#i’ve been clinging on to this show for dear life these last three weeks

[yellowsubiesdance]

i’m so deeply in mourning right now, i quite literally can’t cope with this deep sadness i’m feeling right now

[jadequeen88]

Smart Girls Make Fast Learners

NSFW 18+ ONLY. MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

My contribution to the BNHarem’s monthly collab. The theme was SEx work. ⛓This piece is a first real deep dive into darker themes and was actually really, really exciting to write. 🖤 A massive thanks to my dear friend @libiraki​ for beta reading this.

TW: yandere behavior, toxic relationship, degradation, non-con, dub-con, degradation/praise kinks, mind break, oral (M and F receiving), over stim, loss of virginity, mentions of physical violence.

DISCLAIMER: I do not condone this type of relationship. This is a work of fiction and if this happens IRL please get out of the relationship!

There is a very specific type of dread that occurs when you discover that the person you built your world around has been lying to you. Tamaki Amajiki was experiencing this brand of betrayal for the first time in his twenty-one years on a rainy Tuesday in October in the dim lighting of your dorm room. His grip tightened around the open laptop as he stared at glimpses of flesh in the thumbnails of the many, many videos posted to the site. Previous live streams with thousands of views. He gulped down the bile in his throat as he scrolled through the videos. His shock and disgust morphed into a pure rage as he counted up the live streams that you’d had since first kissing him. 12. There had been twelve. Three times a week for the past four weeks. 

Those big doe eyes that looked into his eyes as you tentatively licked the tip of his cock for the first time… mere hours later they were rolling in the back of your head as you got off for strangers on the internet. He couldn’t take it. You were his first… everything… he knew that you hadn’t been innocent in your past. The way your tongue expertly wound around his when you first kissed him amongst your plush pillows and goose-down comforter reminded him of the fact. The low violet LED lighting of your bedroom made him feel like the two of you were in your own ethereal world. He could forgive you for not waiting for him as he’d waited for you. 

For the past four years, he kept to the shadows. He was there when the football player from freshman year cheated on you with one of your terrible friends (and when it happened the second, third, fourth time). He was there to binge your favorite shows with you (“*insert current guy you were fucking* just doesn’t get it, he’s not into it. I’m so glad I’ve got you to watch it with!”) He bit back the heartache that would wash over him when you’d pet him and coo over him… you didn’t see him as a man. He wanted to bend you over and prove he could fuck your brains out. He KNOWS he’d be perfect for you. But he never rejected the attention. He smiled and accepted whatever crumbs fell from your table. Whether it be helping you study or letting you complain about your shitty friends or your shitty jock boyfriends or your shitty parents… He gave and gave and gave… until that one day, 35 days ago to be exact, a shift in the tide occurred.

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“So why don’t you have a girlfriend, Tama-kun?”

“Wh-wha?”

Tamaki dropped the pencil he’d been using and before he could bend to get it himself, your hand was on his thigh and he was putty in your grasp. You giggled and cooed over him like you always did, but this time you did it while assaulting his mouth and neck with your skilled tongue. This time, for the first time, you made Tamaki feel like a man. Like YOUR man.

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Over the next few weeks, Tamaki had become quite skilled in pleasing a woman. It only took a little guidance to have him sucking at your clit with just the right amount of pressure. He learned on his own how to couple that with his long, delicate fingers twisting and pumping in and out of your slick hole. You’d cling to his silky hair, pulling him closer as a constant stream of praise tumbled from your lips:

“No one has ever made me feel this good.”

“Your fingers are perfect Tama-kun”.

“I love your mouth on me so much, baby.”

The first time you came on his face, Tamaki knew there was a god because he’d found heaven between your thighs.

But that was gone now… ripped away with one mouse click on the night he was going to finally give you his virginity. He had held on to it like it was a treasure. A treasure he’d present to you one day wrapped up in life-long devotion and worship... But Tamaki wasn’t in heaven anymore. He wasn’t going to worship you tonight. For the first time since laying eyes on you, Tamaki wanted to hurt you.

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You turned the shower off and dried yourself. Wiping the condensation from the mirror, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. You felt like this was going to be the first time giving your body to someone. Tonight was a redo. You were wiping the slate clean. Your first time would no longer be underneath the football captain in the passenger seat of his truck, left feeling sore and unsatisfied. It was going to be with the guy you should have noticed long ago. It would be soft and slow… passionate and filled with sweet words and caresses… limbs tangled in soft sheets that smell like lavender and vanilla. 

You applied your lotion and moisturized your face. The red lace adorning your body was arranged perfectly, accentuating the soft swell of your hips and chest. With one last glance in the mirror and adjustment of your bra, you opened the door to the cool air of your dorm room…

...And saw Tamaki looking murderous. 

His eyes slowly left the screen to meet your gaze. His tear-stained face had never looked this harsh. His normally sweet eyes were narrowed and red from crying. The sweet lips you’d licked and sucked with such tenderness were hard and cold as they pulled upward in a grimace.

The only thing he said before rising from the bed and setting aside your laptop was your camgirl username. Then he was on you before you could draw a breath to explain.

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Tamaki always thought he liked you best on top of him showering him with kisses and threading your fingers through his hair, but he had to admit… having your arms tied to a bed frame with the silky sash of your bathrobe cutting into your skin was doing things to him. When you sniffled, face stained with tears and snot, his dick twitched in his boxers. The whines you were choking back behind the silky red panties stuffed down your throat sent chills up his spine. You had to learn the hard way not to spit them out after a harsh slap echoed against your skin when you fought back the first time.

Tamaki stood back to survey the mess of skin, spit, and tears for a moment. You were a blank canvas for him to mark up with his rage and lust. You tried to hide away your bare pussy by clenching your thighs together. It only spurred him on.

“Do you have any clue what you’ve done?” he hovered over you, sleek muscles rippling over your own soft body, “I waited, and waited, and WAITED,” he bit down on the side of your exposed neck and you screamed behind the silky gag, trying your best not to expel it from your mouth and receive more punishment.

“I want to give you everything, Y/N,” he licks over the bite, almost apologetically, “I don’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want it to happen like this… FUCK, why?! Why did you ruin this?” his long fingers dug into your cheeks as he forced you to meet his fiery gaze. You couldn’t help whimpering and sniffling back more clear runny snot. You were so humiliated at how disheveled and disgusting you must look. His head ducked into the soft spot between your neck and shoulder and you felt him sob. 

Despite the abuse he’d inflicted upon you in the last ten minutes, you nuzzled your cheek into the top of his head in an attempt to comfort him. And he let you… he hated himself for it and he hated you for making this all so hard for him.

“No… no, no, no,” he rose from the bed to set up your ring-light and laptop, ice running through your veins at the sight. Your mind couldn’t accept what was about to happen.

“I’m... I’m not letting you get away with this,” he shook his head and pulled at his hair as he finished setting everything up, “If you’re insisting on being a slut, you’ll be MY slut. And everyone will know…” he jerked your ankle to force you flat on your back.

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Maybe if he’d let the gag out of your mouth, you’d be able to tell him this was just a job to you. That it was clinical… that he was the only one who had ever been able to get you off, that his face was the only one you’d come on… that you needed the money since your parents had disowned you…

But you only laid there, accepting whatever he was going to dish out. You knew he was hurt. You weren’t stupid. You overlooked him while knowing how he felt about you. It took years of horrible one-night stands and countless frat parties pretending that whatever guy you’d picked that night was interesting for you to come to your senses. You hated yourself for being so blind for so long… You adored Tamaki, truly. And you hated yourself for all the times you’d hurt him… so you swallowed your fear and tried to prepare yourself for whatever came next.

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Any soft parts of Tamaki that you’d grown to love were gone, hardened by heartache and desperation. After angling the laptop to get the perfect shot, he started the live stream countdown. Subscribers started trickling in, commenting on how this was a pleasant surprise since it wasn’t one of your regularly scheduled streams. You shut your eyes to pretend this wasn’t real.

Without fanfare or warning, Tamaki ripped apart your thighs, exposing your bare slit. A raw shrill was pulled from your lungs, your back arching from the sting of an abrupt slap. Neurons fired off in your brain… were you in pain? Was it pleasure?

“Since my girlfriend likes to keep secrets from me, I can’t trust what comes out of her whore mouth,” he emphasized his point by stuffing his fingers past your lips, pushing the soaked silk further into your throat, “So she’s going to keep this gag right here until I can fuck the truth out of her,” he trailed his fingers along your reddened folds. Were you getting wet? Horror and shame blossomed in your chest. The fact that you were growing aroused wasn’t lost on Tamaki. His foreign, sadistic grin was back… aimed directly into your soul.  

“So that’s what you like, huh?” His nails bit into your thighs leaving tiny crescents behind, “I’ve been too nice? Too soft?” He pushed your thighs impossibly wide, the stretch causing you to moan. He hovered over your core, onyx orbs blown wide with a mix of hate and lust. Tamaki looked like the devil himself and you wondered just how fucked up you were for wanting his punishment.

He opened his mouth and lolled out his tongue, never severing the desperate gaze you both shared, his intertwined with hunger, yours with fear. You’d never noticed how long and thick his tongue was and couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel caressing every ridge and crevice of your inner walls. He flattened the warm, wet muscle and pressed it along your slit. As he slowly slid it closer and closer to your burning clit, you whimpered and bucked your hips chasing the pleasure you knew he was capable of giving… but this was not your sweet boy and he wasn’t doing any of this for your pleasure.

He slung his arm over your lower stomach and growled into your drenched lips. You were pinned down, helpless against his torturous tongue. Fresh tears pricked at your eyes as you remembered how he’d let you pet him and buck into his face, how sweetly he’d ease you into a gentle release. Not this time… it was all teeth and sharp sucks, his tongue forcing you open violently. You were being shoved over a cliff and despite the horror and violence of what was happening to you. You were approaching an orgasmic state at record speed. Tamaki caught on and doubled down. The arm that wasn’t pinning you into the mattress pulled your leg down straight, your knee in a death grip. The new angle made the sensations even more intense. His face pressed harder into your core and you noticed that at some point, he’d started weeping, small sobs vibrating against your skin. The overwhelming mix of emotions and the vigor in which he was eating you shoved you over the edge.

He kept going along at the same speed with the same determination through your orgasm until it became painful. You pushed past it as best you could, allowing him to sob into your over-sensitive skin until he had his fill. As the pain started intermingling with pleasure, your legs shook and the gag couldn’t hold your screams back any longer. You released against his tongue once more, both of you sobbing. He laid against your thigh for what felt like an eternity before he lifted himself to lay on top of you, his hip bones digging into your soft thighs. You could feel the bulge through the thin material of his boxer briefs. Your hips rose to meet it, a pleading gesture filled with the desire to comfort and please him. Your eagerness encourages his mercy, there’s a meek cry that leaves your lips when the damp silk slips from between your teeth.

“Please baby… I’m so, so sorry I didn’t tell you…” your voice was as weak as a kitten’s cry and Tamaki couldn’t deny it made his heart (his dick) clench.

“Say it…” his lips were close enough to kiss, but you resisted… fearful of what he’d do if you did.

“Say what, Tama?” your eyes were wide with concern and confusion. You were desperate to please him.

He turned your face to the camera that you’d forgotten was there and the gravity of the situation crashed around you again. New tears leaked from your stinging eyes as Tamaki whispered into your ear.

“Say that you’re a lying whore…”

“I..I’m a lying whore…”

The last syllable broke as your abused throat grew accustomed to speaking again. He rewarded you with a soft kiss to your cheek and your eyes closed at the tender gesture. The familiar pain in your chest welled to the surface causing even more tears to escape.

“And tell everyone that you’re my own personal slut”

You repeated the phrase to the audience behind the screen and he hummed with approval, trailing one finger along your wet cheek. 

“Good girl…” the praise sent shivers through your wrecked body.

“And tell them from now on, your boyfriend will be the only one making you come… that they only get to see you be HIS slut.”

You noticed the chat going absolutely haywire at your announcement. Before Tamaki shut your laptop, you realized you’d made three times as much as you’d ever made before and a twisted sense of accomplishment filled your cloudy mind.

“Please,” your voice came out in a croak, “Please untie me. I wanna make it up to you,” his clothed bulge was burning into your core and you could tell he was close to breaking.

“Please let me make you feel good. I’m so, so sorry,” the clench of your thighs around his waist made him whimper.

He reluctantly pulled away to sit on the foot of the bed. The way he curled in on himself hugging his knees made him appear so small, so fragile… a complete change from the man who’d just manhandled you into restraints.

“You’re a liar…” you almost didn’t hear the whisper, his face buried into his knees.

“Please!” you were losing feeling in your hands and all you wanted was to be free to comfort him.

His eyes met yours and it was your Tamaki again... Your sweet boy… the snarling, green beast that threatened to devour you was sleeping now after it reached its fill of violence. He crawled over your body and released your restraint. Before you even regained feeling in your hands, you wrapped your arms around him. You littered his collarbone with sweet kisses and apologetic sobs. He began to melt into your affectionate gestures and you wrapped your legs around his waist pulling him impossibly close. Wet lips met and your tongues fought against each other for dominance. Hips began to roll against each other, increasing pressure until you both gasped. 

The violence was gone, but this was still not a gentle coupling like you’d been planning. Tamaki pulled away and freed his straining cock from his boxers. The skin-to-skin contact made your eyes roll back into your skull. You felt his long fingers grasp your throat, squeezing to remind you just how powerful they were. You shuddered in response, arching upward into his touch, chasing that high his dominance was giving you.

With one swift motion, Tamaki speared you onto his cock. With the minimal prep he’d given you, the stretch was agonizing. This was by far the largest cock you’d ever taken and it stole your breath from your aching lungs. You moaned earning a visceral reaction from the boy on top of you.  

Tamaki stayed as still as he could. He refused to come so soon… not when he’d waited so long for this. He tightened his grip on your throat and tentatively rocked his hips into yours. It didn’t take long for it to progress into the most frantic love-making you’d ever experienced.

There was no other way to describe it, he was hate fucking you… biting and sucking your chest until blood bloomed under your skin… hammering into your sore, sticky cunt with total abandon… he was using you like a toy, taking out all his frustrations on your body.

It was ecstasy.

When his hips stuttered as he met his release, the spasms of his tip against your gummy walls sent you into a painful orgasm. You were spent and it seemed like he was too. Your fingers twitched over the crown of his head, wanting to run your fingers through his hair but too scared to initiate any contact with him. As if he could read your mind, he grabbed your hand and placed it on his head. You sighed and began carding through the tangles, gently undoing them. You felt a stream of tears running down your chest as you worked your fingers through his strands. Lifting his face gently, you met his teary gaze with your own.

“Don’t…” he drew in a shuddering breath, “ever lie to me like that again…” the monster behind his eyes stirred quietly, a malicious glint in his eye, before shifting back into your gentle boyfriend. 

“Never, I swear to you, baby…” he lets you lift his chin gently to meet your lips. His eyes close and he sighs into your kiss. His muscles relax and when his eyes open again, his warm, adoring expression falls over your face. The hand that wanted to choke the life out of your eyes minutes ago now caresses your jaw tenderly,

“I trust you…” his lips turn up into a grin that’s just a little too wide, “Because you’re a smart girl, aren’t you?” his top lip brushed against your still trembling bottom lip…

“Y-yes…”

You were fucked. This whole situation was fucked up and you weren’t blind to the fact. But as Tamaki nuzzled into your neck placing soft kisses and whispering praises into your skin, you let yourself bask in the gentleness of the moment…

Because you were a smart girl and smart girls learn their lessons quickly... 

[britishassistant]

Crowley kid! Yuu gets kidnapped by one of the villain dorms and Crowley is touring the the lair and just come across his kid, just chilling their designated chair snacking and roasting the villains, maybe joking around with the minions a bit and then they see each other and it’s like that Spider-Man pointing meme

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

This kiiinda got away from me a bit, but I thought it would be good since this blog has now reached over 200 followers! Whoo! Thank you all for your support!!

Crowley was just popping by to see how Leviathan’s operation was running.

He liked to do this kind of thing, show up when the supervillains competing for his attention least expected (or appreciated) it and demand they show him how their operations were running. The reactions and sights he got to see where always so much more honest than what a prearranged visit could offer him.

Take Leviathan-kun, for instance.

The young man is uncommonly nervous in Crowley’s presence, not quite stuttering, but clearly not far off from it either. He keeps adjusting his glasses minutely, making the light flash off them even as he rattles out his salesman’s spiel of guarantees and flattery.

The thieving corvid inside Crowley preens. Today was an excellent day for a surprise inspection.

There’s clearly something going on right now that Leviathan was desperate to hide from him, which just makes Crowley want to dig deep and uncover whatever this dirty little secret is and drag that wriggling, struggling weakness into the light.

Great Seven, he loves his job.

It doesn’t take long for him to ferret it out—as desperate as Leviathan is to redirect his attention the loyal minions moving like schools of fish through the lower levels of the lair, he doesn’t have the authority to do anything but totter after Crowley as he strides towards the control room of this fine establishment, his cane clicking against the ground with every step.

Great Seven, he loves his job.

There’s the raised voices of Leviathan’s lieutenants emanating from within, along with...someone else?

Crowley pauses, taking in the scene inside.

There is a person is tied to a chair in the center of the room with one of the Leeches hanging sideways off of their lap, arms wrapped around their shoulders as he leans backwards and swings his legs back and forth. The chair is beginning to teeter dangerously.

“Floyd, if you make us fall again, I’m suing you for damages.” A familiar voice quips.

Crowley’s insides go cold.

“Aha! So mean~ I’d never let you get hurt, Shrimpy~” The reckless and violent twin coos, nuzzling close.

“You already did.” The most kidnapped reporter in this city deadpans. “Twice.”

“Bold of you to assume that you’d be able to press charges in the first place, Yuu-san.” The sadistic and coldblooded twin grins.

“Azul likes me better than you two, he’ll represent me if I sell him my kidneys.” Yuu says loftily. “Plus I have witnesses, like that guy...there...”

Well, that’s ruined his dramatic entrance, but Crowley slams open the doors anyway, making his cloak billow and letting those leeches see the angry flash of his eyes.

“A-hem!” He booms. “What exactly do you think you’re doing? Is this how you think professional villains behave?!”

The sadistic twin stands to attention, bowing shallowly to him, as though that will keep Crowley from noticing how he’s moved in front of the hostage and his violent brother, who’s curled over Yuu with his feet planted firmly on the ground and is cocky enough to think baring his teeth at Crowley is somehow a good idea.

“Floyd.” Leviathan’s voice is clipped, moving towards his henchman and the captive. “My deepest apologies on behalf of my staff, sir. I’ll instruct them to take the prisoner back down to the holding cells to continue the inter—”

“No, you will not.” Crowley commands, swirling towards the aquatic supervillain. “You will release them from your custody immediately, and as I am so gracious, I will be sure to educate all of you about how violating personal boundaries—”

“Oh, come off it, you old crow.” Yuu drawls, one eyebrow twitching. “Don’t start pretending like you care now.”

The sadistic brother makes a small, choked noise. Leviathan has gone so still it’s doubtful he’s even breathing. Even the violent twin is staring at the reporter like they’ve grown a second head.

He clears his throat to hide the small sting in his chest at the remark. “W-why I don’t know whatever you are talking about, stranger I have never met before. I will arrange for an escort to guide you home, as I am so gracious.”

The reporter scoffs. “Well, isn’t that just the story of my life. I told you last time, I don’t want any of your goons within ten blocks of my apartment, remember?”

“Yuu, while I always appreciate your sparkling wit, please stop talking.” Leviathan mutters, eyes focused on Crowley. “Are you aware of just who this person is?”

“Who he is? Of course I know who he is.” Yuu’s exasperation is evident in their voice. “He’s my bio dad.”

Crowley bristles, feeling his feathers puff up in alarm. “Hatchling!!”

Leviathan chokes, wheezing for air as he gasps out, “Bio—what—?”

The sadistic Leech brother is visibly startled, whipping his head back and forth between Crowley and Yuu, lips moving too fast to read though no sound comes out.

“Eeeh~? The big scary boss man is Shrimpy’s dad? No waay~” The violent Leech brother jabs a thumb in his direction. “Who would fuck him?”

“HOW DARE YOU—!”

“Nobody.” Yuu says. “I was born via in vitro fertilization.”

“Hatchling~!” Crowley whines, disliking how wrong-footed his child leaves him. “That is hardly kind!”

Yuu lets out an undignified snort. “Sure, because that compares to dumping me back on Uncle Divvy after a week out of the test tube with instructions to leave me under a bridge somewhere.”

Both Leech twins pin him with equally unnerving stares, and Crowley has to remind himself that he is three times the villain they’ll ever be, that they couldn’t actually hurt him even if they did both attack at once.

Leviathan is just leaning against his desk, mouthing “Uncle Divvy” to himself with the sort of frquency usually reserved for those afflicted by Divus’ hysteria gas.

“We talked about that!” Crowley pleads desperately. “It was to make sure that you could grow strong through adversity! I could hardly expect you to take up my position if you grew up soft and dependent, now could I?”

“Babies are soft and dependent, that’s the whole point. I’d have been dead within the week if Uncle Divvy hadn’t given me to Mom and Dad.” Yuu sighs, slumping back into the chair. “Whatever. I’m never taking over from you and I don’t want any of your money. Can I go home now?”

“I’ll arrange for a car as I am so gracious—” Crowley states firmly at the same time as Leviathan interjects with “Ah, let me take you—”

He shoots a poisonous glare at the young upstart, and then at the unprofessional lackey who’s still clinging to his child.

“No thanks, to both of you.” Yuu sighs. “I’ll just call Yuuken to pick me up—”

“Eeeh?! But Shrimpy, he’s so lame and boring!” The twin in Yuu’s lap whines. “I can’t even squeeze him properly!”

“Yeah, that’s not really a negative here.” The reporter quips, putting up with the way the merman whines and nuzzles into their shoulder, teeth dangerously close to their jugular.

“I don’t like him.” Crowley sniffs. “He’s too good an influence on you.”

“Well, guess whose business that is?!” His offspring asks cheerily, before dropping back into their irritated moue. “Not yours. I’ll spend time with whoever I please, you can go suck an e—”

“I’ve called you a cab, Yuu-san.” The sadistic Leech brother pipes up, pulling his phone away from his ear. “It’s already paid for, so please don’t worry about it.”

The reporter frowns again, before shaking their head with a tired sigh. “Thank you. I need to go sleep off a migraine, so untie me and I’ll see you three next week or something.”

Leviathan moves forward to tug swiftly at the ropes pinning their arms behind their back and pulling his henchmen off of them, finally. “Let me escort you out at least. It wouldn’t do to have any more unpleasant surprises before you got home.”

“Fine.” Yuu pins Crowley with that look that always makes him want to squirm. “Have a lovely day, Dire Crowley-san.”

“Likewise.” He watches his heir walk out as the violent Leech twin calls out “Bye bye, Shrimpy~!”

He turns to those two upstarts, drawing himself up to his full height. “I am certain I don’t need to impress upon you the fact that none of what went on in here leaves this room, yes?”

The sadistic one meets his eye for a moment, spreading his hands wide with an unpleasant smile. “I am unsure of what you mean, Crowley-sama.”

“Yeah, dunno~” The violent one chirps from where he’s now perched in the recently vacated chair.

“Well, suffice it to say that Divus came up with a very interesting potion to affect merfolk, some years ago.” Crowley allows himself a cruel smirk. “One that gives them legs permanently. Shame it doesn’t do the same for lungs. I will not tell him how...carelessly you boys have been treating one of his most prized experiments, as I am gracious, am I not?”

He watches the pair of them swallow reflexively with a thrill of dark satisfaction. “Yes, Crowley-sama.” They chorus.

“Wonderful!” Crowley chirps, clasping his hands together. “Now, I think it’s time for a special lesson on respecting the personal boundaries of one’s hostages, don’t you?”

[skiyoosmi]

if fate permits

chapter twenty

a taste of his own medicine

previous < masterpost > next

“Hey… uhm… I’m sorry. I’m not sure where to start because I’ve been the worst friend to ya for the past weeks. But I want to start with an apology, I guess… yer probably tired of hearing it, right? … it’s something I’ll never gonna be proud of, my pettiness, I mean… but yeah… I’m sorry, YN. I hope ya believe me when I say yer impo–”

Beep! You sighed, ending yet another voicemail from Atsumu. It’s been almost a week since you and your brother moved out of the apartment and ever since the day after that, your soulmate has yet to cease dropping more than three voicemails every single day.

It wasn’t that you haven’t caught sight of him at school; in fact, you see him everywhere. It’s just so happens that you couldn’t help but avoid him like a plaque. You think he knows it though and you’re actually glad that he’s trying to respect your space (except for the endless ringing of your phone which only gets sent straight to voicemail every time, much like today). Which is why right now, you only stared at his contact, contemplating whether you will entertain his ‘apology.’ He sounds like he regrets it, after all and the fact that you only have less than 10 days before your flight wasn’t helping the situation.

“You know, if you keep having a soft heart like that, I’m betting a hundred bucks you won’t get too far once you become a famous writer. A lot of people will take advantage of you, you know. And don’t even get me started with those haters that disguise themselves as critiques,” Speaking of the devil, Kiyoomi suddenly spoke up, his figure leaning against the doorway of your room, much like the pose your father had when you were leaving your previous apartment.

Hundred bucks, you begin to think, where the hell would your jobless ass get a hundred bucks? You won’t tell him that verbally, of course; you value your life too much to even risk being strangled by your brother’s own hands.

“What do you mean soft heart? Where’d you even get the idea that I’m going to talk to him, doofus!? No way, he needs to learn his lesson,” You huffed, turning to him with an eyebrow raised, as if challenging him. He scoffed, entering your room, and sitting on your bed. You were kind of surprised he did given that your room was still messy as hell; but once again, you opted to keeping your mouth shut.

“It’s written all over your face, dear sister. Plus, you’ve said that a million times already I’m actually tired of hearing it now. After all these years, you think I don’t memorize every habit you have?” He replied, hands taking some of the clothes that were still stored in a brown carton and beginning to fold them neatly before standing up and putting it into your closet. He really does take after your father, from appearances to characteristics, “Your eyes, they speak to me the loudest, telling me every bit of your feelings. In fact, I’m kind of puzzled Atsumu never found out through them. But then again, it just supports the truth that he’s as dumb as he could get.”

This boy doesn’t really miss a chance to voice out his disfavor for your soulmate, huh? You wonder what is it that made him dislike… no, wait dislike was an underestimation… rather, loath Atsumu to the core. Bad first impression? No, your brother was not that petty. Did they have a fight you never knew about? If Atsumu and him ever fought, you were sure as hell you’d be the first one to know, seeing as your best friend practically whines and complains at you at every single thing in his life… so why?

“He hurt you and not just once. It’s not supposed to be my business but technically speaking, you are my sister before you were his soulmate and that’s all I needed to dislike him,” said Kiyoomi, continuing to fold your clothes as if what he said was practically nothing. Was he a mind-reader? You don’t know but perhaps, you could try to convince him to start up a fortune-telling business with you and earn millions.

“… You’re so creepy, ‘Yoomi,” You spoke up after a few moments of silence while he sneered, obviously not pleased with your comical reply, “Forget it! God, it’s so hard to have a serious talk with you.”

You only pursed your lips before bursting out into laughter, making him glare at you before his eyes softened. He hasn’t heard that pure laughter in a long time, after all. For some odd reason, he is proud that it was him that made you happy again like that, even for just a short while. After watching you work on something he doesn’t really know what, probably for the play, (it’s a relief you still have a smile on your face while you were on it though), he stands up, stopping by the doorway again when he heard you speak, “Thanks for being there, ‘Yoomi. Can’t imagine my life without my best brother.”

Kiyoomi knows he’s far from being the best brother in the world; he wasn’t expressive, sweet nor overprotective… but hearing those words from you means he’s at least good and somehow, he’s fine with that. He remains quiet before saying, “You know, your friend Hajime, I think he’s nice.”

He doesn’t say anything more, but he knows that his words reached you; he didn’t miss the way you blushed, after all. He takes note of making you flustered more often.

Osamu grumbles under his breath in annoyance, clenching then unclenching his hands as he watched Yui cling onto his brother’s arm like there was no tomorrow. Doesn’t this girl have any decency left in her blood? They were in the public cafeteria of the university, good heavens! And they haven’t even officially became soulmates AND a couple.

The last thing he wanted on his agenda today was to become a third wheel, much less to his brother; and the fact that it’s not even with you, the true soulmate, his favorite Sakusa (he won’t let Kiyoomi know that though), and best drinking buddy, makes it more unbearable for the gray-haired lad. He could only scowl so hard at his twin, who on the other hand, remained unmoved. At least that’s what Osamu sees but unbeknownst to him, Atsumu just wishes he could go and find you as soon as possible.

He has had enough of you averting your gaze each time you catch each other’s eyes at the theater room. According to his brother, your flight is in ten days which means he only had a few more days to make your friendship right; to make it up to you and prove that you are, indeed, an important figure in his life (cue Osamu’s mocking last night when they talked: “HAH!? You sure do have a peculiar way of showing her that she’s important. You’re making me want to laugh and choke you at the same time.”)

“Oh! Iwaizumi-kun, Tooru and… Sakusa YN?” Yui trails off, making the blonde perk up at the sound of your name, turning his body quickly only to find you already looking back at them with… disappointed eyes? As quickly as it came, it disappeared and soon, you were smiling and waving at Osamu, completely ignoring your “best” friend. Atsumu can only stare at you in disbelief; never, not even once, had you disregarded his existence like that before. Even when you had small arguments, you made sure to acknowledge him with a simple nod.

In addition to your indifference, Hajime only furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at Yui’s greeting, as if he doesn’t know Yui at all, not even as an acquaintance. Hence, the three of you only proceeded to the table Makki, Mattsun and your brother saved for you.

“Eh? Iwaizumi… ignored me?” Yui frowned, obviously not used to being disregarded by the boy who used to give her a greeting every time they come across each other. As far as she could remember, they ended their bond in good terms, without anyone having to feel angry at the other so why is it that he acted that way? Did he hold a grudge after all?

Meanwhile, Atsumu gazed into nothing, your sad eyes flashing into his mind and staying there. Have you given up on him already? Did his nightmare that day actually came true? His trail of thoughts was cut off with Osamu’s voice speaking with amusement plastered on his face, “ooh, a taste of his own medicine, huh YN?”

He smirks, finding his brother’s suffering oddly satisfying. He too, like Kiyoomi, has his limits as to Atsumu’s undesired talent of hurting you (he knows the blonde was also suffering but you know, it just really gets on his nerves how blind his twin could get). So right after saying that, he stands up, picking up his tray that holds his food and beginning to walk where your table was.

“Samu! Where are you going?” The said lad looks back at his blonde twin weirdly before shrugging, “YN and Kiyoomi’s table, where else? You can’t expect me to stay on the table with you two, it’s weird.”

“So… you really can’t remember anything about your soulmate? Like who it is or something?” Oikawa asked, staring at Hajime’s hands, as if he’d be able to see anything on his pinky. Unfortunately for him, the ex-captain was not given the ability to be a Moira so he wouldn’t be able to see any changes no matter how long or hard he looks. The spiky-haired lad merely groans, feeling a headache coming due to his dear friend’s pestering, “Yes. I told you that already. I just woke up, saw my thread black and now, I can’t remember anything about who it is.”

“But you can remember us? It’s just the soulmate stuff you forgot?”

“Well, I’m talking to you right now, am I not, you dumbass?” Hajime snarled; an inch close to punching his best friend in the face. Beside him, you look down, feeling the sadness and heartbreak for him because even those feelings were lost the moment he woke up. If you let go of Atsumu, will this also happen to you? You can only give a pathetic laugh at your silly question; of course, it will. You weren’t some kind of special Moira that will be exempted from that ‘curse.’ But you wonder, how would he react? Would he be sad? Or would he just forget about you too and just throw everything you had away? It seems so easy for him to do that, after all.

Now that you witness what’s gonna happen upon cutting the thread, a part of you somehow wishes you should’ve just told him when it was still early, when you were still young and problem-free. Maybe he would’ve given you a promise like those in the movies wherein he says he would marry you once you get older. Maybe he would’ve been able to love you if you could’ve just given him a chance to do so. But it’s your fault, isn’t it? Because you were a coward; you were so greedy for true love that you can no longer have it, you think to yourself.

In the midst of your rather negative thoughts, a warm hand pulls you away from mentally beating up yourself further. Looking up, you find Hajime looking at you with soft eyes, as if assuring your heart that: “You’ll be fine. I’m here. I’ll keep you safe.”

Maybe… just maybe, the universe has given you another chance for true love.

marga's notes. I HAVE FOUND A NEW HUSBAND AND HIS NAME'S BENIMARU SHINMON

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[oh-styles]

A Little Bit of History: I

Alas, the moment roughly five of you have been waiting for. It’s here - half of it - but it’s here. The paternity test chapter! Is Harry the father? Who is her ex-boyfriend? Read more to find out!

26 September 2014 Manchester, UK

The truth can hurt.

It can burn and sting, seer your skin like a hot blade, so it’s little to no surprise when some – much like the protagonist of this story – will do indisputably everything in his power to avoid it; the impending, splintering and crushing truth.

It all began in the fall of 2014, nearly two years before.

We open this story in Manchester, more specifically, Arndale Market. The day was overcast, but she expected nothing less; soon enough the trees will be bare, the ground will be coated in sheets of white, and her favorite time of year will have finally arrived. She prefers the warmer seasons, yes, but once finally the weather drops, she knows its soon her son will be home for Christmas.

It was Robin who first spotted you, standing with your back to the door of Hotel Chocolat. You were stifling through your bag – you knew your phone was in there somewhere – and with a quick glance over your shoulder, Anne stopped in her tracks. She cannot recount the last time she saw you. Your hair had grown, and she swears up and down that you have gotten taller, though, looking back on it now, it could have just been your heels.

Anne is hesitant at first, watching as you laugh with one of the shop assistants, and she turns to Robin with a raise of her brow, as if to say, “Do we dare say hello?”

You were her sons first love – and as far as she was aware, her sons only love – and it was the sixteen months of loving you that made it just as hard for Anne when she learned the news that the love that had been built higher and higher, had finally reached its limit, and came tumbling down.

You weren’t to blame. Quite frankly, you stuck by his side through every immediate corner he turned, from the first audition to the first single. He no longer was yours, but someone who you now shared with the rest of the world. There are some things that you aren’t prepared to take on at such an early age, but you held onto that rope until your palms were bloody. You did everything in your power to keep ahold of that boy, but he was running rampant through his newfound fame, and you were clinging on for dear life.

It was a ticking timebomb, and Anne felt it. She watched the phone calls become few and far between, and even had to listen as you shrugged your way through conversations about how you couldn’t quite recall the last time the two of you spoke.

“A week, maybe?” Give or take a few days.

It was a Sunday morning when it happened, and even Anne felt a piece of her heart chip away. Her son sobbed through tears on the other end of the line, retelling how he wish he could have been better, wishing he could go back and start everything over from the beginning so he wouldn’t have to lose you this way.

And if Anne were being honest, she suspected if anyone were to bite the bullet, it would have been you.

But, if you love someone, you set them free.

She’s certain, even to this day, he holds tightly to the time spent with you. You were the girl who loved him before, and even more so after, and maybe that’s why no relationship now has lasted longer than a few months. She has yet to see the spark in her son’s eye return.

And now, three years later, here you were.

Anne promised herself she would go in, say hello, and wish you well. She knew you moved from Holmes Chapel a couple years ago – rumor has it you found yourself a hunky boyfriend and shared his London flat with him – so she was unsure when she would ever cross paths with you again.

You see, the world is a small place, and its moments like these that remind one of such. The 1975 would be playing back-to-back shows for the next two nights, and you were lucky to score tickets through your friend who worked at the arena. The show wouldn’t start for another few hours, so you decided you could fill your downtime with a little shopping trip, and because most great minds think alike, this is how Anne stumbled upon you whilst you did your chocolate shopping.

Inside the shop, she makes an immediate left, and standing there contemplating the bundles of cookie chocolate, there you were. Your lips were pursed together as you tapped a finger along the boxes, skipping over the boozy chocolates with a defeated sigh, and it was in that moment – after you moved your purse from one shoulder to the other – that Anne saw it; the small, but still perfectly round bump that almost looked out of place on you.

She didn’t mean to stare; hasn’t she already taught this to her two grown children? But truth be told, she was truly caught off guard. Ever since the breakup, and after you fled Holmes Chapel, you slipped away from the public eye, and haven’t been seen since. Any time a rumor that comes around is simply that, and one to take with a grain of salt. And Anne believes that if she had heard that you were with child, she probably would have just shaken her heard to that nonsense.

When she says your name, the same nickname she called you all those years before, she could sense your stature straighten, and your box of chocolates falls limply at your side. The last time she ever said it was in your last shared phone call the day before you vanished from the small town.

She doesn’t know when she’ll ever see you again, and as far as she’s aware, this could be the very last time, and she doesn’t let it slip by her how tightly you clung to her as she leant forward for a hug. You never even said goodbye all those years ago; the only thing you can recount is packing your bags in the middle of the night, and running as fast as you could—aloft, gone with the wind. You ended up being one of the biggest One Direction mysteries: What Ever Happened to Harry’s Childhood Girlfriend?

There were many conspiracy theories, for example: you joined porn. There was never any proof, but some fans claimed to have seen you in an advertisement or two. Some even claimed you shaved your head and joined a cult, and another that you simply died.

It’s been three years now, and fans seem to have let up on your bizarre disappearance, but every now and then does a new “lead” come around, and you question how far they had to go to dig it out of their ass.

“He still talks about you sometimes,” Anne inquired, holding your hands in hers. You couldn’t shake the desire to run at the mention of him, because even now, months after your last encounter, do you wish you could have ended things differently. “I’ll let him know you’re well.”

The last time you saw him was a mere five months ago, a secret rendezvous you are sure his mother has no knowledge of.

“Well, sweetheart, I better get going… Robin is out there probably wondering where I’ve gone to. It was great to see you, love.” She leans over and reels you back in for a final hug, and it’s then you realize that she never mentioned a word about your pronounced bump. “I’ll send Robin your love.”

By the next day, the news of your pregnancy will have made its way all the way to Charlotte, North Carolina where One Direction were set to perform for their Where We Are tour. Anne doesn’t ever mean to prattle, but this wouldn’t be considered gossip, would it? Not when she’s seen with her own eyes that you were with child. She only mentioned it to Gemma in passing, but only after having commented on seeing you before the concert in Manchester.

“She looks well… She’s pregnant, did you know?” And it was that little remark that sent Gemma typing away on her phone to her little brother, who was currently in Hair & Makeup at his show. “You won’t believe what mum told me…”

The last time he saw you was on the 8th of April, and even then, he hadn’t much prepared for such a confrontation. You claimed to have gotten his number from a friend the two of you shared from your childhood, and after he told you he was in London between gigs, you were quick to ask if you could come over. You were never exactly sure why you were so eager to see him, but there was one thing you knew for sure, and that was that you were lonely.

You didn’t realize how much a boy could change in only the few years, but upon stepping in his doorway, you were greeted with someone who could no longer be described as a boy, but man. His hair was longer, pulled up out of his eyes with a bandana, and he was adorned with a couple rings, and a necklace. When he greeted you, he reached out his hand before hesitantly stepping backward and inviting you in for a hug.

The last time you touched him was years before, and you believe it was him leaving once more for another excursion with the band. You probably didn’t realize that would be the last time for a long time, and you probably didn’t think the same for the moment right now. Maybe a part of you believed this would be a new start for the two of you, but has the person in front of you changed in the years since your last meeting? Has he learned to stop letting his world revolve around no one else but him?

He invited you inside and guided you to his sitting room. “Made y’some tea,” he lifted a finger up and scurried off to presumably the kitchen. You could hear mugs lightly hitting together, and it wasn’t a minute before he was back with you, setting your glass on the table in front of you. “Glad y’came… Gives me a reason to pull out the nice glasses.”

You note the fine china and give him a weak smile. “It is nice.”

“Yeah… Someone gave it to me. Can’t remember who.”

Weak small talk. You wish he had given you something stronger instead.

An hour passes, and the two of you talk about his tour, your job, and you can sense him sheepishly shy away from the topic of Holmes Chapel, your childhood, and your sudden burst into the night. He doesn’t ask you how you’ve spent your years away, if you’re seeing anyone, but the idea still makes his palms sweaty and stomach uneasy.

It was another hour before his lips touched yours, and you quickly found yourself melting in the hands of your former lover. He tasted the same, and you couldn’t deny entry as his tongue prodded out your lips, begging for just a little more. That was all it was with him, just wanting a little more than what was given. His touch lingered down your sides and back up under your sweater, and his lips trailed across your jaw and down your neck, leaving no inch of you left untouched.

None of this was your intention, not when you made the phone call, and not when you showed up in the middle of the night. You just needed someone familiar, someone—anyone. It wasn’t your intention to drop your hands into his lap and undo the button of his pants, nor was it to reach inside and pull him out, rubbing him like all the times you had done before.

Like all the times you hid under the covers at his mother’s house, your bodies wrapped together between the sheets, showing each other a love you were only just discovering. It was clear to you now, that maybe that love hadn’t drifted so far away as you thought it had.

You hopped off his lap, undoing the button of your own pants before hastily discarding them on the floor. Like all the times before. His body felt the same; a bit broader, and a litter of tattoos scattered carelessly across his arm and torso. Stories and memories stabbed into his flesh, ones you were never a part of, and ones you might never know the origin. There will be more, you know this, and you know that’ll be a part of him you never touch.

He fit in you like all the times before; it wasn’t much like a memory but more of a nightmare, for you knew this would only become something as such. You would leave in the morning with the print of his hand still red on your ass, and every time you closed your eyes you would be able to feel his cock so deep in you, you would be walking funny until the evening. The stain he leaves on you would haunt you until you found someone else to love, and even then, you weren’t so sure.

Coming here was a mistake.

But he was like a drug; you could never stay away for too long.

*

Henry James Collins was a few months shy of twenty-one when you met him at a pub in Brixton. He played Rugby, had a Pink Floyd tattoo, and was a student at the University of Law. He bought you a pint, called you Sweetheart, and come the late hours of the night, kissed your cheek on your doorstep with the promise to call you in the morning.

It was the summer of 2013, and you were in love.

The fleeting months carried casually on by, and most evenings you spent on the floor of his flat with an open book, his flannels draped over you like a comforting blanket, and an empty spot beside you that questioned his whereabouts.

If it wasn’t one pub, it was another, and if it wasn’t him coming home passed due completely shit-faced, it was him not coming home at all. And it was you drenched in a panic until he finally stumbled in through the front door sometime that next morning.

He called you sweetheart, and kissed your cheek, and promised with putrid breath he would be better. He’d later fuck you, which was a seal to his promise that would always come undone by the weekend.

173 days, and as suddenly as he appeared, you packed your bags in the middle of the night and ran. A week later, you found yourself on your ex-lover’s doorstep, and by the next morning you would be parading a shameful walk to the bus stop, only realizing halfway home that you left your knickers somewhere in his living room. He never reached out to you after that night. You were only to him what he was to you.

*

A month later you found out you were pregnant. Eight weeks, and the size of a kidney bean.

You would find yourself multiple times a day staring at your reflection in the mirror; scrutinizing over every insignificant inch of your body, forcing yourself to see any sign of change. The longer you looked, the more distorted you appeared, and each time you placed your hand over your stomach and cursed.

It was your fault; you put yourself in this situation, but you’d be damned if you didn’t let yourself feel a little remorse for the child who would grow up without a father.

You reached out to Henry twice. One, through a voice message where you pleaded to meet up for lunch, but it only began to become clear to you that he might still be bitter of your surprise exit the month before. The second time, you texted him the words you could still barely say to yourself out loud, and he was quick to reply, “Probably best if you stop calling.”

A thought crossed your mind – brief, but poignant – to swallow your pride and swear the words you clutched in your fist like a hand grenade. It would be a little white lie, a fib, but it would be the best, if not only, shot you had of giving your little Lovebug the chance of a complete family. But after a moments thought, you were doubtful Harry would even buy it; didn’t you have a boyfriend before him? How do you know the baby isn’t his?

And who’s to say Harry even wants to take on that responsibility right now? The impending downfall was tumbling, tumbling down, and you had never felt more alone.

But from miles away in his dressing room, sat a lone lad, that unbeknownst to you was writing in his journal what would be a song that the entire world would know the words to, all relating to the feeling of wanting another person’s love, even if you weren’t the only one.

Just a little bit of your love is all I want.

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 16

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

May passes into June and they quietly acknowledge that it has been one year since the day Mulder walked into the autopsy bay. They spend their weekends watching movies, making love, and hanging out with the Gunmen, Missy often in attendance as she and Byers become somewhat of an item. Every other Sunday they have lunch with her mother, Mulder meeting Bill by way of an awkward phone call and a promise that they will come out to visit San Diego sometime soon. The moratorium on weekday overnights fades away and the days they spend in each other’s beds begin to outnumber those that they don’t.

One day in early August, Mulder laments how lonely Priscilla gets when he’s gone for the night, crying and following him from room to room when he comes home and plaguing him with guilt. Scully suggests that he bring her over with him, setting up a litter box and food bowl in an unused corner of the living room. Without the daily need to care for a cat, he spends more and more time at her apartment, his suits taking over half her closet and his T-shirts occupying one of her drawers. He still has his fish to feed and so they can tell themselves that they don’t technically live together, though it’s been weeks since anyone slept at his apartment. The excitement of new love gives way to the familiar comfort of domesticity, questions about their lives prior to meeting morphing into what they’re having for dinner and whether someone can pick up toilet paper on the way home from work. They each visit the doctor for a full workup and, everything coming back clear, stop using condoms, relying on the progestin shot Scully goes in for every three months to prevent pregnancy.

Far from boring, they find worthy sparring partners in one another, debating everything from whether the moon landing was a hoax to the merits of String Theory, arguing their points of view passionately before they agree to disagree and then let their clothes fall to the floor. They discover the things they love best about one another; Mulder’s unrelenting curiosity and Scully’s bottomless compassion, as well as those they like the least; his forgetfulness when he’s focused on something and her tendency to shut him out when she’s upset. Whether completing a crossword puzzle together or watching Jeopardy, they embrace the ways that they are different and how they balance one another out; his creativity to her order, her planning to his impulsivity, his acceptance to her skepticism. Yin and yang, tall and small, bold and tempered; there is a completeness in their union that makes them each feel whole.

Even in their intensity and their commitment, Mulder has never again uttered the words ‘I love you’ and Scully has never said them at all. Far from a red flag or a hesitance to be vulnerable, they simply don’t feel the need to express it aloud. She knows he loves her when he drives forty minutes out of his way to pick up her favorite donuts or reads the latest issue of JAMA just so he can discuss the articles with her. He knows she loves him when she indulges him in theoretical discussions on the mating rituals of Sasquatch, not bothering to point out that the creature doesn’t exist, or wastes entire Saturdays watching movies that were bad enough to earn Razzies because he finds poorly made films entertaining.

Scully has never met Mulder’s parents, accepting his explanation that his mother is cold and his father distant, which is why she feels caught off guard when he calls her at work on a Tuesday to tell her that his mother had a stroke, and he is on his way to the hospital. He doesn’t ask her for anything, but she leaves work anyway, approaching the reception desk of the emergency department with a level of calm only a doctor is capable of.

“I’m looking for Teena Mulder, she should have been admitted within the last few hours,” she says to the young woman behind the desk.

“Yes, she’s here,” the woman answers, “but visiting hours don’t start until 4:00 and someone is already with her now. Are you family?” The woman looks at her expectantly.

“Um, no, I’m not,” she replies, not bothering to explain that Tenna Mulder is her boyfriend’s mother, who she’s never met.

“You can take a seat then,” the woman says with a well-practiced smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

She finds an empty seat and pulls in a deep breath, taking out her cell phone in hopes she can reach Mulder, though cell reception in hospitals is notoriously bad.

“Excuse me, are you Dana?” someone says from a few seats away, and she turns to see an older man, perhaps in his sixties, with receding dark brown hair and tired bags under his eyes.

“Yes,” she replies, eyeing him skeptically as he rises from his seat and takes the one just beside her.

“I’m Bill Mulder, Fox’s father,” he says, offering his hand.

She takes it, scanning him for similarities to Mulder and finding none, other than his complexion and hair color.

“Oh, hello, it’s nice to meet you Mr. Mulder,” she stumbles, a bit confused. As Mulder tells it, his parents are divorced and not on friendly terms.

“Please, you can call me Bill,” he says with a small smile, and she nods. “Fox is with her now, though I don’t think she’s awake,” he offers.

They sit in awkward silence, Scully realizing she has absolutely no information with which to start a conversation. Mulder has told her nothing about his parents, aside from the details relevant to his sister’s abduction. She doesn’t know what Bill Mulder does, or did, for a living, or where he lives. Just when she’s considering going home, Mulder emerges from a set of double doors.

He was clearly looking for his father, but when he sees Scully his eyebrows knit and his chin puckers in relief. She stands and he scoops her up, squeezing her so tight it hurts.

“Thank you for coming,” he whispers hoarsely into her ear.

They part, hands clasped, and he addresses his father.

“Mom just woke up, you can go see her soon, but since Scully is here I’d like to take her back first.”

Scully gives him an incredulous look.

“Mulder, I’m sure your mom doesn’t want to meet me for the first time from a hospital bed,” she pleads.

“I know, but I want you to look at her chart. I just want to make sure that what the doctors are saying is accurate,” he says with desperate eyes, and she nods.

He leads her back through the double doors and into a room where a tall white-haired woman is reclining in the bed, an oxygen cannula tucked under her nose. While she saw little resemblance between Mulder and his father, the likeness to his mother is almost jarring; her stately nose and hooded eyes curating in Scully an immediate fondness for her. She blinks slowly at them, confusion furrowing her brow.

“Mom, this is Dana,” he says, and her expression shifts into one that is slightly pained.

She attempts to speak, one side of her mouth rooting for words that she can’t quite find.

“Hi Mrs. Mulder, I’m sorry we’re meeting under these circumstances,” Scully offers, “I’m a medical doctor, Fox asked me to take a look at your chart, if that’s okay?”

Teena nods and closes her eyes, and Scully goes to retrieve her chart from near the door. After she’s looked it over, they say goodbye and return to the lobby to find Mulder’s father.

“Go ahead, Dad, I’ll see you in there,” Mulder says, and then walks Scully to her car.

“So, what do you think?” he asks as they stand next to her open car door, worry crumpling his features.

“I don’t see anything out of the ordinary, Mulder. Her stroke was significant, you can see that by the degree to which it’s impacting her speech and gross motor function. It shouldn't get any worse, but she’ll need to go through rehab, and likely need some in-home care for a bit until we know the long term impact. It’s very possible that she’ll be able to continue living independently, but not right away.”

Mulder heaves a big sigh and nods. “I’m gonna stay here for a bit, but I think I’ll be home before you go to bed.”

“Of course, whatever you need,” she replies, bringing her palm to his cheek. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. Thank you, again, for coming down here. You didn’t have to.”

“Mulder, of course I did,” she says with concern. “I’ll see you when you get home, okay?”

He kisses her one, two, three times, pulling her close for a beat, clinging to her for dear life.

“I love you,” he chokes out, and she hugs him tighter.

“I love you too,” she replies, her chin tucked tight into the crook of his neck.

When he releases his grip on her, she brings her hands to his jaw, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks.

“We’ll get through this, okay? We’ll figure it out,” she assures him, and he nods tersely.

———

She’s in bed reading, Priscilla curled up on her stomach, when she hears the thunk of the deadbolt.

“Mulder?” she calls out, and he pokes his head through the door.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower, I’ll be in in a minute,” he says, then disappears again.

He returns ten minutes later, shower-fresh and warm. She sets her book aside to envelop him in her arms, his head finding a home on her chest as his arms snake around her ribcage.

“How is she?” she asks as she strokes her fingers through his hair and down his neck soothingly.

“The same,” he says with a defeated tone, “they might release her to rehab tomorrow.”

“And how are you?” she asks, giving his neck a little squeeze.

He groans. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking a lot.”

“About your mom?”

“No,” he says, propping up on his elbow to look at her, “about life, I guess.”

She lifts her eyebrows expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

“I don’t want to toil away in the BSU for the rest of my life, Scully. If I die tomorrow, what will I have to show for it?”

She frowns at him sympathetically.

“You make a difference in the BSU, Mulder. You help catch murderers, prevent further loss of life. It may not seem like it because you’re so far removed from the people it impacts, but you do.”

He flops back onto the bed, eyes on the ceiling.

“You’re probably right, but it still feels pretty pointless.”

“What would you rather be doing?” she asks gently, rolling on to her side to face him.

“Honestly?” he steals a glance at her before continuing, “investigating The X Files. Making progress in understanding what happened to my sister. Working to expose those who are responsible for the coverup of secret government operations.”

“Maybe you should talk to AD Skinner, try again. Maybe The X files could be reopened,” she says softly, brushing her palm over his arm.

Mulder shakes his head. “Nothing has changed, Scully. They won’t let me operate without a partner and no one wants to work with me.”

“I’d work with you, but that’s against bureau policy,” she says with a small smile, and he looks at her with an affectionate gaze.

“I’m sure you’d have a field day debunking all my work,” he says coyly.

“I would never,” she retorts sarcastically.

He rolls back towards her, pulling her close with her head tucked under his chin.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he says, his voice full of emotion.

“Well you do have me, so there’s no point in thinking about it,” she replies.

He sighs deeply, reaching past her to turn off the bedside lamp, and they sleep.

[fickleminder]

the years start coming and they don’t stop coming

In which Lilith’s return distorts her brothers’ perception of time.

Part 2 here

You’ve never seen the demon prince look so embarrassed.

“I can call for —”

“No, it’s okay. They deserve this.”

But you don’t, goes unspoken. You can see the pity in his eyes, feel the palpable disappointment in the air. Even Simeon and Luke make sure to hug you extra tight before stepping through the portal to the Celestial Realm, and Solomon promises to check up on you after you’ve returned home.

Thanking Lord Diavolo and Barbatos for their hospitality, you turn towards the final demon in the council room and put on the biggest grin your breaking heart can muster. “Hey, c’mere.”

Satan doesn’t hesitate to throw his arms around you. It’s almost like he’s trying to make up for his brothers’ absence, the way he crushes you to his chest and cradles the back of your head.

You can’t find it in yourself to blame them. As far as miracles go, this is a pretty big one. Lilith coming back to life is an unprecedented event, one not even Barbatos had seen coming. Nobody has any answers either. She’s definitely not a demon, not an angel, not human; just an immortal who knocked on the front door of the House of Lamentation three days ago.

Her brothers haven’t left her alone since. You’re happy for them, you really are, but a bitter part of you can’t help but wish her return had waited until after the exchange program ended. At least Lucifer had the courtesy to pull you aside and thank you on his family’s behalf (though you’re quite certain you had nothing to do with your ancestor’s sudden revival), in addition to making a pact with you as a token of his gratitude.

With that, you could have summoned all of them to send you off just as effectively as Lord Diavolo giving the order, but it won’t be the same and you know it. Your only saving grace is Satan, the one brother who’d kept his head and anchored you in the sea of loneliness you’d been set adrift in over the last few days.

“I’m gonna miss you, cat boy.”

“I miss you already,” Satan laughs softly, pulling back with a warm smile. “I’ll stay in touch, I promise.”

You squeeze his arms affectionately and glance past his shoulders at the closed doors. There’s the smallest shred of hope in you that thinks the others will come bursting through any moment now, scrambling for one final chance to see you. You give yourself five seconds, silently counting down to a pipe dream, before pressing a kiss to Satan’s cheek and releasing him.

“It might not seem like it now, but the Devildom will always be here for you,” Lord Diavolo says as the world around you fades to white. “Farewell.”

.

.

.

“Did you lose track of time at the library again? You missed dinner last night LOL.”

“Levi, be nice!”

Satan only hums quietly in response. He can’t be bothered to correct the assumption; it’s a convenient excuse for when his brothers actually notice he’s missing anyway.

The irony of Levi calling him out isn’t lost on him. While the otaku is still obsessed with his games and shows, he’s no longer as shut-in as he used to be, venturing outside the comforts of his sanctuary more often. Satan has passed by the common room on many occasions to find him and Lilith gaming or binging anime together, and the content expression on Levi’s face proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that the void from his Henry’s departure has long been filled.

“Oh, but speaking of,” Lilith sets her cutlery down and smiles shyly at the fourth-born, “I haven’t had the chance to explore the libraries here yet. If it’s not too much trouble, can you show me around and recommend a few books?”

Shrugging non-committedly, Satan continues with his meal, not once looking her in the eye.

.

.

.

You’ve always wondered how someone with the Avatar of Lust for a brother can have such terrible fashion sense. It should be impossible to go wrong with dressing for a funeral, but you guess life (along with a certain eyesore of a tie) just loves to disappoint you. Still, you’re too glad to have Satan with you right now to care.

“Thanks for coming.”

“Anytime.”

You lean into the demon’s side as he holds an umbrella over both of you. Your eyes are drawn to the flowers he’d placed on your mother’s grave, the only splash of color against the dull tombstone. For the longest time, all you can process is the pitter-patter of the afternoon rain on the plastic wrap of the bouquet, and the comforting weight of Satan’s arm across your shoulders.

“She was in a lot of pain,” you admit after a while, your voice slightly hoarse. “The doctors had to sedate her. She went in her sleep.”

“I’m sorry.” Satan fidgets awkwardly, not quite sure what to say. He’s no stranger to death, but the loss of someone dear is unfamiliar to him. “Perhaps Simeon can find out if —”

“No, no it’s fine. I just — I need to —”

The umbrella is forgotten as Satan catches you, lowering you gently to the ground when your knees give way. You cling to him desperately, and it’s all he can do to draw you close as you start to wail.

.

.

.

Satan barely makes it three steps into the house before getting pounced on.

“How was it? Where did you go? Ooh you lucky demon, I want to hear all the details!”

“Oi, oi! What are you babbling on about?”

“Don’t act coy with me! Lilith saw you at the florist’s yesterday with the most gorgeous bouquet of flowers!”

“Yesterday? But —”

“How come you never told me someone caught your eye? I would have dolled you up, lent you some of my clothes —” Asmo gasps dramatically. “You didn’t wear that horrid jacket to your date, did you?”

Wrestling a hand free, Satan musses his younger brother’s hair. “None of your business,” he growls, walking away with a smirk when Asmo immediately releases him to fix his appearance. “Who do you take me for, anyway?”

“Aww come on, just give me a hint! Do I know them? Is it someone from RAD? Ooh, did you meet them at the library or —”

Ducking into the safety of his room, Satan shuts the door in Asmo’s face.

.

.

.

“Thank fuck. Who picked your outfit this time?”

“Barbatos. And shut up.”

You grab Satan’s arm with a laugh and lead him towards your table, politely introducing him as ‘Stan from work’ to any relatives who ask about the handsome young man accompanying you. Satan’s usual mask is in place, but there’s no mistaking the gleam of wonder in his eyes as he takes in his surroundings.

“Finally,” you sigh, sinking into your seat and grinning sheepishly at the blond. “Sorry about them. It’s just that they’ve never seen me with anyone, so they’re really curious about you.”

“Well, I’m glad you invited me along. I’ve never been to a wedding before.” The romantic in Satan is openly basking in the ambience of the reception. “You mentioned that your niece had gotten married?”

“Technically my first cousin once removed, but yeah.”

“And you’ve not been seeing anyone?”

“You would have been the first to know if I have,” you tease, nudging him playfully. “Apparently a lot of people are put off by the way I dress. Too modest, they say.”

But not without good reason. The pact marks on your body may be slightly faded from disuse, but they’re still discernable if stared at hard enough: Lucifer’s at the back of your neck; Mammon’s over your heart; Levi’s curled around your right calf; Satan’s circling your left arm; Asmo’s dangerously close to tramp stamp territory; Beel’s just under your navel; and Belphie’s on your ribs at the side you like to sleep on.

Passing them off as tattoos without attracting the wrong kind of attention is a little tricky, so you’d rather take a page from Solomon’s book and cover them up. Being called a prude is easier than dealing with cultists.

(It also helps you to keep your mind off of them, because some wounds continue to hurt even after they heal, so there’s that.)

Sensing the drop in your mood, Satan clears his throat to get your attention. It’s only then that you realize there’s music playing in the background, and couples moving from their tables to the floor.

Your companion stands up and offers you his hand, this time with a genuine smile on his face. “May I have this dance?”

.

.

.

Lucifer’s tone books no room for argument. “This will be a family event, so I expect your attendance. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your little escapades over the past few months.”

“Tch.”

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Whatever. I’ll be there.”

Satan has to resist the urge to hurl his hardcover at the back of Lucifer’s head when he takes his leave. That’s no way to treat a book, after all.

Beel’s Fangol team has an upcoming match and it’ll be Lilith’s first time watching him play. She’s been hyped up for weeks, so it comes as no surprise that Lucifer would use the opportunity to turn it into a family outing. He’s been doing that a lot lately.

Gone is the stuffy first-born who can spend days in his office if left unchecked. Lucifer is still as strict as ever, still fulfills his duties to Lord Diavolo diligently, but it’s like he’s managed to master balancing work and play overnight. He makes more time for his siblings now, even if it’s to dole out punishments for their endless shenanigans, punishments that vary in severity depending on how cutely Lilith pleads on their behalf.

Lucifer has always doted on her, and she has him wrapped around her little finger. Belphie has even gone as far as corrupting her into pranking him, and she need only bat her eyelashes to get off scot-free.

Lilith was the catalyst for the Fall, her descendent the glue that brought her siblings back together, and her return the final piece in making their family whole again.

But you were family too, Satan thinks sourly, pulling out his D.D.D. to mark the date in his calendar.

.

.

.

When you invite Satan over to your apartment for tea, he never expected to be introduced to your new housemate: a handsome fellow with chestnut brown hair, sharp jade eyes, a runner’s body, and the softest-looking toe beans he has ever seen in his immortal life.

“Satan, meet Satan!” You hold out the tabby towards him with a shit-eating grin.

Both demon and cat blink owlishly at each other. The blond doesn’t know whether to feel endeared by the feline sharing his name or insulted that you would replace him so easily, but all it takes is a single bop on the nose with a curious paw for him to melt.

Satan the tabby, who normally prefers to scale your shelves and nap between your books, spends the entire day a purring puddle in Satan the demon’s arms, shamelessly relishing in pets and massages to the extent that at some point, you have a very real fear they might just end up absconding back to the Devildom together. Thankfully, some kibble and freshly baked treats help you separate the two for a while, at least long enough for you to get some decent conversation in.

You brew a pot of Earl Grey with the beautifully crafted tea set Barbatos gifted you when you had first moved in, and serve the scones you made earlier in the morning using the baking tools blessed by Luke during your housewarming. You don’t know if the little angel had actually imbued them with Celestial magic, but everything you cook somehow always lifts your spirits when consumed.

Satan has to catch himself in the middle of regaling you with Mammon’s latest half-baked scheme. The wistful look on your face is new; you’re usually eager to hear what his brothers have been up to, but something feels off today. He pours you more tea, slides another scone onto your plate, and waits.

“…Are they happy?” You ask after a while.

The demon knows better than to lie, even if it’s to spare you from the truth he suspects you’re already aware of. “Yes,” he admits grudgingly.

“I’m glad.”

Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

.

.

.

Lilith stands outside his room, holding a tray of tea and cakes.

“Hey, um, may I come in?” Her smile is both hopeful and uncertain. It’s a gamble, ambushing the fourth-born when he obviously has no interest in her. At best, he’ll make up an excuse to turn her away or just ignore her completely; at worst, well… she doesn’t really want to think about that. To her visible relief, he opens the door wider and steps aside.

Satan clears a space for her to set the tray down. There’s the briefest moment of hesitation before he drags your favorite armchair over and offers her a seat as well. He looks guarded but not openly hostile, a promising sign so far.

“You’ve been in and out of the house lately, so I haven’t had the chance to catch you. I thought we might sit down and talk,” Lilith says, pouring two cups of the hot beverage as she chooses her next words carefully. “The others told me about how you were born, but I understand that you are your own person. I’d like to get to know that person.”

A part of Satan is acutely aware of their one-sided relationship; he is familiar with her through Lucifer, but she has never met him. It makes sense for her to be curious about him, though Satan isn’t so sure he wants to return the favor. She reminds him too much of you in the way she prepares her tea, how she sits on your chair, her shy lopsided smile —

But she’s not you, and you’re not her, Satan has to remind himself lest he commits the same mistake his brothers nearly did after your lineage had been revealed. Now in a convoluted turn of events, it’s you who’s gone and Lilith here, and there’s no reason why he can’t give her a chance and treat her like the sister she could be to him.

It’s what you would have wanted.

Lilith tries not to let her shoulders slump too much when Satan quietly stands up and heads towards his door. She’s prepared to pack up and leave until she spots him grabbing several books from a nearby shelf.

“Have you ever read Mid-Fall Murders?” He asks, handing her a hardcover with a shy smile of his own.

.

.

.

“What’s it like?”

Satan’s grip on your hand tightens. “I don’t actually know,” he confesses, shuffling closer so that your shoulder and arm are pressed against his. It’s a strange sight, the two of you lying side by side on your bed, staring aimlessly at the ceiling.

“Will it hurt?”

“No.”

You’ve never heard a single word hold so much promise, but you have no reason to doubt the demon’s sincerity. Satan wouldn’t take pity on you just because you’re —

A light knock on the door, and in pokes Simeon’s head. “Ah, little lamb! I’m glad we made it in time.”

“Not so little anymore, Simeon.” You laugh softly, greeting Luke and Solomon as they trail in behind him. Satan brushes his lips over your forehead before getting up to receive your guests.

The day is as ordinary as it can be. You talk and catch up with your friends, trading stories and laughter over cups of tea that neither grow cold nor go empty. When the session turns into a mini book club gathering halfway through, Luke helpfully retrieves the debated titles from the massive shelf in the living room. He takes a while to find them; you’ve accumulated plenty of works over the years: recommendations by Satan, literature published under Simeon’s pseudonym, and handwritten tomes from Solomon to keep you in touch with your magic. The shelf is practically jam-packed with books, the only exception being a corner on the topmost tier, housing a little space that’s empty save for a worn green collar with a rusted bell.

Come sundown the five of you are still neck-deep in discussion, but as with all good things, the get together eventually reaches an end.

“Thanks everyone, it’s been fun,” you say, reclining back in your bed as Satan wordlessly cleans up. You squeeze his hand when he returns to your side and bid the others goodbye. “Hopefully I’ll see you guys soon?”

“About that…” Solomon clears his throat, wearing the smug look that usually accompanies a trick being pulled out of his sleeve, but this time it’s tinged more with excitement than mischief. “Simeon has a little present for you first.”

The guileless smile on the angel’s face betrays nothing as he steps forward and reaches into a small pouch at his hip. “Solomon, Diavolo and I have a theory. Now, keep in mind that this is all very experimental, but if it works, you’ll have more options to choose from, should you so wish.”

And then he brings out a ring.

.

.

.

“Are you, uh, are you okay?”

“Not in the mood, Mammon.”

“Oi, I’m trying to be nice here! Who do you think covered for your sorry ass when you came back past curfew the other day, huh?”

“What the hell do you want?”

“You may think you’re all stealthy and shit, but your eyes were pretty red that night. I thought you were at a book club meeting. Did something happen?”

“None of your business.”

“Argh, fine then! This is the last time I try to be a good big brother.”

“…Mammon?”

“?”

“...”

“...”

“I’m sorry.”

“Eh, what are you — you can’t just say that and then run off! Get back here!”

.

.

.

“Twenty, nineteen, eighteen…”

Lilith’s countdown echoes along the deserted hallway, prompting Beel to nudge the deadweight on his back. “Belphie, go get your own hiding place.”

“Mmngh… zzz…”

“Come on, or she’ll win this round with a two for one. Again.”

“…Just dump me somewhere she won’t find me then.”

A tall order, especially since Lilith can easily track them down by listening out for Beel’s stomach and/or Belphie’s snores. Still, the sixth-born lumbers through the house as quietly as he can, doing a one-eighty whenever he hears Lilith’s cheerful hums coming from the opposite direction. Technically they can avoid being caught if they keep moving, but that would be cheating. They hid in the attic previously so that’s a no go, their room’s too obvious, the kitchen too tempting, the common room too exposed…

Maybe Levi’s room? The otaku had sound-proofed his walls to avoid distractions from the outside world when he’s gaming, so it’s an ideal location to hide. He can stash Belphie in the bathtub and run interference until time’s up.

Backtracking, Beel breaks into a light jog towards the other wing, keeping his ears open for their seeker. It’s only because of his heightened senses that he’s able to pick up the faintest traces of magic on one of the walls, causing him to pause in his steps.

“Hmm? Why’d you stop?” Slightly more awake now, Belphie rubs his eyes and slides off his twin, who’s studying the blank space intently. “What’s wrong, Beel?”

“There’s something here, something…”

“It’s just a wall —”

“No, don’t you feel it? I know you weren’t around then, but it’s the same glamor as that time Luke went missing and we —”

Beel goes white. He whispers a name, a name not spoken in the house for years, and a door flickers into view. One hand grabs Belphie’s in a death grip as the other twists the knob and pushes the door open, revealing an old yet familiar room.

The place is devoid of life. Most of the furniture are covered by sheets, resting under thick layers of dust. In the middle sits a tree, sagging with age and soft with rot. Sunken footprints mark the demons’ furtive venture into decrepit memory, and the creaking of floorboards with every step only tethers the growing nightmare closer to reality.

A photo frame crashes to the ground.

.

.

.

They deserve this.

Satan feels it the moment the spell concealing your room was broken. It had been his way of protecting your memory, ensuring that your sanctuary would only be accessible to those who made the effort to remember you. He cast it about a year after you had left the Devildom, after he realized that leaving your door in plain sight wasn’t doing you any favors.

Hidden away in an alcove at the back of the garden, curled up with a blanket and a thermos of hot tea, Satan slides a bookmark between the pages of his latest novel and leans his head back, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh.

Even this far away from the house, he can hear the cacophony of screams and shouts, objects being flung and shattered into pieces, a muted bang suggesting that a wall has just collapsed. The fallout comes as no surprise; waking up after living the past hundred years or so in a daze will do that to a person – or in this case, demons.

Although the sounds of fighting call to the rage bubbling within him, the vindictive thoughts of his brothers getting their just desserts cool it to a simmer. He knows he’ll have to face them eventually, but he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

“Meow?”

Emerald eyes blink open. There’s a faint rustle from the nearby bushes as a tiny Calico wanders out of the foliage, peering around the garden curiously. Upon spotting the blond demon, it perks up and makes a beeline for him.

“Hm? You’re not Callie. Are you new here, little one?” His mood considerably improved, Satan extends a hand towards the kitten. It skips the finger sniffing step and goes straight to headbutting his palm, begging for attention.

“You’re an affectionate one, aren’t you?” Satan caves immediately and scritches away with a delighted chuckle. He examines the markings on its tri-colored fur, wanting to recognize the friendly feline if it comes back in the future. The Calico is mostly white with patches of brown and black splashed over the back of its neck, near the base of its tail, just under the side of its ribs, and several other spots that seem to collectively resemble a familiar pattern…

Satan’s hand stills. He whispers your name, trembling with hope, and the kitten practically leaps into his arms, nuzzling his chin with a happy purr.

[resident-of-storybrooke]

Nothing Good Happens After 2AM (Ch 4)

Rating: M (finally earning that for this chapter)

Words: 2900

Read: ao3, ff.net CH 1 CH 2 CH 3

Summary: Emma took Killian home for the holidays as a fake date. Things seemed to be going well…until it didn’t. What happens when two fools in love didn’t confess their love over the holidays like they planned and have to go back home to reality? This. This is what happened…(A twist on fake dating during the holidays)

AN: Well....shit lol here we finally are! I wish I had a good reason for the year and a half delay. Honestly, I got one not so great review and it shook me a bit and I was already iffy about writing. But thank you to so many incredible souls being so encouraging and supporting me to get back into writing. Thank you to @kmomof4​ who read all four chapters and edited them (make sure to check them out). I really hope you enjoy this last part as I’m so happy to finally have this out for you all. A very late and final contribution to @csjanuaryjoy

tagging some of the fam squad (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @kymbersmith-90 @let-it-raines @artistic-writer @hollyethecurious @hookedonapirate @carpedzem @nowforruin @kmomof4 @wellhellotragic @thesschesthair @teamhook​ @winterbaby89​ @zaharadessert​ @stahlop​ @ultraluckycatnd @blowmiakisscolin​ @peggyswan​ @jrob64​ @klynn-stormz​​ @tiganasummertree​ @batana54​ @pirateprincessofpizza​​

ALL THE LOVE

Ruby made her way back up to the party, excited to see how the rest of the night would play out after her phone call to Emma. As she made her way back into Killian’s apartment she saw the Nolans as they gestured rather animatedly. Then Ruby rounded the corner and looked in to see who they were yelling at. 

Shit. 

It was Killian. 

And from the looks of it they were letting Killian have it. And he was just standing there taking it.  

What the hell did he get into in the last five minutes to warrant this? Ruby was both concerned, but mostly entertained because the sweet sunshine Charmings never yelled. She strolled into the kitchen with a grin, figuring she would enjoy the show. That was until the furious couple saw her - apparently she was their new target. 

“Ruby Elizabeth Lucas! You have a lot of explaining to do.”

Ruby was confused to say the least. How the hell was she involved in... whatever this was? 

“Um...I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Bullshit, Ruby!” She was completely taken back, Mary Margaret never swore. “You just told me that Emma thought Killian was dating Elsa. And last time I checked Killian and Emma have been together for the last three months. So please, explain yourself. Now.”

“I feel like it’s not really my place,” she said, darting her eyes toward Killian, but she could tell no one was buying it. “Listen, Snow White and Prince Charming, your poor sister felt pressured to bring a date home for the holidays. She and Killian decided to go to Ruth’s and tell y’all they were dating so you’d back the hell off. And it worked and everything was fine. Then Elsa showed up and spooked Emma because she thought she lost her chance with him. Because shocker,” she looked fiercely at Killian and had to restrain herself from smacking him upside the head, “they’re both in love with each other and are being absolutely idotic and not telling the other the truth.” She turned back toward the stunned silent Charmings, “And you two are not helping the cause!”

Killian looked up in complete shock, his eyebrows nearly reaching his hair. The Nolans stood gaping at her, obviously not expecting her brutal honesty. 

“Listen,” Ruby took a deep breath. “Cut them some slack. You two were acting like Emma was going to turn into some crazy old spinster if she didn’t find a date soon. Also, you two act as though you are a literal fairytale couple.” She shrugged. “Sometimes it’s hard to live up to your kind of love.”

As David stood in shock, Mary Margaret finally spoke up. “We went too far, didn’t we?” That’s when she turned to Killian. “We’re sorry, Killian. We shouldn’t have ever put you in this situation. We love you, we love Emma, and that wasn’t fair...I hope you can forgive our behavior this evening.”

Just as Killian was about to speak up, the door opened revealing an out of breath Emma Swan.

Emma was confused by the odd looks she was receiving as her welcome. She should be used to their bizarre behavior at this point, but this felt different. 

As she made her way over to the group her nerves set back in. She was here to tell Killian the truth. She was going to finally confess her love for her best friend. On his birthday. What could possibly go wrong?

“Right, well, this has been fun. Perhaps we should give these two some alone time.” Ruby elbowed the couple so Emma and Killian could have a moment.

As Emma walked towards Killian she finally took in her surroundings and realized how packed the apartment was. “I wish there were less people here…”

“Why, Swan? I love large parties, they’re so intimate. At small parties-”

“-there isn’t any privacy. I like it when you quote things to me.” Looking at him, she realized how close they were. She wasn’t even aware of her own movement toward him. Then she looked into his blue eyes. She missed them. 

She missed him. 

They stood there, taking each other in. It’d been weeks since they’d been together, really together. Neither one knew how to start. 

“Emma, you came.”

She wished in that moment she had something poetic to respond with, but that wouldn’t be Emma. “That’s what she said.”

The two instantly burst into laughter, the tension dying with every laugh. 

“I missed you, Swan.” Killian reached his hand out to tuck a loose strand behind her ear, Emma leaned into his touch. 

“I missed you too. I’m so sorry I ran…I wish I had a good excuse, but I don’t. I wanted to tell you so many times how I felt. I was going to tell you. On New Year's Eve. I was finally going to tell you. I had this whole plan. It was a good plan. And then Ruby fucking decided to be Chef Julia Child and give me food posioning. And then...I saw how happy you looked with Elsa and I thought, I thought, I’d lost my chance with you.” Emma finally found the courage to look up when she finished.

Killian’s eyes were full of unshed tears. When Emma opened her mouth to try and say something to break the tension Killian wrapped his arms around her. Emma finally took a breath. A breath she had been holding for weeks. He didn’t hate her. 

“Emma, my love, I promise nothing happened with Elsa. She was Liam’s fiance. She’s an old friend and nothing more. You though...you’re so much more than that. I’ve been a coward. I’ve hidden behind our friendship, behind the lie we told your family, and I will not do that any longer. I’ve had three words on the tip of my tongue since the night we met, I swear, and I will not waste another minute without you hearing them.”

Emma extracted herself from his grasp. “Before you do, I have something for you.” 

Killian lets out a sigh, “Really? Right now?”

Without another word Emma pulled the small red box from her clutch and handed it to Killian. He looked at her with curious eyes. “It’s your birthday, open the damn thing, Jones.”

“So demanding. Now what do we have here? It's a-” 

He stopped.  

Mistletoe. 

It was the most infuriating object that haunted his dreams - well, besides Emma. That trip to her home, the infernal garnish was everywhere. 

There was that kiss.

God, that kiss. He relieved it daily, prayed that it wasn’t the last kiss he’d ever share with Emma. Up until this moment he was convinced that would be the case.

“Well, Swan, this is quite the gift. I don’t know exactly what to say.” He scratched behind his ear, a nervous tick they were both well aware of. 

“I, um, do you wanna see if it works?” Killian’s eyes shot up to Emma.

“Well, love, seems only right I try it out with you since you were the one that gave me such a generous gift. Shall we...”

Emma cut him off with a bruising kiss, it caught him a little off guard, but it only took a moment for him to catch up. Killian didn’t give a damn that there was a party going on around them. He finally had Emma in his arms. Emma’s hands wandered to the nape of his neck, holding on for dear life. Killian’s hands roamed down her sides before anchoring on her hips, holding her tightly against him. He cursed the fact that Emma was wearing a dress, even if she did look bloody gorgeous in the tight red piece. He couldn’t wait to have that blasted thing on his floor.

They finally broke for air, still clinging to one another, foreheads touching. Killian was ready to dive back in when he looked up and remembered they weren’t alone. Mary Margaret was crying, Ruby was cheering, and David looked slightly annoyed but Killian saw the small smile he was trying but failing to hide. 

“Come on, love. I think it’s time we faced the vultures. And I’d like you to meet Elsa, if that’s alright with you?”

“Yeah, I think that’s a pretty good idea, Captain.” Emma reached down and grabbed Killian’s hand before they walked over. 

Maybe the trope board wasn't wrong after all. 

CSCSCSCSCSCSCSCS

As the party went on, Killian and Emma were inseparable; the two constantly touching the other. At one point, while talking to Mary Margaret and David, Emma laid her head on Killian's shoulder, something she'd done a million times, but this time Killian placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. 

The two were in their own happy bubble. They pretended to be engaged with those around them, but they couldn't ignore but feel the sparks ignited with each touch.  

"So, Emma? It's nice to finally meet you. I'm sorry for the miscommunication. I feel as though that was my fault." Emma was confused on how Elsa seemed to be privy to their issue, but then she saw Mary Margaret across the room and assumed her friend had filled her in.

"Please, don't be. I was...scared I lost my chance with Killian."

"Oh, honey. I don't think you could ever lose this one." Killian squeezed Emma closer to prove her point. 

Turns out Elsa was hilarious and had wonderfully embarrassing stories about Killian. Emma had a feeling the two were going to be good friends after tonight. 

The party eventually wound down a little after one, slowly the various couples left. That's when Emma realized she was alone with Killian. 

Finally. 

Suddenly, Emma felt her nerves grow. They'd declared their love and haven't left the others' side since, but she would be lying if she said she wasn't nervous. She absentmindedly threw out some empty cups as she tried to plan her next move.

"Love," Killian called for her from the living room, "can you come here?" Emma slowly made her way into the room as Killian stretched out his arms to embrace her. 

"Emma, I...I know that tonight has been a lot. Our relationship has always been a lot. And I know the future is uncertain, but there's one thing I want you to be certain of - I will always be by your side. For as long as you'll let me, my love."

She didn't even know a tear had slipped until Killian pulled back to wipe it. 

"I haven't always made things easy. I get spooked easily, but I'm tired of running. I want to be with you, Killian. I love you."

"And I you, my beautiful Swan." 

The kiss started off slowly, different than the one earlier, but no less passionate. Emma brought her hands around Killian's neck, playing with the nape of his hair. As Killian kissed down her neck, Emma didn't recognize the noises that escaped her mouth.

As their kisses continued, Emma was surprised when Killian's legs hit the couch and he fell down. She hadn’t been aware that they moved. Emma said she was tired of running, and she was ready to show him. So she straddled his legs and hovered over him for just a moment.

They felt like teenagers again, making out on a couch like this. She could feel him harden beneath her, driving her wild. But, it wasn't enough, she needed more. Emma started unbuttoning his shirt, the bastard already had the top three undone. Without a second thought, she began to rake her fingers through the coarse black hair. 

"I've been dying to do this since we first met. So soft," she murmured. Killian found a spot behind her ear that made her mewl. Emma brought her lips to his ear, "I've always wondered how it'd feel against my breasts." 

With that, Killian pulled back. "My love, are you sure? We can wait. Because once I have you, I'm never going to let you go." Emma nodded slowly. As she looked into his eyes, she could barely see a trace of blue. His pupils were blown. 

Before Emma could stand, Killian wrapped his arms around her to carry her to his bedroom. He only ran into the wall twice as Emma was no doubt leaving marks on his neck. Killian gently placed her in the middle of the bed. 

"I always swore that if we got here, I would worship every inch of you."

"Killian, please, worship later. I need you now."

"Just a taste. Patience, darling." Killian was beyond thankful at that moment Emma had opted for a dress as he quickly removed her thong.  

Before she could speak, he brought his mouth to her sex. "You're already drenched for me. You..fuck...you taste delicious."

Emma couldn't speak, he was overwhelming in every sense of the word. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, not that she needed to guide him; he knew exactly what he was doing. 

Killian replaced his mouth with two fingers. "That's it, Emma. You look so beautiful like this. I want you to come for me, darling. Come and then I'll give you what you really want."

His voice was deeper, accent thicker. Emma had a feeling she could finish from his voice alone, but right now, it was his fingers and mouth that were going to do the trick. 

Emma lost all control of her limbs as he sent her over the edge. He didn't let up though, he continued slowly licking as she came back down. As her breathing returned to normal, Killian kissed up her body. 

"Worship later, Killian,” she moaned again. “Please. I need you. Now."

"So demanding, Swan,” he observed, taking his pants and boxer briefs off. “I think I like this side of you, all in a commanding voice, chills really." 

He climbed back on top of her, but instead of responding, Emma hooked her legs around Killian and flipped him, so he laid on his back. He looked up in awe, he had never been so turned on than in this moment. 

Emma decided she was tired of waiting, but before she could sink down Killian stopped her. "Give me a moment, let me grab something, I -"

"I'm clean, and I'm on the pill. I...I don't want anything between us."

"Gods, Emma. If you're sure? I'm good too, I haven't been with anyone since...since we met." 

Emma dove down to meet his lips as she sank down onto him. Killian swallowed her gasp as she adjusted to his size. Of course, he lived up to every innuendo, and Emma couldn't be happier for that than in this moment. 

For first times, they were both surprised with how easy it was to fall into rhythm with the other. There were only a few slightly awkward moments, but that didn't stop them from enjoying this moment. Emma's hips met Killian's with each thrust, quickly driving the other wild. 

"So fucking glorious, Emma. You're so tight like this. Ride my cock, such a good girl. I want to feel you come around me this time. You're stunning when you come. That's...fuck... that's it Emma, take what you need, darling."

Before Emma could even respond, Killian decided it was her turn to be flipped on her back. "Now, if I remember correctly, you wanted to know how it feels with me on top."

"That's, ugh, that's not exactly what I said. But I'm not complaining."

Emma felt that familiar sensation growing in her stomach as Killian's pace intensified. "Killian, I'm close. Together, I wanna -"

"Aye, love, together."

Killian felt her tighten around him as she moaned out in ecstasy, pulling him right after her. He gave her a searing kiss as he spilled himself inside of her. Killian fell on top of her, too exhausted to worry about crushing her for a moment. 

"Killian? As much as I love how, uh, close we are now, do you think you can move? I can't breathe, and I need to clean up."

"Oi, you're gonna give a man a complex!" Killian slowly rolled off her, in awe of the glow Emma radiated at the moment. Emma couldn't help but giggle as he was being an annoying ass, but mostly he was still...Killian. 

They were still them. Except they just had mind-blowing sex. 

She could get used to this new addition to their relationship. 

"Stay here, love. Let me." Killian was back in a moment and helped clean Emma. When he finished, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, just like before. 

"What is it, Swan?"

"Nothing, I'm just happy. It's just so surprising."

"Aye, love, me too. But this doesn't change anything. I've loved you for years now, and we'll go at whatever pace we both see fit, but I'm in this for the long haul."

"As am I, Captain."

The two laid in bed, cuddled close, and shared lazy kisses. When Emma looked at the clock, she saw it was nearly three in the morning. A few weeks ago, Emma had thought nothing good happened after two am; it turns out she was wrong. 

"Swan? Can you tell me what the bloody hell a trope board is?"

[alpacaparkaseok]

Lost & Found - 9

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment

Word Count: 5.1k

a/n: this chapter is based off of the song ‘Countdowns’ by Sleeping at Last. I also consider this Jimin’s song for this series! Give it a listen! (also, Sleeping at Last has been a long time favorite band of mine and they are soooo amazing)

Chapter 9. Countdowns

series masterlist

I awake with a distinct feeling of disbelief. Peering down at Elle’s sleeping form, I do my best to maneuver to the side of the bed without waking the pristine white cat. Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, it only takes a couple of seconds before yesterday’s conversation with Park Jaemin appears.

I stare and stare at the screen, scrolling through the light-hearted conversation until I arrive to a conclusion.

“I think I made a friend.” At my quiet utterance Elle stretches and looks at me lazily. “Well, besides you, I suppose.”

Elle rolls to her feet, plopping down on my lap and swishing her tail back and forth. I chew on my lip, checking the time at the top of the screen. It’s still absurdly early, chances are I won’t hear back from Jaemin for a few hours if I decide to text him now.

But, I think I made a friend.

I honestly can’t remember the last time I did that.

That fact alone proves too tempting as I run my fingers through Elle’s fur and snap a photo of her. Quickly captioning it, I send it off and jump out of bed, throwing my phone down on the comforter.

“There,” I grin at my confused cat. “That counts as my social interaction for the day, right?”

It isn’t until I’m in the shower and halfway through shaving my left leg that I realize just how much my newly formed friendship has influenced me. Not only has it granted me a rarely-won feeling of accomplishment, but it’s also spurred me to do something I never fully realized I had stopped in the first place.

For the first time in months - no, perhaps already a year? - I’m singing.

With a silly grin that is so at odds with the rush of tears to my eyes, I sing all the louder.

✂

For the first time since he saw the other half of this thread floating toward him on a phantom breeze, freshly cut, Jimin is singing.

Granted, it’s not the singing most people are used to hearing. The arena is echoing with the sounds of the members of BTS performing their various voice exercises. At first it felt a bit strange, sitting on the edge of the stage where they’ll be having their Muster is a few day’s time. Experimentally projecting his voice, wincing a little at how a few weeks without singing made it a bit difficult.

“How’re you feeling?” Yoongi plops down beside Jimin, leaning back on his hands. Jimin shrugs, looking around the arena.

“I’d forgotten how big these venues are,” he admits. “And it’s only been a few weeks since I last performed.”

Yoongi grunts in acknowledgement, looking at all the empty seats that will soon be filled with their fans. “It’s a humbling feeling, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Will we really fill this place up?”

Snorting, Yoongi gets up to his feet and holds a hand out for Jimin. “We will, I have a feeling that’ll be the least of our problems.”

Clambering to his feet as well, Yoongi’s words remind Jimin of what they have to do today. Heading toward the center of the back of the stage, they enter the loose huddle the others have formed.

The stage director, Kang Jisoo, does a quick headcount before beginning the little meeting. “Ok,” she rolls her shoulders, looking around the circle. “How’s everybody feeling?”

She’s met with an array of responses, all conveying the same meaning.

“Great. Does everyone feel confident with the different stages? Anything you feel like you need to go over before we begin the full rehearsal?” It’s quiet for a moment, but Hoseok voices what’s on everybody’s mind.

“How do you want us to move through Jiminie’s entrance and exit?”

Despite knowing that this question was coming, Jimin can’t help the spike in his heart rate. He’s itching to perform again, but there’s no way for him to anticipate everyone’s reactions when he comes out on stage. All he can do is try his best, he supposes.

The first couple of hours fly by, Jimin watching from the side for the majority of the time. It was decided that he would come on and perform with everyone for the final song, allowing for all of the members to leave at the same time as him.

When it comes time for that final song in the rehearsal, Jimin clenches his jaw while the platform rises up to the stage. Clinging to his microphone for dear life and forcing himself to look out at the empty arena instead of the red thread on his left hand, he readjusts his earpiece and allows for the music to take over.

Jimin’s eyes fall shut as he sings his part, a part of his aching heart basking in the lyrics. He doesn’t open them again until Taehyung’s deep voice is finishing out the song, and he glances around himself as though just remembering where he is.

He’s shocked when he catches Jungkook hastily drying his tears on his shirtsleeves.

“Kookie,” Jimin laughs as he rises from the stool, wandering over to the maknae. He pulls him into a hug, the other members watching with fond expressions. “You alright?”

Jungkook nods, sniffling a little more before pulling away. “Sorry hyung, I just...it’s sad.”

“The song?” Jimin asks with raised brows.

Shrugging and nodding at the same time, Jungkook looks around the empty arena as though able to see into the future when it will be filled with ARMY. “All of it.”

Kang Jisoo rushes over a moment later, her own eyes glinting a little with what might be unshed tears. “Right, after that, I would strongly advise saying goodbye and heading back to the lift.” She looks at Jungkook with a knowing expression. “It’s going to be a bit intense in here, I think. After that performance.”

“Should I have picked a different song?” Jimin asks, worried that it might prove too much for ARMY. “I just don’t think I could do a very high energy one, you know? But we could do 2! 3! Or something-”

It’s Taehyung who steps forward, throwing a comforting arm around his friend. “No. I think ARMY...I think I need to see it, actually.” He sighs. “It’ll hurt, but I think we’ll all look back and see that your performance, returning to the public eye with this song, gives hope.”

Once rehearsal is wrapped up, Jimin finds himself backstage with Jin and Jungkook. The three of them are in the process of stuffing their faces with whatever food they can find when Jin looks at Jimin quizzically.

“Have you texted Jolie at all since last night?”

Jimin’s eyes grow wide. “Er-” he swallows his food, “I forgot to charge my phone last night, it was dead this morning. I threw it on the charger once I got here. Let me find it.” He jumps up, heart beating a bit too quickly as he searches for his charged phone. This morning he’d nearly had a heart attack when he realized he’d fallen asleep with his phone in his hands instead of charging it up. When he tried to turn it on to attempt a good morning text to Jolie, he’d huffed and puffed as his poor phone refused to power up immediately.

By the time he’d rushed over here and found a charger to throw it on, he’d had to go on stage.

Now he finds it in the corner of the room, fully charged and-

“She texted me!” Jimin shouts, ripping his phone off the charger and rushing back over to Jin and Jungkook.

“She did?!” Jungkook and Jin simultaneously shout, eyes wide.

Jimin groans when he sees what time. “At like...four in the morning!”

“What did she say?” Jin urges, nudging him. Jimin unlocks his phone, immediately letting out a choked noise when he sees the adorable message.

It’s a photo of Elle, sprawled out as Jolie’s right hand (obviously not the left, which would show her severed thread), scratches her fluffy belly. Beneath the photo is a message.

Jolie (Elle): Elle’s much happier now, she says good morning!

Jolie (Elle): Oh, and she says thank you for the cuddles 😍

“Thank you for the cuddles,” Jimin squeaks out, parroting the message. Jin and Jungkook read the message over his shoulder, cooing at the adorable cat.

“What are you going to say back?” Jungkook asks, still smiling at the cute message. Jimin takes a moment to think it over, before typing out a message.

Me: Why is she so adorable??

Me: Alsoooo sorry for taking forever to respond. My phone was dead and then I forgot to take it off the charger.

He waits about sixty seconds before firing off another message.

Me: PLEASE DON’T STOP SENDING ME ADORABLE PICTURES OF ELLE THO, I SWEAR I CHERISH THEM

The others chuckle at him, knowing full well not to question him.

✂

I’ve taken a pan out of my cupboard to begin preparing dinner when my phone pings. It just so happens to go off at the same moment someone knocks on my door.

Rounding the corner to open the door, I check my phone on the way and can’t help but let out a sigh of relief.

I was worried that Jaemin wasn’t going to respond.

I mean, I did text him...fourteen hours ago? It’s already six in the evening, it’s about time he responded.

“Open up! It’s the police!”

Rolling my eyes, I yank the door open to reveal a grinning Chung-hei. “Come in, loser.”

She does just that, sniffing the air like some sort of dog. “You haven’t started cooking yet, have you?”

I shake my head. “Just about to start.” Sliding an onion across the counter, I pass her a cutting board as well. “Since you’re late, you can chop the onion.”

Grumbling something under her breath, Chung-hei takes the cutting board and stations herself before the counter. “Yeah, yeah. How’s life?”

Shrugging, I get up on my tip-toes to reach the spices that I for some reason keep on the top shelf. “Pretty good. Actually, today’s been a pretty good day.”

“Oh really?” Hei wiggles her eyebrows at me. “Why? What happened?”

Shouting triumphantly when I finally reach the spices, I grin at my oldest friend. “I think I made a friend.” Then, pausing, I smile even wider. “Actually, two.”

Christina and Jaemin.

What a great starting lineup.

Chung-hei pauses in her chopping, looking genuinely surprised. “You’re being social?”

We both laugh knowingly. She’s always been the more outgoing one out of the two of us, although I used to be just as social as she was. Over the past year or so though, I’ve definitely become more of a recluse.

Almost like I’d forgotten who I was, content to just watch life fly by outside my window. I’d completely forgotten the thrill that comes from making new friends.

“A little,” I shrug. “What about you? How are you doing?”

Chung-hei looks like she wants to ask a bit more about my newfound friends, but drops it for now. “Same old, same old. I’m busy, Namjoon is busy, but we make it work. Actually,” she sets her knife down and steps back to avoid the effects of the onion. “I wanted to come here and apologize.”

Today is definitely turning out to be an...interesting day.

“What?”

Smiling softly, Chung-hei takes the chopped half of the onion to the saucepan on the stovetop and begins sautéing it. “I was...unfair to you the other day. Well, I guess it’s been a couple of weeks now, hasn’t it? For one, I’m sorry that it took me so long to realize that I wasn’t being a very good friend-”

I stop her with a confused look. “Hei, what are you talking about?”

“When I ambushed you at the bread shop with Namjoon.”

“Oh,” I say, stepping back and watching her. “I didn’t realize I’d be getting an apology for that.”

“Well, you deserve one. I wasn’t thinking about how you were feeling, I just got so in my head, just wanting to fix everything.” She shakes her head, staring down at the pan. “The only thing I could think about was how lost Namjoon looked when he came over that night, you know, when everything went down…”

“You mean when I cut the thread.”

Chung-hei finally looks over at me, a little shocked.

“You can say it,” I continue, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “It’s not like it’s a disease or something.”

She nods slowly, returning to the task at hand. “Ok. Well, that night when...when you cut the thread, Namjoon showed up in the middle of the night. He’d just left Jimin, and he was a mess. It took him forever to calm down enough to even speak straight, let alone rest. And of course, I was horrified. So when I found out that it was my best friend who was the reason for all of that pain, pain that I can only imagine was multiplied tenfold for Jimin, I just...freaked out. Bringing Namjoon to confront you seemed to be the only option for me.”

“...but it wasn’t, right?” I ask tentatively, taking in this new information. The thought of Namjoon being such a mess that night had never crossed my mind. I’d imagined that everyone would be angry, sure. But shell-shocked? Shaken to the bone?

“No. There were - still are - so many better options. And that’s been eating me alive the past couple of weeks,” Hei admits. “I’m so sorry, Jolie. For not even taking the time to figure out if you’re ok.”

It’s the apology I didn’t know I needed.

“...do you forgive me?” I ask quietly, realizing that what I may need more than an apology is forgiveness.

Chung-hei turns around to face me, tears rolling down her face that may not be from the onions. “I- of course I do. I did, weeks ago.”

As much as I want to dissolve into my friend’s embrace and cry with her, I find myself needing to know more. In my personal search for forgiveness, I need to understand why.

“How, though?” I venture. “Why?”

Blinking, Hei pushes the onions around on the pan for a moment longer. “How? I just...I love you. Even when you’re an idiot.”

I laugh at her honest response, suddenly feeling much lighter. “Thank you?”

It would appear that Christina is right. As horribly cliché and exhausting as it sounds, that’s the first thing I’ve got to understand if I’m going to find any way out of this mess.

Love just has to always be the answer, doesn’t it?

“Attention hog,” I mutter, quietly attacking love.

“What was that?” Chung-hei asks, thankfully not hearing me above the sizzling of the stove.

“Oh, nothing.” Slipping my phone out of my pocket, I grin at the messages I have waiting for me. It looks like Jaemin slipped another message into the mix, ever the impatient one.

Me: Wowww good to know you’re still breathing

Me: Also, if that’s what it takes to get a text back within a decent amount of time...maybe there will be a shortage of Elle pictures for a while. Thanks for the idea! 😂

✂

When Jimin arrives back at the apartment that evening, he’s a little shocked to find himself walking into World War III.

Both him and Jungkook, who usually tend to share a car, freeze in the doorway as the unmistakable voices of Taehyung and Namjoon bounce off the walls. Jungkook is quick to close the door behind him, hoping that the rest of the prestigious neighborhood didn’t just hear the shouting.

“What do you mean you didn’t know what to do?!” Taehyung shouts, sounding like he’s upstairs. Jungkook and Jimin share a look, unsure of whether they should head up to break up the argument.

It’s been years since Namjoon got caught up in a screaming match with any of the members. Whatever it is, it must be serious.

Yoongi and Hobi sit on a couch in the living room, wincing at the bitter argument. Jimin and Jungkook wander over to them, hoping to find some sort of explanation.

“They came in like this,” Yoongi quietly explains, already knowing that they’d ask. “Didn’t tell us what’s going on, but they shared a car and I guess something happened.”

Before Jimin can ask anything, Namjoon’s voice interrupts him.

“What was I supposed to do, Taehyung?! Break Jimin’s heart all over again? Jolie hardly knows what she’s feeling, let alone how to pick up the pieces-”

“HE DESERVES TO KNOW!”

The entire apartment falls silent as Taehyung’s voice rips through Namjoon like a freshly sharpened knife. “He’s my best friend, and yours too, hyung.” His voice is softer now, although there’s still a barb to it. “Weren’t you the one preaching about ‘let it hurt, then let it go’? How is he ever supposed to let it go when you’ve been hiding this from him?”

“And how do you propose I tell him?” Namjoon says quietly enough that Jimin wonders if he actually heard him.

Before Jungkook can stop him, Jimin is striding up the stairs to see Taehyung standing in the doorway of Namjoon’s room, panting after his outburst. His heart is in his stomach, gut churning as he quietly walks over to his best friend’s side.

Taehyung jumps a little when Jimin appears beside him, but Jimin is immediately drawn in by the image in front of him.

Namjoon is sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands. Looking absolutely devastated.

“Tell me what?”

Head popping up, Namjoon meets Jimin’s eyes with his own blood-shot ones. “You’re home,” he croaks out, his voice sounding raw after the screaming match he just went through.

From the way Taehyung huffs, Jimin can tell he’s still riled up. Placing a protective hand on his shoulder, Taehyung urges his friend forward.

“Yes…” Jimin says, looking back at Taehyung. His friend keeps his eyes trained on Namjoon, almost as though daring him to try hiding the truth. It’s a look that has Jimin shrinking back, even though he’s not on the receiving end of it. “What’s going on, hyung? You- I heard Jolie’s name.”

Sitting up straight and nodding slowly, Namjoon looks utterly defeated. “Come in, Jimin. I...I need to talk to you about something.”

“What happened?” Jimin reiterates, feeling absolutely terrified. Nobody offers him a response just yet, although Taehyung does go inside with Jimin and stands beside him as he sits down in Namjoon’s armchair. It’s clear that Taehyung isn’t going anywhere during this conversation.

After a long moment, Namjoon adjusts to face Jimin, staring down at his hands. “Just, I need you to know that I didn’t hide this from you because I don’t trust you, Chim. I do. You know that.”

He glances up at Jimin, who nods for him to continue.

“Jolie...your soulmate, she’s Chung-hei’s best friend.” He pauses, allowing Jimin to take in this new information. All he can do is blink, his mind beginning to whir with what this implies. “And, er...I met her. A couple weeks ago.”

All Namjoon receives is a blank stare as Jimin tries and fails to compute. Taehyung’s chest is still rising and falling with heavy breaths, attempting to curb his anger.

“Chung-hei was freaked out when she learned about it, and she didn’t know what else to do. I wanted to tell you, Jimin, I swear. But I didn’t want you to get your hopes up-”

“You met her?” The question stops Namjoon in his tracks, instantly feeling more regret piling up as he sees the innocent confusion on Jimin’s face.

Jimin can’t believe that he could intentionally hide this from him.

“I...yes. I did.”

Nodding slowly, as checking off one question and moving to the next, Jimin furrows his brows. “As in, you spoke to her?”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t tell me.”

“...no.”

“Because you were afraid of me getting my hopes up only to get hurt again?”

“Yes. Jimin, I-”

“Is she ok?”

Jimin asks the question in a quiet tone, but Namjoon has the distinct feeling of being caught in the middle of a hurricane. Indeed, Taehyung still appears to be fuming beside his best friend, but in Jimin’s eyes is a calculated sort of calm.

It hurts, Namjoon realizes. It hurts Jimin to still care so much even after having his heart ripped out. But that’s Jimin. To stop Jimin from loving would be to stop the world from spinning.

“She’s...lost.” Namjoon replies, unsure of how exactly to explain Jolie’s predicament. “Chung-hei feels horrible though, feels like she hasn’t been a very good friend to her over the past few weeks. She’s gone over there tonight to apologize.”

Jimin nods, fiddling with one of his rings. “Will you tell me what she said to you? Tell me everything that happened?” He hesitates. “Tell me...why?”

Namjoon looks more than willing to share that information with him, even if he doesn’t quite know why either. But he pauses for a moment, frowning.

“Jimin, I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Jimin chuckles softly when Namjoon looks confused. He shrugs, gesturing to his face. “You look horrible, so I figured you felt bad.”

Both Namjoon and Taehyung snort, and then the between them dissipates as Namjoon gives him an apologetic look. Taehyung just nods, accepting the silent apology. As long as Jimin’s alright, he’ll be fine.

“Well,” Namjoon stretches a little, “she bakes bread.”

✂

The boys all filter in at some point, listening with every ounce of their attention as Namjoon relates his experience. It’s late, late enough that Jimin knows Jolie probably won’t respond to the text he sends around one in the morning, but hopefully she’ll see it when she wakes up.

Which apparently is around four in the morning each day for work.

Me: Goodnight! I promise to be better at responding from now on 😜 give Elle a kiss goodnight from me

That’s why he’s so surprised when he receives a text back, quickly followed by Namjoon’s phone going off and him accepting a call from Chung-hei.

“She’s probably calling to tell me how it went tonight,” he explains, promising to put her on speaker once he answers the phone.

Jimin nods, wide awake as he unlocks his phone.

Jolie (Elle): Woah woah woah, quit hitting on my cat. She’s taken.

He hastily sends off a reply just as Chung-hei’s voice fills the room.

Me: Ooh, touchy subject. I see that you get grumpy once it’s past your bedtime

“Hey guys! Jimin, can you hear me?”

Jimin nods before realizing that Chung-hei can’t actually see him. “Oh, yeah. How’s it going?”

“Great! I’m so sorry about keeping this from you, Jimin. Really.”

“It’s alright,” Jimin says, getting up to stretch a bit. “So...how’s Jolie?”

“Really, really well. She seemed a lot happier today. Said that she’s made some new friends.”

Jimin’s heart jumps up to his throat, realizing that he may very well be one of those friends.

“Oh.”

“That’s a big deal, though. Jolie hasn’t really gone out of her way to get to know anyone for a while. Seeing her like this was awesome.”

Jimin’s phone lights up with an incoming message, making him smile despite his worry over Jolie’s apparent anti-socialness.

Jolie (Elle): ugh don’t remind me

Jolie (Elle): I have to get up in less than three hours, pray for me 🙏

“The only thing I’m worried about is what’s gonna happen to her once you go back out into the public eye, Jimin,” Chung-hei muses, pulling Jimin’s attention away from his phone. “Jolie is going to become public enemy number one whenever people realize she’s got a cut thread.”

“Oh,” Namjoon mumbles. “I didn’t think about that.” He glances over at Jimin.

“We have to find a way to cover for her,” Jimin thinks aloud. “We’ll come up with something.”

The conversation wraps up, everyone eventually leaving Namjoon’s room as he continues chatting with Chung-hei. Jimin finds himself on the sofa in the living room, fingers hovering over his phone.

Me: I hope you’re asleep by now. Let me know how tomorrow goes for you, don’t fall asleep at work or something.

When he doesn’t receive a response back, he lets out a long sigh. Sliding his feet into his slippers, he heads outside to the balcony. Resting against the railing and looking out into the night, it doesn’t take long before Taehyung shuffles out after him.

“Hey,” he quietly greets. Jimin glances over at his friend, smiling softly.

“Hey.”

It’s quiet for a long moment, both boys taking in the beautiful night before speaking up.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Jimin chews on the question for a while beneath the twinkling stars, grateful for Taehyung’s quiet patience.

“I’m not sure,” Jimin sighs. “I feel like it’s all I ever talk about, but at the same time I don’t know how to talk about anything else.”

Taehyung hums in understanding, cracking his back before leaning up against the railing. “Should we not talk at all, then?”

Chuckling softly, Jimin nods. The silence wraps around the two of them as the night progresses, although it does little to tire Jimin out. He’s still wide awake when the clock hits three, and realizes with a start that Jolie will be waking up soon.

It’s the fact that no matter how hard he tries to hate her but can’t that has him finally opening his mouth to speak. When he does, Taehyung is alert and ready to listen.

“I wonder…” Jimin’s voice is croaky, making it sound like he just woke up. He clears his throat. “I can’t stop myself from wondering about her. She’s constantly on my mind. Especially now that I’ve seen her…” his mind immediately recalls how she looked crouching down to greet Elle, that soft smile on her face. “You know, I can’t help but wonder what’s happened to make her be so quick to cut me out of her life. That’s not normal. I mean, to be a little hesitant, sure. But to go to such lengths?”

“You’re right,” Taehyung murmurs. “What do you think it is?”

Jimin shrugs. “I’m not sure. But I’m going to find out, one way or another.”

✂

Jimin has just finished showering and getting ready for bed when he realizes that it’s already four in the morning. Groaning once he realizes that he actually has to get up and do things in a few hours time, he wonders if he should wish Jolie good morning.

Will she think he’s weird?

Needy?

“Well, I am,” Jimin admits, not shying away from the desire to reach out to his soulmate. Unlocking his phone, he squints at the screen in the darkness, typing out a quick message.

Perhaps he’s a bit tired, or maybe he’s feeling more vulnerable than usual, but he finds himself hit with a sudden wave of loneliness. Wishing, despite the early hour, that he was with Jolie at this hour of the morning. Teasing her for having to get up so early, offering to take her out to lunch while Elle slumbers at the foot of the bed.

Picture perfect.

Me: Good morning 😸 I hope you were able to get some sleep!

The response is almost instantaneous.

Jolie (Elle): did you even go to sleep?? Seriously, if I make it to work in one piece this morning, it’ll be a miracle.

Jolie (Elle): Also, awww did I just receive my first official good morning text? 😌

Taehyung and Namjoon hover outside of Jimin’s room, watching him turn into a giggling mess. They exchange looks, chuckling to themselves.

“Hey, do you have a second?” Namjoon asks quietly. Jimin nods, letting them come in. Nobody bothers to turn the light on, opting to sit in the light darkness rather than blinding themselves at this early hour.

“Hang on, let me just respond to this real quick,” Jimin mumbles, chewing in the inside of his cheek before coming up with something good enough to respond with.

Me: No, haven’t slept yet. Looks like I won’t for a while. Hmmm, looks like I should start sending more morning texts? 😉 seriously though, good luck today. Let me know how you’re holding up.

Once he’s sent off the message, he sets his phone down to face his brothers.

“What’s up?”

Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, Taehyung sitting beside him looking like he’s half-asleep.

“Well, we’re trying to figure out how to smooth everything over for Jolie once word gets out that your thread was cut.” Jimin internally winces at the mention of his thread, but shakes it off as Namjoon continues to speak. “Any ideas?”

✂

I’ve successfully made it through my shift, despite how slowly time was moving this morning. Scrubbing my hands in the big industrial sink in the back, I listen to the quiet chatter going on in the front of the store. It’s a Wednesday morning, not much is going on out there today. Chances are the shop will be empty until either the lunch rush or the end of the work day.

It’s the perfect way for me to slip out unnoticed.

I’m attempting to do just that, my apron already untied, when my boss Yuri calls out to me.

“Jolie! Really quick, before you head out, it looks like we’ve got an impromptu meeting…?” She looks at me expectantly, which has me furrowing my brow. Am I really so tired that I forgot about a meeting?

“Oh, er...ok.”

“Are we alright to have it back here?”

Again, I frown. Why is she asking me? She’s the boss. “Yeah, that’s fine I guess. Whatever works best for you.”

Yuri smiles warmly at me, although I don’t miss the way her gaze dips down to my left hand. “Great. I’ll let them know that we can chat back here.”

Them?

I shake it off, dubbing the strangeness of it all just a side effect to my exhausted state. It was great having Chung-hei over last night, but I haven’t stayed up that late in a long time-

“Hey Jolie, sorry to bombard you like this.”

I whip around at the sound of a familiar voice, eyes widening when I see Kim Namjoon standing before me. Opening my mouth to ask one of the many questions swirling around my mind, I find that no sound comes out as another tall figure steps into the room.

Coming to stand next to Namjoon, Taehyung’s residual smile from chatting with the employees in the front fades to a straight line. No smile, not an ounce of warmth crosses his sculpture-like features.

“Glad we could catch you before you head out,” Taehyung’s quiet, deep voice is nearly inaudible as he watches me from across the room.

Caught indeed.

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[anothertimdrakestan]

Damijon Christmas Present!

FOR THE DAMIJON SECRET SANTA I HAD... @nymph-patt

dear nymph:

hi love! i haven’t written in a fat minute and i’m a little rusty so bear with me hehehe. i hope you have a wonderful holiday season! all my love -elle!

I’ve got a fluff christmas fic and a lil headcanon for ya! 

Merry Stress-mas

“You can’t plan Christmas like a battle strategy Dami,” Jon groaned as Damian wheeled a whiteboard into their living room. “Actually, I’ve found it to be quite similar. Pay attention Kent, I know sticking to the plan has never been your strong suit.” Damian’s foot was tapping like crazy, Jon noted his clear anxiousness- needless to say Damian wasn’t the holiday type. Makes it a million times harder when it’s your first Christmas together as a couple. 

*super-couple. 

Jon gasped as Damian flipped the whiteboard like a school teacher, revealing meticulously drawn out plans mapped in expo-marker. “We start with my family, we stay until Jason is ten shots in, after that Christmas always becomes a nightmare so we head out. With your super speed it’ll be only an 14 minutes 37 second trip to your family where we stay for the majority of the night. At the end you rush us back to Gotham to console Dick after Bat-Christmas fails as always. Our emergency word is tyrannosaurus should anything go wrong at the drop we flee. Any questions?” Damian was flying through the plans, pointing at bulleted lists and analyzing possible flaws. 

Jon took a deep breath, a smile creeping over his face. “I didn’t think you’d care so much about our first Christmas together with our families, it’s kind of sweet.” Lazily he reached for Damian, clinging to his back while Dami shook his head, mumbling as he edited the board. “Not really our first Christmas Kent and I definitely do not care about family tt,” Jon didn’t reply, he just smiled into the crook of Damian’s neck.

“Our suits bring down our aerodynamic potential so I’ve taken the liberty of adjusting our arrival time to 15 minutes 43 seconds. Does that sound accurate?” Jon hummed in response as he straightened Damian’s tie, it was already perfect but he’d take any excuse to get closer to Dami. “Ready my love?” Jon glanced at Damian who was checking his watch. “Yes.” Damian responded, absent mindedly clasping Jon’s hand as they made their way to the mansion. 

“DAMI’S HERE!” Steph’s screech announced. She was hanging off the banister as she stole popcorn pieces from the massive tree. “Wonderful- Miss Brown I must ask you don’t eat the decorations tonight, have some festivity,” Alfred shook his head as he made his way to Jon. “Magnificent of you to join us Master Kent, I assume you will also be heading to your family’s festivities as well?” Jon opened his mouth but Damian answered first. “Yes Pennyworth, we plan on just saying for hors devours,” his curt reply brought a knowing smile to Alfred’s lips. “Always planned with you Master Damian,” his accent was playful making Jon chuckle. 

Dick descended the stairs, Damian groaned at his bright green and red striped suit, Jon couldn’t help but laugh either. “Hellllooo super boyfriends! Are-You-Readyyyy-For-Tonight!” Dick practically skipped towards the two, pulling them into a tight hug before Damian could slip away. “We won’t be long Grayson we must attend the Kent family Christmas too,” Damian nodded curtly, shifting closer to Jon who got the message and moved forward into the living room. 

“Actually, where are all the bat-siblings? And where did Steph run off to?” Jon noticed no one was around but Alfred who was preparing something delicious in the kitchen. Dick began chuckling, a devilish smile spreading across his face. “Oh, everyone is down in the batcave. C’mon.” Damian looked taken-aback but Jon was never to shocked by batfamily-antics. 

The two followed Dick to the secret door. “Now, we heard from a little super birdy [Dick winked at Jon who was now openly grinning] that you were a little nervous about having to deal with two Christmas’ this year, so we felt it’d be easier for everyone if we just-” Dick popped open the door to a winter wonderland of a batcave. A large table was put out, filled with their family members. “Merry Christmas!” A chorus of laughter broke out as Damian’s jaw dropped. 

At the table were the batfam, Kents, and even a couple speedsters littered around. All were laughing and smiling at one another. It was the biggest family gathering Jon has seen ever. “No need for crazy plans my love, just enjoy tonight with everyone,” Jon whispered to Damian as he scanned the room. “I- How did you- Thank you,” Damian settled on the last words of praise for the wonderful man who made every single day better. “No need for thanks, I’d get you the world if you wanted it, but for now let’s have a very Merry Christmas!” Jon took off towards his family and Damian would help but feel the corners of his lips betray him with a smile. Heart full he made his way down to his family.

“JASON DO NOT FLIRT WITH KARA SHE’S OFF LIMITS!”

“WALLY DID YOU EAT ALL THE COOKIES ALREADY?”

“BRUCE, CLARK, STOP FIGHTING OVER WHO GOT THE OTHER THE BETTER GIFT. YOU’RE BOTH RICH!”

very merry indeed. 

~

Okay so I haven’t absorbed much batfam content at all for weeks so hopefully my spin on the HC is still cute : )

I don’t think Jon gets enough credit for how observant he is. 

Too often Jon is forgotten, the second super boy, the sidekick, the boyfriend, the man who left everyone for space. 

It’s true, technically. But Jon is so keen at reading those around him, especially the un-readable Damian Wayne that I would argue it’s a super skill in of itself.

He gets it from his mother you know, Superman was always a little dense, but, though no one believes it, he always had Lois to help him out. Too often the quieter, smarter, more analytical side gets forgotten and that’s no different with Jon. His friends don’t see the way he checks up on them, taking in their facial expressions and reading them to know the right thing to say at the right time to help them out. They don’t realize he spent whole days memorizing their heart beats and their breaths to know if they’re ever in peril. And they don’t see the way he looks at them so fondly, beyond grateful they’re in his life.

Lois sees it.

She saw it when Jon met Damian. 

A young boy mesmerized by the wittiness and strength in the human boy. The greatest irony, the Superboy more human than the murder weapon now called “Robin”. But the two hit it off almost instantly- though Damian may not agree to that last bit. 

Lois knew Jon adored Damian, every deep red was “Robin Red” every Wayne Ent. building they walked past brought up stories of his adventures with the youngest Wayne, every Justice League trip meant begging for his dad to send him to Gotham for the weekend while he was out. He was young, but Lois knew a pair of soulmates when she saw them. 

There were these nights when they were teens. Jon would burst out of bed and rush to his mother. He never needed to say anything. There was this look in his eyes, Damian needs me. “Go” she’d always whisper, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead thinking back to when Clark would do the same for her. 

She remembers the frantic December weeks Jon spent toiling on Damian’s Christmas gift. “What do I give a trillionaire who has the world?” Jon would whine and mope around the house for any semblance of inspiration. 

Your heart Jon, all he wants is your love. Lois always thought to herself, she was quite aware of the two boy’s growing infatuation with each other, her husband was always slower in the “feelings” department and if he was slow she imagined Bruce was a damn sloth. So, she let the boys feel safe in her presence. Damian slowly spent more time at her home when Clark was out, she grew to have a sort of friendship with Damian. He’d comment on whatever news article she recently wrote, endure a three second reply and be on his way. She was always astounded at how up to date he was on all her pieces. 

Lois was always proud of the love Jon showed Damian. She’d be the first to tell Bruce he needed to hug his damn kids, but there was a special kind of caring Jon held only for Damian. A love woven only for the two of them. Like an invisible string linking them no matter where in the universe the other was at, there was a friendship, a kindness, a passion, a love.

Overtime, Jon’s analysis of Damian led him to his own feelings. And over an even longer period of time Damian discovered his own. Jon never stopped caring, he never stopped worrying, and he never stopped loving. 

Those, are the parts of Superman that Damian, and the world, need most. 

~

Merry Christmas! <3

[smallblip]

oh oh! i was wondering where Levi would be so good at braiding Hange's so normally they ask the same question and Levi goes silent because he remembers the times he used to style Isabel's hair and Hange realises and omg im sad af now :((((

Oh god this made me sad... Here you go lovely:

three strands for good luck

Since the first time Hanji had introduced themselves, they make it a habit to talk his ear off whenever they see him, much to Levi's dismay. Sometimes it's about something menial like the weather, sometimes it's about their observations on the Abnormal Titans. Sometimes it's little anecdotes about the others- about Erwin and his habit of talking in his sleep, about Mike retching the first time he had met them and him apologising profusely after. And Levi wonders why, because he has never given them any indication that he’s a willing participant in any of this? He gives them nothing beyond non-committal grunts and occasional nods. And yet, Hanji is unbothered when he sighs, or clicks his tongue, or asks them if they ever shut up. They respond, in kind, with more ridiculous laughter.

But they’re quiet the day Isabel and Farlan die. Levi barely makes it back to his room. He's still clutching their bloodied patches. His hands are shaking, and he can't remember the last time he's felt this much pain. Or this much guilt. They had been his responsibility. They would have followed him to the ends of the earth. And they did. He doesn't even hear the knock on his door. It creaks open and he's looking up now. Hanji is toeing into his room, only really setting their feet on the ground when they realise that Levi's boots had already left stains on the wood.

"Hey..." they say, so soft it barely travels. "I'm sorry for what happened to Isabel and Farlan..." Hanji is kneeling now. Levi's eyes scan theirs and something in him shifts. Whatever that had been coursing in his veins on overdrive during the fight, during the moments when he had found Isabel's mangled body, recedes. He sees how tired Hanji is, spent from battle, their legs barely holding them upright. He sees the bandage on Hanji’s arm that’s seeping blood, and he sees the goggles that are perched on their head, with the lenses smashed through. They look so, so tired.

“If you want to talk to someone... You know... About them... I'm on the second floor... The room right at the end... I knew them too... Not as well as you did of course... But-"

"Thank you," Levi replies. And he had meant it. Hanji nods and turns to look at him one last time before m closing the door.

Hanji doesn't say anything to him for the next few days. But they check on him to make sure his head is above water. Because Hanji knows their occupation is unforgiving. There's little to no time to grieve before there's someone else to mourn, someone else to bury, someone else to miss. Someone else to talk about in a way that falls somewhere between purpose and martyrdom.

But no one really speaks of Isabel and Farlan. Hanji notices. And already, so much is expected of Levi. He comes to them a week later, during a lull. Time for broken bones to heal and scars to form. He comes to them at night and they hear the short rasps on their door.

"Hey!” Hanji says, eyes widening in surprise, they can’t contain the smile that spreads across their face, "come in!" They clear the pile of unfolded laundry off their chair, tossing them into the cupboard, frantically making space for their guest. Hanji gestures for him to sit, and they take a seat on the edge of their bed.

“How’s your arm?” He asks, and Hanji rolls up their sleeve to show him the scab, raw at the sides from picking. “Healing well!” Hanji runs a finger over it to prove a point. Levi pulls a face, “would’ve healed better if you didn’t pick at it...” Hanji chuckles. It can’t be helped.

Levi gives them a once over. Granted it’s late, and it’s almost time for bed, but Hanji is disheveled as always. Their hair tie clinging onto their head for dear life, ratty shirt slipping off their shoulder. Levi thinks about what his mother had said. Even though they had nothing, she had always stressed the importance of looking presentable. And now looking at Hanji, on the verge of a promotion to squad leader, Levi wonders how they have come this far with a pair of boots (worn and unpolished), and gear caked in mud and grime.

Levi sighs, “come here...” he says, and he guides Hanji to sit in front of him, cross-legged. They feel like a child again, when they’re forced by their mother to sit in front of the mirror while she brushes the knots out of their hair. “You’re a mess Hanji,” their mother had said. She says the same thing again when Hanji goes back to visit, shirt unironed and tucked carelessly into their trousers. Hanji stills when they feel Levi part their hair into three strands, starting from the top of their head.

“You’re braiding my hair?” Hanji asks, smile spreading across their face, amused.

“Just stay still.” Came the answer, and Levi works with deft fingers, tugging firmly to keep the braid in place.

“Where did you learn?”

“My mother... Used to watch her do it.”

“She must have been really beautiful...” Hanji muses, pulling their knees to their chest.

It’s quiet, but it’s the most comfortable silence Hanji has had with Levi. So they close their eyes to the feeling of his fingers threading through their hair.

• • •

Hanji does nothing to their braid the next morning, or the morning after, and the ones after that.

And predictably, there are strands of hair sticking out where they shouldn't. Levi pulls them aside when they are sneaking sugar cubes to their horse, or when they are securing the harness flush against their frame, or in the corridor on the way to the mess. He fixes their hair wordlessly.

• • •

The cadets notice that there's duality in the way squad leader Hanji appears. There's Hanji, completely on-brand, characteristic mess of brown hair held together with a hair tie, slipping down to frame their face, shirt wrinkled, gear battle-worn, and boots unpolished. And there's the other Hanji- shirt crisp and starched, gear well-maintained, boots polished to mirror-shine-

Hair held up in a braid.

"It's not possible that squad leader Hanji did that by themselves..." Jean had mused.

But beyond pure observation, the cadets fail to establish a pattern. They try to predict the weather or the intensity of their training on any particular day by the way Hanji looks. But the other veterans know there's an easier answer than one linked to an oracle.

• • •

Hanji hums a tune when Levi works on their hair, bits and pieces of old melodies they remember from their childhood, or tunes they hear Mike whistling. They had knocked on Levi's door that night, thinking maybe there's a pattern to be found, a routine to be established after the first time.

And sure as the seasons and the ones that come after, Levi pulls Hanji to sit. He parts Hanji’s hair into three strands. Three strands for good luck, he hears it in his mother's voice, gentle like the wind.

“I did this for Isabel too...” He says, matter-of-fact, but Hanji recognises the hurt in his voice. The guilt has faded to a dull throb- a testimony to time passed, to wounds healed and scars formed.

“So that’s why she always looked so adorable...” Hanji replies, gentle like the wind, and Levi smiles, patting the top of Hanji’s head, “done.”

Hanji takes a look in the mirror at their choppy hair held neatly in a French braid. Hanji beams, grin spreading across their face.

“Tell you what... Let’s go for a walk, Levi, I’ve got something to show you.” They walk a disused path that leads from the bunks to nowhere. Hanji explains that the toilets used to be out here, long before their time as a cadet.

They stop along the path when Hanji points up at a tree. “It’s Spring now so they’re in bloom...” Levi looks at the flowers on the trees, pink folds opening up to the sky. It’s dark and it’s difficult to see, but Hanji places a flower in his hand.

“They’re Magnolias...” Hanji smiles, “like Isabel...”

Levi traces a finger along the petals. Time stills in this moment.

“It’s strange though, this tree has always had white blooms, and now they’re pink!”

“It’s Isabel’s favourite colour.”

“Ah... That’s why...”

They sit under the magnolia tree, where the grass is gathering dew, but it doesn’t really matter. The air is crisp and it smells like life itself. Levi places the flower on Hanji’s lap. Hanji picks it up and tucks it behind Levi’s ear. He glowers at them but it didn’t have the intended effect, because Hanji is laughing.

Well. Maybe it did.

They watch as a Magnolia drifts from the trees, a blush of pink against the night. It lands on Hanji’s lap. “Oh! Aren’t you beautiful...” Hanji says.

Levi reaches over and tucks the flower in their braid.

[sirowsky]

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, Angst.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: This was painful to write. If you don’t do well with angst, I recommend skipping this chapter. BUT - there is a happy ending!

Chapter 30

  “Ah, there you are. We’ve been waiting. Now, before you try anything, I have fail-safes in place in case you try and stop me, and they all end in tragedy. Like this nasty little explosive underneath their chairs, for instance.”

  You stood frozen to the spot, trembling with fear, and not an inkling of it for yourself.

  “Don’t… Don’t do this.”

  “Not to worry, my sweet. With the help of your data, I’ve been able to streamline the process. Theoretically, I should be able to directly transfer powered cells from Marcus into his daughter. The familial DNA should help alleviate any foreign-cell attacks. Though, I’m afraid it will still be painful.”

  “My data? Someone’s been feeding you my medical information?”

  “Oh, yes. I don’t think you realise just how many people in this world are interested in levelling the playing-field. I mean, how’d you think I got out of prison?”

  While he spoke, he made the final calculations to start his experiment, and as the machines started whirring and clicking, your fear escalated into full-blown panic.   They were both unconscious, for the time being, but you knew that once the pain started, they’d be forced awake. You didn’t actually remember that from your own experience with this experiment, but you still knew that it was true.   You sneaked a ghost hand towards one of the machines and unhooked a tube that was connected to Missy’s arm, at the other end, trying to buy time.   The machine started beeping to indicate that something was wrong.

  “Now, now, sweetie. Don’t go sabotaging this, or your precious family might not come out of it quite as alright as both of us would like.”

  As he walked over to reconnect the tube, he tapped on something on his belt, and you recognised an identical device to what the Inventor had used to protect himself against powers. Someone in HQ had betrayed you all, and the feeling burned through you with an aftertaste of hate.

  “My family are not your fucking toys!”

  The room shook significantly, and he looked around with real wonder in his eyes.

  “That’s impressive. See, didn’t I give you a wonderful gift?”

  “No. I would’ve preferred to stay ordinary and dull for the rest of my life if it had meant not having to live through that shit.”

  “Do you really expect me to believe that? Look at where you are. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t taken you. You should be more grateful.”

  “I do see where I am, and I would rather have never met them at all, if it meant they were spared from this.”

  “People are inherently selfish, which is why I don’t believe you. Now, let’s get started. And a word of warning, my dear – if you disrupt the process once it’s already started, you’ll kill them both. And I doubt if you could bring both of them back from the dead without killing yourself.”

  He hit a button on the computer keypad, and the Machine connected to Marcus came alive, and started siphoning out powered cells from his blood-stream.   He woke up after just a few seconds, unable to move at all, and you could see the pain in his eyes.   Helpless to do anything else, you reached out to him with your ghost energy, trying to let him know that you were there and that you were trying to save him. You could feel him trying to use his powers, but the machine disrupted it, and caused him even more pain.

  “Please, stop!”

  The second machine, the one connected to Missy, started whirring and moving, and your blood instantly flipped from freezing to boiling.   You couldn’t stand the thought of her even knowing this amount of pain, much less being forced to suffer it, for god knows how long.   And as she woke up, and that pain became visible in her eyes, something old and sure and endlessly powerful took over your mind.   There wasn’t a single thought, not so much as an echo of anything rational or logical or sensible. The maternal instinct was all-powerful in a way that nothing else could compare to. And the power it created together with your abilities, was beyond belief.   The house disappeared, and so did Dr. Prince and all of his equipment, and you could feel the moment that both Marcus and Missy’s hearts stopped beating.   But it didn’t frighten you, because you were a healer.   Moving up to crouch in between them, where they now laid on the bare ground, you took one of their hands in each one of yours, and exchanged your life for theirs.   You had hoped to be able to stay alive long enough to see their faces one last time, but the energy required to heal them, combined with what you’d already spent, was too much, and you needed the single grain you had left, for one last thing. One small, but so very important thing.   You fell away without seeing anything but the blue sky above you.

  It was okay, though. They were worth it.

 ***

  Marcus was working in his office when Missy came to find him. It had been a long day, and he was so tired he could have fallen asleep sitting up.   But he knew that even if he were to lay down in a soft and cool bed right then, he still wouldn’t have succumbed to that blissful nothingness.   He hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours at a time, since the incident, and he was long past exhausted.

  “Dad, are you coming?”

  She came to get him every day after school. She had for the past month, and he didn’t have the heart to ask her not to.

  “Yeah. I’ll be right there, sweetheart.”

  She turned and headed off to medical, and he got up to follow her. A part of him wanted to turn around and run in the opposite direction. A part of him wanted to never have to set foot in that fucking room again.   But that was just the fear. The love was so much stronger, and it relentlessly dragged him back there, day and night, no matter how badly it hurt.

  Missy was already hopped up on the bed, sitting cross-legged by your feet, when he walked in. She was so hopeful still. So positive. All Marcus could feel was pain.   Every time he saw you, he saw those moments. Those short, few seconds that had taken everything away.   He’d seen it in your eyes just before your power erupted. The complete lack of thought as your mind reverted to pure instinct, to protect your daughter. His daughter.   He’d seen how you’d dispatched the entire house, and everything that threatened your family, into one of the dimensions that you had access to, a feat that had almost completely drained you.   Then, he’d woken up to seeing you fall, and in his heart, he’d known that you couldn’t be saved. Not this time. But he’d still tried. He’d tried so hard that Missy had eventually been forced to be the one to beg him to stop before she lost him too.   He’d never screamed so loud for so long before.   And yet, somehow, that still hadn’t been the worst part.   That had come the next morning, when medical had informed him that you’d been examined that day because of nausea, and that they’d discovered that you were pregnant. The timeframe had matched that day in his office, when your bodies had reacted so differently, and you’d cried out of pure love for him.   It had broken parts of him that he had never even known before.

  He walked silently to your side, and took your burned right hand between his. He tried not to look at your face, and the tube that disappeared down your throat, the slight blue tinge to your eyelids, and the way your skin hugged your collarbones.   When the team had reached the disappeared house, they’d wasted no time in getting the three of you back to HQ, and you’d been rushed here immediately. They’d found residual brain-activity, and the decision had been made to keep you alive artificially, in case your powers had somehow been able to protect you. In case you could have found a way to cling to some thread of life and hold on until your strength could be returned.   There had been no change in your condition since that day, and if it hadn’t been for Missy, he would’ve already asked them to just let you rest in peace.

  “Hey, alma. We’re here. So, today’s story comes from Noodles. He managed to get out-witted by a squirrel, and it is too funny not to share.”

  She told you one story every day. Something that had happened during her day that she knew you would’ve wanted to hear about, and would’ve listened animatedly to, before enthusiastically sharing your thoughts about it.   Marcus didn’t hear the stories. He came and sat with her while she talked, because that’s what she’d asked him to do, but for him, being there wasn’t about hope. It was about survival. He didn’t want to hope, didn’t want to give himself that potentially crushing second wave of loss. But he also needed to see you. He needed you, and no amount of pain could crush that feeling.   Since they didn’t have a home anymore, they were living at HQ during the weeks, because it was closer to Missy’s school than Anita’s house. But they still stayed with her over the weekends.   Marcus made Missy dinner every evening, and sat with her to help her with homework or watch some show before she went to sleep, trying to keep her life as close to normal as these circumstances would permit.   But as soon as she fell asleep, he came right back here, curled up next to you on the bed and cried until there were no more tears, and sleep forced itself over him.

  This night was no exception. He walked in on legs that were impossibly heavy, refusing to look at the machines and the tubes, focusing on your hands and the parts of your skin that were bare and unbroken by needles.   It was so strange that your body was unharmed, that there wasn’t a mark on you to signify the violence and destructive nature of that incident. You were still perfect, even in death.   Wrapping one arm over your chest, careful not to disturb the breathing apparatus, he took his usual place on your left side, burrowed his face into your neck and breathed in the familiar scent of your shampoo.   He was so tired that the tears fell without the laboured breathing, or shockwaves of grief rocking his body, the way it usually did. He just laid there, completely drained of will and hope and desire, waiting for the restless, nightmarish sleep that would inevitably drag him under.   A sudden incessive beeping of one of the machines, tried to gripe at his attention. He closed his eyes and burrowed deeper into your neck, certain that if he turned his head towards it, all it would tell him would be that the time had come. That your body had finally weakened to the point where not even artificially sustained organs was enough to keep you there.   He hadn’t wanted to hope, and he’d thought that he didn’t have any left, but as he laid there and waited for the machines to declare your final departure – he realised that he had. A small part of him had clung to some imagined scenario where you could’ve somehow clawed your way back, and now that part was dying with you.   It felt as though someone had shrunk his lungs. He struggled to draw in more than tiny gulps of air, and his arm involuntarily tightened around you, pulling you into his chest, as though your lifeless body could somehow free him.

  A hand found his arm, and held it lightly, but he didn’t look up to see who it was that was trying to soothe him. He didn’t want to be soothed, he wanted to drift off into the nothingness with you.   But then the doors to the room opened, and he could hear it. So, why hadn’t he heard the person that was holding his arm, when they entered?

  “Oh, my god… Marcus, look.”

  It was one of the twins, and the tone of her voice made something inside of him wake up.   He pulled his head away from your neck, and the first thing he saw was your hand, holding his arm. The touch was light because it was weak, not soothing.   Not daring to believe it, he moved his arm, so he could take your hand, and when you squeezed it, ever so faintly, he fell apart.   He sobbed and hugged you, and tried to tell you how much he loved you and how grateful he was, but the shudders and trembles that kept coursing through him made it all garbled up and unintelligible.   He never heard the twins working around you, never felt them change the equipment, after they’d removed the breathing machine, and made sure that you could breathe on your own, before pulling the tubes out of your throat.   He didn’t notice Anita and Missy walk in, however much time later, but he felt them hug him, and he wanted to thank them, to tell them how much he loved them too, but the relief was so overwhelming that all he could manage was grunts and sobs.

  They let him cry himself into absolute exhaustion. He was so tired that it didn’t take long. He fell asleep still cradling you to his chest, and they didn’t have the heart to lift him out of the bed.

***

  A couple of days later, Marcus was sitting on the side of your bed, just staring at you while you ate.   You had to eat carefully and slowly, since your throat was still sore from the tube, but you were already strong enough to sit up in the bed, and eat by yourself.   You’d been expressly forbidden from trying to speak, until your throat was less swollen and irritated, or you might permanently damage your vocal cords. But it didn’t bother you. You and Marcus knew each other so well that your eyes and expressions were enough to let you know what the other was thinking. And Missy was enjoying getting the opportunity to blab incessantly without you being able to stop her with a well-placed quip.   You knew that big conversations would have to be had, in the near future, and while you could feel how nervous and anxious Marcus was about that, you really weren’t. There were things you needed to tell him, things you needed to try and help him understand, but none of it was bad. Not from your perspective, at least.

  You finished eating, and took a few long and slow sips of water. You could tell that there was something on Marcus’ mind, and when you put the glass down, you shot him a look to say ‘tell me’, and he sighed.

  “It’s not… I don’t wanna talk about it until you can actually talk to me.”

  You just kept giving him the same look, crossing your arms in front of your chest to let him know that you weren’t leaving the subject alone any time soon. Whatever this was, it was causing the wrinkle in between his eyebrows to deepen, a clear sign that it was something that hurt him, and he’d been hurting for so long already, it was time for him to start getting some of it out.   He saw your persistence, and he knew you weren’t gonna let it go. His eyes dropped to his own hands in his lap, and he took a minute to consider how to phrase it.

  “They told me… about the… baby.”

  His eyes were still downcast, so he didn’t see your face soften, or your eyes turn warm. But you wanted him to keep talking, so you made no effort to get his attention yet.

  “And I know that you did what you did to save us, and that you couldn’t have made it a priority right then, and I don’t blame you for doing what you had to. I just can’t help but think… what if that was it?”

  His hands were trembling slightly, but you couldn’t tell if it was with sadness or fear. His voice seemed so small.

  “What if that was our only chance? I’ve never felt the kind of… loss… that I felt when they told me that. The loss of what could have been, of the possibility. And I just…”

  He took a deep breath.

  “I had no idea how much I wanted that baby, until it was already gone.”

  He finally looked up at you, and blinked a couple of times with confusion as he took in your expression. Because you weren’t sad. You were smiling.   You picked up the notepad Amaire had left you for answering medical questions, and scribbled down the few words required to explain yourself, before turning it around to show him.

  --The baby is safe—

  You watched his eyes as he read those words, staring at them for several seconds as though he couldn’t understand them. And then his eyes snapped back to yours and there were a million questions in them, but he had no idea where to start or probably even what most of those questions were yet.   So, he just kissed you instead, and the depth of emotion that he poured into that kiss, had you both in tears.

Authors’ Note: I love criticism, don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@blueeyesatnight​ @farfromjustordinary @allmyspideys @hrk-fic-recs @strawberryperegrine @lucrezia-thoughts @computeringturtle @sarahjkl82-blog

[punkgrogg]

Doorway Duo pt. 1

Pairing: Hybrid!Taehyung x Reader, Hybrid!Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Hybrid!BTS, Non idol AU, fluff

Warnings: Pregnancy

Summary: Y/n was abandoned by her long time boyfriend and moves back home to help prepare for the baby. She’s surprised to find two unfamiliar hybrids at her house.

Length: 3,902 words

Notes: This is my first Hybrid story. Feedback would be greatly appreciated. I have two more parts outlined and will update as soon as possible because this quarantine has done nothing but give me time to write.

Date Posted: 4/24/2020

My hands cradled the ever-growing bump I have for a stomach. I still can’t believe I’m pregnant. If you would have told me four months ago I was going to be pregnant and alone I would have never believed you. I was in a loving relationship with my high-school sweetheart and we were against the world.

Until I found him pressed in between the legs of some random girl from his accounting class. That was three months ago- exactly a week before I found out I was pregnant. I let him know immediately and he admonished me for thinking he was the father. Apparently, there was no way he could be the father- we had only had sex four times in the past year. 

It only takes one time, I thought as I picked up the last of my bags. He had moved out of our apartment the week I found him cheating on me and I was more than capable of keeping the place myself but with a baby? No way. I knew nothing about being a mother and thankfully my parents insisted on me coming back home at the end of the semester so they could help me. I’d be finishing my degree online until I got more settled with the baby. 

Until. This was only temporary until I got my life back on track. 

This has been my mantra for the past few weeks. I’ve repeated it daily in hopes of quelling the anxiety of bringing in a new life. I repeat as I drive twenty minutes out of the city and back home. Parking in front of the house I grew up in, I can feel the dread knotting itself in my stomach. This made everything all the more real and I was scared. Scared to face my future. While I was battling my inner demons I never noticed Hoseok approaching the car until he pulled open my door.

“Y/n! You’re finally here!” he squealed as he awkwardly wrapped me up in a hug. My waist was pinned back against the seat with the seat-belt but he was pulling me out of the car. Hoseok was my adopted brother.  He was a hybrid my parents saved when we were both young and he’s been my brother ever since but most people don’t agree with my family’s ideology. 

“Hobi you’re hurting me.” I gasped and he instantly released me his fluffy black ears falling flat against his hair. I unbuckled before hopping out and wrapping him in the biggest hug possible. He welcomed the hug with a tightened grasp. I missed him. 

“How’s the baby?” I hear my mother call from the porch and Hoseok releases me. He reached past me into the car to pop the trunk before going to unload. I turn towards my mother to see two men beside her as they all make their way down the driveway. Both of the men were taller than Hoseok and like Hoseok they were hybrids. They seemed to be total opposites as far as their fashion choices went. Monochromatic would be the only way to describe their appearance; one an entirely dark presence- his clothes were tight and black from top to bottom, the other was a soft entity- his clothes were light, ashy gray that matched his hair.  They both walk past me and assist Hoseok without a glance towards me. My mother captures me in a warm hug.

“They’re doing fine and your baby is doing great too.” I finally answer, returning her hug. As we part, she lays her hand on my stomach with tears in her eyes.

“I swore Jinnie would give me my first grand-babies but here you are, breaking through every expectation once again.”

“I thought I would be an aunt before I was a mother too but I figured it’d be Joon. he was always the ladies’ man in high school.” I sighed exasperatedly. My other two older brothers were back in the city and have already started their careers. Seokjin was engaged and Namjoon was so focused on his career that I don’t think he’s been on a date since high school.

“Well, life has a funny way of making things happen. Have you found out the gender yet?”

“As I told you three days ago, they’re sitting weird and we can’t figure out what it is,” I said as we walked into the house. I could hear my dad in the kitchen, presumably cooking tacos from the smell of it. He was always the best cook in the house and insisted on cooking every meal. I followed the scent of cumin and sizzling beef as I could hear the pounding of feet up the stairs behind me.

“Baby girl, I’m making your favorite,” He says as he comes over for a quick side hug. As quick as he was here- he was gone. Back to tending to the tortillas and chopping the onions.

“I haven’t had tacos in forever, whenever I smelled any kind of beef I became nauseous,” I commented idly, my father’s face turning up in disgust and my mother’s showing sympathy.

“I couldn’t eat eggs for any of my pregnancies, especially during the first trimester.” she patted my shoulder gently and moved towards the fridge. I heard the stampeding feet once again and was quickly tugged into someone’s side.

“What’s my nephew’s name?” Hoseok asked loudly, his cheek pressed to the top of my head. I glanced quietly towards the doorway where the two men stood as still as a pair of statues while intently looking towards me.

“It might be a niece you’re getting.” I retorted while pulling myself away. I stepped towards the doorway duo with an outstretched hand. “Hi, I’m Y/n, sorry that no one else introduced us.”

The first one to shake my hand had broad shoulders and ashy gray hair. He had a long tail that reached the floor that was the same gray as his appearance but was accented by black spots. He held my hand gingerly and dipped his head towards me. “ I’m Taehyung, its nice to meet you.” His hand lingered as I turned to the next guy.

The second man had more muscles than I had ever seen on your average person. His face was jarring with the baby fat still clinging to his cheeks, he had short-cropped hair that accentuated his tall pointed ears. And unlike the first, he hesitated on taking my hand. 

“Jungkook,” He said tersely before shaking my hand once and dropping it like it was hot coals. 

“It’s nice to meet you both,” I said while stepping away once. Taehyung took a half step forward, his gaze still trapped on my face. Jungkook’s gaze was firmly focused on my stomach, an intense look that made my heart skip and subconsciously pull my hands forward to protect them. 

“You’re not going to ask?” Taehyung asked, his face screwed up in confusion. I could feel Hoseok’s presence towering behind me- his hand reaching up to grasp my shoulder. 

“Ask what?” My head cocked in confusion before realization dawned on me. “Oh, how rude of me. How was your day?” Hoseok chuckled from behind me before piping in.

“He meant asking what they were.” embarrassment made my face flush, how could I be so dense?

“Oh. Uh. Well, you can tell me if you want. I honestly don’t really care about that, I’m not too sure about what Hobi is.”

“Great Pyrenees. Goodness, you’d think after sixteen years you’d know that.”

“All I know is that you’re fluffy and a cuddle bug.”

“I’m a snow leopard hybrid.” Taehyung quickly interjected, his ears pointed up, they rose mere centimeters above his wild untamed curls. They were the same color as his ashy hair but had accents of black on the tips. 

“Really? That’s so cool, I’ve never met a snow leopard hybrid before.” He mirrored my smile, his eyes crinkling into feline-esque slits. Faint patches of freckles were mapped across his cheekbones, curling up around his eyes. 

“We’re as rare as our animal counterpart.” His eyes glanced quickly towards Jungkook meaningfully then flickered away just as fast. “Jungkook here is a German Shepherd hybrid.”

“Wow, that’s really cool.” Jungkook couldn’t meet my stare and quietly excused himself, high tailing his way back up the stairs. Taehyung ignored his retreating form and instead stepped into the kitchen, sitting at the counter. Hoseok followed after him relaxing  into the  second to last stool

“Sorry, he’s a bit apprehensive, Hoseok warned us about your pregnancy and that you might have crazy mood swings.” The gray man added conversationally, his eyes scanning over my face approvingly. He cracked a grin at the disbelief that spread across my face.

“Crazy what?” my father chuckled at my incredulous tone, “Hobi I will kill you.” I stepped towards him menacingly and he shot up off his perch.

“See Tae? It’s already happening. Mom, get your daughter.” he cried out as he circled around the counter towards mom.

He tried to duck behind her smirking form as I neared but he underestimated the drama mom lived for. “You only brought this on yourself, honey.” She flitted over to dad’s side and taste-tested the corn salsa.

“Who’s gonna save you now?” I smirked at him as I crept closer, my hands poised to pinch the ever-loving shit out of his cheeks.

“This isn’t fair, I can’t fight a pregnant woman,” Hobi whined as he resisted my efforts- his entire upper body leaning away from me.

“If either of you scoundrels hurt my grand-baby I will ground you both.” my dad intoned, halting both our figures. My hands cupping his face and his pushing against my shoulders lightly. Taehyung was laughing at us- he had melodic giggles.

“Taehyung dear, will you go tell Jungkook it’s time for dinner? Y/n and Hoseok go set the table.” Mom ordered and all three of us obeyed instantly. Hobi pulled a stack of plates out the cabinet and I rounded up the silverware. Taehyung was up the stairs by the time Hobi and left the kitchen and headed over to the dining room. I straightened out the red table mats and laid out a set of silverware while Hobi was a step behind me laying out his stack of plates. 

“So, all jokes aside, how has it been?” he asked as we finished up, I leaned heavily against the chair in front of me. It sucks. I’m about to be responsible for a whole person. I’m scared and alone.  Is what I thought but there was no way I could actually tell him that.

“Well, it’s not what I had planned but I’ll get through it. It’s weird being back here when I’ve been living in the city for the past three years.” A wry smile managed to take residence on my face.

“You’ll get used to it, and like you said you’ll get through it. Have you heard from him?” Hobi settled into the chair directly across from me. He started to fiddle with his spoon as I sunk down into my seat.

“No, and I don’t want to. He said he wasn’t the father and that he didn’t want to be.”

“Jin and I will still kick his ass if you want us to.” He was focused on the spoon in his hand, but I could tell that emotionally he was struggling. He was always the more empathetic of my brothers and showed to be more protective of our family at every turn. He was the first one I told when I found Henry was unfaithful and he was the first to know I was pregnant.

“No, it’s fine. We don’t need that loser anyway.” I smile at him, hoping to convey my appreciation to how he’s been so strong in supporting me. My eyes strayed up to the stairs, the question finally breaking through. “Uh, what’s with our two guests? Friends of yours from work?”

“No, the shelter caught on fire last week, and since mom and dad are certified for fostering they brought them in. Mom didn’t tell you?” Hoseok cocked his head to the side, his brows furrowed. 

“She didn’t but that sucks about the shelter. When will it be fixed?” The shelter was where hybrids could stay and be safe. And, as unfair as it is, where they could find their next home. Hybrids had a terrible history and humans were horrible when it came to them. Many held no regard for their hybrids- considering them no better than an animal. Thankfully by adolescence hybrids usually find their place in life and the shelter typically only houses kids being adopted out. There were cases where a family who could no longer provide the care for their hybrid had to surrender them to the shelter. Cases presumably like Taehyung and Jungkook.

“Boss said a couple of months until the renovations are all finished.” Hoseok was a volunteer at the shelter, he has been since high school. Hybrids weren’t allowed to work without the permission of their family (something that outrages our family to no end) and most could only work in volunteer positions. 

“Maybe they’ll finally fix the break room's window.” I teased, for as long as I can remember the window has been duct-taped together. No matter what- renovations or accidents being repaired- the window has remained duct-taped together.

“That window has been broken since Hoseok came into the family,” Dad chimed in as he swept into the room. He was carrying the frying pan full of steak in one hand and a table protector in the other. He laid it in the center of the table as Mom, Taehyung, and Jungkook followed behind with their arms full of the side dishes. 

“There’s always hope.” Retorted Hobi, ever the optimist.

“I highly doubt it- it’ll probably be the only thing missed by the renovations.” Dad shook his head, having lost hope on that window years ago.

“What’s being missed?” Mom asks, situating the chopped tomatoes and the tower of tortillas.

“The shelter’s break room window.” I supplied, helping pull out the chair to my right for her to sit. Jungkook settled in the seat in between Hoseok and my dad; Taehyung claimed the seat on the right of my mother. 

“Oh that thing has always been broken, I figured they’d fix it years ago. Anyway, Hoseok dear pass me the sour cream.” at that, we all settled into making our plates. 

“Dad, this is sublime, I’ve been living off of pizza and ramen for the past few months.” The taco was by far the best thing I’ve eaten in months. The seasonings and fresh ingredients almost overwhelming my poor college student tastebuds. Dad smiled down the table at me.

“Is that healthy for the baby?” Hoseok asked making a face of concern directed to my stomach. 

“You can worry about yourself- I already got an earful of complaints from mom about prenatal vitamins.” Jungkook snorted at the retort and smiled at me for the first time.

“Honestly what's the difference between prenatal vitamins and regular vitamins?” Taehyung asked, turning towards my mother and I. I shrugged and shoved another taco in my mouth. Mom said they were important and I believed her- plus my doctors said it was great when I had told him I was already taking the vitamins.

“They have more iron and other nutrients that pregnant women don’t get enough of.” Mom explained and Taehyung nodded thoughtfully.

“Pregnancy is so much work, I don't know how you did it three times mom.” Mom laughed at that- covering her face with a napkin. 

“Raising you four was way more work, pregnancy was a breeze compare to four teenagers.” She looked at me with pointed eyes. Ah, yes, the dreaded teenage years I would soon face. I grimaced at the thought of hormone-fueled years. Hopefully, I’ll have a daughter, I knew how girls worked throughout puberty.

“Hey, Namjoon wasn’t nearly as bad as the other three.” Dad defended, he was always on the defense of his supposed angel child.

“Joonie almost slept with the entire highschool our junior year and I’m surprised he even got through college without a baby,” Hobi interjected loudly causing Taehyung to laugh.

“No really, Jin, and I thought he was going to catch something.” He continued, turning towards the gray hybrid. His eyebrows were raised and his eyes expressed the utmost of sincerity.

“Your brother did not.” Mom joined the defense, her and dad believing the facade Joon had put up throughout our childhood. 

“That’s what you think, he was a sneaky little bastard.” I chimed in joining Hobi’s side. Jungkook and Taehyung were giggling to themselves watching us all bicker.

“Middle children always are,” Jungkook said joining the offensive.

“They’re nowhere near as spoiled as the youngest.” Hobi suddenly turned on me, the shock of betrayal apparent in my scoff.

“She’s the only girl, you guys never stood a chance.” The unexpected support form Taehyung had me smirking at my new enemy.

“It’s not my fault I’m the favorite,” I flipped my hair over my shoulder and leveled Hobi with a teasing glare.

“Seokjin might beat you there.” Mom rebuked, completely sideswiping me. 

“Hey! Does your grandchild mean nothing to you?” I cried out in mock surprise, Jin was mom’s angel child.

“Honey, we promised not to tell them.” 

“Honestly, high key offended but not surprised.” Hoseok shook his head as he continued on with his taco. The room dissolved into chatter as we finished dinner; I excused myself from the table to unpack. 

I slowly made my way up the stairs while taking the time to look at all the photos of my brothers and me throughout the years. My room was the first room at the top of the stairs- Hoseok’s was directly across. Namjoon and Seokjin’s rooms were the other two rooms but both have now turned into guest bedrooms ever since they graduated college. My room used to be our parents’ when we were really young but soon after bringing Hobi into the family, they renovated the garage into the master bedroom of their dreams.

My room was still the ugly lime green color that I begged my dad into painting it when I was in middle school. The furniture was a yellowing white and had layers of neon colors splattered on it. Coming home really incited the cringe-worthy memories of my early teen years- swore it was cool at some point. My suitcases and duffel bags were resting on my bed. I decided to shuffle my music while unpacking the impossible amounts of clothes I managed to pack. 

~~~~~~~~

“Now all your love is wasted, then who the hell was I?” I sang along, lost in the moment of hanging up all of my shirts. One bag remained after I finished my shirts- my underwear and socks. I was startled out of my peaceful reverie at the abrupt knock at my door. I whipped around to see Jungkook hesitating at my doorway with a shy smile. 

“Your mom asked me to bring this up to you,” he answered my unasked question and held out a plate with chocolate cake. My mouth watered just looking at it.

“Thank you Jungkook, just set it down on that dresser and I’ll get it when I finish this up “I waved towards the surface closest to him with the hanger in hand while hooking on a sweater. I watched him from the corner of my eye as he slowly stepped into the room and laid the cake on the dresser.

He stood in place while looking around at my room his gaze finally settling on the pile of luggage on the floor at the foot of my bed. “Do you need any help?”

“No,” My answer was quick and he seemed to flinch at it. To soften the unintended blow I smiled awkwardly, “but you’re more than welcome to hang out in here.”He meandered over to edge of the bed as I hung up the last shirt from my bag. It was silent as I shoved the bag off the bed and onto the pile of other emptied ones and made my way over to my cake. I hopped up onto the dresser to sit so I could face Jungkook while I ate. He avoided looking at my face and instead looked at the posters hung on my wall that were of artists that never really charted on any kind of chart.

“What kind of music are you into?”He looked at me quizzically as I finally broke the awkward silence between us.

“Well, that’s a tough question. A little bit of everything I guess, mainly pop if I had to settle on a genre.” I finished my cake and set it to the side as I smiled at him wildly.

“Me too, I kind of go in phases though, like it’ll be pop and then I’ll really get into 70s indie rock for a couple of weeks.” He softly grinned at my enthusiasm before snickering.

“You sound like Tae when he gets into his movies, it’ll be a week-long showing of all marvel films and then two months of obscure Buster Keaton films.” His tone sounded as if he’s experienced this far too many times to count.

“Buster Keaton was the shit though,” my proclamation was met with the horror of a man too well versed in debating Buster Keaton.

“Oh god, not another one.” he groaned, flopping back onto my bed. I laughed a little until he sat up again, his smile sobering me up.

“So how long have you and Taehyung known each other?” Were they from the same home before being placed in the shelter? It wasn’t that often that people were able to bond so well when in the shelter with how short their stays typically were.

“We have been roommates at the shelter for, I guess, about a year now. He’s my best friend.” Jungkook’s smile was the complete opposite of what should accompany that sentence. A month was the maximum I had ever heard of someone staying in the shelter. I schooled my features to not show the shock I felt.

“Who me? It better be me or else I’m chopping heads off.” Taehyung entered the room in the most dramatic way possible. Unlike Jungkook he hadn’t waited for an invitation and instead strutted into the room while Jungkook rolled his eyes at the theatrics.

“I hear you’re a fellow Keaton aficionado.” My statement caused him to falter in his stride, he quickly recovered with a beaming smile directed towards me.

“On occasion, noir is where my heart is truly.” His hand clutched at the thick gray cardigan right above his heart.

“Your heart changes every other day.” Jungkook rebutted, his eyes rolling so far back he might lose them back there. 

“She’s noncommittal okay, we don’t judge here.” Taehyung glared at his best friend and it made my heart swell at how cute they both were.

“I’m most definitely judging,” Jungkook muttered falling back on his elbows and staring up at the ceiling, feigning annoyance.

“Can you believe him Y/n?” The deep timbre of his voice negated any nasal squeak he might otherwise have from his whiny tone. 

“He’s a real scoundrel, the worst of them all.”

[thadelightfulone]

All I Want... 25 Days of Christmas Challenge, Day 20

December 19th - Part 2

It was a beautiful day at the Christmas Festival. It was held in a closed off chunk of downtown. Every year, with all the fun and activities, it kept growing bigger and bigger. 

What started as a group of seven changed as they made their way around the festival grounds. The boys found their friends and drifted away. 

Jasmine, Serena and DeeDee led the charge while Marquis and Erik just followed. They had just finished decorating ornaments and putting them on one of the Christmas trees. There was still time before the big tree in the Center was lit, so they decided to go on a few rides. They headed down Main street and walked toward the Ferris Wheel.

“So, peppermint hot chocolate anyone?” Serena bumped DeeDee’s shoulder. “Who wants some?”

“Uh sure, I could go for some.” DeeDee said. 

“Can I get a coffee instead?” Erik asked, “And maybe some cookies.” 

“Yeah, we’ll go get it.” Serena grabbed DeeDee. “Ya’ll go get in line.”

“Here baby,” Marquis folded some money into Serena’s other hand. “We’ll take Jazzie.”  

“Thank you dear.” 

Jasmine reached out for Erik and DeeDee, who was holding her, handed her over. He lightly squeezed DeeDee’s hand before lifting Jasmine out of her arms.

“We’ll be back.” She mumbled as Serena dragged her away.

---

DeeDee walked quietly beside Serena. They approached the hot chocolate stand and waited in line. 

“Breathe girl, it’s not that serious.” Serena tapped her arm with the money.

“I don’t know what you are gonna ask and it’s making me nervous.”

“Fine. I want to know about your connection to Dr. Stevens. Whatever you want to share. Take your time.” 

“I like him.” DeeDee blurted out.

“Yeah, that’s a given. You are just as smiley around him as Jazzie is.”

“Reena, how did you know you were in love with Marquis?”

Serena stared at her, “Wow, I was not expecting that.” They got up to the front. “Hold that thought.” 

Serena placed the order and linked DeeDee’s arms with hers. They moved to the side and waited for their names to be called. 

“Love, huh?”

“I think so. Maybe. I don’t know.” DeeDee sighed. “I mean you know him. Can you blame me?” 

“I do know him but clearly not in the way you do.” Serena tugged on DeeDee’s arm, “What do you think about him?”

“Do you know how I found him?”

“You mean how you told Quis that you found one of his articles while doing some last minute research for your dissertation?” 

DeeDee nodded and laughed.

“Or the real one, where you found his note about the kind of love he wanted in life?” Serena smiled at DeeDee’s shocked expression.

“He told Marquis about that?”

“Yeah, he did, eventually.”

“So, then Marquis knew about me and him talking and stuff?”

“Yeah, but not before he gave you his book.” Serena shook her head, “Men.”

Their order was called and they walked over to the toppings table. 

While DeeDee added crushed candy canes to her and Jazzie’s hot chocolate, Serena popped the top to Erik’s coffee. 

“Oh, you can put that back on. He likes it black.”

“Does he now?” Serena put the top back on it and sat it down in front of DeeDee, “The Erik I knew drowned his coffee in sugar.”

“That’s what the cookies are for.” DeeDee put the top back on her drink and took a sip, “I mean, I guess.”

“Nah, say it with your chest.” Serena bumped her, “You know how your man likes his drink.”

“He’s not my man.” 

“Yet.” 

They grabbed all the drinks and the bag of cookies, then made their way to the Ferris Wheel. 

“Look, you asked how I knew Marquis was it for me. It was the way he made me feel. He became my best friend and supported me in everything. There was never a moment where I had to question his feelings for me. He showed me and made sure I knew it. So, when I fell, I never once looked back.”

Serena stopped DeeDee short of where the others waited for them.

“Do not fight your feelings, DeeDee. If you feel strongly for him. You should let him know. He’ll tell you he feels the same way or let you go, so you can find someone who deserves it.”

“I’m afraid, Serena. I’ve never felt this way before.” 

“And I bet you can tell him that, too.” 

Marquis walked over to them, “Let me help with that.” He took a drink and the cookies from them.

“Thanks Marquis.”

“No problem.” He held his arm out for Serena to latch onto.

“You’ll find your way hun.” She linked her arm with Marquis’. 

DeeDee followed behind them as Marquis led them to the line.

“Quis, this isn’t for the Ferris Wheel.” Serena spoke up.

“Yeah, Jazzie saw that they were doing boat rides and wanted to go on one instead.”

They both looked at him.

“You know her Godfather couldn’t say no to his princess.” He mocked.

All three laughed as they approached Erik and Jazzie in line.

---

“Did you add the candy canes?” Jasmine took the cup offered from DeeDee.

“Of course, it wouldn’t be our peppermint hot chocolate without them.”

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome dear.” 

Jasmine walked up towards her parents. 

DeeDee handed Erik his coffee. “Here you go, Uncle E.”

“Thank you, Miss DeeDee.” He took a sip, “Black. How did you know?”

“I pay attention.” She took a sip of her hot chocolate.

“To the little things.” He looked at her, “I like that.” 

“Do you want a cookie, Uncle E?” Jasmine turned around with the bag in her hands.

“Yes, please. Do you have any snickerdoodles in there?” 

“I think so.” She looked at DeeDee, “Is there?”

“Yes, there should be a few. Let’s find them for him.” 

Jasmine rolled down the paper bag and DeeDee pointed at a couple on the top. 

“How many did you want?”

“Can I get 3?”

Jasmine took a napkin and picked up the cookies, “Here you go.” She looked at DeeDee. “You want one?”    

“No, thank you sweetheart.”

--- 

They got on the boat. Serena and Marquis on one side and Jasmine, DeeDee and Erik facing them from the other end. Jasmine wanted to be close to Erik, so she sat in between them.

5 minutes riding up the lake along the swampbed, and Jasmine was out. She leaned up against Erik who moved her head to his lap and DeeDee raised her legs to lie across her own. 

“I hate that they make it look so natural.” Serena loudly whispered to Marquis.

“Right, like it was a no-brainer to lay her completely flat instead of up against him.”

“Stop that.” Erik spoke up.

“What? We’re just making an observation.” Marquis said.

 “Exactly. It took us 3 kids to do what you two just naturally did.” Serena huffed.

“Anything you want to tell us. Either of you?”

“Yeah, you got some kids we don’t know about?” Marquis and Serena started to laugh. 

“Will you two just enjoy the ride?”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t be making this much noise if she was awake.” DeeDee whispered across to them.

“Sure, we would.” They said in unison.

Erik looked over at DeeDee. “Are you having fun?”

“I am. It’s nice to have someone to share Jazzie duties with. She can be quite the handful.” DeeDee gently rubbed her back as the boat picked up speed. 

“No problem. I definitely don’t get to see her like I should.”

“Oh, when was the last time you saw her?”

“She was two and they came to visit me in Cali.”

“Ahhh, so this visit was long overdue then?”

Erik grabbed DeeDee’s hand, “Do not try to downplay things, DeeDee.”

DeeDee just sighed. 

“I think I would have met you this week, all things considered.”

“How do you figure that?” DeeDee looked at Erik. 

“Clearly, I have a relationship with multiple people in your life.” He stroked his finger across the palm of her hand. “Marquis and his family, the chemistry faculty and your great-grandmother.”

“I guess, you have a point. Those are three of the most important parts of my life right now.”

“Besides, we share a goddaughter.” He lifted her hand to his lips, “It’s like we already have a child together.” 

DeeDee exploded with giggles and immediately covered her mouth, so as not to wake up Jazzie. The little girl didn’t budge after the outburst but all the adults broke into laughter.

“I take back everything I said.” Serena looked at DeeDee. “I had such high hopes for you.”

DeeDee shook her head, “I blame him.” She poked Erik in the chest.

“I didn’t do anything.” He tried to appear shocked and appalled.

“E, what did you just tell her?” Marquis asked.

“I may have said something about us basically having a child together.” He reached back over for DeeDee’s hand. 

“Oh, that’s real classy Erik. No wonder she laughed at you.” Serena slapped Marquis who started laughing again.

“Oh, it landed as it should. I have no doubt about that.” He kissed her hand again.

DeeDee shivered as she watched his eyes smolder. 

---

When they got off the boat, Erik carried Jasmine on his right side and held DeeDee’s left hand. 

The boys were waiting for all of them at the exit ramp. They texted Marquis and Serena while they were still on the water. 

They headed over to where the big Christmas tree lighting was. Jasmine stayed asleep the whole time, clinging to Erik as he held her. 

The group was leaving the festival when DeeDee remembered that she hadn’t taken many pictures with her camera.

She asked Serena to take some random shots, and she was all too happy to take a picture of the Godfamily as well. 

“You have a beautiful family, man.” A passerby clapped Erik on the back while they set up for the picture. 

Erik squeezed DeeDee’s hand when she looked away. He released it and brought her into his side. 

Serena took the picture along with a few more of their interactions on the way back to the cars. 

---

Erik helped DeeDee out of the car and went to get Jasmine out of her carseat. He gave her a kiss on the forehead before he handed her over to Marquis. 

They said their goodbyes outside and then it was just Erik and DeeDee outside. He learned on the passenger side of his rental and DeeDee stood next to her driver’s side door.

“Did you have fun today?” DeeDee asked him. 

“Yeah, it’s been a while since I have attended one of those. I didn’t realize how much I missed it.”

“I bet it is much bigger than you remember.”

“It is, I never would have imagined boats as part of it, but that was a nice addition this year.” 

“Yeah, I liked it.” She stepped closer to him. “Erik, what are you doing for Christmas since you’ll be here?”

“I haven’t made any plans yet. Why?”

“Would you like to spend it with me and my family?”

Erik stood up and reached for her hands, “I would love that.”

Taglist: @teakturn​ @ghostfacekill-monger​ @shaekingshitup​ @nahimjustfeelingit-writes​ @woahitslucyylu​ @ladymac82​ @bugngiz​ @eyeknowmywrites​ @ajspencer1892​ @arafatih​ @issimplyaamazinggg​ @tchallasbabymama​ @killmonger-fics​ @beautifullmelodyxx​ @raysunshine78​ @fd-writes​ @ljstraightnochaser​ @just-peachee​ @kaleidoscopeofsoul​ @sincerelykas​

[my-fanfic-library]

Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader} [6]

Masterlistt

A/N: really quickly I just wanted to thank you all for the love and support on this fic. I’m so overwhelmed with all of the attention it got so far and I can’t tell you all how happy your likes and comments and reblogs have made me. I’ve just had the worst three months of my life and I haven’t been this happy in such a long time, so I just wanted to say thank you all so so so much for giving this dumb fic your time and affection it really means the world and more to me ❤️ I also just wanted to say that I’m not being ignorant or rude with not replying to people in the comments, this is a side blog of mine and thus tumblr won’t let me comment on this account - only as my main. Please know all of your comments have left huge smiles on my face time and time again and everyone who has requested to be on the taglist is on there. There’s a few accounts that won’t let me tag, so I am sorry to those individuals, I have tried my hardest to rectify the issue and I’ll continue to do so until it works.

Enough of my blabbering, let’s continue with your’s and Dracula’s journey❤️

~^*^~

You looked past Dracula’s face for a second, eyes locking with Zoe’s as she frowned. Her back was pressed against the wall, standing close to a man armed with a gun and the usual (stake and cross). Again, you found yourself in the glass box, sitting at the large desk with the vampire sitting opposite you. Today, he had been granted one wine glass of blood, which was sitting beside him. A gentleman and a wine glass went hand in hand, and you didn’t really mind the fluid that filled the glass.

“Must we proceed with such formalities?” Dracula sighed.

“Yes, Drac.” You rolled your eyes, focusing back on him.

“And why is that?”

“Because this is my job.” You crossed your legs as you sat, trying to get comfortable under the heat of his gaze, “now, today we’re going to talk.”

“As opposed to the sumo wrestling we did last time?”

“Funny.” You sneered, rolling your eyes, “I just want to know a little about you.”

“Ask me anything, darling, I’ll spill all my secrets to you.” He tenderly took the glass between his fingers and took a sip. He gasped, like he had been deprived of air and he was finally getting oxygen back into his system.

“I want to know, specifically, about blood. The last time we spoke here, we talked about the Demeter, remember?”

“How could I forget? It was in those moments you captivated me, [First].”

“Enough flirting, I’m trying to earn a living here.” You scolded.

“My bad, go on.” He licked his lips, deciding he wanted to create a little eye contact with you. His mind wandered back a week, to the second night he was ever allowed entrance to your humble abode. It was the most interesting affair.

~^*^~

You sat curled up on the sofa, as you did most evenings, watching the usual soaps when your door knocked. Instead of getting up to answer, you allowed it to open itself and a low “only me” rumbled to your ears. When your living room door opened, you peered over to see the familiar face of your vampire acquaintance. He took no time in strolling in and settling down into the plushness of your La Z Boy. Clearly he favoured that seat above all others in your home.

About ten minutes passed as he allowed you to watch the end of your soap, and when the credits began to roll, you stretched out on the sofa. Dracula eyed you, much to your obliviousness, and then spoke up.

“I’m glad to see you got my message. Thank you for trusting me.”

“Yes, I was meaning to ask about that. When did you get a phone?”

“Oh, it was a gift from my lawyer.” He told you nonchalantly.

“Your lawyer?” You cocked your eyebrow at him.

“Yes, I helped start the law firm back before I even met Jonny, you see, so he told me he feels indebted to me. Bought me the phone to help me settle in and adjust to the new world.” He explained.

“Right. Well, should we go for a quick walk?”

“A walk-...” he cut himself off, “seems good...” his attention on you had all but disappeared as he watched the next show begin to start. A food show, showcasing all sorts of delicacies, “gracious, and to think back when I was a mere mortal all we had was over-boiled starches...”

“Yes, culinary has come far, hasn’t it?”

“Is that chocolate?” He ignored your question, “but it’s so expensive!”

“Actually, it’s extremely cheap now. Besides, why are you of all people worried about the fate of chocolate? You don’t even eat it.”

“Humans are always so greedy for the delicacies of life. I suppose such things as pineapples are common as well.”

“We can literally grow them here now.”

“Let’s walk.” He chirped, clearly irked at how society had decided to treat such magnificent things.

“Honeslty, though,” you spoke, “I’d kill for some melted chocolate and strawberries.” You threw the words over your shoulder as you walked to the door.

A soft “oh” came from your lips when you swung open your front door to find a heavy drizzle greeting you. You felt Dracula’s hand slide over your back and then the sound of material as he opened up your umbrella. He stepped out, nicely sheltered with nylon. He held his hand out for you to join him. Not thinking twice, you took his hand and found yourself pleasantly surprised when he linked his arm with yours.

You allowed him to lead you where he wanted, first nearing the river before deciding to walk parallel to it. Walking in silence, you listened to the gurgle of the river and the sweet birdsong up in the thick canopy of trees. It was nice to know that the birds were enjoying their break from the hot weather.

Dracula took you up the steep hill that lead towards the viaduct, and once at the beginning of the ginormous structure, turned left, away from it and further away from Whitby town. The cindertrack this way was not lit at all and you found yourself relying on sheer instinct and the man beside you. Your heart began to race a little, wondering why on Earth he was leading you down this dark path.

Below your feet was an odd mixture. The firmness and sharpness of small rocks and pebbles, and the sinking feeling of the drowned cindertrack that clung to the underside of your shoes. On more than one occasion, you found yourself slipping and had to cling on to the vampire for dear life.

How ironic.

A good chunk way down the track, where a holiday park was a little in front of you and positioned to the left of the track, Dracula stopped and turned to face you, keeping the umbrella perched high above you to prevent you from getting wet. Now your heart really began to run.

“No need to panic, I just want to talk.” He explained gently.

“What is it? Why did it have to be here of all places?” You grumbled.

“I’ve brought you here because it occurred to me that your neighbours liked to listen in. To save you any trouble, I thought we’d talk here where no one would hear. Well, I’ve brought you close to where there’s other humans, so that if you needed to scream, they’d hear and come running.” He spoke in a tone of seriousness, but once finished, broke out into a toothy and boyish grin

“You’re not funny. It’s dark and wet. What did you want to talk about?” You folded your arms.

“Your proposal last night. Your life, for someone else’s? Will you gift me with the information of this so called meal you wish to bestow on me as a token of your gratitude?”

You froze. In your delirium, you had promised Dracula another’s life for your own. Although you genuinely hated that person from the bottom of your heart, could you ever send such a cruel doom to them? How could you live the rest of your life knowing that you, and solely you, had caused their death? All over some teenage heartbreak? Their behaviour had lead to your drastic move, your enrolment in such a dangerous occupation, your distrust of anyone and everyone. Did that justify you sending a vampire to feast on them?

Then again, if you didn’t deliver, what would Dracula do to you? You would have lied to him and he had already spared you once before with a warning. Do not cross him again. Did you dare to defy him? Did you dare to retract your proposal? Even if you sent him to that person, there was never a guarantee that he’d let you be. He could always strike out. Were you willing to risk that?

“Yes... there’s somebody down south, in London to be exact. I... I think she’d suit your tastes very well...”

“I hope you’re not just sending me as a revenge plot [First]. I would hate to have completely misread you.” He continued to grin.

“Not... entirely...”

“Not entirely? You bad girl. And I thought you were afraid of me? Now you’re using me as a weapon? How cold of you, [First]... How very...” he grinned at you, a wretched grin that seemed to highlight the exact type of evil he was. It may have stayed on his face for a second, if that, but it was enough, “delightful.”

“Don’t get too excited, toothy. I don’t know exactly where she is.”

“Give me her name, darling. I will be able to find her. Hopefully she can live up to your promise.”

“You’ll really go?” You asked, genuinely surprised at his willingness.

“You trusted me with entrance to your home, as well as being utterly alone with you. I’d like to return the favour and believe your words, as well.”

“I see... well before I tell you, you must promise to come to the Foundation a week today. I promised Dr. Van Helsing I’d continue my study on you.”

“You have my word.” He bowed his head a little in sincerity.

“In that case, the person in London you’re looking for is Lucy Westenra.”

~^*^~

Dracula eyed you as you glared at him. Had he done something wrong? It took all but six seconds for him to realise just how badly he had zoned out. He wondered how long you had been speaking, how much of your words he had missed thinking about that evening.

“You didn’t hear a word of what I said, did you?” You inquired, tone laced with annoyance.

“Now, that’s not true, I heard that sentence.” He smirked with a familiar boyish charm.

“I asked you about blood. You told me that when you drink a person’s blood, you build your skills. Care to elaborate for me?”

“Of course. You see, I believe you call it DNA nowadays, but when it is consumed, due to my... superhuman abilities, I am able to absorb in sorts, the very DNA. I can acquire desirable attributes all by drinking blood.”

“And that’s why you chose your victims carefully aboard the Demeter?”

“Indeed. My goodness, you are a smart little lady once you get that brain working, aren’t you?” He leaned forwards, gaze boring into your eyes. He liked the way they sparkled with life, glistened with mortality. He wondered what you saw in his eyes.

“You’re the one telling me, I’m just piecing together things that I already know with the new information you’re giving me.” You shrugged.

You continued to talk to Dracula, writing down important notes on him as he spoke to you. His voice carried easily and as you were already too aware, was very pleasing to the ear. For a long time, you bantered back and forth as he gave you answers to the questions that you needed. He seemed very at ease with you. Every now and then, one of you would glance over at Zoe, who kept a strange look of discontent on her face.

You looked over at Zoe once more, who tapped her wrist to signal that your time was up. You alerted Dracula of this, and also informed him that he would need to stay in the Foundation until sundown.

“I do have one last question for you, though,” you whispered. Zoe did not need to hear this, “where have you been for the past week? Did you find... it.”

“Indeed I did.” He smirked.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, but you ignored it and stalked out of the cell, leaving him alone. Zoe informed you as you left that she wished to speak with Dracula, and you were free to go. When you left that room, you collided into another familiar person.

Jack.

“Sorry, [First], I saw you coming but I guess I couldn’t stop in time.” He flushed a little.

“That’s alright.”

“Were you just in there with Count Dracula?” He inquired lowly. It was as if he was worried about the vampire hearing his words.

“I was getting information. Why?”

“Well... Dr. Van Helsing and myself... we’re a little worried about how close you’re getting to him...”

“Jack, it’s my job.” You glared lightly at him.

“I know that, but-“

“But nothing. If he wanted to kill me, rest assured I’d already be undead by now.”

“[First]-“ he began with an annoyed sigh, however you pushed past him and stalked away.

You decided not to go home, and instead found yourself sitting on a lonesome bench overlooking the harbour. Your eyes continued to wander towards the sight of the Abbey stood proudly on top of the cliffs. It was a very attractive town, Whitby. You could see why Dracula would want to become acquainted with it. It was picturesque and oozed with an old-fashioned aura only a small seaside town such as this could ever wish to. It was perfect in every way.

Sitting looking at the sight, you couldn’t help but think about Dracula’s visit to London. You wondered if he would return after today. He seemed to have forgotten you a little. He would occasionally send you a text (something that still made you laugh with the ridiculousness of it) but for the most part, he seemed very much preoccupied with London.

Had he already taken her life?

Had he really found her or was he bluffing to save face?

That night at around 11pm, when Dracula had still not come to visit you, you let your curiosity get the better of you. You only wished to know if she was still living. Maybe he hadn’t found her after all, and had travelled south again to continue searching for her. After all, London was a very big city.

Facebook was the obvious choice as you typed in her name. It came up straight away with the amount of mutual friends you shared. Her face was still as beautiful and youthful. Still as deceiving as her outward personality. She had begun to see an American boy, you noted, maybe a month or two ago, however, his own account seemed to be missing from her page. You knew why. Even if some men did know she was taken, they’d still happily bed her. You supposed she just liked the secrecy of this permanent man in her life. You scrolled down a little, looking through shared games and memories when one post struck you as odd.

‘Lucy Westenra is feeling... naughty 😈

[not usually into older guys, but.... ;)]’

So he had found her... and the fact that he had kept her alive made something odd stir in your stomach.

Two months passed without hearing a word from Dracula. You had begun work with Zoe and Jack - a secret project looking into the undead with the information Dracula had given you, along with ancient accounts found from the nunery Sister Agatha had been a part of. Although no undeads had been reported for a few decades, it was still worth a look into given the complexity of Dracula and the possibility of more dangerous creatures like him lurking out there.

Zoe was more than a little concerned at his disappearance. You chose to neglect to tell her that you had sent him to London to murder an old friend. She didn’t need to know that. And neither did Jack, considering his crush on Lucy had seemingly tripled in the time you had not spoken. You had to question his choices, in all honesty, considering how kind-hearted and tender Jack was and how... well, promiscuous and without inhibition Lucy was. They could not be more mismatched and you wondered if Jack knew this at all.

It wasn’t that you were jealous of his feelings towards her. It was more that you were disappointed. You would never confess that to him, though.

Whilst Dracula was gone, you were able to live your life somewhat normally again. You occasionally found yourself wondering over where he could be but other than that, your life returned to normal. You could sleep in peace, knowing that he was hours away from harming you. It was a nice break from the whirlwind friendship you had formed with him. Was it a friendship? Did you have any right to call him a friend? The thought made you feel ridiculous. What kind of person befriends a vampire?

You honeslty had no clue, but the way things had turned out, it seemed you hadn’t befriended him at all. He had disappeared. It made you a little disappointed - the realisation that he maybe wouldn’t come back. But it was most likely more unhealthy to loiter around a vampire than it was to not.

~^taglist^~

@vampiregirl1797 7 @avalanet @bunnyreese12 @nerdonpluto @teamceleries @grifffins @hitbythunder @winterseoul @mymagicsuitcase @angeli-fucking-cat cat @benedictethegoddess @bloodhon3yx @nifflersravenclaw @writteninthestars288 @labelladrama @frankcastlesgrunts @angelicdestieldemon @quakerlasss @aliisa-jones @wolverinexmenn @clairedragonessbaker

[notcanoncompliant]

Open Road

(inspired by the song Dead of Night by Orville Peck…well, really just the vibe of the entire album)

Peter’s 19-20, Tony’s late thirties, early forties

TW: implied abuse (not between Tony/Peter); bruises/violence; panic attack

*    *    *

It’s not love, but it’s good.

The stranger’s older, rougher around the edges, but sweeter, somehow, than he should be. Grins like he knows how to take a hit, drinks like he used to be familiar with waking up in unfamiliar places, but he kisses Peter like he’s precious. Slow and soft and hot, until Peter’s a clinging mess, rocking up against a solid, denim-clad thigh.

It’s easy, crowded up against the wall outside the back exit of the bar, chasing his release while a gorgeous stranger that’s probably more than twice his age brushes kisses along his jaw and murmurs in his ear about how pretty he looks riding his leg, it’s easy to forget what waits for him at home, if only for a fraction of an hour after his shift.

*

The next night, near closing time, Peter’s surprised. Tony strolls in again, orders a scotch that he tosses back still standing at the bar, and then takes a table in the corner where he can smoke. When he catches Peter watching him from across the room, he smirks and sits back, knees falling open as he taps his cigar over the glass ashtray on his table and very blatantly gives Peter a once-over.

Peter looks away sharply, face heating as he tries to focus on the booth he’s wiping down, instead of his pleased surprise at the fact that Tony’s still here. People don’t tend to stay for long; it’s a one bar, one gas station kind of town. The only lodging is a rundown Motel 6, and most of the passers-through are beer-gut truckers, and the occasional touristy asshole cruising for an adventure they definitely won’t find.

He’s not really sure what Tony is, but he looks straight off the cover of a Harlequin romance novel, or maybe out of one of those low-budget (but so much sexier for it) pornos. Long legs in worn denim, plugged into dirty, scuffed up motorcycle boots that go with the leather jacket that hangs off the back of his chair.

Peter hasn’t seen the bike–the bar’s walking-distance from the motel and it wouldn’t make sense for Tony to take it the couple minutes back and forth–but Tony’d mentioned it, and when they’d parted last night, Peter’d known Tony would be back on the road by morning, whether he’d said so or not.

But he’s here, puffing on his cigar and unabashedly watching Peter finish up his closing duties.

*

This time, just after they’ve started making out, same place, same position, Tony pulls back to give Peter a brief, almost chaste kiss.

“How would you feel about moving this to the motel?”

The question is warm with promise, and the vehement ’Yes’ dances to the tip of Peter’s tongue–

–where it dies suddenly.

His second of silent hesitation is loud between them, and he opens his mouth to apologize, but the older man just smiles at him.

“It’s okay, kid.”

Tony moves back in, hands coming up to cradle Peter’s jaw as he coaxes them back to where they’d left off.

*

For a few nights, it’s the same; Tony shows up before closing, and when Peter’s done with work they end up back at their spot.

It’s not love, but it’s exhilarating.

Peter doesn’t even have room to be worried about the difference in experience, not when Tony’s running a constant stream of compliments and encouragements and dirty things between kisses, when he’s guiding Peter’s hips in a steady, deliciously rough roll until Peter’s coming, gasping Tony’s name.

Tony never takes himself out, never urges Peter’s hands down towards his fly or gives any indication that he’s expecting Peter to reciprocate. He just grins and helps him ride through it, pets Peter’s hair and strokes his jaw with calloused thumbs. Kisses him and tells him how good he is, how beautiful he looks and sounds.

Peter carries the afterglow home with him each time, cradled in his chest in the hope that maybe it’ll make the rest of his night a little more bearable.

*

They’ve been doing it for almost a full week when Tony tentatively brings up the motel room, again.

“Still no pressure, sweetheart, I promise–but I’ve got a perfectly good bed a couple minutes away, and there’re so many more things I’d like to do for you that’d work a hell of a lot better with a lot less clothing and a lot more privacy.” His small smile is suggestive and affectionate, and his hands are a warm weight on Peter’s hips.

The thing is, Peter’s not afraid of Tony, not concerned about being alone with him at the motel. His body hums in anticipation of what this man could make him feel if he just said yes, but there’s an ugly trickle of anxiety cooling the heat.

If he takes his clothes off, Tony’s going to see the bruises.

“I–I can’t. I’m sorry,” Peter whispers, turning his head and squeezing his eyes shut against the sudden prickle of tears and the almost instinctive urge to brace himself.

What’d you say, Pete? Huh? ‘No’? You wanna run that by me again, you little prick?

“Pete–”

A hand brushes his cheek, and he flinches. Hard.

“Fuck, I’m–I’m sorry,” he gasps out, sliding out from between Tony and the wall, his skin too sensitive, his everything too sensitive.

“It’s okay, kid, sweetheart, hey–”

There’s nothing threatening, nothing but concern in the older man’s tone and expression, but it’s not enough to override the panic.

“I have to go,” Peter bites out, struggling to keep the explosion inside, “Goodbye, Tony.”

It doesn’t occur to him until he’s halfway home that he’d said ‘goodbye’ instead of ‘goodnight’, and he’s so absolutely sure he just ruined the very nicest thing he’s maybe ever had. The thought chokes him, and he goes to his knees on the driveway outside the house, spilling the heartbreak where it won’t get him more hurt.

*

Tony doesn’t come back the next night.

Peter wants to throw up.

His shift drags by, and he resolutely doesn’t look in the direction of the Motel 6 when he leaves.

*

Another two nights, and Peter’s sure Tony’s gone. He’s sure, but can’t bring himself to make it real, to go wander over to the parking lot of the motel in search of a black, classic motorcycle he’s never actually seen.

It wasn’t love…but his chest feels so tight, so sore, and his stomach’s in constant knots.

The hurt of everything feels so much more, and he has the horrifying thought that maybe this was how he’d always felt, that somehow a stranger old enough to be his–

–a stranger he’d made out with for a week, had been the thing to shatter the glass. Pull back the curtain on the jagged, violent truth of Peter’s life.

Peter doesn’t know how long it’ll take to be numb again. If he ever could be.

He has to run to the bathroom so he doesn’t throw up on the floor he’s almost finished mopping.

*

The streets are empty most hours of the day, but at four in the morning, the town’s a veritable graveyard. Peter’s footfalls are loud, slapping the cracked pavement, his breath rattling in his ears as he sprints. His steps jar his frame, highlight every new and fading bruise.

He can’t do it.

He can’t keep going back, he can’t face another fucking night of the hell he calls home after staring at that empty corner table, not if there’s a sliver of a chance–

When he reaches the motel, the laugh that rips out of his throat is hysterical, relieved.

At the very end of the lot, parked in the numbered space directly in front of one of the rooms, is a beast of a motorcycle. He comes to a stop beside it, frozen for a moment, pulse pounding, before he runs to the door. His palm connects solidly with the wood–once, twice, three times–before he has a chance to think about what he’s doing, that it’s ass o'clock in the morning and maybe that bike isn’t even Tony’s, maybe Tony never even had a bike in the first place–

Wood is suddenly open air, and then it’s him. It’s Tony, standing there looking tired and irritated.

Before Peter can be slammed with guilt, the expression vanishes into the same devastated relief that Peter’s sure is mirrored on his own.

“Jesus, kid, are you–”

“I’m not,” Peter sobs, “I’m not alright, I thought you were gone, I thought I ruined everything–”

“No, baby, no–I’m sorry, sweet pea, come here–”

He’s pulled into the room and the door shuts, and then he’s wrapped in those strong arms, crushingly tight against a broad chest that smells faintly of tobacco and strongly of Tony. He fists his hands into the back of the older man’s shirt, hanging on for dear life.

Tony doesn’t complain or try to get him to let go. He just presses kisses to Peter’s temples and cheeks and the top of his head, murmurs “It’s okay, I’m right here, It’s okay…” over and over. He shifts them to the bed, maneuvers until Peter’s lying on his chest, and tangles their legs together, his broad palms rubbing up and down Peter’s back.

Eventually, the slide and squeeze of those achingly familiar hands combined with the solid warmth and steady fall of words lulls Peter back to something close to calm.

There’s a heavy exhalation, Tony’s breath ruffling Peter’s hair.

“I thought I scared you, kid. Thought I pushed you too hard, I didn’t want to make it worse, so I stopped coming in. I’m sorry, Peter.”

“It wasn’t…You didn’t.”

Peter gingerly pulls away, sits up. Takes in Tony’s obvious concern for him, the way the he mirrors the action, doesn’t reach to pull Peter back in but looks ready to do so if asked. The obvious care on his face.

It’s terrifying.

After a few seconds of silence, Tony reaches up to run fingers gently through Peter’s hair, hand sliding back to cup the side of his neck.

“Stay with me, kid. Get some sleep, yeah?” Tony says quietly, gazing at him, still worried. “We can talk in the morning.”

Fifteen minutes later, Peter’s curled up on his side, drifting off with the warm puff of Tony’s breath against the nape of his neck, and calloused, scarred fingers twined with his up near his chest.

He’s never relaxed enough to feel exhausted.

Tonight, sleep is easy.

*

Morning is gentle. The most gentle, quiet morning Peter’s ever had.

He wakes warm, belly-down on the mattress, to a hand running lightly up and down his back. Tony coaxes him up, gives him a towel and bundle of soft clothes to change into, and directs him to shower. Peter goes with it, feels barest hint of wariness, a lingering prickle in the back of his mind that rinses away along with the suds of the cheap, two-in-one motel body wash and shampoo.

When he comes out, dressed in sweats and a flannel shirt (everything’s rolled up; the sleeves to free his hands, the waistband and ankles of the sweats), Tony’s on the edge of the bed, looking up from the palms he’d been rubbing into his eyes.

The older man’s expression goes a little hungry, gaze sweeping up and down in a way Peter’s become oh so familiar with, a look he never thought he’d see again.

“I like that a little too much, I think,” Tony muses, smirking when he finally makes it back to Peter’s face. “Wanna get my hands under all of it. Would, if we had the time.”

He sighs, pushes to his feet and walks over, cradling the back of Peter’s head with one palm and pressing a kiss to his hair. “I’m gonna shower, and we’ll have that talk.”

*

Tony’s anger is…big.

But, controlled.

When Peter talks about his father, reluctantly shows Tony the purple-yellow-green stains spread over his skin, the anger pools, but it doesn’t leak into anything. There are no clenched fists or stiff motions. It’s all in the eyes. It’s…thoughtful. Decisive.

“You need clothes,” Tony says, speaking to Peter, but staring at a fading bruise on Peter’s shoulder. He tugs the collar of the flannel back into place. “Let’s go.”

*

Peter doesn’t go into the house. Tony asks him not to. It’s not even an order disguised as a question, not a test; Peter really has the option.

He tells Tony where his room is, where he keeps the few clothes he does have.

The stop takes about thirty minutes. Peter stays by the bike at the end of the dirt and gravel drive, staring at the clapboard siding, the peeling paint of the tiny deck, the dented and torn screen door.

Tony comes out, sauntering down the path with Peter’s old backpack, stuffed full. When Tony hands it to him, Peter catches sight of red-smeared knuckles.

Peter doesn’t ask. He just drops his backpack on the ground and pulls Tony down for a kiss.

*

By the time they get back to the room, Peter’s hard and leaking in his borrowed pants. The adrenaline, the vibrations of the bike, Tony’s warmth pressed all along his front; he’d been helpless to it, to all of it. To everything.

There’s no real preamble; the motel door shuts behind them, and he’s up against it, Tony sinking to his knees and taking the sweats down with him as he goes. It doesn’t take much, a few seconds of perfect suction, of the strong, sure grip urging his hips forward, deeper–

Peter cries out when he comes, a reverently agonized gasp of Tony’s name.

*

After Peter’s dressed in his own clothes and the motel room door is locked behind them, there’re a few minutes of quiet. Tony runs a check of the bike and the bags attached, and Peter only watches for a moment before letting his gaze slide in the direction of the bar.

It’s still earlyish, near ten in the morning. Church will get out soon, and the parishioners will file unerringly to the bar to have a beer with breakfast. Peter’s supposed to start his shift at eleven. He wonders if they’ll try to call when he doesn’t show up, and if his father will be able to pick up the phone.

He doubts it.

Tony calls his name, and when Peter turns, the older man asks if he wants some real power between his legs. When Peter scowls at him, the biker just grins and sidles up and hands him a helmet, tells him it’s like a kitten growling, pulls him close and kisses his forehead.

“Come on, kid, let’s get out of here.”

*

Sunlight spills through the clouds when the town’s no longer in their rearview.

The open road is beautiful, the growl of the bike’s engine almost as much so.

Peter squeezes Tony’s waist a little harder.

It’s not love, but it could be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@starkercrossedlovers (I think you said before you wanted to be tagged in my works, but I don't know if that was just for the WinterIron stuff 😅 either way, here you go lol)