"You always liked him best."

"Dunno what to tell you, Pete. He gives great head."

There was a muffled snort from the neighbouring cell. Dean, by the sound of it. A week ago, Remus might have even been embarrassed.

"Remus Lupin, unfiltered," Peter said with a wistful shake of his head. "I fucking missed you, you know."

"This is very good bread. Do give my compliments to whichever unfortunate elf was responsible for it."

"That would be me."

Remus snorted at him, raising his mug of water in toast.

"Here's to moving up in the world."

"Fuck off." Peter eyed him speculatively for a long moment. "It was because I wanted it to end."

Remus peered at him over the rim of his mug.

There was a dark intensity emanating from Peter. Not dangerous in the same way that Bellatrix or even Sirius was; sharp and sinewy, a predator stalking prey. It was as if Remus was moving among the stars and encountered a vast nothing that devoured everything it dragged into its field.

No sound, no light, just cold, dead silence.

"All my friends were dying or turning into people I didn't recognise anymore, and I was terrified," Peter continued quietly. "Every day I was terrified, and I just wanted it to end. I didn't care how."

He pushed off the wall, leaving without waiting for a response.

It didn't matter. There was nothing to say.

-

On the fifth day, an apple rolled off the plate as Peter approached the cell. It hit the ground, rolling at his feet. He leaned down to recover it, and the rest happened very quickly.

Remus rushed forward, his arm darting out to catch Peter around his neck as he rose back up, yanking him back hard against the bars.

"You always were an idiot."

Peter thrashed and struggled in his grip. His fancy silver hand clawed at Remus' forearm, more powerful than Peter had any right to be.

But Remus was stronger.

"I would be lying if I said I didn't miss you, Pete," he said calmly, tightening his grip. "I missed you every day, like a limb. I still do."

The keys were jangling against Peter's belt loop, against the bars. Remus could reach through and grab them now, if he wanted to.

"You weren't the only one who was afraid, you know? We were just kids. Only the rest of us learned to kill our enemies instead of our brothers."

It wasn't about the keys.

"My brothers died twelve years ago." The fingers scratching and scrabbling against his arm were weakening, slowing. "I buried one with his wife in Godric's Hollow, and they put up a little statue for them that I still can't stand to look at."

Peter's knees buckled, his weight against Remus' steady arm adding pressure.

"I buried the other in a little plot in Coxheath, and I used to wonder why it couldn't have been me. And I grieved."

Remus took a deep, slow breath. A holy calm settled over him.

"I want you to know," he continued in that same soft, conversational tone, "that everything you've done has amounted to nothing. That you are nothing, and no one will remember you."

Things happened very slowly after that.

Peter stopped struggling.

Remus counted heartbeats.

There were six.

And then there were five.

He reached down and pulled the keyring from Peter's belt, popping the beltloop clear off. It wasn't like Peter needed it anymore. He left the body against the bars, opening the door to his cell without looking back.

-

"Hullo Professor."

Dean was watching him open their cell door with wide eyes, more surprised — appraising — than fearful. Luna waved at him cheerfully, same as when he'd last seen her, if a little taller. Remus nodded to them both in greeting.

"I'd say it's good to see you both, but I'm rather sorry you're here. Can everyone move under their own power?"

"Ollivander and Griphook are both a bit worse for wear," Dean said apologetically.

"Alright, well give me a hand now then."

-

It only took a few moments for them to get Griphook and Ollivander situated on Dean and Remus' backs, respectively. Remus, in the meantime, had been coming up with a plan.

So long as they were quiet and careful, he could sniff out the exit while avoiding the manor's residents. They just needed to be quick about it; he didn't know how long it would be before Peter was missed.

But no sooner did he reach his hand out for the door than it burst open, revealing a particularly unhinged-looking Sirius, closely flanked by Harry and Ron.

There was a short pause in which the two men processed one anothers' sudden appearance.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Remus asked faintly.

"We came to rescue you," Sirius said with a vaguely affronted tone.

Remus turned around, looking at the assortment of prisoners he'd broken out and the cooling body of the jailor at the other end of the room, and then turned back to Sirius.

"Well done."

Harry let out a choked sort of noise that might have been either a sob or a snort, he wasn't quite sure.

"Right," Ron said quickly. "So, mission accomplished, let's go!"

He and Harry ushered Dean-and-Griphook and Luna up the stairs first, Ron taking point and Harry flanking. The moment they were out of the room, Sirius reached out and cupped Remus's jaw, brushing a thumb across his cheek. He felt something damp on his face.

"Have you been crying?"

Remus shrugged.

"Maybe. I didn't feel anything," he said quietly, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter. Let's go."

Remus pushed past him, following the boys up the stairs. Sirius followed close behind.

They didn't look back.

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of Texas relief, @romancewritingandwinchesters donated $20, and requested Sam and Dean waiting out a Texas storm with no electricity. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post.

(read on AO3)

When the snow starts coming down, Dean's not yet worried. He's driven the whole country at least five times; he can handle snow. It's when the temperature starts dropping fast that he pulls up, at the closest gas station, and fills the tank, and sends Sam inside for a few gallons of water and whatever food they don't have to cook. "I told you," Sam says, which frankly Dean thinks is a very smug and unattractive way of looking at the situation. "Remember, that front I was telling you about?"

"Yeah, but who thought it'd get this cold in Texas," Dean says, watching the numbers tick up on the pump. Shit, this is gonna be expensive.

"Oh, you know," Sam says, arms folded tight over his chest, stamping his feet by the car's rear door. "Meteorologists. Climatologists. Just that level."

Dean rolls his eyes, but Sam's turned away luckily and can't see it. Turns out Sam gets a little bitchy when it's this cold. They didn't really pack for it—this was supposed to be a low swing south to check a few harmless jobs, stuff that'd take Sam's mind off the whole soulless thing, a couple of easy wins and some weather a little better than February in South Dakota, but it's not working out that way. Fourteen degrees, according to the display on the Shell sign above their heads, and it's only nine at night.

The snow's already piling up, on the parking lot and in the street, making the nice local El Paso people drive under ten miles per hour and making the world seem—not-right. Alien. A cactus planted in the median glints with ice and Dean sucks his teeth, shivers hard. When the car's full up he recaps the tank and sets the nozzle back in place and then looks out at the frosted world. The black shine on the asphalt. "I don't like the look of that road," he says, after a second, and Sam follows his gaze and nods, immediately. "Tonight's not the night to get out of town."

"Texas blizzard on the highway?" Sam says, a little sarcastic, but shakes his head, more serious. "Yeah, it's gonna get a lot worse." His nose is pink from the cold. "Too cold for the car. Even if we still had that—remember, that awful pink blanket?"

"The one you totally ruined?" Dean says, and Sam grins, even if he shudders after. Sam ruined it by getting clawed up by a ghoul when he was twenty-three and trying to protect Dean from something he didn't need protecting from and then bleeding all over the damn blanket when Dean put him in the backseat to race him to the ER. Dumbass, Dean had called him then, but honestly not much has changed. Dean shoves Sam's side, shaking his head. "Why are we standing around here in the cold? Get in the car, let's go."

"You're the one who took forever with the gas," Sam argues back, but he gets in the car, so. Win for Dean. Beyond the win of having this Sam, this right good Sam, in the car in the first place—whole again, with the soul to make a context for the memories that make him Dean's brother.

They're not far off the highway so there'll be motels. The issue hits when they're driving—slow, painfully slow, crawling behind snow-caked Texas plates that don't know how to handle the weather—and the street goes suddenly dark, the lights crashing off in the fast food places and gas stations lining the road. "Shit," Dean says, checking the rearview, but luckily the truck behind him hasn't slammed its brakes and they're not about to be involved in a black-ice skid.

"You think—" Sam says, but cranes around and it's obvious. Some part of the grid, failing, and that's going to mean some panic and it's going to mean some accidents and it's also going to mean finding a place to stay just got a hell of a lot harder.

The kid at the motel they pick clearly has no idea what to do. It's a shithole, which is why Dean pulled in, and clearly there weren't too many customers to begin with. The lobby's dark other than a flashlight the kid's waving around while he explains in a panic that their electricity is out—"I can see that," Dean says, trying to be patient—and Sam finally leans over the counter, takes the flashlight out of the kid's hand, and sets it upright on the counter so it acts like a shitty lantern, filling the room with grey.

"Oh," the kid says, eyes gleaming big in the suddenly stable light. The kid—the boy. He looks barely older than Ben.

"Look," Sam says, while Dean's trying to shake off that thought. "We get that there won't be cable. We just need somewhere to weather it out."

"My register doesn't even work," the boy says, and Dean reaches into his wallet and peels out two hundred bucks and lays it fanned out on the counter. More big eyes—the room rate on the sign outside is forty-nine a night. "Oh," he says, again.

"Just give us keys, okay?" Dean says. "You can explain to your manager in the morning. How these weirdos paid a hundred, cash."

A blink. Maybe he's too young to realize he's being bribed. Sam sighs, and leans over the counter again. "We're taking room 13," he says, coming up with a key in hand. A physical key—Dean was right about the kind of dump this is. The boy opens his mouth and closes it, and Sam jerks his head at Dean before he gives the boy a half-smile, fake as hell. "Try to stay warm in here, okay?"

The Impala's already inch-thick with snow, outside. "Why the hell did that take so long," Sam mutters.

Dean snorts. "Thirteen?" he says, and Sam nods, folding himself back into the passenger seat for the short drive over—"Center room, more insulation," he says—and when they pull around to the odds side of the building he's right. The city's blanketed in dark and weirdly quiet, with the muffling of the snow, so it feels almost like opening up some hidden hunter's cabin as they unlock the room, unpack the car inside. Sam bought jerky, chips, iffy-looking gas station fruit, and Dean still has one lantern and two spare d-cells and a bottle of whiskey that's almost entirely full, and the water, thank god, is still running. "For how long, though," Sam says, so Dean drags a hand over his face and zips his jacket closed and goes down the row of rooms in the freezing dark to the one that's marked PRIVATE, and breaks in to find cleaning supplies that… clearly haven't been used in that long. Buckets, though, that he rinses out and then fills in the utility sink. Spare bedding on shelves above the laundry machine and he picks out two blankets, the shitty supersoft microfleece kind that have always been his favorite.

When he gets back, burdened like a mule, he finds the room—weirdly sort of homey. Sam's got the lantern on the rickety little desk and it's blasting white light up that wall, but he's lit their spare ritual candles, too, and put them on the nightstand, on top of the blank TV, the minifridge crammed up in the corner by the bathroom. It's warm inside, especially once Dean's got the door kicked closed behind him again, but it won't stay that way for long. "Laundry?" Sam says, and at Dean's nod he disappears outside too, and comes back with a pile of the thin towels in his arms, and packs them in against the bottom of the door, the base of the single-pane windows. The water heaters might be gas but they might be electric, too, and with no way of knowing they take turns in the shower, cleaning up fast. The water's still hot when it's Dean's turn and he luxuriates, for a minute that he counts off in his head, letting the weak stream melt over his shoulders and put heat into his bones, where hopefully it'll stay a while.

The bathroom's steamy when he gets out but it's already cooling fast. Not much insulation in the walls. He dries off scrupulously, trying to get off every bit of damp he can, and redresses by candlelight. Smells like beeswax, the hippie natural candles Sam always picks when they restock their kit. His soulless self didn't bother with that. What a weird thing to turn out to miss.

Back in the room, Sam's made a pile of their food on the desk by the lantern, and lined up the buckets of water by the door. Dean checks his watch: ten o'clock, and they're packed into this room like a bunker. Safe, as warm as they can be, clean and healthy and food to hand. Now there is, truly, nothing at all to do but wait.

"Not even wi-fi," Sam says, under his breath like he had the same thought. Dean huffs. Sam's mouth lifts on one side, wry. He sits on the end of one bed, hands folded between his knees, and gives a shrug. "Well. We got a night off."

They did. About time, too, with how they've been running lately. Sam making up for every bad thing his soulless self ever might've done, and Dean just trying to hold onto the bar so he won't fly off. First time in weeks that Dean's had Sam to himself without Sam searching for another job or trying to pin down his own sad timeline or his brain melting out his ear, and he almost doesn't know what to do with it. A bit of silence, between them, that stretches. Dean licks his lips. "Wanna play charades?"

Sam snorts. "You'd cheat," he says, and Dean smiles his most honest smile, and that makes Sam roll his eyes but smile a little, too. "How long do you think we have until it gets really cold?"

Dean tips his head back and forth, thinking. "It's—what, fifty degrees in here?" Sam shrugs. "I don't know. It'll be friggin' cold in the morning, but we won't freeze."

"Guess not," Sam says, but he's still just sitting there. His eyes on Dean, his body quiet. Dean pours them both cups of the whiskey and sits on the other bed, and Sam rotates to face him, and they toast each other with a rasping papery excuse for a clink and take a swallow each, and it sinks down to Dean's gut like fire, welcome with how chilly it is in here, and Sam's just… still looking at him. Like he's something worth looking at. Dean feels his face go warm and wonders if he can blame the whiskey.

"Hey," Sam says, cup held easy between his knees. "Tell me something."

Dean leans back. "What, truth or dare? We're a little old for that, don't you think?"

His legs are kicked out into the space between the beds. Sam shifts and their boots knock together. "Maybe you are," Sam says, and Dean makes a face at him. Sam smiles and takes another sip, watching Dean over the top of his cup, and after the slight pull at the sting he's still smiling, small. "This last year. Did you ever think about…" He shakes his head, looks down at his cup. Dean nudges his ankle to get him to keep going and Sam looks back up, his hair hanging a little in his eyes. "Did you ever want to sleep with—him?"

Dean's lips part but nothing comes out. He's genuinely surprised. Sam's eyes tighten, a tiny shift that's almost not visible in the dim combination of candle-and-lantern light. "No," Dean says, after a pause that's too long. Sam's head tips back, assessing. "No," Dean repeats, firmer. "It wasn't—right."

Sam hmms and Dean takes a drink. Truth or dare, he really ought to do his forfeit. It's not a lie, not really, but it's not—completely true. Robo-Sam never seemed interested and Dean was still half-caught with Lisa and Dean's a lot of things but a cheater's not one of them, and he'd thought—he didn't know. That Sam didn't want it anymore. Whatever fumbling they'd gotten up to, their drunken stupidity, the almost violent way it'd get sometimes, the way Dean would sink his nails into Sam's back and Sam would bite his throat and then the way, after, sometimes, Sam would look at him in the dark and Dean would think, god—

His cheeks are flushed, hot enough to feel in the cool air. "So," Sam says, after the moment's stretched out, "we never—even when I came back—"

"Not exactly trying to make it with my long-lost brother when my creepy resurrected grandpa's breathing down my neck, no," Dean says, and Sam grimaces but then laughs, and then bites his bottom lip. Still looking at Dean and Dean takes a breath, deep, and thinks, jesus. Eighteen months, more, since the last time, most of it with Sam walking around with no soul, and Dean caught up in a relationship that crashed and burned, and it feels—different. They're both different. Happened somehow when Dean wasn't looking but here's the evidence, in how calm Sam is, in how they're just—quiet, here, together. Something building slow, in the cold, with the snow sifting down outside.

Sam lets his lip go, slow, his teeth dragging white. His eyes drop to Dean's mouth, and lower. "I've got lube," he says. Dean blinks. Sam lifts a shoulder, almost apologetic. "Don't know from what, but it's in my duffle. I've been—wondering."

"Jeez, Sammy," Dean says, and has to laugh, too, kind of breathless. It's hot. Jesus, it's hot, hotter than it should be, to just have Sam say it flat out like that. Asking. "What, you want to huddle for warmth?"

Sam raises his eyebrows, glances sidelong at his bed. "I mean," he says, and Dean has to laugh again. "If there were ever an opportunity—"

Dean leans in and gets Sam's jacket in one hand, and pulls. Sam scoots forward easy, his knee sliding up against Dean's inseam, and it's—easy, weirdly easy, easy in a way it never was, to lean in and press his mouth to Sam's and have Sam just—kiss back, pressing Dean's mouth open right away and brushing his tongue over Dean's lip, slick and hot, his breath warm on Dean's cool skin. "Damn," Dean says, soft.

Sam smiles against his mouth and kisses him again, puts his chilly fingertips against Dean's exposed throat. "I mean, we don't have anything else to do, right?" he says, pulling back an inch.

Dean rolls his eyes and says, "You really gotta learn some better lines."

Sam presses in, kisses him again soft on the mouth. God, Sam's mouth. "I don't think I do," Sam says, hanging there, and Dean groans, pushes Sam's face away, thinks: yes. Yes.

He goes to the bathroom. Takes his time. The toilet, thank god, is still flushing, so the water lines haven't yet gone down. He runs the sink and wets a washrag and cleans up, and washes his hands, and then he licks his mouth wet and looks at himself, in the spotty mirror, the candlelight flickery and making his face strange. When he comes out Sam's stripped the bed closer to the door and the other one is spread with that bedding, the blankets Dean stole, and Sam's in the middle of taking off his belt, standing in his socks with his shirt off and his chest bare and his hair a little ruffled, and he looks up at Dean in the bathroom doorway and smiles, and lays his belt on the bare bed, and says, "C'mere," and Dean comes.

Sam's hands are cold and Dean bitches about that, immediately. "Shut up," Sam advises, and Dean says, "Oh, if anyone needs to—" and Sam kisses him, like Dean knew he would, so that's okay. Together they get Dean's jacket off, his flannel, his t-shirt, and he shivers but Sam's hands drag down his arms and that's so warm Dean can hardly stand it. He drags his fingers through Sam's chest hair—hair, when Sam had been so sleek before—and Sam kisses the top of his ear, weirdly affectionate in a way that makes Dean's chest hot—and then his fingers go for Dean's belt, his jeans, and Dean pushes him away an inch, then, taking a second to breathe.

Sam's—christ. Hot. His nipples pebbled up tight and his cheeks a little pink, even in the candlelight. "Gotta get my boots off, man," Dean says, and Sam looks down like he's surprised that an impediment to getting in Dean's pants might exist, and Dean grins, sits back on the bed. Okay, so. Sam's not suddenly a pure sex god. Somehow that's as much of a relief as the breathing room was.

He works at the knot of his laces. Sam takes the opportunity to strip off his jeans, and then there's his bare long legs, his boxer-briefs. His dick's thick in them, obvious, but while Dean's tugging off his second boot Sam skims them off and down and then he's just—naked, nearly all the way except his stupid black socks he always wears, and Dean huffs and says, "Sexy," dry, but then Sam's kneeling down in front of him, sliding his hands up Dean's thighs, and—well. Truth or dare. Dean wouldn't have to take a drink, this time.

The corner of Sam's mouth lifts and he unzips Dean's jeans, and then tucks his fingers into the waistband, and Dean lifts his ass up and lets Sam pull and Sam—takes his time about it, damn him, pulling down Dean's underwear too so the cold air ripples up goosebumps all the way down Dean's legs, freezing. Sam kisses Dean's chest, his nipple—Dean grabs Sam's head, surprised—and then ducks down, kisses the root of his dick and then sucks in the head, soft and warm, slick, so abrupt that Dean slams a hand down onto the edge of the mattress and his head falls back, his hips lifting. Christ, Sammy. A big hand circles around Dean's calf and Sam sucks, soft, while Dean's dick rises so fast he gets dizzy—and then Sam pulls away, the cold air hitting like a hammer, and lifts up with his mouth pinked-wet and says, "Get in bed," and Dean stares at him like a lunatic for a second and then, jesus, scrambles to obey.

He scooches in to the middle. The blankets are ridiculous, double-weight and heavy, but the sheets are chilly even through his socked feet. Sam climbs in after him and pushes right up against his back, his dick swelling up against Dean's ass, his body a hot shock among the cold. "You're a friggin' furnace," Dean says, and Sam snorts, bites soft at Dean's bare shoulder. There's a second of separation—Sam stretching away—and then Sam's back, under the blankets, kisses under Dean's ear, slides his hand over Dean's hip, down. Dean's breath hitches and he slides his leg forward. "Yeah?" Sam says, the idiot, and Dean says, "Duh, bitch," and there's a huff and then a muffled click and then Sam's fingers are slick, sliding up against his ass, pushing in.

Oh—god. It's been—since the last time. Dean turns his face against the pillow and pulls his leg higher, makes room. Sam's fingers, wet-thick, and the strange uncertain feeling of being broken open, how it pulls and worries, his body barely remembering what to do. Long time. Sweat breaks out at his temples, the middle of his back. He drops a hand to his dick and squeezes, letting it know something better's coming.

"You're tight," Sam says. Unnecessarily, in Dean's opinion. "You really, you never—?"

"Some things should be kept between a man and his hour-long showers, Sammy," Dean says, light, and it's not really true but Sam huffs another little laugh and kisses his ear, and Dean pops his leg up instead even though that makes a cool cavern of air under the covers, giving Sam the room to work him. He pushes back, pulls at his dick, works it fat, and against his ass Sam's dick feels full, ready. He always liked this part, the part where he made Dean want it. He turns his head and says, "Sam," and Sam lifts up and kisses him just like he wanted, his chest warm against Dean's shoulder and his fingers spreading deep, pushing the slick inside where they need it, and while he's kissing Dean and relearning every molar Dean feels the fingers slip out, rubbing instead at Dean's hole where it's hot now, wet, flexing. He drags in air through his nose and reaches behind himself, finding Sam fat and heavy. Thick. Jesus, he could never forget how thick.

"Ready?" Sam says and that's a stupid question. Dean tugs the blankets higher with his free hand, covering his shoulder against the cold, snubs Sam up against himself and then lets go, finds Sam's hip, pulls—and Sam takes over, holding Dean's belly as he pushes inside, and Dean tries to contain the flinch but can't and Sam kisses his temple, soft, and his ear, and his neck, and doesn't stop, bulling open that place for himself, splitting Dean wide. His pubes press against Dean's ass. Dean grips the pillow and lets his knee sink down and immediately what's already tight is tighter, closer. Sam grunts against him, slides his hand down to find Dean's half-wilted dick. "You feel—" Sam starts, but he squeezes Dean's dick instead of saying, and Dean's fine with that, he doesn't need compliments when he just needs Sam to—

"Move," he says, and Sam moves.

It's slow, from being on their sides. No real force behind it. Dean knocks Sam's hand away from his dick and Sam squeezes his balls instead, and then slips a hand to the inside of his thigh and keeps him close that way, locking Dean in place to be fucked. He's still tight but he's loosening up, from the thick rocking churn of Sam inside him, buried up to the root half the time, flexing in and making Dean stretch for him, forcing in that deep good ache of being open, slick for it. With the underhand grip on Dean's thigh his thumb slots in right at the base of Dean's dick, a soft dragging pressure every time Sam squeezes, and Dean can hardly think for how good it all feels. For how much he missed it and pretended for so long he wasn't missing it. Sam's other arm is tucked under the pillow, under his head, and he manages to shove the pillow away enough that he gets bare skin and bites there, soft in Sam's bicep, and Sam drags in air through his teeth and pushes in harder, the wet drag enough that Dean shudders, shoulders to hips, and Sam squeezes his thigh so hard that it hurts.

If it weren't so damn cold Dean would want to throw the blankets off—get on his back with Sam between his legs—lift up, ride, to remember the way Sam's eyes went so dark and hot and intense from seeing Dean get off on him. As it is he feels it building slow, the sweat between them starting to get oppressive, his throat a little abraded from the way Sam keeps dragging his teeth over it, his breath hot there where Dean's skin's so wet. He clenches inside, as much as he can when he's split wide like this, and Sam grunts, warm burst of air against the back of his ear. "Fuck," Dean says, squirming back. He presses his knees together and Sam feels even thicker, his hand caught between Dean's thighs. "Fuck, Sammy—"

"God, I want to come," Sam says, and Dean jerks, caught against him, his dick spitting. Sam worms his hand out and cups Dean's nuts, rubs warm at the root of his dick, his lips smearing against Dean's neck. "God, you're—are you close?"

"Out of practice," Dean says, breathily light, like that's even fucking remotely true. "Can't you tell?" Sam's hand pulls up, fisting his dick, and Dean arches as much as he can, shoving down onto Sam, his teeth floating on this feeling. His gut's molten. "Fuck—Sam, if you—"

"I have to," Sam says, thin, and pushes—Dean tips over and Sam slides, god, out, but in a second he's covering Dean's back and Dean's spreading as wide as he can and Sam slots right back inside, hard, and Dean drags in air against the mattress but doesn't really care, doesn't need it. Sam's pumping inside, fast and deep, the jolting drag of it sliding all over exactly where Dean wants him, and Sam's hands slip from Dean's sides to his hip to his shoulders, holding him in place, and Dean worms a hand between the bed and his dick and lets Sam shove him into his own grip, the rhythm perfect, perfect—Sam's mouth hot against the knob of his spine—and Dean comes pulsing into his own hand, his toes curling and his lips spread against the sheet and his whole body locking up, it feels like, tense, unloading—and Sam groans, shoves his hand between them to feel the mess Dean's making, says, "Fuck, you're—fuck, you're so hot, Dean, the hottest I ever—" and gets a hand on Dean's ass and pulls it wider, shoves in harder, for a shocking minute where it almost hurts except that Dean's so floaty and satisfied he'd take a knife in his flesh and wouldn't mind—and when Sam finally comes he presses right up inside and pumps it deep, forcing it in, and Dean sighs against the bed, overheated and wet, and lets go of his own dick enough that he can tangle his fingers with Sam's, slick, crumpled, bone to bone.

Sam's a deadweight on his back. Dean turns his face against the sheet and gets a pocket of slightly cooler air, content to take it. He squeezes Sam's fingers and in response Sam squeezes his hip, and then slowly, slowly, his lips brush the back of Dean's ear, and then Dean's cheek. "Wow," Sam says, quiet, and Dean snorts. A shift, inside, that makes Dean open his eyes wide—oh, he's open now but it feels—and one of Sam's knees slips over to the outside of Dean's, different leverage, as he pushes in again on all the wet he made, and in again, still thick. Dean licks his lips and it's so quiet he can hear the wet noise it makes—match, to when Sam pulls out—a spill, trickling down over Dean's balls—and then the squelch as he pushes back in and makes Dean grip the pillow, makes his nuts pulse in heated shock.

"I could go again right now," Sam says, low against his ear, entirely honest.

Dean has to take a deep breath. "Don't press your luck," he says, raw, and Sam laughs quiet, drags out again—still hard, christ above—and tugs at Dean's shoulder, and turns him over in a messy sheet-tangling pull, and gets them the right way around to kiss, full, open, Dean's hands on Sam's waist and the bed smeary and disgusting, between them.

When Dean pulls away, Sam's got his fingers curled around the back of his ear, his dick warm and full up against Dean's hip. He smiles, looking back at Dean in the barely-light. Dean smiles back, kind of helpless. "We really wrecked this bed," Dean says. Just for something to say.

Sam's shoulder lifts. "Heated it up, though," he says, and, well. He's not wrong.

The candles are still lit, and they'll have to take care of those so they don't burn the damn room down. The lantern, too—they shouldn't waste the batteries. There's a slit in the blankets somewhere, cool air pouring in over Dean's back, and he tugs, and Sam gets it and helps him smooth them out, making a cocoon for the two of them. The discarded lube bottle ends up under Dean's back and he slides it up under the pillow, for hopeful future use. Their socked toes bump together. Sam's nose is cold, where it bumps Dean's cheek, but that's all right. Dean's not in a state to mind.

"It's gonna suck to dig out the car in the morning," Sam says, out of nowhere.

Dean closes his eyes and pulls at Sam's waist, getting him closer. Sam's knee slides between his thighs. "That's what I missed about you, man," he says, drowsy. "You always know what to say to get me hot."

Sam snorts. His knuckles drag over Dean's jaw, safe and warm.

[thompsborn]

do you have any spare ironhusbands or sambucky headcanons?

ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY

oh my god okay i’ve been so fucking wrapped up in both ironhusbands and sambucky and absolutely nothing else for WEEKS because of tfatws (obviously if you have seen my endless spam of reblogs but can you BLAME ME) and the portal closed has ironhusbands so i’ve been just. oh my god i am happily drowning in this and them and i do not need nor want air. ok.

also these are all hc’s based just in canon not au, and lol warning this got so long help me, though my brain is so scrambled from tfatws finale that all sambucky thoughts are scrambled and jumbled so i wasn't able to coordinate them as well as ironhusbands so the ironhusbands section is definitely longer pfighf i'm so sorry i'm like this

ironhusbands:

when they met at mit tony didnt know shit. like. like nothing. he didnt know a single god damn thing about anything. like he was a genius he could solve any equation given to him and baffled professors when he was handed like two supposedly impossible equations to this fuckin fourteen year old and he just looked at them with like a mcdonalds burger or some shit hanging out of his mouth and just answered them no problem, but he was still such a hopeless idiot, and rhodey, also a genius attending as a sixteen year old, had to teach him the basics of life, like. making toast. tony how do NOT know how to make toast. its TOAST. you put it in the TOASTER. have you NEVER SEEN A—OH MY GOD HOW DID YOU FUCKING CATCH IT ON FIRE—

he does not perfect the clearly impossible task of making toast until he is 17 and rhodey buys him a cake to celebrate the momentous occasion even though tony went though 528 toasters

you are gold by the national parks. thats it. thats all i have to say. listen to the song and look up the lyrics. you’ll get it.

and also paper planes by jon bellion but specifically for after rhodey tells tony he’s gonna join the air force and tony is worried but doesnt know how to show it and they have like a chill night in and all tony can think about is how stupid he is and how he’s such a coward because he cant get himself to tell rhodey that hi!! i love u!! and im scared to lose u and that you’ll get hurt and maybe die or smth!!

when rhodey finds out about how tony was raised (going with mcu, where tony wasnt physically abused but more emotionally neglected and ignored by howard and always talked down to and compared to others and wasnt treated like he was worthy and never was told he was loved and everything like that) he gets PISSED. like he is MONUMENTALLY angry. and it takes YEARS for him to find out about this too. and it actually puts a bit of a strain on their friendship for awhile when they meet too

like rhodey knows about the starks obviously and he assumes tony is going to be this obnoxious arrogant rich boy asshole and is so not looking forward to being roommates but he was raised to have an open mind and give everyone a chance, but tony was raised to be wary of everyone and keep his walls up and his emotions in shackles because whatever he shows can be used against him, so they clash, you know? they dont fight or anything but theres tension bc it isnt right and they dont get each other.

rhodey tries to be nice and tony doesnt understand nice because his only example of nice is jarvis and his mom and even then his mom and jarvis are always off with his dad so he barely sees them so its still rare for him to experience the nice of them so he doesnt know how to be around someone nice all the time, and so he gets defensive and thinks about how howard drilled it into him to be wary and he thinks maybe rhodey isnt ACTUALLY nice but someone PRETENDING to be

and rhodey starts to feel justified in assuming the worst about tony stark because tony is all cold and distant and rude and is about to stop the keeping an open mind thing about a month into their first year but then he comes back to their dorm early from class one day and tony doesnt come in so rhodey is just standing there and watches for a minute as tony sits there staring down at his twenty sixth attempt at a letter he wants to send his mom becauss he knows his mom likes letters even though he could just call but they havent really called him (howards fault but he’s fourteen still and its hard to rationalize that howards busy life and controlling thumb extends past his son) and rhodey is just confused because tony just suddenly sighs and sniffles a bit and murmurs “this is so stupid” and crumbles up the paper and throws it in the garbage and rhodey cant help but peer into it and barely sees the words hey mom scribbled at the top and that. that. hm. okay.

so rhodey keeps trying because he wasnt supposed to see that but he did and now he kind of has a feeling that maybe tony isnt all that cold and distant and rude as he seems, maybe he just doesnt really know how to be any different, so he thinks about all the subtle little ways that his family has shown him they care about him and starts to invite tony to go get food or to study together even though neither of them really need to study or to help each other with assignments or just anything thats mundane enough to not raise suspicion but still starts to open the door and make tony relax around him just that little bit and then before tony realizes it the end of their first year is there and theyre like friends or something and it hits him that he’s gonna miss rhodey.

for the first time ever there’s someone other than his mom and jarvis that he’s actually going to miss.

rhodey grins at him and says that they’ll be roommates again next year because they have to be and that the summer will be over before they know it and the sentiment is nice but tony spends the summer alone wandering around a house too big and empty after being in a dorm that’s small and has a friend.

but rhodey doesn’t know this. like he knows that tony isn’t the kind of guy he originally assumed but he doesn’t know that he’s literally ignored and neglected and like emotionally and sometimes verbally abused so he’s kind of surprised when the next year begins and they DO end up being roommates again (because tony kind of asked his mom, on a rare day when he got to see her and howard wasnt around, to get mit to make sure they could be) and tony just HUGS him like its been years and they’ve known each other forever but he goes with it and hugs him back because maybe tony’s just more affectionate once he gets to know someone and rhodey is okay w that.

they get closer as the years go by and they graduate from mit together and they’re BEST friends and at the end of the year rhodey invites tony to spend new years eve w his family but tony cant bc howard is having some kind of gala starting at 5 because hes weird and dumb and tony hates it and he also isnt given the option of not going even though he doesnt want to but the entire way there howard drills into him about not fucking up and berates him for all the times he has in the past and when they get there tony is already just not feeling it so he’s like nope!! no!! i simply cannot!!

so he goes in and finds an exit thats in the back and he leaves and finds a fucking payphone of all things and he has rhodeys home number memorized for years now and he calls and someone he doesnt knoe answers and theres music in the background and voices and tony’s entire stomach is in his throat and his heart is sunken into his twisted gut because he just wanted one night where maybe he could smile next to his parents and feel like he fit with them but he couldnt have that and he asks to talk to rhodey and then he is and asks if its too late to accept his invite and rhodey is like yeah of course do u need my address bc its still only 5 pm and its a 2 hour drive between south philadelphia and manhattan so he’d make it with plenty of time before it got to midnight so yay

and tony is like. oh. hm. i dont know how to drive actually. that was a thing that no one ever thought to teach me even though i asked about it about ten million times. and rhodey is used to tony not knowing how to do things that most people their age can (see: the toast) and plus its not uncommon for people from new york to not drive anyway so he doesnt think anything of it and instead asks for tony’s address to come pick him up instead and they’d still make it back by like 9-9:30 so that would work too

and thats when tony is like. well.

about that.

he might be calling from a payphone.

on a random street corner.

and its kind of raining. and he’s cold. and he’s a bit dulled out from everything so he doesn’t really think about the fact that admitting this is going to lead to having to explain what happened and also why and that is happens often. but that doesnt matter because he kind of just wants to be with his best friend and not back at that gala with his dad right now.

rhodey is like,,, ok. ok. wheres a coffee shop nearby u can wait in. and tony thankfully is by a 24 hour one and tells him the name and the street corner its closest to and rhodey is like i’ll be there asap and tony goes and he waits.

a two hour drive turns into an hour and a half because rhodey is Worried™

but when he walks in tony goes from being all dulled out to being all HOLY SHIT because rhodey has a SPLIT LIP and he’s like WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED WHAT THE FUCK WHAT

and rhodey’s like no no its good my uncle was having fun and trying to wrestle with me and he accidentally elbowed me its all good man dont worry about it

tony isnt used to accidentally being hurt tho so he’s still like hmmm but he takes rhodeys word on it and they head out and tony wont say what happened or why he was calling from a payphone ?? which btw tony literally only was able to do bc there happened to be dropped change on the ground because boy would not have change on him ok, but rhodeys like alright lets go with this for now

so they gets to the rhodes house and it is in full swing with family and extended family and adopted family bc they are 100% the family that just adopts the neighborhood kids and the people who have no one else and like ex boyfriends and ex girlfriends even after the relationship ends bc they still are family despite not dating whoever it was they had been dating in order to be introduced to them so its a LOT of people and tony is like. this is semi familiar in terms a lot of people but this is NOTHING like what he has ever seen before holy fucking SHIT

rhodey is just like oh u have a small family then? so ur used to smaller gatherings?

and tonys like wtf are gatherings

and rhodey is starting to get a feel for what might be wrong but just takes tony inside to get him changed because he’s not spending new years eve at the rhodes house in a fucking expensive suit ok

tony is completely out of his element and like he’s not the only white guy there bc again the rhodes adopt people and those people are of every race and nationally you can imagine but he just isnt used to the vibe there are people laughing and sitting close together and playing games and theres music playing but not like classy music its music people can dance to and are dancing to and the food isnt the food he’s used to at galas and shit and nothing is what he’s used to and he just sticks to rhodey’s side like a fucking lost puppy and tries his best not to look like an idiot when rhodey introduces him to people and a lot of them know who he is but dont judge him or assume shit about him bc obviously if he’s friends w rhodey then he’s a good guy and they want to know him and thats enough

but tony is v overwhelmed bc what the FUCK IS HAPPENING this is nothing like anything he has ever experienced EVER

so eventually rhodey can tell he’s getting overwhelmed and takes him inside and lets him have a breather and then asks him about whats going in and thats when rhodey learns about what tonys life at home is really like and. anger.

SO MUCH anger

because not only has every single assumption he has ever made about tony been proven wrong, but now he knows that the best person he knows has never been treated the way he deserves and has never known a true home and comfort and love and safety and

and he’s gonna fix it

and this is the first step

so he takes tony back out and they’re still just friends but this is the day they both quietly realize they might kind of definitely like each other as more because tony is still so confused by the fact that what he knows isnt the normal and overwhelmed by how much there is and how different it is but rhodey holds his hand as a grounding point and whenever it might be too much they move off to the side where they arent completely gone but its less hectic and a bit more quiet and its just nice

tony goes to rhodeys house for every holiday despite whatever howard says

rhodey decks howard the only time they ever meet before tonys parents die and he has the most shit eating grin on his face afterwards that tony cant help but lose his shit laughing his ass off

anyway i didnt mean to ramble for so long about that specific idea so i’ll end the ironhusbands ramble with this one last thought, which is as follows:

rhodey gets hurt in the air force at some point, and it isnt that bad tbh but he does have to go the hospital and shit and gets stitches or whatever idk i dont know what specifically happens i just think it’d be just bad enough that it takes him a few weeks to be able to go back to work but he’s not like OH GOD HURT yk?

but like stated above tony was scared and worried when rhodey told him he was gonna go into the air force so he hears about this and they’re probably like almost 30 at this point because they’re dumb and it takes them forever to get their heads out of their asses (i say this even though in the portal closed it takes them even longer but i digress) rhodey has like his mon his sister his niece visiting him and they were worried but they know hes fine so theyre just talking and in a good mood and then—

door slams open. tony stark enter stage left. disheveled suit, fresh from a meeting he definitely was not supposed to leave, having flown in from maibu the second he heard and then had happy drive him and then got impatient because of traffic and ended up sprinting like ten blocks while happy was like what the FUCK

of course rhodeys family are well aware that these idiots are desperately in love with each other so they’re just like lol ok and just leave the room while tony starts fretting over him like he’s about to die himself if he doesnt know if rhodey is okay and rhodey is like tony tony dude tones stop tony im okay tony stop it

until finally tony just fucking breaks down like full on tears in his eyes voice cracking hands clasped as he leans against rhodeys bed and tells him that he was so scared and he is so scared all the time whenever rhodey is out there because all he can think about is losing him and him getting hurt or dying and it’s maddening and this is when they get their heads out of their asses and kiss for the first time

(irony at its finest bc later when they are married and tony becomes iron man rhodey refuses to not have a suit of his own because if tony is going out there in a metal flying tin can then he isn’t going alone and wow what a power couple)

sambucky:

firstly i’m going to go post tfatws, but i’ll make a bullet point before going into it so if you wanna read up until that point you can but most of this will be random little headcanons based post tfatws

also it isnt like a whole plotline thing like the ironhusbands ones ended up being these ones are more random and kinda all over the place but loosely connected

update from after writing this: i lied

let me start by saying my interpretation of why they are the way they are in civil war is because of steve

thats not saying steve is the bad guy i mean to say that they’re jealous of each other because they thought that THEY were steve’s best friend who the fuck is THIS guy i dont want him here go away

children. they are children.

which i find very funny to imagine from sams pov because he literally is a licensed therapist and would 100% recognize why he’s acting how he is but he’s petty enough to do it anyway

and also he literally was helping steve track bucky down but i like to imagine that sam didnt think they’d ever really find him again and it’d just make him and steve like super mega best friends or something because hes a CHILD

and then from bucky’s pov steve goes through all this trouble to find him and protect him and then this random guy is acting like steve’s best friend and gets to sit in the front seat ??? bullshit. absolutely bullshit. worst thing ever. so stupid.

its so funny to me okay its SO funny

its like that schoolyard thing where your friend makes another friend and you hate it so much that you do something stupid like color on their drawing or put gum in their hair or whatever but they’re adults with 1. super soldier serum or 2. a superhero reputation/avengers status and suit with wings. so thats a thing.

post civil war i dont think they get much yk. because bucky is out in cryo and team cap is on the run and i doubt theyre able to return to wakanda much, if at all, and then it’s infinity war and then it’s endgame and after endgame there’s the aftermath and the aftermath is a mess

i like to think they have some moments before tfatws though. not many but enough for that slight foundation thats we can kind of see in episode 2 yk.

okay NOW it gets into post tfatws so!!

SO post tfatws everything is different because now they not only have spent all this time together, but they understand each other in a way that they didn’t before. in a way no one ever has. not even steve, who may have known them before, but he isn’t here anymore and he wouldn’t understand who they are now vs who they were before and it’s different.

bucky finds comfort in sam’s home town. sam finds comfort in watching bucky find a home there and he doesnt know why.

also sam treats redwing like a puppy and lets him fly around on his own and gets pet and stuff and bucky acts annoyed but the longer it happens you can tell he’s like “oh my god why is this thing endearing”

bucky has nightmares and sam knows this but bucky doesnt know that sam also has nightmares until one night when they’re still in sams home town and they’re staying on the boat because sams nephews are having a sleepover with some friends and they didnt want to get in the way or smth idk i just want an excuse for them to be on the boat and somewhat secluded from people but bucky already woke up from his nightmare and is out on the deck to get some fresh out and then oop

sam havin a nightmare too

because fucking of COURSE sam has nightmares he has been through some shit too!! not being able to catch riley and everything that happened since meeting steve and thanos and he turned to dust alone in the bushes ok like yes everyone that died were traumatized undoubtedly (peter my baby boy baby im so sorry that you got the worst of it) but bucky was around people but sam was laying on the ground and probably just watched his hands as he disappeared and he was alone and like. jesus christ ok.

and then steve trusted him with every weight and everything that comes with the shield not knowing how much more the shield has when he gave it to a black man and just like he has nightmares everyone in marvel does its a fact

but bucky finds out like this and he is shocked even though he realizes he probably should have been able to guess that this is a thing and he knows so much more about sam now than he ever did but this is how he learns more. he learns about riley. he learns so much.

sometimes bucky has those like “oh shit” moments where he’s like “maybe i was kind of a dick to someone who didnt deserve it” and he already had one of those with sam about the shield but he has another one because he assumed shit about sam when they were being all childish and jealous about someone else being friends with steve but like fuck

steve and sam probably got it

the not catching someone. the way it felt to try and to reach out and to miss and to have to choice but to watch as they fell.

what’s different is that steve got bucky back. he got to have that relief, eventually, even if there was the pain of knowing bucky had been taken by hydra, but at least he knew bucky had made it.

sam didn’t have that. riley didnt make it.

therefore, bucky has his “oh shit”

and bucky was already going soft around the edges with sam (as clearly seen in the last two episodes of tfatws, ESPECIALLY the finale because like did tou SEEZ ALL THE HEART EYES oh my GOD) but it’s this that really makes something in him melt and he just. he loses the last remnants of whatever tension or resentment or whatever negative feeling he may have been clutching onto.

there wasnt much left. but now theres none. now its all washed away.

its gone, and he gets it.

sam is a licensed therapist and he knew the reason he was being all dumb and childish and jealous with bucky was because steve had another best friend but also because steve’s other best friend was the guy that had been a big factor in how him and steve understood each other and how they bonded and it

it had kind of felt like they lost part of that when they found bucky again in civil war and he kind of wanted to blame bucky for it even though he didnt actually blame him at all so all it translated to was that dumb kind of jealous thing instead

but now it’s just them. its sam and bucky and it isnt steve and it isnt about steve and it shouldnt be because its about them. its about the boat and the water and the way they sit and watch the waves while the silence settles over them and the way that bucky says, “im sorry.”

its the way sam says, “me too.”

and bucky says, “you dont have to be.”

its the way they stay there until sarah comes to get them for breakfast and sams nephews convince them to play with them and their friends and the world is still shit and there is so much to do but

but its this and its them and that can wait

it can wait

they can take their time if they want to

maybe they’ve earned that much, at least

(it isn't a fast development because they're a complicated pair and there's so much to the two of them that need to figured out individually before they can even realize how well they work together, but the steps are so much easier knowing that they have the other in their corner and bucky knows that sam's home town is a place he's welcome to go and sam helps him make his own dreary little apartment into something that feels real and tangible with a bed and a couch and when they've become something that resembles stable and they've found a balance and they're okay, that's when they realize that maybe they can try for the more that sometimes bubbles under their skin and that they started to think about the more they spend time together. the warmth that sam feels every time he sees bucky playing games with his nephew and the smile that bucky has to fight to hide and still can't fully suppress when sam stands tall and proud with the shield in its rightful place, and it takes time, it takes work, it takes carefully placed bricks to build the foundation they need, but they get there, and when they do...

when they do, they're already happy, and it just makes them happier, and that's what makes it so much better.

that's what makes it worth the wait.)

[twink-appreciation-posts]

Lashing Out - Spencer Reid x Reader

chapter nine of “all bets are off”

the first rule of sleeping with a coworker is DONT FUCKING SLEEP WITH YOUR COWORKER

warnings: ANGST, plot-heavy set up for next chapter which will have zero plot, seriously this chapter is important to the plot but the next one is gonna be very nsfw and pretty much skippable if it’s too much for u guys but THIS CHAPTER IS IMPORTANT and also kinda short sorry 

“What the fuck were you talking to Rossi about?”

The words may have come out a bit more aggressively than you had intended, and maybe a bit too loud, but you were barely keeping it together. You were standing at Spencer’s desk, foot-tapping nervously, eyes darting around the room to your coworkers.

“What? Nothing,” Spencer replied quickly. “Just typical Rossi stuff.”

“What does the even mean?” You whisper-yelled. “Did he…. did he hear something?”

Spencer let out a sigh. “I… I don’t know. All he asked was where we had gone. I told him we were looking for old files. I’m sure it’s fine.”

Perfect. Yeah, you were sure that Rossi totally bought his story, right? No way. He knew. He had to have known. “You think he believes that? Spencer, how can you be so nonchalant about this? What we did was totally unprofessional. We could be fired.”

Spencer finally looked up at you and met your eyes. “We’re not going to be fired. Even if Rossi does know, he’s not going to tell anyone, and he wouldn’t get us fired over it. You’re right, what we did was risky, but it was a calculated risk and nothing bad is going to come of it. You trust me, don’t you?” He spoke methodically, without much emotion, like he would have explained any other random fact or statistic. You hated it. How could he be so calm? How could he not care?

“Nothing bad?” You quoted back at him, rolling your eyes. “Best case scenario is that Rossi knows and doesn’t say anything about it. That still means that someone on our team that I trust and look up to knows that I fucked someone in a backroom during work. I don’t wanna even think about the lack of respect he must have for me now. Do you really not care what he thinks?”

He considered your point for a moment. You weren’t even sure what you wanted him to say. An apology would mean nothing and empathy wouldn’t help your situation either. “Sexual relationships with coworkers are more common than you’d think, according to some studies up to 40 percent of people reported having some form of intimate relationship with a coworker in their life. Plus, it’s Rossi. I’m sure he’s done wilder things-“

“I don’t care what Rossi has done! I don’t care what 40 percent of people have done. I care what I’ve done. I care what we’ve done. Sleeping with you is one thing, but doing it repeatedly and doing it at work is crossing a line. This was a mistake. All of it was a mistake. I don’t know why the hell I let you drag me into this… whatever this is. I feel so fucking stupid.” Your emotions were getting the better of you, you knew that. It was as much your own fault as it was Spencer’s and crying about it wouldn’t help. But you did feel dumb. You felt dumb for a lot of reasons.

Spencer opened his mouth to reply, but he was cut short by Hotch calling a team meeting. Great. Just what you needed. You walked away from his desk, making a promise to yourself:

’I’m never having sex with Spencer Reid ever again.’

The rest of the day was typical other than the fact that you couldn’t find it in you to speak to or make eye contact with Spencer or Rossi.

It was definitely obvious to everyone else that something was up. That was the downside of working with profilers: even the smallest change of behavior was enough of a tip for them to notice.

As you packed up your stuff for the day Rossi approached you. You forced your best ‘nothing is wrong’ smile as he spoke.

“I’m having dinner party at my place this Saturday,” he explained. “Everyone’s invited. It’s my duty to teach you folks how to make a real carbonara.”

“Ah, yeah!” You nodded, still avoiding his gaze. “I’ll be there.”

“Great! See you then.”

The rest of the work week was miserable at best, but it’s not like you were particularly looking forward to the weekend either. Dinner at Rossi’s sounded peachy keen until you considered the fact that it meant awkwardly avoiding friends for an extra day. You would’ve felt bad not showing up, though, so Saturday evening you were sitting in Rossi’s kitchen watching him cook. Everyone but Spencer was there, but you were assured he’d be showing up. You secretly hoped he wouldn’t.

30 minutes into your cooking class there was a knock at the door.

“I got it!” JJ left the kitchen and returned with Spencer at her side.

“Sorry I’m late,” he smiled sheepishly.

“What was more important than this? You have a date or something?” Derek teased him. Spencer shook his head and turned red.

Wait. Had he…? No. No way. And even if he had, what did it matter to you?

“If Spencer had a lady friend I’d expect we’d never know, anyway.” Emily chuckled. “He’s not the bragging type unlike some of us here.” She elbowed Derek playfully. You frowned. Why did this upset you?

You dared to glance towards Spencer only to see that he had already been looking at you. Oh fuck. You turned your head back towards Rossi immediately, sighing. Spence took the only free seat, which was conveniently next to yours, and put down his bag.

“Well now that we’re all here,” Rossi popped open a bottle of wine, “let’s toast!”

You had a surprisingly fun night. You even talked to Spencer and Rossi a bit, forcing down any embarrassment. At the end of the night you had mostly resolved your issues internally, and you realized that you might’ve been a bit too cold to Spencer during the week. So you made the adult decision that you were going to apologize. As you walked out of Rossi’s house, sorry mansion, you pulled Spencer to the side. “Can we talk?” You asked quietly.

“Of course,”

So you went on a bit of a walk.

“I, um, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for being such a bitch to you this week. And before you say I wasn’t, it’s okay. I know I was. It was just as much my fault as it was yours that everything went down the way it did. It was a two-way street and I just didn’t wanna take responsibility for my own actions.” Your eyes were glued to the ground, twiddling your fingers nervously.

“It’s okay,” Spencer reassured you with a smile. “You were under a lot of stress and I understand why you’d lash out.”

You nodded, relieved that he wasn’t upset with you, though you knew he probably wouldn’t be. He wasn’t the type to get mad about stuff like this.

“Well, if that’s what you were worried about, don’t sweat it.” He told you when you stayed silent. He began to walk back towards his car.

“There was something else, actually…” You stuttered out. Spencer paused, turning on his heel and locking eyes with you.

You opened your mouth to speak but the words caught in your throat. You took a moment. Composed yourself. This was stupid. Why were you even asking? But now if you didn’t say anything it would be even weirder. Fuck. You really were a dumbass. “Did you uh, actually come late because you were on a date?” You mentally face-palmed. What a stupid fucking question.

Spencer chuckled. “No. I didn’t. I was writing a letter to my mom.” He explained, and for some reason, you felt relief wash over you. You laughed a bit. You had gotten all worked up over nothing. “Why do you ask?”

Your face fell. How were you supposed to answer that when you weren’t fully sure of the answer yourself? I mean, you could guess, sure, but in the end, you were lost. The question had just been plaguing you all night. That’s why you asked. “I don’t know. I guess I was just curious.” You shrugged. It wasn’t a lie. You had been curious.

“Fair enough. I’ll see you Monday.” Spencer began to walk away again and your brain began to buzz with too many thoughts to keep track of, but one was repeating at top volume, a desperate reminder of the rule you had set.

I’m never having sex with Spencer Reid ever again. I’m never having sex with Spencer Reid ever again. I’m never having sex with Spencer Reid ever again.

But despite the voice in your head screaming at you, besides your attempts to be reasonable about things, even though every inch of your rational brain was saying let him walk away, you spoke. Words flying out of your mouth before you could catch them. “Or maybe I was jealous.”

You thought maybe he didn’t hear you because he didn’t react at first. Maybe that was for the best. But your hopes were soon shattered when he turned around, looking at you with a mix of desire and confusion. Regret washed over you. God, you wished he hadn’t heard.

You stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, both plotting your next move, weighing your options. How much weight did your words carry? How would he take them?

You took a step towards him, and he did the same, and you were close enough to lean forward and put your lips on his and fuck did you want to but you shouldn’t and you knew that it would only make things worse in the end but at the moment you didn’t care and now it was too late because his lips were on yours before you could find the strength to walk away.

You didn’t know who leaned in. You didn’t care. It had been less than a week since your last encounter with him but you were starved and so was he. Whatever fucked up toxic thing that kept you two coming back to each other was too strong to fight and god the feeling of being with him like this was intoxicating. You pulled back eventually, needing to breathe, and you hated it. You wanted more.

“Where are you headed after this?” You asked breathlessly.

“I don’t know. Where do you want me to go?” He replied, eyes searching yours.

You gulped, swallowing down your self-respect and pride. Maybe Spencer had always been right. You needed him. You needed whatever this mess was. “I’ll see you at my place, then?”

“I’ll see you at your place.”

You parted ways with Spencer and walked to your car in silence, your mantra still ringing in your ears.

’I’m never having sex with Spencer Reid ever again.’

taglist <3

@101donuts @annestine @spideyboix @babybloomer @welcome-to-hoeville @eldahae @brokenanxiety @andiebeaword @spencerwaltergubler @la-vie-en-amour1 @rainsong01 @taekwinkle @dreamer7black @guessthatswhyiliveinhell @creepingfromthecorners @joyousreid @slutforthegubes @cluelessnitwhit @idfkijustneedafuckinguser @downondilaudid @screeching-student-unknown @gretaamyk @thegingerfairchild

[angelictaehyun]

PAIRING: guardian angel!taehyun x fem!reader

GENRE: guardian angel au, soulmate au, fluff, angst

WC. 3,000+

WARNINGS: minor alcohol usage, mild language, feeling of loneliness

SYNOPSIS: Kang Taehyun, a sassy, young guardian angel, didn’t think anyone could be more of an absolute mess… boy, was he mistaken.

PART ONE || PART TWO || INTERLUDE || PART THREE

.

As you sobbed into your pillow while simultaneously inhaling ice cream, Taehyun was a world away, absentmindedly picking a piece of lint from his left wing. Not long after, he was standing in front of Soobin, an elder, receiving yet another assignment to none other than you, Little Miss Crying Mess, who’d already gone through an entire box of Kleenex in an hour. 

His job was easy (and he’d be lying if he didn’t think himself a pro): silently look after you, keep you from harm, and do his absolute best to make you happy. But you would make that extremely difficult for him. When he glanced through your extensive profile, he didn’t think anyone could be more of an… in nicer terms...

Absolute fucking mess.

Like good God, yes, your boyfriend (ex-boyfriend, now) cheated on you, but that was a month and a half ago, and you weren’t even with him that long. So why could you not shut up and stop crying?

Taehyun wasn’t supposed to think this, guardian angel and all, but what was he supposed to do? You had raccoon eyes from your dried mascara and a pending noise complaint from your neighbor across the hall. 

Funnily, the first time he ever saw you, he felt his jaw drop. Although you were possibly the ugliest crier he’d ever seen (and he’d been alive for a millennium and a half), he saw past that. He awed over your piercing eyes which held so much life in them; your adorably round face that was puffy from all your crying; your silky hair which he wanted to run a hand through. 

He felt his heart yearn for you, like you were a magnet pulling him in. 

In his first week on the job, he felt nothing but pity and sadness for you. The way you seemed so lifeless and drained had him motivated to mend your aching heart. Of course, you didn’t see or feel his presence; he worked tirelessly and quietly, doing small stuff to make you smile. For example, he’d slip a $20 in your pocket every once in a while for you to find when doing laundry (you never found them, and he was out $80 by the end of the week). He also gradually refilled your bare fridge with your favorite food, hoping you’d eat them and feel a semblance of joy, but you never touched it. Instead, each meal was a piece of toast (and occasionally a handful of Goldfish) and an entire bottle of wine. 

He prayed for your liver. 

His second week, he felt even more determined to see your beautiful smile. However, without his help, you had finally decided to take a shower and mosey your way back into society, a decision he was grateful for since you were beginning to resemble a dying gerbil. He accompanied you to your local coffee shop, following closely behind as you weaved between people on the sidewalk, oblivious to you, of course. The day was going well for you; the barista accidentally sized up your order, the jazz band in the park played your favorite song, and you felt the warm sun on your face for the first time in a long while. That is, until you ran into an old friend and found out she recently became engaged. 

He practically saw your flip switch as you plastered on a fake smile and acted as if you were fine. When you finally left, you couldn’t even make it halfway to your apartment before you were breaking down once more. 

His third week was when he decided to take on a more drastic measure. When he re-read your profile to find a list of your core memories, he realized you had a lot of love for snow and snowfall. So he made it snow. 

In the middle of June. 

Nonetheless, he completely ignored the fact that it was a logistical nightmare, thinking it was a perfect idea, sure to bring a smile to your gorgeous face. When you woke up the next morning, feeling extra chilly, Taehyun felt giddy, especially as you moped over to your window and watched the crystalline snow fall from Heaven. He felt proud, especially when he noticed a single tear cascade down your cheek; he believed he overwhelmed you with such happiness, you cried. But when he heard you mumble something like a ‘Yeonjun loved snow,’ and crawl back into bed, he widened his eyes, plopped himself on your desk, and gave up. Not only did he have to deal with a crying you (again), he also had the entire city population wondering why the hell it was snowing in the middle of summer. 

Most of his fourth week was spent on your floor, playing with your dog, devising a new plan to cheer you up, and waiting for you to wake, as you spent most of your day sleeping… though he preferred you asleep since it meant you weren’t crying. Rather than feeling that pity and empathy from his first day on the job, each time you shed a tear, he found himself growing more and more irritated, so when you cried again for the eighth time that week, he had enough. He undid his glamour which kept him hidden and made himself visible to you. He fixed himself a sandwich, sat on your desk, and waited patiently for you to notice his presence. 

Much like any sane person, when you saw a random, unknown boy aggressively eating a sandwich and watching you from less than six feet away, you screamed bloody murder (which was the reason behind the second noise complaint from your neighbor). You scrambled to the opposite side of your bed and balled your hand into a fist while the other reached for a firm, weighty object, as if that was going to protect you from what you believed was about to be certain death. 

“STAY BACK!”

“Y/N, Y/N, it’s okay, it’s okay. Let me explain myself,” he tried reasoning as he slowly approached you as one would approach a flighty deer. You reached for every pillow you could and hurled them his way. As he busied himself dodging them, you sprinted from your bedroom to the front door, but just as you reached for the doorknob, he appeared from literal thin air in front of you, making you scream even louder.

He grabbed your shoulder in an attempt to calm you but that just heightened your fear. You thrashed around in an attempt to escape, ignoring how his grip on you was outrageously strong. 

Almost inhuman. 

When you finally took in his massive, iridescent wings, a small part of your brain put it all together. The other part of your brain, however, was on fire and assumed he was a nutjob hellbent on killing you. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered, letting go of your shoulder. 

You made another failed attempt at reaching for your doorknob. This time, he grabbed your hand. 

“I’m not here to kill you.”

Your eyes narrowed and your body relaxed (barely).

“My name is Taehyun and I’m an angel. Your angel, actually.” He spun around, showcasing his golden wings. 

You let out an inappropriate snort, which was quickly replaced by a choke as he began moving closer toward you. Your body stilled and you screwed your eyes shut. 

You felt nothing but the cool tip of his wing brush against your arm as he moved by you. After a long minute of silence, you took a deep breath to calm yourself and hesitantly opened one eye, just to be met with the sight of him comfortably spread across your couch. He mindlessly picked at the fabric of your favorite throw pillow and threw a leg across your coffee table. He seemed all too familiar with your apartment, which was a frightening realization. You watched him with bated breath as he merely glanced over your trembling figure, tilting an eyebrow. He seemed disinterested… almost bored. 

You shuffled behind your kitchen counter, making sure to put plenty of distance between you both, and once you were sure there was enough space, you took him in. He was breathtaking, to say the least. His perfectly pink lips, razor-sharp jaw, defined nose, bright eyes, and high cheekbones, it was like he was sculpted by God himself. You must’ve stared too long because you saw his lips lift into a smirk. You shifted your eyes away and folded your arms across your chest defensively, “Fine, I’ll play along. Why should I believe you’re an angel?” 

He tipped his head to the side and narrowed his eyes, “Are you blind? I literally have wings.”

“Which could be fake for all I know.”

He scoffed in disbelief, “I’ll have you know, these are most certainly real. Excuse me.”

You silently leaned back against the counter with a look of disinterest and pursed lips. He sighed before turning around, allowing you to see his wings begin to glow and suddenly disappear in a flash of bright light. You were left gaping as your mind ran wild, though only a single thought consumed you, “Why do I need a guardian angel? What could I possibly need one for?”

“Well, your life… um, it’s kind of ass,” he replied as if it were obvious. 

Now it was your turn to be offended, “Excuse me? Who the hell are you to tell me that?”

“Your guardian angel?! A-are you deaf? Why else would I be here? You think I’ve enjoyed watching you mope around your apartment for the past month? You shower, like, once a week, and honestly, you look like a soggy rat. All you do is cry and never shut up, I can’t believe you’re even still capable of forming a tear! Actually, aside from when you’re asleep, this is the longest I’ve seen you go without breaking down sobbing!” he scolded as you stood in your kitchen, insulted by his harsh rant. 

“They why stay? Go find someone else to bother, it’s not like I want you here anyway!”

You picked at a hangnail and anxiously nibbled on your bottom lip. You didn’t even know why you were so offended; he was a complete stranger. As if he knew, he shuffled over to you, close enough to reach for your hand, and surprising you both, you didn’t pull away. 

“Look, I’m sorry, but like I said, your life has been hard. When your mother passed away, you had to live on your own as soon as you graduated high school, and now you can barely afford college because all of your money goes to rent. Then your boyfriend does what he did? Not to bring up old scars, but you need all the support you can get. That’s what I’m here for.”

You yanked your hand away and scoffed. ‘Not to bring up old scars,’ he says, bringing up every single scar. 

“I’ve been doing perfectly fine on my own. I don’t need your help and I especially don’t need you lurking around. Please leave.” You pointed at your door before sulking back into your room. 

“You’re getting my help whether you like it or not!”

That was the last thing you heard before you slammed your door. 

· ──────────────────── ·

The following week was unpleasant, to say the least. Each and every morning, you woke to his annoyingly handsome yet smug face as he sat with his feet kicked up on your desk… and this morning was no different. 

“Good morning, Sunshine! You know, you’re quite the deep sleeper, your heinously loud snoring couldn’t even wake you… but it definitely woke the dead,” he cheerfully remarked, plastering on a self-satisfied smirk. You ignored him and pushed your way by his tall frame on your way to your bathroom sink. Much like the week before, he appeared from thin air and perched himself on your counter. Despite your lack of response, he continued, “We should do something fun today, maybe go get some sun? You’re looking a little… lifeless.”

He examined your body from head to toe. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he seemed concerned, but he masked it well with his smugness. 

“I don’t want to go anywhere with you,” you mumbled hoarsely. 

“Then don’t go with me! Call a friend or go out by yourself, I really don’t care. Just please get out,” he whiny begged. He hated seeing you cooped up in your small, dinky apartment. He wished for you to experience life again, and he especially wished to see the light return to your eyes and the bright smile he knew you kept hidden. 

“No.”

Once you finished brushing your teeth, you climbed back into your warm bed and scrolled on your old phone. He clenched his jaw at your stubbornness, trying his best to stay calm. It was only 9:32 AM and you had already managed to piss him off. He knew you were headstrong, he didn’t need to read a profile on you to know that; just one day around you and he already picked up on your obstinance. He jumped off the countertop and climbed onto your bed to hover over your body. His breath fanned your nose as he trapped your body between him, wings draping over you both like a blanket. You were shocked and once again, left breathless just by being in his proximity, and you could feel your pulse rapidly increasing as he glanced down to your lips. 

He leaned closer and closer, and you nearly closed your eyes, until he snatched your phone from your hand. 

“You’re not getting this back until you go outside and do something. Anything. For the love of God,” he pleaded, pulling back quickly. The sudden lack of warmth snapped you out of your haze.

“Oh my God! Gimme!” you helplessly whined.

“Are you five? You know what you have to do to get your phone back.” He slapped your hand away as you tried to steal it back. 

You refrained from punching him, instead narrowing your eyes as he did the same. You both had an unspoken contest until you broke first. His harsh gaze pierced you; he was too intimidating. 

“Fine,” you snapped, making your way from bed to get ready for the day. 

· ──────────────────── ·

There was a small, quiet beach near your childhood home you loved visiting every once in a while. The tranquility of the ocean lapping at the shore always provided you with a feeling of peace. 

Until now.

You had chosen to go out by yourself, much like Taehyun had suggested, but your plan quickly faltered when he reminded you that he would be with you regardless, either glamoured or visible. Seeing as you didn’t necessarily like the idea of him invisibly lurking around, you opted to have him visibly by your side. You’d rather see his judgment rather than feel it from afar. 

So there you were, watching him smother an obnoxious amount of your expensive sunscreen onto his face as if he were a human and not a supernatural being that’s completely unaffected by UV. It’d been a week since he came into your life, or at least made his presence known, and he was already a pain in your ass. 

“I have to maintain my cover somehow.”

“What?” You didn’t know what cover he was trying to maintain, his pesky wings were hidden, and overlooking his outright godly features, he looked perfectly human. 

He did a poor job of rubbing the sunscreen into his skin and for the first time since meeting him, you felt a smile creep on your face. He looked like an idiot. You almost let him be since you were so amused, but you helped him out anyway. Standing on the balls of your feet and cupping his face, you began smoothing the sunscreen on. He held your waist, holding you steady, and you felt nervous from the proximity but you did your best to conceal it. He silently studied you, thinking you looked incredibly adorable as you focused on your small task, your eyes narrowing in concentration and your teeth biting into your soft lips. 

He couldn’t help the way his mouth tugged into a small smile. 

“All done! Now you don’t look like a ghost,” you mused. 

“Thank you,” he snorted, releasing his firm grip. Instinctually, he kept himself hovered around you, though, never really creating a noticeable distance. 

You were thankful he pushed you to leave your apartment, but you knew you could never tell him that. You just knew he was the type to constantly bombard you with ‘I told you so’, and you’d never hear the end of it. 

The rest of the day, he watched as you laid on your blanket and basked in the sunlight, eventually getting up to walk the shoreline. You kept yourself occupied as you searched the sand for pretty shells and dainty rocks, and Taehyun forced himself to keep his distance, not wanting to disturb your peace. This was the calmest he had seen you since he was first assigned and he felt so grateful; he didn’t show it but he couldn’t bear seeing you in pain. Yes, your crying was growing extremely irritating, and yes, the pile of used Kleenex beside your bed was beginning to disgust him, nonetheless, he wanted to see you happy. 

When you stopped to blankly stare at the vast ocean, he could’ve sworn he could feel your pain, the way your heart ached, the way your mind was heavy with despair. The pain he felt wasn’t one of heartbreak though, rather… loneliness. 

In fact, all of your pain stemmed from feeling completely alone. 

He quickly made his way over to your side and grabbed your much smaller hand in his—he wanted you to know you weren’t alone anymore. You didn’t turn to him, rather you kept your eyes trained on the sun beginning to set on the horizon. You leaned your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes, relishing in his warmth and the crisp tide washing over your feet. 

For reasons he still had yet to decipher, he yearned to always be by you, protecting you, making no harm ever came your way again. He tried shaking off the feeling as doing his job properly, but something in the back of his mind told him this was different. 

Something about you was different. 

And he could quite literally feel it in his heart.                                                  

Chapter Two >>                                                                         

[raichijin]

⋆͛♡⋆͛ the hangover; mirio edition.  ❥ a one-shot.

━━━━━ 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. (tba)

preface; writing this was honestly so painful. a testatment to why i should never 1.) do collabs ever 2.) write long things. i am drained.

word count; 5k words.

starring; mirio, mina, shinsou, denki, unnamed boyfriend.

summary; after your boyfriend forgets about your anniversary, you spend some time with friends to forgive and forget about what happened. then it gets worse.

warnings; reader gets called some nasty names towards the end of the fic. watch out for that.

you were supposed to be spending this weekend with your boyfriend. at a resort, poolside, on vacation, or on a beach, or where ever he’d fancy peeling off the nice (read: expensive) swimsuit he’d gotten you for your five year anniversary.

he was kind, is kind, but not as committed to your relationship as he was to his job. not even a call as the clock struck midnight, almost an hour past your reservation, but a text the morning after with a short apology, and the sudden announcement that he’d be working late. again. you didn’t cry. wouldn’t, because shedding tears would cause a mess and a headache, and self-doubt is what’s tucking you in at night, telling you that maybe for tonight, tomorrow and the day after your feelings don’t matter.

cause his job is the one keeping you afloat. (your interest in the arts is cute, to him; like a hobby. nothing you could stay afloat with. it’s too risky, he insists, so to you, it became nothing. to others? it became offhand remarks at his high-end office parties. a joke to your in-laws. a breathed sigh of relief from your parents.) so more time is what’s best for the both of you.

that has to be it.

your friends figure out something might be wrong when you go ghost for days, bordering on a week.

you mention how it’s easy to lose track of time when you’re by yourself as you are, but they don’t buy it. say you need to loosen up, take a vacation of your own even when you say you don’t need it because you’re not working, give you sharp glares whenever you object. you don’t know why you thought you had a choice in the matter — especially when mina’s sugar mommy gives her enough money to afford 2 full suites at one of the most expensive hotels in the area.

denki also tags along, just cause, and brings his boyfriend; shinsou, with him.

if they know what’s going on, they never mention it. 

and it’s a little easier to cope that way.

you dip your toes, ease yourself into the night, before you’re being pulled into the deep end and your mind’s been left at the door, but your body is having a field day.

you should’ve blacked out two margaritas ago.

you think you did.

you’re too drunk to recall all of the rash decisions you made, or whether or not you maxed your credit card, but you’ve must’ve gotten separated from your friends somewhere along the way, because when you wake up, you are distinctly not in your bed, not in a tastefully decorated room, not in a hotel.

and mina, shinsou, denki? unless they’re in the adjacent room, they’re not here with you either. you’re still in your clothes from last night. your shirt is missing a button and you don’t have your shoes on, but beyond that, you’re perfectly fine.

a scraggly bed head lies next to you, who is, notably, more nude than you are.

he has no shirt. no shoes. no pants. his blonde hair is unruly and you’re so shocked you actually start to wake up. your eyes widen and you’re sitting up so fast you’re a bit dizzy from the sudden motion.

the room is spinning and you feel sick, the headache behind your eyes making you want to grind your molars into dust. and just as quickly as you sat up, you lay back down; shaking the bed with the force. the guy next to you isn’t as heavy of a sleeper as you hoped, though. he blinks open tired eyes, showing you the most exquisite navy blue, and the little bit of drool dripping down his chin might’ve been cute if he wasn’t a complete stranger.

though you can’t stave off the creeping anxiety, the silence as he comes to his senses doesn’t feel wrong, and you’re more confused than scared.

he rubs his eyes with the heel of his palm, and gives you a criminally bright smile, and though his voice is wrecked when he says “...g’morning, sunshine.”, you doubt yours sounds much better. 

the nickname makes you feel fuzzy, if only for a second.

“i, uh … good morning?” you sound awkward, but the guy manages to find humor in your predicament when he chuckles gently, sitting up without so much as a second thought. you can see more of his body when he does so, and when his hand comes up to ruffle his hair, you can catch the glint of a silver band, resting on his ring finger. 

then everything clicks into place.

did you cheat? was he cheating?

all of the things you’d been beating yourself up over settle thick over top like smoke clouds and a raging fire. you feel like you’re suffocating, and don’t realize you’re freaking out until a strong hand is wrapping around yours, which, in your panic, you squeeze.

you spot a matching ring on your hand, that you know for a fact wasn’t there before,

and you think that’s when you pass out.

you wake up (again) to a room with tacky but charming decor, the smell of breakfast, and considerably less of a headache than what you started with. now more lucid, with the strength in your body to walk and think, your first priority is finding your phone. you tap your pockets, check the bedside drawer and tables, under your pillow, in the cracks of the bed, under the bed.

no cigar. you’re digging through miscellaneous memorabilia, trinkets and clothes that aren’t yours for at least a minute before the guy you were laid up in bed with comes back to just to see you picking through the corners of his bedroom, banana in hand.

he stands in the doorway and clears his throat. he has clothes on this time, pants. “you’re awake? are you feeling any better?”

you startle, straighten your back and stand upright, your arms falling to your sides. “um, kind of. i — have you seen my phone?”

he shakes his head, offers you the banana. “you should have this though! it’ll fix that hangover, i think.”

“i … thanks.” standing and eating a banana in someone else’s bedroom is certainly … a time.

“i made some breakfast,” he says when you’re halfway finished, “if you want some.” he ends with a smile, and you feel those 3 shots of serotonin go straight to your brain.

granted, you shouldn’t be that happy.

he takes the lead and turns around, leading you down a narrow hallway into a quaint kitchenette with a lovely beach view and all the good summer vibes condensed into a single, small room. it makes your heart hurt even more when you realize you have someone home, someone expecting you to come back.

to a hollow apartment, a cold bed, a lukewarm welcome.

you have to force your brain to be quiet to even hear a fraction of what blondie is saying.

“alcohol basically just dehydrates you. the potassium stops that, gets you all your minerals and stuff back. i heard it works with beer, so i was thinking it works for other stuff too!” he sounds so chipper that it brings your mood up just to hear his voice.

so bold and sure, warm and kind.

“but if it doesn’t clear up in 30 minutes, i have some advil i can give you! don’t want you having a headache all day now.” he’s sitting you down at his small table and sliding some pancakes in front of you, some orange juice. eating feels like a chore, but you know you have to, or that you should try at least.

while you push around your food, blondie chatters away, and even if you just met, he has you entranced by the way he speaks. smooth like the butter on his toast as his stories flow effortlessly into one another, how easily he can chat you up is amazing; getting you from gentle chuckles to full blown belly laughter before you can get your first bite in.

there’s lulls in the conversation if you count the moments he takes to actually eat, but he keeps you on your toes with his personal anecdotes, and questions about yourself, forcing you out of your shell, little by little.

the thought of your boyfriend pushed back into the depths of your mind.

until you broach the topic of your friends.

you learn quickly that he’s a good listener, completely silent unless prompted, asking questions or making jokes only when you’re finished speaking. when he asks, you tell him about the ones that got you here, shinsou, denki and mina.

his eyes flash momentarily, a look of recognition, or maybe understanding, passing over him. he hums gently, head swaying as he does so.

“they’re a little rough around the edges but they’re like family, you know?”

“i get what you mean. they were very nice when i met them. especially at our wedding!” he sips his coffee.

“i — are you alright? you’re choking!” that you are. the guilt you felt when you first woke up and the rising panic ram into your gut like a freight train, and suddenly, you don’t want to eat anymore.

"what do you mean we're married?" you rub small circles into your forehead as this idyllic morning goes right back to being cruel hell. 

"yesterday, at the chapel," he twists his wedding ring with warm familiarity that makes your stomach churn. "i can't really believe it myself, like maybe we were meant to be? i know the universe works in strange ways like that."

you're sorry to burst his bubble, but you save the happily ever afters for fairy tales, not real life.

you pinch your forehead and heave an exasperated sigh.

"i have a boyfriend." you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to seek lost comfort. "and we don't know each other to begin with. can't even remember your name, i was so drunk."

you cradle your face in your palms, feel his stare bore into the top of your head.

"togata." you perk up.

“what?”

“my name. it’s togata. mirio togata.” 

“oh.” you rub your cheeks, pull them back with the heels of your palms.

“that’s a nice name.” an uncomfortable silence washes over you both before someone speaks up. mirio.

“so what do you want to do?”

you answer a little bit too fast in response. “i don’t know. i … i should call my friends. i still need to find my phone—” you stand up, ignore the onslaught of nausea, and look around the kitchen.

“help me look? and then … and then we can figure out all the other details later.” mirio carries both your plates to the sink, and busies himself with dishes for a brief moment, allowing you to find the bathroom nook and reorient yourself. you fix yourself up a bit, straighten out your shirt and fix your hair up. no time to take a shower.

you cup a hand in front of your mouth, breathe and sniff. eugh. 

“hey, uh, togata; got an extra toothbrush?” his heart might’ve lept when you called him by his given name.

“um! yeah!” rushing water obscures his voice a bit, but if he shouts he’s loud enough to hear. “check under the sink? i should have some there.”

“thanks.”

you rummage around in his cabinets, and in that time he’s managed to clean up the leftover food and put a shirt on. 

your phone having gotten lost or being stolen becomes more of a possibility the longer you think about it. you doubt you came back to his house to do anything but sleep. how many places could you have dropped it? you come out of the bathroom to mirio sitting back at the kitchenette table, holding his phone in his hand.

“hey togata … do you think you can call me?”

“i mean, sure, but i don’t know if i have your number...”

your anxiety makes you a bit snippy even when you don’t mean to be rude, but you can apologize when you get your phone back.  ”just give it to me then. i’ll do it.”

it rings a few times before someone picks up, which is a step up from going to voicemail, and the situation goes from okay to great when the croaky voice of shinsou answers, worn out and tired, but awake enough to make a greeting.

he says you’re not here to pick up the phone right now, you interrupt and say that this is you, and that you just borrowed togata’s phone to figure out where yours was.

“togata? who?” 

“my, my um. husband.” gingerly said, you can see mirio tense up in the corner of your eye.

“oh,” someone’s snickering away from the mic. denki probably. you can’t help but roll your eyes. “mirio?” you’re upset that he can remember his name but you couldn’t. “how is he?” you shoot mirio a look, he gives you a thumbs up.

“good. so, uh, where are you guys?”

two hours away. they’re two hours away by car and mirio’s pickup truck is exactly what you’d expect from him. it’s big, beat up, it’s blue, and it’s his pride and joy, even if it’s slow to start up. if anything, it feels a bit humbling to hear the low hum of the buzzing engine. brings you back down to reality, out of the lap of luxury.

reminds you of the way mirio laughs with his whole chest. that gentle, rumbling purr.

you’re sinking into the crunchy leather seat with a groan, then a laugh from togata; to which you swat at him. you give him the address so he can set it up with his gps, and get going. he messes it up a bit and then it’s your turn to laugh, much to his displeasure. he blushes from the embarrassment, and you pat his shoulder, still chuckling. it feels natural. waking up together. having breakfast together. unofficial road trip to meet back up with your friends because you got blackout drunk and are 100 miles away.

oh, right. you sigh softly and mirio looks over, thinking to comfort you by turning on the radio, greeted by soft pop and slow guitars.

the silence carries.

fifteen minutes into the drive, he thinks to ask about your boyfriend.

“what’s he like?” togata drums his fingers on the wheel with an air of anxiety almost, though you can’t imagine why he would be — unless he thinks you won’t react well to his question. you don’t mind however, and sate his curiosity without as much as a glance.

“oh, he’s nice,” your statement lacks the enthusiasm you’d expect when someone talks about their significant other. it seems sincere, yet exhausted.

“buys me whatever i want, when i want it, loves his job to death, and … we were supposed to be celebrating our anniversary this week.” dejection is visible in the way you slouch your shoulders, interest waning. mirio can’t help but exercise a little concern, filling in the gaps while he’s at it..

“and you couldn’t, because you came here?” you shake your head.

“what? no. i came here because he was too busy, and my friends thought i could still have some fun on my own. his job is important to him.”

“and your relationship isn’t?” your eyes narrow, glaring at him from the passenger's seat.

“the fuck’s that supposed to mean mirio?” 

“well, an anniversary is supposed to be more important than some job— don’t you think he should just take a day off? it wouldn’t hurt.” you lean against the car door, shoulder propping your head up as you peer out the window.

“i mean, i guess. but he’s keeping us afloat, so i can’t really complain.” togata’s eyebrows shoot up.

his tone is incredulous. “what, you don’t work?”

seeing you cringe away out of the corner of his eye is what makes him back track almost immediately.

“i’m so sorry! i’m — wow, that was completely out of line,” your embarrassment lessens when he apologizes, and you inhale sharply. 

“don’t worry. it’s, it’s fine.” you can’t help the way your fingers dig into the flesh of your arm, gnawing the inside of your cheeks, afraid of getting laughed at. mirio wouldn’t laugh at you, would he? 

“i, i used to make music. i was in a band in highschool, actually.” though mirio’s forced to keep his eyes on the road lest you two crash, you can see the way his smile reaches his ears, the silent ‘wow’ of awe making your cheeks heat up. high brow company doesn’t have much use for your talents unless it’s the violin, or something else that fits their lame-ass agenda. your bass chills in the back of your closet, a relic of the past, but a neat decoration.

you shake your head, too caught up in your own train of thought that you didn’t realize togata was speaking.

“i’m sorry, what’d you say?”

“oh! i was just curious, i asked if you sing?” you snort, then full on laugh, though mirio doesn’t seem to get the joke.

“oh, hell no. i don’t have the voice for it, nor the patience to do vocal training. i just played bass! thought it was easier than guitar because it only had 4 strings. i was wrong. maybe i could … show you sometime? i mean, it’s been a while, but i think i remember a few songs: have you heard of seven nation army?”

you talk with mirio about music at length, and learn that he’s a pretty big enthusiast himself and while he’s never played an instrument, he’s been interested in learning guitar. he brings up your band, and the memories of your senior year come flooding back; mina and denki convincing you to audition, your stage fright, recruitment later in spite of it. 

mirio can see the stars in your eyes when you speak, speaking so animatedly with clear adoration at the topic at hand, and he starts getting a creeping suspicion that back where you’re from, you don’t get to talk about this as nearly as much as you like. he realizes in the same breath that he doesn’t mind indulging you. he participates enough so you don’t feel like you’re chatting his ear off, but quiet enough to hear you fill in the empty space.

the way your hands move as you tell stories is adorable and so is your enthusiasm, he could hear you ramble for hours and never get bored. and he nearly does, it’s been an hour and you’re still talking — but then you take a breath, and apologize for no good reason.

he squints at you, confused.

“what’re you apologizing for?”

“i’ve been talking waaaaay too much. i’ve barely heard a word out of you for the last thirty minutes!”

“i thought you were having fun! i know i liked listening. besides, it looks like that you don’t get to talk enough about the stuff you enjoy. i’m willing to listen, so talk all you want!” the assumption makes you furrow your brow, and you hate that you feel like he’s right. 

your boyfriend either talks about his job, your friends, his parents, or nothing at all. no interest in music. no time for it. your friends enjoy reminiscing on occasion, but you don’t speak enough to them to get all nostalgic.

it’s … nice that he takes your feelings into consideration. you smile to yourself, saying nothing in response.

“we’re getting closer to the hotel — it’s 30 minutes away now.” it gets quiet again, before all the sounds you hear are the other cards and the slow hum of low volume music you’d forgotten about, coming from the radio. you turn towards the window to take in the scenery while mirio catches glimpses of you in his periphery, surprised at how adorable you look, doing even the most mundane of things.

mirio couldn’t remember much from the night before, well, can’t remember anything that wasn’t you. you weren’t completely out of it when you met him, but he could’ve misjudged, considering he wasn’t quite in his right mind either. didn’t know if it was the alcohol that made you so bold, but everything about you was so charming. 

from something as simple as your smile to how easily you chatted him up, despite his tendency to be a tad overbearing, you would take him and his attitude in stride. running around town, dipping in and out of nightclubs with your friends close behind, getting kicked out of said clubs, dancing and laughing together in another—

he huffs, pouting to himself. your boyfriend was so damn lucky.

he steps on the gas and starts going a little faster. you don’t seem to mind.

the rest of the trip was silence, and it wasn’t until he parked and stepped out of the car and said something.

“wow.” he whistles, low and long, until you pinch his arm to stop from attract the stares of passerby. “you guys could afford this? gosh. that’s like, three of my paychecks, maybe.” you chortled as he helped you out, quick to clear up any confusion.

“not me,” you walked in the lobby with him, going straight to the elevators after checking in with the front desk. “i could barely afford it! mina’s … uhm, girlfriend, paid for a room for all of us.” he arches a brow at the emphasis on girlfriend, but if he has any objections, he holds his peace.

“mmh. wonder what it’s like to be rich.” 

you laugh as you’re carried up a few floors, specifically to the more expensive suites, at least 12 floors up. “me too dude! mina is lucky.”

you’re barely knocking on the room door before denki is throwing it open and screeching, ushering you both in. they remember mirio from last night, which is upsetting, considering they don’t remember anything else: not how you got to mirio’s house, not how they got back home. not how they found your phone in the bathroom either, apparently.

“speaking of bathrooms, i’m gonna take a shower. keep mirio company, i guess." 

you have to look through your luggage for a change of clothes, and find your phone on your bed in your room, charging and you don’t think about going through it until after you’re clean.

coming back to nearly forty notifications from your boyfriend wasn’t on the agenda, and quite frankly, might’ve been a sign. some were calls but most were all lower case texts, each more foreboding than the last. holding your towel up with one hand, you scroll through your messages with the other.

 what the fuck is wrong with you?

 who the hell is this guy?

beneath it, a video of you and togata. your pupils dilate, and a deeply rooted sense of dread clutches your heart. it looks like a screen recording off of denki’s instagram account, of you two dancing. not overtly scandalous, but too close for comfort.

have you been cheating on me? 

for how long

how desperate are you? i say i have a business trip and you take it as an excuse to slut it up somewhere else?

you’re fucking pathetic.

heart slowly sinking, threatening to beat out of your chest, you can’t find it in you to scroll through the rest. you barely have pants on before you’re calling him up, frenzied and feeling out of breath. the phone barely rings twice before you’re going to voicemail and hearing the beeping tone. 

fuck. fuck fuck fuck.

you hang up, and try again.

this time, he picks up on the first dial tone.

“baby?” you nearly yell into the microphone, while the other end remains silent.

“what is it.” his voice is hollow, not even asking a question; rather making a statement. you choke on your words, are quiet for a few seconds at most before he’s barking at you. “i don’t have all day. i’m busy.”

“t-that video. it wasn’t, it wasn’t anything—” something slams in the background that makes you flinch, and he takes it as a good opportunity to cut you off.

“so the wedding wasn’t shit either? the way he was holding you, looking at you like that, like some lovesick fucking puppy?”

“w-what? what’re you talking about honey? it’s nothing like that—”

“don’t get fucking cute with me. i’ve seen the photos. that girl mina doesn’t know how to not publicize your life.” you feel like dying. 

“i knew i should’ve never settled for you.”

“you don’t mean that—”

“shut the fuck up.” there’s more shuffling on his end, a deep sigh. you’re too shaken to speak. “i wasted so much on you. gave you a house, a home, just for you to repay the favor by being a two-bit whore, sit on your ass all day and complain, and waste my time with those stupid fucking hobbies of yours.” what’s more terrifying is that his voice doesn’t wane or waver. he means it.

“... honey, please. please just let me explain!” you hadn’t even noticed the tears until you’re wiping them off your cheeks, your sniffling getting louder until you’re full on sobbing.

“there’s nothing left to explain. get your shit out by tuesday. we’re done.”

the line goes dead after that.

you don’t realize how much time has passed since you went to go shower initially, only that it’s been a while, considering how urgently mina starts knocking on the door.

“baby, are you alright? you’ve been in there for half an hour!” you can’t find it in you to respond. all it results in is choking on your own words, coughing and sobbing and tears and this fucking headache.

you don’t want to be seen.

mina announces that she’s coming in, and conversation behind the door quiets down until you can’t hear it anymore. just your own thoughts. she opens it and finds you in the corner, your knees to your chest while you’re just barely dressed, hair soaking wet. crying feebly until she rushes over and asks what happened.

you show her your phone. the texts.

she wraps her arm around your back and helps you up. hands you a towel so you can finish drying yourself off, and picks out some clothes for you to wear. when she turns around, she’s greeted by the concerned faces of your friends. mirio.

her face morphs from a look of concern to pure rage.

“what the fuck!?” she all but snatches your phone away from you, to which you pull your hands back and cradle you legs again. “who the fuck does this asshole think he is?” she looks down at you just then, and sees the red in your eyes, the tear tracks that stain your cheeks and a few drops dripping off your chin. you need your help more than you need her rage and half hearted insults. 

“you yelled.” shinsou states plainly. “is everything alright?” mina approaches them and ushers everyone out, closing the door, presumably to give you some privacy.

you dress slowly, the few minutes feeling like an eternity before you’re reaching for the door handle, clean and feeling like shit, for different reasons other than a hangover.

when you emerge from your room, mirio gives you a hug.

a hug that you melt into. one that you weren’t expecting but squeeze him back just as hard, tears that didn’t quite make it out seeping into the spot where you press into his shirt. his arms are comforting and strong, rubbing and patting your back gently, until the room is silent beyond your heartbeat and your sniffles, your friends milling about in the background.

“he said i have to move out.” your fingers dig into togata’s shirt. “pack up all my stuff and leave but i don’t know where i’m supposed to go—”

there’s a smaller hand patting your back when mina speaks up.

“d-don’t worry.” you can feel her hugging you too, a special warmth blooming in your chest. 

“we’ll figure something out.”

while you’re leaving the hotel, mina makes a call to her girlfriend camie to explain the situation, and by the time you’re back in mirio’s pick up, she said that camie offered to rent you an apartment in her name. the earliest she can get it was by monday, so she offered to let you spend the night for a couple days as well. denki says that he and shinsou could help you with things around the house: shopping, redecorating, etc.

togata is the one who offers to help you get your stuff. you arrange the date for monday, actually exchange phone numbers, and meet up at 8.

it makes sense; his car has enough space in the back, you don’t have much of your own stuff, but you nearly regret accepting the offer in the first place. something about moving out with your … husband in tow doesn’t sit well with you. almost seems like it’s too soon. 

but mirio’s charming enough to make the whole ordeal seem less like a fever dream. you’re beaming at him by the time you’re all done, laughing and smiling and so infectiously happy. by the time you both wind down you’re out of breath, wheezing in the front seats of the car.

he smiles fondly at you.

you can feel your cheeks heat as you return the sentiment.

then both of you are back on the road. the musics louder this time, and you get to show him how shitty you sing; which he insists isn’t so bad after all. it’s after twenty minutes of this that you’re suddenly struck by the irony of it all. 

“i can’t believe our first date with you was me moving out of my exes apartment.” mirio chokes on his spit, cheeks bleeding red as he does a double take, eyes flitting from the road, back to you, back to the road.

“wait.”

“that was our date?”

𝔱 𝔞 𝔤 𝔩 𝔦 𝔰 𝔱 ;  @mitsusuri​ @okayshin​ @tamasoft