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plainlo-inthemorning · 3 years ago

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A Loki TVA / Lokane fic that snatched a tempad. Rating T.

Previously: Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 (of 6)

Shine a Light, part 4

This time around, he feels but the faintest glimmer of surprise as he steps out of the doorway and onto a busy sidewalk in Midtown Manhattan.

A few people stop dead in their tracks when the door materializes out of thin air, but the throng of commuters headed to and from Central Station is so dense, Loki’s appearance goes mainly unnoticed.

Dull resignation washes over him.

The tempad is officially broken. Its coordinates locked onto this little planet where, in his own timeline, he has known nothing but defeat.

Without bothering to look for a newsstand, he reasons there’s a strong probability it’s the year 2014. It would seem the damn gadget is slowly counting backwards, while refusing to take him anywhere else in the universe.

Above his head, a billboard flashing on the side of a high-rise building confirms his suspicions.

Incredibly though, the tempad still not out of “juice”. The battery life seems to be making a mockery of his failed attempts to direct the itinerary.

Taking a step out of the moving sea of people, Loki sees little in way of construction sites along the street.

On his timeline, this would have been two years after his attack on the city with Thanos’ army, but if that ‘highlight’ of Loki’s less than acclaimed villainous career took place in this reality as well, the mortals have effectively tidied up after him.

He tries not think of the countless faces frozen in terror that had looked up at him.

Of the lives lost because of his crazed ambition to prove himself - and to destroy something of Thor’s.

Almost if Loki had been transformed back into the chronically jealous five-year-old child who once stole his golden, annoyingly joyful, perfect brother’s favorite model toy - a grey wolf made of clay - and deliberately let it roll down the steps of the throne when their father (his NON-father) had been away.

The toy had broken into pieces and Thor had been inconsolable. Gripped by immediate remorse despite his initial intent, Loki had tried to fix it with his budging magic powers. Only for the wolf to melt to a sticky puddle on the stone floor.

Thor had wailed so loudly, a passing servant had thought him seriously injured and called for their mother, and Loki had been made to apologize, his usually pale cheeks burning scarlet. Then he had been grounded for the remains of the day.

The humiliation had stung, and so had the regret that his magic had failed him.

Not for the first time, the anger had turned, unwarranted (Loki knew then too), towards his brother.

From then on, it had just gotten slowly worse and worse and more malicious right up until that horrible moment of rage no more than a few days ago (a week?), when Loki had driven one of his daggers into Thor’s side on top of the Stark tower.

And twisted it.

The mix of bottomless sadness and shock in his brother’s blue eyes had cut through Loki’s heart with such force he might as well have sunk the blade of his other weapon into his own chest.

But instead of abandoning his pathetic scramble for power and hold Thor, instead of attempting to heal the wound with his magic that has become so formidable in adulthood, Loki had let the poison drown the remains of his sanity.

Of course, shortly afterward, the green monstrosity had effortlessly and repeatedly smashed him into the concrete floor of Stark’s living-quarters until Loki had thought he heard every bone in his supposedly immortal (right!) body break and his skull crack open.

To the outside, it had surely been a suitably entertaining show of retribution, but as he had lain there in the crater of rubble, unable to utter a moan, it was as if all the anger had been knocked out of him.

The link to Thanos’ ungodly servant had been severed and Loki had felt more like himself than he had in a long, long time.

When Thor, looking grimmer than ever, had dragged him to his feet in front of the ragtag band of ‘heroes’ and cuffed him, Loki had found himself strangely elated, on the verge of giddy.

His legs had been so shaky from the beating that Thor had had to hold him by the arm so he wouldn’t fall, and Loki had felt the heat of his brother’s huge hand penetrate the many layers of his own armour.

For a few delirious seconds, Loki had wanted nothing more than to lean against his brother’s strong frame and just close his eyes.

Instead, he had started cracking jokes until Thor had slapped the muzzle on him, as if he were some dog (that gesture had embarrassed him more than anything that had gone before). Unable to keep up his sarcastic commentary as they rode the elevator down, Loki had fleetingly wondered if he was suffering from a psychosis or actual brain damage.

Now, standing on the street so close to where it happened, the memory oozes fresh guilt.

But he redeemed himself.

In his mind, Loki goes through the TVA reel once more to remind himself of the images of his brother later in life, smiling at him.

Right before the end came.

If he is to spend the rest of eternity on Midgard - or at least until the multiverse crumbles - he will try to find solace in the good his future self managed to accomplish.

For Thor and, in another, brighter reality, for her.

The riddle of her part in his life now remains unsolved, but as hard as Loki tries to release the ghost wrapped in his arms, it merely squeezes itself closer to his chest.

He could try to find her here, on this timeline.

She will be with Thor, that much is certain, but since the reel of Loki’s fate had shown him only his own path, he knows not whether Thor and Jane shared a life on Midgard, or somewhere else, up until the brothers reunited (for lack of a better word) on Asgard.

What would Loki even say to her?

That, while at the bureau that controls all space and time, he saw her face on a roll of film of his supposed life, and now he aches for her more than anything? That on an alternate timeline a few hours ago, she kissed him?

Thor would not approve of that exchange.

Also, with Loki’s luck, Thor might be a frog in this reality.

He could still try to use the tempad to transport him to Svartalfheim and his own life’s story, seeing as he is now only year from where he feels so strongly he must go.

But finding the proper timeline is like shooting an arrow into the endless vastness of space and hoping it’ll hit the right comet.

He realizes that now.

An arrow.

Somehow, somewhere, on two timelines no less, variants of him had …

Loki’s head jerks up.

The tower.

It’s a desperate idea at best, but from the (very) little Loki knows of his character, Stark’s superior technical skills go hand in hand with an endlessly hungry, inquisitive mind. And pride.

Much like Loki, Stark is a man who needs to be the smartest man in the room. And like Loki, he probably is, most of time (in fact… no. Don’t go there).

Maybe Stark will listen.

Perhaps he can even help make sense of the tempad if Loki can somehow win his trust and appeal to his curiosity and (he winces a little) heroism.

Was it not Loki’s actions who had helped Stark “realize his best potential”, as his TVA file put it?

He spots the imposing structure further up the street, noticing the huge “A” at the top (is that new?), and sets off towards it at a brisk pace, darting in and out of the crowds on the packed sidewalk.

Here goes nothing.

As he reaches the large glass doors he briefly experiences a dizzying deja-vu, when suddenly a man’s voice calls out to him.

A frighteningly familiar, agitated voice.

… With a particular brand of anger bubbling underneath, that Loki had hoped he’d never have to witness up close ever again.

“What the hell are you doing here??”

His dark, curly hair has a few more streaks of silver. The checkered shirt is slightly crumbled, the glasses a bit askew. He clutches an armful of papers to his chest.

And he’s wearing a furious expression although, thank the Norns, a mortal complexion.

For now.

“Didn’t Tony explicitly tell you not to come here?! Are you that intent on causing everyone to lose their shit again?!”

Worry is all over Doctor Banner’s screwed up face.

“Seriously, Loki, is this funny to you? Clint is actually in the building right now and, in case Tony didn’t already inform you, he’s made it very clear that he’s quitting the team if you were to stroll through the front door!”

The Avenger has started shaking, his eyes wild (too wild).

This is heading in the wrong direction fast.

Mustering all the calm in the world despite his racing pulse and the nauseating sounds of bones breaking echoing in his head, Loki puts on his most courteous and, he dearly hopes, un-cocky charming smile.

“Bruce, please relax. I assure you, I’m not here to cause trouble. Not for you or anyone else.”

“Right, you just happened to be in town and wanted to stop by for coffee? Loki, this …”

Loki gently interrupts him.

“I merely came here to have a conversation with S- … Tony. Perhaps you could let him know I’m here? I promise you, I will not set foot inside. In fact - “

Loki adopts the form of one of the security guards he can see pacing inside the foyer.

“… I’m not even here.”

Bruce jumps a little and clutches his papers even tighter.

“Oh god, I hate when you do that, man. If you think showing off that trick makes anyone any less nervous around you…”

“Doctor Banner - Bruce. I have something …”

Loki searches for the words, quickly trying to decide on how much to reveal to the man-beast who’s now looking at him with urgent expectancy.

He sighs and bets it all.

“Okay. Bruce, what I’m going to say will sound mad.”

The man scoffs.

“Coming from you, I’d expect nothing less.”

Bruce shakes his head and looks to the sky in exasperation.

“Please - please - don’t tell me you’ve gone and changed your mind about the whole not conquering Earth business. Really, Loki, none of us understand how transforming you into ‘an asset’ became Tony’s pet project over this past year, or why Fury went along with it. But I’m sure both are going to be pretty damn disappointed if their new alien BFF decides to embrace his inner psycho again.”

Loki almost chuckles. It’s all too ridiculous.

“I won’t … embrace my inner ‘psycho’, I swear.”

“Then what?”

The God of Mischief draws in a deep breath, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. Or rather, the security guard’s nose.

Then he surrenders to the absurdity of the situation.

“Bruce, I kindly beg of you, is Tony here? Or … (is there hope?) Thor?”

Bruce still looks at him with deep disdain, but his immediate anger seems to have subsided.

“No, Tony’s out of town. Took Pepper somewhere on holiday. They’re not to be disturbed for at least a week. Her words. And Thor … I should think you of all people know perfectly well why he’s not likely to hang around at the time being. Jeez, you guys and your endless family soap opera … I can’t even.”

Naturally, the universe again blankly refuses to extend any hands to Loki and his doomed quest. Sadly, once again, he is not surprised.

Wait - what?

“What do you mean, ‘soap opera’?”

Bruce looks like he’s about to throw his hands over his head and all the papers with them.

“Oh, come on! What is this?! You want approval? Confirmation of your little victory? Doesn’t the very lovely embodiment of that currently walk around in your apartment or wherever it is you live now? Loki, I’m done here. You have to leave. Bye.”

To hell with Stark – Loki wants to grab Bruce by his shirt collar and shake the little man till he explains what in all of Yggdrasil he’s talking about.

But he cannot afford to tempt the beast. Quite literally.

“Then … can you and I go somewhere to talk? Bruce, you’re a man of science. This is science … related.”

Loki feigns a smile.

Bruce sizes him up. No doubt considering whether to let the other guy continue the conversation.

Then his shoulders drop.

“Okay. Okay. For a creepy megalomaniac, you somehow tend to end up with some very cool people defending your case. Just know that those people are absolutely the only reason, you and I are still talking. Ugh, I’m too nice … “

Bruce casts a glance over his shoulder into the foyer, appearing to consider their options, when a man exits the glass doors – and shuffles up to them.

“Bruce! How nice to see you. You look well.”

The old man (those eyes …) grins warmly and pats Bruce on the back, then looks from him to Loki and back again.

“Everything alright out here? Is there a security issue?”

Bruce composes himself and smiles back.

“Hi, Lee, good to see you too. All fine. Earl here was just updating me on, eh, the new security procedures.”

He shoots Loki a stern look.

“Ah, yes”, Loki nods seriously. “Doctor Banner had some trouble operating the intricate open and close mechanism of the doors. The elevator doors, especially.”

He can’t help himself. It’s somehow both immensely tragic and life-affirming.

“Oh?” The old man raises an eyebrow (he looks … but he’s not quite …something is off).

“Will I have to get a new security card? I rarely come in these days, but in case …”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary, Lee. Because, because … like you say, you’re hardly ever here, so …”

Still smiling awkwardly, Bruce waves a dismissive hand, almost dropping the stack of papers (the man’s a terrible liar, Loki thinks).

“Speaking of”, Banner continues, “you must be enjoying retirement up there, huh, Lee? Must be nice to live by the sea. Good … air quality?”

Loki sighs inwardly.

The dog sniffing at his ankles looks up at him.

He stares down at the round, fluffy thing as if seeing it for the first time.

Which he is and he isn’t.

The old man is saying something to Bruce about the countryside, when he notices the dog wagging its tail at Loki’s feet.

“Oh, he likes you. You’re lucky, he normally doesn’t care for strangers. No, you don’t, do you Fenris”, the man coos.

Under coats of thick white fur, the animal looks eagerly from owner to Loki.

“Okay, well, I’ll be off,” the old man says, finally. “Come see me sometime, Bruce. My neighbor actually just put his house on the market, in case you’re looking for a weekend retreat…”

He nods at Bruce, then at Loki who barely notices. The dog whines unhappily at being dragged away.

It’s the same timeline.

Of course, it is. The tempad has locked itself on a sequence.

But why the different locations …?

“Yes, thank you, Lee. Take care now. Earl, shall we?” Bruce signals to Loki to follow him round the side of the building.

“We can continue our discussion about the security issue in the garage”.

“So, let’s hear it. Tell me what you came to say, so I can tell you why it’s a catastrophically bad idea.”

Bruce sits himself across the small table from Loki and dumps the stack of papers in front of him. The top sheet is covered in coffee mug rings.

They are in an anonymous, windowless office somewhere below the vast tower parking lot and numerous in-house repair shops.

The place is a gigantic maze and Loki has just shut himself in a tiny room with the very monster that turned him into ragdoll. The deep slash on his forehead has only just healed.

He does not fear many beings in the universe, but the mild-mannered doctor’s alter ego makes the hit list with the worst of them.

Ignoring the way the hairs on the back of his neck stand up (why did this seem like a good idea?), Loki drops his disguise and takes a seat on the cheap plastic chair. Not much of that flashy Stark glamour down here.

“Okay.” Loki takes out the tempad and puts it in the middle of the table.

He is not quite sure where to start, so he decides to begin with the purely technical aspect.

Bruce might appreciate being given a few ‘scientific’ details before any mentions of giant smoke monsters and alligators.

In fact, the fewer magical creatures and castles in the sky, the better.

“This is called a tempad. It’s a device that makes it possible to travel anywhere in time. You type in your destination, and a doorway opens. I did not make it myself. It was, er, given to me by a large and very powerful organization … in space.”

Bruce is leaning forward to get a better look at the tempad but makes no attempt to reach for it.

As he’s says nothing, Loki continues.

“This is where it gets, uh, weird, but try to believe me when I tell you, I’m not the Loki you know. I’m from another, similar timeline and -“

“Stop.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just stop, Loki.”

Bruce is leaning back on his chair again. He looks tired.

“I don’t know if you’re supremely bored of domestic bliss already, or just being your supremely annoying self, but I won’t engage. You’re not Loki but a time-traveler from space? Yeah, it’s -“

“No, Bruce, I am Loki. Trust me, I know this seems -“

“Trust? You wanna talk about trust again?” Bruce takes out his phone.

“Okay, we can do that.”

He taps a few buttons, then holds the phone to his ear.

“What are you doing?” Loki’s voice has a sharper edge to it than he intended.

The Avenger stares him down.

“Oh, I’m just calling someone. This guy I have in my contacts under God of Lies”.

Please, no …

Briefly, Loki considers whether another variant of him – the one he encountered at the house by the ocean, most likely – would actually be of more help.

Or if he, the variant, would try to kill him.

It was one thing reasoning with and trying not to get killed by Loki variants who at least understood the concept of variants, but how would he have reacted upon being confronted with a twin before the TVA?

No, not a twin … Because this variant has her.

None of the variants in the Void – the grown-up, human ones – had mentioned versions of her.

Either this variant has successfully taken out every Minute Man ever sent by the TVA to arrest him (in which case, Loki concedes, he may be the superior Loki), or this whole timeline has only just blossomed at the opening of the multiverse.

Why else would he, who apparently also gave his phone number to Bruce Banner, get to live a life so vastly different from the typical arc of a misguided Jotun prince?

Loki feels light-headed.

On one hand, he wants to know everything there is to know about his double, on the other, he fears what and who he might find.

You don’t belong here. Find your own timeline. No more Lokis.

Focus. Explain.

He raises his one hand in a placating gesture.

“Give me a little time to try and explain this, Bruce, and then, then … You can call whoever. Call everyone! But please just -“

“Oh, what do you know,” Bruce puts his phone down, “there’s no answer. What a surprise.”

He crosses his arms.

Loki inhales and tries again, speaking as evenly and as calmly as he can while his frustration mounts:

“There is no way of telling you all or any of this without it sounding utterly ludicrous, so you’ll have to hear me out. Five minutes uninterrupted from now, okay? Yes, we’re talking time travel, but compared to what’s really at stake, even time travel is a pretty basic technicality. Also, I promise you, in a few years’ time from now, the concept of time travel won’t seem all that laughable to you and Stark in particular. Provided this reality exists in a few years’ time seeing as -“

Bruce sighs dramatically.

“Yes, okay, so”, Loki continues, “Two years ago, I attacked New York, right?”

“If you’re about to roll out some outlandish excuse – another one! – I don’t care to hear it.”

The other man is narrowing his eyes as a fresh look of undistilled loathing creeps into his features.

So it did happen on this timeline as well.

“No, it’s not that. Or, I mean, let’s save that. When you captured me, in my timeline, I escaped from the lobby with the Infinity stone. I know it seems impossible from your end of events but - “

“Impossible?”

Bruce gives him a strange look Loki can’t quite interpret.

“Yes, S… Tony dropped the briefcase with the Infinity stone, and I picked it up and -“

Bruce pushes his chair back. The plastic scrapes loudly against the stone tiles of the floor.

“Loki, I can’t. I thought I had the patience to at least indulge you but turns out I don’t. I can’t tell if you’re losing your mind, but either way, you’ll have to take it – this, whatever it is – up with Tony instead when he gets back. Maybe bring that sweet lab partner of yours along if you’re going to talk time travel. With her field of expertise, I’m sure - “

“WILL YOU SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME!”

Without thinking, Loki slams both his hands into the table. Papers go flying and Bruce staggers backwards.

Horror dawns as Loki realizes his error, but it’s already too late.

Bruce doubles over in spasms and a deep, much too deep, growling sound escapes his lips. He grips his head with his shaking hands as if trying to contain the explosion within, and Loki feels his own brain go numb with panic as one of those hands triples in size and a sickly green hue rapidly spreads.

There is no way out.

Bruce is blocking the door and soon his bulk will be taking up the entire room. He falls to his knees, arms thrashing wildly and his shirt ripping across his back. The table sails over Loki’s head, one of the chairs lodges itself in the soundproofed ceiling, causing the panels of fluorescent light to flicker madly.

Are there no security cameras?!

There are screams, but they no longer sound human.

Loki has nowhere to hide.

He has to gather his magic around him, but terror is completely scattering his focus, cold sweat breaking out all over his body.

It is a matter of seconds before the transformation will be complete and the monster attempts to tear him limb from limb. With no heroes to stop it.

Cold.

He has only consciously reached for it once before, but now the thought barely registers before ice rushes through him as if by instinct. Bruce is not the only one with an abomination lurking under the surface.

He doesn’t have the casket of his birth father, but he has strength.

There is no time to consider if it’s enough or nothing at all. No time for crippling self-loathing or shame.

In front of him, the Hulk lifts its crazed, bloodshot eyes to meet his.

The green creature cannot stand upright in the office, and the first fist goes through the ceiling with the force of a wrecking ball. The next lashes out at Loki, who dodges it just as his own skin turns a deep, brilliant blue.

Little black ridges and markings rise on his arms and face and though his sight doesn’t falter, he feels the instant his eyes go from green to bright red. The fabric of his clothes chafes his new skin and waves of adrenaline surge through his body. Multiple foreign senses come alive and drown his fear.

But he has not a breath to spare to get used to his true form before the Hulk shoves him against the wall so hard, the bricks shift against his side as if they were made of a child’s building blocks.

The impact makes him gasp for air, yet the pain … the pain he can manage.

He just has to last long enough get out of here. And the cold is crystalizing his focus to let the magic flow easily, powerfully through his hands.

His blue hands.

If he had used this when …

Loki pushes himself off the wall (out of it) and almost collides with the Hulk (there’s no space left to maneuver in) who, instead of smashing its way out, seems hell-bent on squashing the only living thing in its line of sight first.

Loki swiftly crouches down on one knee, puts his palms together and, faster than the blink of a brilliant crimson eye, conjures a rotating orb of ice and chaos energy that explodes in a blinding flash of white light as he hurls it square into the monster’s chest.

The Hulk falls back, breaking through the wall to the parking lot on the other side and crashing into a row of cars, while a sheath of ice spreads from its chest and up its neck. The being that is not Bruce howls and claws at its skin, but the smooth ice thickens and as it reaches the head of the beast, it slides right into its eye sockets – and momentarily blinds it.

It will probably only last seconds but it’s all Loki needs while the Hulk shakes its head furiously.

He makes to flee when he spots the tempad on the cracked floor.

He can’t leave it.

As Loki dives for the gadget, the Hulk simultaneously knocks itself in the face with both fists, splintering the ice into a rain of tiny spikes. With a roar to match the sound of a spaceship engine taking off, the creature lunges.

Loki’s fingers close around the tempad.

He feels a buzz.

The door appears in front of him.

He doesn’t stop to think before throwing himself through it.

The Hulk punches into empty air.

Part 5

#loki #loki series #tva loki #lokane fanfic #lokane ff #lokane #loki x jane #marvel #loki ff #loki fanfic #shine a light #plainlo inthemorning #loki laufeyson

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starlightinhumanform · 4 years ago

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Friday Night Lights: Chapter Two

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship: Romantic Prinxiety, Platonic Sleepxiety

Summary: Roman and Virgil play opposite positions on their rival high school football teams. It’s the Homecoming game and tensions are high. Neither are willing to lose but one must rise above the other...

Warnings: Descriptions of pain/injury, Moderate language, One mention of drinking (Please tell me if anything needs to be added)

Genre: High School AU, Rivals to Lovers, Fluff

A/N: Well... nearly a year since the first chapter came out I’m finally writing again!!! I really love this AU (even though I know very little about football lmao) and I have a lot of ideas about how I would like to include more Sanders Sides characters into this world. If I can get some more of my unfinished fics done, I really want to expand this series. Until then, I hope you enjoy! Love you all 🖤✨

Chapter One Ao3 Fic Masterpost Fic Request Info

The first play passed by in a blink. Most of the guys at the front went down quickly, even the largest crumpling under Prince and his brigade. Somehow in the chaos, the ball had been passed to Remy instead of Virgil and the fullback was tackled to the ground.

Virgil rolled his eyes at Remy as the team fell back into formation, only a few feet forward from where they had begun, “Dude, why’d the fuck did it get passed to you? It’s not like a knucklehead like you would know what to do with it.”

Remy huffed a laugh in response, “I have no clue. I’ll make sure it gets to you this time… hopefully.”

He glanced over in the direction that Remy was grimacing. It was Prince, of course, lumbering toward his position with what seemed to Virgil to be nothing but brutish arrogance. Roman acted like the entire game was about him; he acted like it was West Shore Vs Roman instead of West Shore Vs Knights. He probably didn’t even care about the game— it was all about showing off.

Crouched in the back of the formation, it was hard to see anyone at the front but he could picture Roman, somehow managing to smirk behind his mouthguard. Virgil hoped that Remy would rub his face in the turf.

—————————————-

Roman prepared for the second down, glad to see that the jock in front of him wasn’t looking nearly as confident as he had at the first down. Knocking someone to the ground always seemed to do the trick.

The ball was hurled straight back to Tempeste and the bitch who had growled at him earlier didn’t even try to block Roman. Good. All that was left between him and the weird little halfback was Remy Ristretto.

Roman tried to steady himself before the expected slam, but Ristretto’s tackle hit him low in the stomach, managing to knock him off balance. From the ground, he could just barely see the purple form of Tempeste weaving down the field and avoiding every single one of the Monarch Knight’s defense.

Roman tried to throw off the weight of the boy on his back but found himself thoroughly pinned down. His mouth was filled with the taste of plastic turf and dusty rubber and almost the entirety of his vision was blocked by the grape juice flavoured uniform on top of him. It was humiliating. And Tempeste was still running, reaching the end zone without being touched by a single Knight. It was like his feet didn’t even touch the ground, flying across the field.

The West Shore team were given the chance to make a field goal, and made it, but Roman hardly noticed. He was too busy grumbling about how he was going to get back at Tempeste the second he got the chance.

—————————————-

By halftime, Virgil felt like he had been driven over by a steamroller. Multiple times. A steamroller covered in baseball bats.

As the marching band paraded past where Virgil was sitting, he wondered vaguely about the operability of a steamroller that had baseball bats attached to it. Maybe the hit he had taken to the head earlier in the game had been harder than he thought.

Remy sat down besides him, “What’s going on in that big old head of yours?”

“Uhhhhh, a lot of cartoon gong sound effects. Now that I think about it, that might just be the band.”

Virgil looked out across the field as the marching band made their final pass around the turf. The sky was completely dark by now but the stadium glowed bright as day under the huge lights. It was always wonderfully surreal to Virgil, the time of night when the field became its own little world still holding onto the glory of day. He hoped glory was still how he felt about this field by the end of the game. The alternative would be shame; the alternative would be defeat.

And defeat was not an option for a game right before homecoming. It’s not that Virgil particularly cared about the school dances, quite the opposite in fact, he hated them. They were crowded, noisy, and you had to wear uncomfortable clothes and stand around with a bunch of people you don’t like instead of being at home watching scary movies and eating pizza in your pajamas. But there’s only one thing worse than going to a school dance— going to the a school dance after losing the biggest game of the season.

“You’re worried, aren’t you?” Remy’s voice broke through Virgil’s thoughts, “Well stop it. We’re ahead of the Knights—“

“Barely.”

“—you’ve made some great runs so far—“

“I’ve gotten blocked plenty of times too.”

“—and you’re always at your best in the second half of the game. Now stop putting all your energy towards making the little hamster wheel in your brain turn faster and go use it on the field. C’mon man, the third quarter is about to start.”

Virgil shook his head as if to dislodge the distracting thoughts, letting his purple bangs fall in front of his face for a moment before brushing them back and putting his helmet on. Remy was right. Virgil had started football as a way to channel his anxiety, not to cause himself more. He just needed to get on that field and start running.

He jumped up and started bouncing on his feet, letting the adrenaline flow through his body until it felt like he was buzzing. Virgil was ready to win.

—————————————-

Roman was ready to win.

He could feel it boiling in stomach, the drive, the push to alway be the best. The teams had been neck-and-neck the entire game but West Shore’s grape-coloured menace had managed to scrape by with a slight lead by the end of the second quarter. Roman had no idea how Tempeste could even run that fast; he had short little legs and was about as delicate as a twig. Maybe West Shore just hooked him up to a car battery and gave him 20 energy drinks before every game.

However they made it happen, the kid could run. He didn’t look like he belonged on a football team, more like a trackstar or even a dancer. Roman knew he looked like a football player— tall, with broad shoulders and a thick waist, his extra weight part of what made him such a good defense. But Tempeste... he was like no player Roman had ever seen. Maybe that’s why Roman couldn’t beat him like any other player.

As the teams fell into formation, Roman looked across the row of helmets and accidentally made eye contact with Virgil. His stare burned with intensity. Roman hated to admit it, but he liked that about the rival school’s halfback, the feverish energy that seemed to storm around him. In fact, if Roman was being really honest, he loved playing against the West Shore because he loved playing against Tempeste. The energy was infectious. Playing against him made Roman want to run faster, hit harder, be better.

Roman smiled behind the mouthguard that rested on his bottom teeth. Maybe he did know how to beat Virgil; maybe he had to be just as crazy and vicious as his opponent.

—————————————-

Virgil knew what it felt like to get tackled. In his high school career he had gotten jumped on top and thrown to the ground by various sweaty, muscly dudes more times than he could ever dream of counting or would ever care to. He had been dragged to the ground, sat on, and pushed over from every angle and in every way.

But he had never, never felt a tackle like Roman’s in the beginning of the third quarter of that game.

He saw it coming, practically in slow motion, before Prince actually hit him. The boy’s shoulders were nearly twice as big as Virgil’s even with all his gear. He came charging towards Virgil head-down like a bull, his bright red helmet set with a direct trajectory to Virgil’s solar plexus.

Virgil tried to sidestep, skirting just past the moving wall of Roman Prince, but somehow Roman was moving simply too fast. The impact struck just at his core and a deep kind of pain, like a bruise that goes all the way to the bone, resonated outwards through his entire body. A vibration ran all the way to his fingertips.

Virgil could see the crowd going wild, booing and cheering and maybe just screaming with no inflection, making noise for the hell of it. He couldn’t hear any of it. Maybe the entire world had been put on mute or maybe the ringing in his ears was drowning it out.

He fell backwards and Roman flew over him, momentum carrying him forward. When he landed— and boy, did he land— he fell on directly onto Virgil’s chest. Virgil thought Roman had knocked the wind out of him by hitting him in the sternum. By landing flat on his chest with the entire bulk of his body, Roman found another ounce of breath left in Virgil’s body to shock out of him.

His vision and hearing tunneled out, focusing on the one thing capturing his entire attention: Roman. The boy on top of him was heavy, crushing Virgil through his thick shoulder pads. The heat of Prince’s body spread through his gear as well, although, based on the sweat damping his hairline, Virgil really wasn’t one to talk.

Roman was strong, stronger than him. Virgil tried to squirm away but he could feel Prince throwing his weight downwards and his arms straining to keep Virgil caged to the ground.

Just as intense as his physical strength, Prince’s eyes seemed to burn. Before, they always seemed to be depthless, simply dark and brutish like a bear. Now, breathlessly close, there seemed to be a light behind them, a thousand times brighter than the stadium lights. Gold tones shining through the dark brown of his eyes. It was the most beautiful thing Virgil had ever seen. It was also easily one of the most terrifying things he’d ever seen.

Virgil kept the ball close to his chest. As long as he could keep it, the West Shore team would still have possession and could continue to move forward across the field. They could still win.

—————————————-

Roman had Tempeste pinned to the ground and somehow it was the most exhilarating thing he had ever done. Which isn’t to say he had never tackled the halfback before— they had been playing against each other for several years now— but this was different somehow, more personal.

Tempeste growled beneath him, wriggling to escape the tackle like water slipping between his fingers. Roman push down harder, refusing to let him go.

Footsteps pounded behind them, turf crunching under the stampede of Knights quickly charging forward. Roman braced himself for the pile-up he knew was coming, over a thousand pounds worth of his team jumping to join the tackle.

One guy slammed into Roman’s back then another, then another. The pressure of the game must have been getting to them as well because they threw themselves at Roman and Tempeste like a pack of wild animals.

It felt like every single Knight, including the offense players, were joining the tackle. And feel was the correct term. He could hardly see anything besides Tempeste’s face within his purple helmet. But he could feel everything, every hit of his teammates as their full weight fell against his back. Beneath him, Tempeste’s breath began quickening, like he was sprinting again. But of course he wasn’t, he was pinned down just like Roman was.

Roman glanced down into the depths of Virgil’s helmet, searching past the grill. Shining in the dark, his eyes caught a small reflection of the stadium lights. They were large, startled, and obviously panicked. He looked like a trapped animal and his breathing only continued to become more rapid.

Their eyes met as Roman looked down and he realized this was the first time he had ever seen Virgil look really, truly afraid. He had seen Tempeste in the fourth quarter, 20 points behind and looking as determined and fierce as ever. He had seen Tempeste sprint across the field, followed by the entire Monarchs team, with a huge grin on his face like there was nothing he would rather do than be hunted after. He had seen Tempeste stand toe-toe-to, small chest puffed out and jaw set confidently, with some guy over a foot taller than him because he tried to mouth off about Virgil’s ability. He had never seen him like this.

“Hey, it’s going to be ok,” Roman set his helmet grill against Virgil’s. He knew Virgil couldn’t hear him and probably didn’t even know why he was putting his face so close. Hell, Roman didn’t even know why he was doing it. There was something about Virgil’s genuine fear that he felt the need to comfort him, tell him that it was just a game, that he would be alright.

The weight of another player hit him and Roman was slammed against Virgil’s chest. The sudden shift forced Roman onto his wrist, the small joint carrying him and the entirety of his team. Something cracked. He gasped sharply as pain struck every molecule in his body. Roman’s vision went black.

—————————————-

Virgil sat in the locker room, staring vaguely across at the rows of blue shelves in front of him as he held a pack of ice against his shoulder. The nurse said that it might have been dislocated in the pileup.

He wished he could blame it on Roman, that oaf was the one who had tackled him to begin with. He couldn’t though. It was Roman’s job to tackle him and that’s exactly what Roman had done and as much as it confused and somewhat infuriated Virgil, he also knew the other boy had protected him from the blunt force of his teammates. Why? Why would he do that?

Dull pain throbbed through the entirety of his body, clouding his mind. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t quite wrap his head around what had happened.

Virgil was pretty sure Roman got hurt too. As he had walked off the field, gritting his teeth, he caught a glimpse of Prince cradling his hand as he walked in the opposite direction.

It was one hell of a pileup; four years of football and he had only been in a tangle that bad the first time he had played against the Monarchs. Maybe he and Roman were just destined to create disasters.

Virgil grimaced as his mind kept wandering back to Roman. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t help but worry if Prince was alright. Virgil had no idea what was going on in his mind, or on the field, or in the locker room on the other side.

—————————————-

Roman was bored. He sat on the bleachers, watching the game drag on ahead of him as he held a pack of ice to his wrist. The nurse had told him it was probably just strained but Roman wasn’t convinced. He could feel the ache throbbing up his arm with every beat of his heart. Between the pain and the pressure spreading out from grinding his teeth, Roman’s head was trapped in a haze that he could barely see through.

From what he could tell, the Monarch Knights were winning. With Virgil out, Westshore’s offense had been greatly weakened. Roman hardly cared; he wasn’t out there, Virgil wasn’t out there, none of the spark was left in the game. What was the point of winning if there was no one to win against?

The crowd roared as the final quarter came to a close. The Knights won, but Roman didn’t. He felt disappointed, dejected, and like he didn’t quite understand where he was. This wasn’t his game.

The night came to an end and Roman opted to go straight to the locker room instead of shaking hands with the other team, blaming it on his wrist. Usually, he loved facing the other team after a win— admittedly because it gave him a chance to gloat over them— but he just couldn’t find that same feeling tonight.

—————————————-

Virgil leaned against a cold concrete wall of the bleachers, staring up at the stadium light’s false sun above him. If he looked far enough, he could find the dark sky and the twinkling lights of the city below him and beyond the intense glow of the school.

A cool breeze was picking up as the world shifted into night. It was beautiful but Virgil couldn’t appreciate it. He just wished there had been some sort of ending, a closure of some kind. He and Prince’s last hurrah against each other. But they hadn’t gotten a hurrah, all they got was a game that petered out and came to sputtering stop as they both sat on the sidelines. Virgil didn’t even care that West Shore lost; it was never about West Shore and the Monarchs. It was about him and Roman.

Someone cleared their throat behind him, “You mind if I join your sulking or would you rather be left alone to mope?”

Virgil spun around, his body tensing at Roman’s voice and sending a twinge of pain down from his shoulder, “What do you want?”

Roman stepped closer, “I told you, I came to sulk with you because that’s obviously what we’re both doing.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, “Yeah, right well... fuck off.”

“Man, I thought you might bite before but now I’m sure of it.”

Prince took another casual step forward as Virgil’s mind began racing. What is he doing? Virgil’s eyes swept over Roman. He had never really seen him out of his football uniform and damn. In denim jeans and a red tee shirt, Virgil was actually able to see him for the first time. Most guys were greatly exaggerated by the uniform, making them look bigger and stronger, but nope, Roman was really just built like that. His gaze reached Prince’s face. Like the rest of his body, his features looked like they had been sculpted and chiseled like some type of statue. He was reminded of how beautiful Roman’s eyes were when he actually took the time to look at them, the warm shades of brown filtering through each other.

“Uh, what are you looking at?” Roman laughed, a hint of nervousness creeping into the edge of his voice.

Virgil felt blood rushing to his face as a deep blush rose to his cheeks. He had been staring, hadn’t he? “Sorry.”

Roman stepped even closer, clearing his throat again, “I actually came over here because... I wanted just wanted to tell you I’ve really enjoyed playing against you. And it can’t just be summed up by saying ‘good game;’ it’s been a hell of a good four years... you’re a phenomenal player.”

Virgil stared down at his feet. This was not what he had been expecting, not that he had been expecting any of this, “You know... it hasn’t been easy to be the smallest person on the team— shit, I’m the smallest player in any of the district teams. I don’t think I would have kept playing, or would have tried as hard to stay on the team if I wasn’t absolutely set on kicking your ass.”

Roman laughed— a deep, genuine sound flooding from somewhere in his broad chest— and Virgil couldn’t help but grin.

“So yeah... thanks for that. And good game,” Virgil smiled up at the other boy.

“Well, we can’t exactly shake hands like usual,” Roman glanced down at his swollen wrist and Virgil’s shoulder that he was still nursing.

“Can we do something else then?” Virgil moved so he was standing face to face with Roman, his heart pounding in his ears.

Virgil could feel Roman’s breathing quicken as he reached up with his good arm, sliding his hand to the base of Roman’s neck. Put he didn’t startle, he didn’t try to move away. If anything, he seemed to be leaning into the touch.

Virgil moved forward, standing on the tips of his toes to press his lips against Roman’s. For a horrific second, he thought Roman wouldn’t return it but after a moment of apparent shock, Roman bowed his head to deepen the kiss. He tipped them forward, supporting the entirety of Virgil’s weight with his uninjured hand.

When they finally broke away, Virgil was completely breathless. He definitely hadn’t seen that coming at the beginning of the evening.

Roman looked equally surprised but he began grinning like an idiot as the realization of what had just happened settled over him, “Can we do that again??”

Virgil laughed at Roman’s eager, puppy-dog-eyes expression, “At least buy me a drink first.”

“Well, I can’t exactly do that seeing as we’re both like 17–“

“Excuse you, I’m 18,” Virgil stuck his tongue out in mock indignation.

“Yeah, well, uh, would you maybe want to go to homecoming with me?” Roman began rushing his words out, “I mean, I totally get if not. There’s absolutely no pressure. And I’m sure you already have plans so—“

“That’d be cool,” Virgil broke in, “I’d really, really like that.”

Roman’s face once again broke into a beaming smile, “Really??”

“Yeah you big idiot, that’s why I said it. Besides, it’s awful going to a dance after losing a game so I might as well bring a trophy,” Virgil slipped his hand into Roman’s and began leading them out of the stadium and into the parking lot. Nothing could have prepared him for what happened tonight. He had started the evening determined to win, but even though West Shore lost, he didn’t feel disappointed.

Virgil looked at the silhouette of Roman against the fading campus lights as he walked alongside him. Maybe he had won something even more important than the game.

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missinghan · 5 years ago

Text

what if we ⤖ lee minho

❖ genre : college au; roommates au

❖ word count : 4,1k.

❖ warning : explicit language

❖ summary : Minho is more than fed up with your nonsense of not having a roommate until you graduate because he’s desperately in need of a new place after getting kicked out.

❖ a/n : the continuation of roommate lino is out now!

one.

Minho takes dreadful strides into M.I.A Cafe, completely waterlogged from head to toe like a wet rat, drained from trying to walk back home without an umbrella—even if he had one, the wind would have taken him along with it on an exhilarating ride while Poseidon is throwing a rampage at Zeus or whatever gods up there.

He slumps into the nearest seat possible, sinking deeply into the cushioned surface only to stain the blue velvet with his sodden leather jacket. Anyone else happening upon the scene might notice a more than average looking college kid; Minho’s mesmerizing, he really is. But not just because of his catlike smile or stupidly good hair without even trying, it’s also because he’s the president of the dance club despite being a business major. It’s not hard for him to gain even more attention since he works at the cafe on campus anyway.

However, all Woojin sees from overlooking his workplace is his idiotic coworker who left ten minutes ago has officially given up on going against the bloody family feud above and come back to make his life miserable. Kang is going to give him shit for the wet cushions because Minho’s shift has fortunately ended. And it only gets worse from there. The younger boy pushes himself off the chair and flings his dripping bangs away from his face before taking off his jacket, deciding it’s a good idea to sway it back and forth, splashing water all over the clean floor.

“Lee Minho,” Woojin raises his voice slightly but Minho simply ignores his threatening tone and stuffs his leather jacket into his backpack.

The brunet makes his way over to the countertop, hopping effortlessly onto one of the bar stools. “I would like a Vietnamese coffee, please,” Minho shows his friend those ridiculous looking sparkly eyes like he just stepped out from an anime, and Woojin forces a smile through gritted teeth. “Come on, I’m tired, don’t look at me as if I’m in charge of the weather or something.”

Woojin remains silent, and so does his death glare. Hence, Minho gives in and props his head onto his hand lazily. “Fine, just give me a hot chocolate, I’m freezing over here,” he shivers stoically as his brain is multitasking (yelling at him and considering his options at the same time). With the sky roaring as if it’s raging on with other supernatural forces, Minho isn’t overly fond of heading outside by himself again. Meaning, plan A: get a ride or plan B: stay with Woojin until his graveyard shift is over. Minho’s having an eight AM tomorrow and he’s not about to walk up to the nurse’s office with a broken ankle for skipping three steps at a time. But in what world would a guardian angel appear out of nowhere to drive him home?

A random Twitter notification pops up and he swipes it away dejectedly, wholly uninterested. When Woojin slides the paper cup across the countertop, he catches a glimpse of Minho’s lock screen and gasps as if he just saw something out of the ordinary. It’s not. “You replaced your cats’ photo with Y/N’s instead? Okay, I see you, you sly little bitch,” he chuckles creepily while wiping his hand onto the white apron.

“It’s temporary,” Minho sneers like a cat having someone step on its tail. “Besides, she hates it, that’s why I put it there.”

“Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

Woojin is making a big deal out of this as if it’s a picture of you cuddling Minho or something. But in reality, it’s just a really ugly photo of you taking too big of a bite when he decided to flex his paycheck and took you out to a pizzeria. You forgave him because 1) you had the opportunity to eat real pizza after months of stocking up frozen ones from the supermarket, and 2) it’s only a matter of time until he’s over it and returns to his typical photos of his cats at home.

“Yo,” Minho says after a sip of the hot beverage. “You’re moving out of Seungmin’s next week?”

Woojin replies, silently appreciating one of the rare civil conversations with his friend. “Yep, you? Don’t tell me that you haven’t found a place yet,” he stops himself right there, only to be met with complete dead silence. “Wait, you’re kidding, right? Aren’t you getting kicked out on Monday? How are you gonna find a place within three days?”

“Tough luck?” Minho shrugs nonchalantly, staring rather deeply at his lock screen, and an idea pops up inside his head. He feels the need to kick himself because he should have thought of this sooner. Biting his lower lip, he’s slightly nervous when his thumb taps onto your name in his contact. It’s not like you’re gonna rip his head off, why is he so jumpy about this anyway?

His train of thoughts get cut off when your raspy voice rings through his eardrums, “What do you want?”

two.

Your white Rover pulls up in front of the cafe after five minutes of cursing at him through the phone while dragging yourself out of bed and another ten to drive to your unwanted destination.

“Get in before I rip your head off,” you deadpan, pushing your bangs away from your face.

“I love you, did you know that?” Your heart totally didn’t skip a beat at that. He didn’t mean it, he couldn’t have meant it. It was lighthearted, it sounded lighthearted but was it supposed to be lighthearted? Great, now your heart just gives up on you while your brain is harassing you with some stupid assumptions without valid shreds of evidence.

Minho smiles sheepishly at you after waving to Woojin—who isn’t very interested in his departure and enters your car in relief. Although you were doing nothing but spitting strings after strings of curse words at him, it genuinely made him feel at ease when he heard your voice through the phone, hanging by three percent of battery left.

“Also, spill the hot chocolate, and I’m gonna throw you on the highway,” you warn him before starting the engine. The only problem with your morbid remarks is that Lee Minho is exclusively immune to them because he too, shares the same amount of insanity with you like how you both shared a sad tuna sandwich last Tuesday when the school canteen tried to recreate a Chipotle bowl. You both tasted it. And you were offended.

Minho tosses his backpack to the backseats and replies in monotone, “I won’t, just don’t kill us. That’s all I’m asking from you.” He looks awfully good for someone who’s completely rain-soaked. How fucking unfair.

“That’s all?” you question without looking at him in the eye. He only hums a random melody from a song that you can’t quite remember before plugging his phone in with your speakers. Your face morphs into a frown at his vague reaction, “Usually one thing leads to another, you never ask me for a single favor and just leave me alone, are you sure that you didn’t forget your wallet and now you wanted a new tattoo?”

He breaks into a fit of giggles at that, three are already enough for his ancestors to haunt him in his sleep. And your heart magically comes back more alive than ever at the sound; it really needs to stop doing that before you’re found dead on the street just by talking to him on the phone or something. “It’s not that,” Minho scratches the nape of his neck. “I’m basically gonna be homeless next week if I don’t manage to find a new place in like...three days.”

The car grows silent for a second there before Didn’t know me by Heize starts blasting through the speakers when he puts one of his playlists on random. You look over at him deep in the eye, thinking rather thoroughly about this. And Minho starts feeling knots in his stomach when you avert your gaze back onto the road. Are you perhaps...mad at him?

“Don’t-even-think-about-it,” you deadpan. “You know how Yeji pleaded to move in with me after freshman year, and..failed miserably.”

“Come on! You can’t be this heartless, are you really gonna let me sleep on the sidewalk for a good three weeks?”

You click your tongue in annoyance while making a turn to the left. “I never said that you moron,” An eye roll soon follows your statement, and before Minho can even say anything, his mouth snaps shut, eyes wide. “You know that Chan lives alone right?”

He protests, “Chan always let Changbin and Jisung crash to make music. Besides, it’s a studio apartment, like hello? I’m not planning on losing my beauty sleep here. ”

“Woojin?”

“After the mess I made back there? He will murder me, Y/N,” Minho says without a single shred of fear in his voice, yet he’s giving you those Puss in Boots eyes as if he’s gonna let Woojin snap his head off that easily. Jeongin is still living on campus, and Minho would rather be sleeping with dead rats than sharing a room with Jisung because Seungmin would never let him step a foot onto his white carpet.

You scrunch your nose and ignore the golden specks in his eyes, “You didn’t even try asking him, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind housing you for a few weeks. He’s a good guy and definitely doesn’t hate your ass enough to not let you sleep in the living room.”

“But,” he pouts sadly, in which you’re completely unaffected by. But here’s what makes your chest swell. “I like spending time with you,” he mumbles under his breath. Huh? Your heart rate falls flat before coming back to thunder inside your chest cavity twice as fast. Did he really just-

Minho sighs, and suddenly his shoulders start getting heavy. He feels rejected, but he shouldn’t since it’s not mandatory for you to let him stay with you. Perhaps, he’s nothing but a complete nuisance in your eyes after all. “But if you say so,” he murmurs, eyes turning stormy and you can feel a pit at your stomach. “I guess I’m gonna call Woojin then..”

And he ends the conversation there, abruptly.

Raindrops knocking at your car’s windows. The sounds of his fingers tapping against the keyboard. Even your own rhythm of breathing. Everything’s piling onto your back as if you’ve just committed a terrible sin.

Woojin is really busy this year, preparing for grad school and everything. And your current courses are pretty easy to handle, it’d be mean of you to let him contain Lee Minho while working two jobs. Especially when he’s constantly turning in assignments at a single minute right before the deadline. So with the little amount of morality left, you tell yourself to stop being a little bitch and start considering the possibilities of having a roommate for the very first time.

“Fine,” you grumble after a good twenty seconds of thinking. “You can use my old air mattress, a month should be good before you’re able to find a new place. So we’re taking turns washing the dishes and splitting the bills in half, cool?”

Minho’s brain suddenly demands every part of his body to stop, his finger hovering over the ‘send’ button. “Gee okay, I get it, you don’t like having roommates. But you don’t have to be so pressed about it,” he concludes almost too fast for your brain cells to comprehend what’s going on in his mind. Was he even listening to you? “I knew you weren’t gonna let me stay with—“ His words instantly come to a halt, eyeballs ready to pop out of their respective sockets any second.

“What?” he blurts, round eyes staring right at you expectantly.

You scratch your nose with your ring finger when a coral tint rises on your cheekbones, something that you do a lot whenever you’re nervous. “I said you can come and stay with me for the time being,” you say lamely, having a spontaneous interest in the row of Sumikko Gurashi figures that Minho gave you on your birthday last year. “I don’t want you to poison Woojin with your cooking, roomie.”

“You’d better feed me then, Ramsay,” he beams with a bright smile—far brighter than the Sun itself and any of the stars above. And who were you kidding? It’s not his cooking that you’re worrying about. It’s not even Woojin that you’re worrying about. It’s him, you’re worried about him.

Besides, maybe you like spending time with him too.

three.

After a whole night of hauling three gigantic cardboard boxes along with two suitcases into your apartment, you drag Minho’s ass out of bed at nine in the morning, push him into your car and slowly reverse out of your apartment’s parking lot.

He’s not very attentive to his surroundings when he’s tired so he didn’t mind the monotonous voice of the news reporter coming out of the speakers. Whereas, he would have yelled at you by now to shut it off so he can blast his Spotify playlist at maximum volume to annoy people who apparently don’t know how to park their cars properly. Still, he only finished unpacking half of his luggage at four so it didn’t occur to him how little time he spent half-sleeping against your car’s window.

It didn’t occur to him how you managed to maneuver him out of the vehicle either. But when his eyes start hurting from rubbing them too much, Minho realizes that you’re piloting him through an old couple shopping hand in hand, a sweaty man in his mid-forties wearing a tracksuit and a child tugging at his mom’s skirt, begging for a lollipop. He gazes downward, eyes stop dead in their tracks seeing your hand intertwined with his while your free one is scrolling through the list of groceries on your phone.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty, glad that you’re finally awake,” the amount of sarcasm laced in your tone just makes the blush on his cheeks disappear in the span of half a second.

Minho makes a face and pulls his hand back to grab a cart, trailing after your footsteps grimly like an obedient puppy. “Waking up early was not in the contract,” he lets out the loudest yawn possible without covering his mouth, no manners whatsoever. “That lawsuit for child labor? Pending.”

You chuckle dryly and toss a box of oatmeal cookies into the cart, not really caring that he’s sleepy and tired. You’re the one who’s driving after all. “It technically is,” you say with a meek smile and turn around, watching him throw in a bag of popcorn, barbecue flavored chips, and other junks that scream college staple food. He told you that he’s making use of the school’s gym five times a week but seeing the amount of trash that’s piling up, you doubt that his efforts are gonna matter at this point.

“I told you that we’re grocery shopping every Monday morning because we both don’t have classes on Monday mornings.”

Minho only groans loudly like a damsel in distress until you both reach the vegetable aisle. He immediately goes for the asparagus and broccoli, probably to water down the amount of sodium from the chips.

You’re not sure if it’s just because he’s sleepy but the rest of your banter while raiding the supermarket is fairly civil. In short, it’s the most normal conversation you’ve ever had with him. Not that you’re complaining, it's actually really nice to see how he also has a soft side to him. Not only did Minho grab the chicken breasts for Chan because that guy cannot live without them, but he also called Changbin to check which flavor of the protein bar that he prefers. It seems like he’s gonna crash at Chan’s place for an upcoming secret project.

When you both queue up at the self-checkout line, he observes the light blue packaging of your shampoo curiously. He notices how you stopped getting the twelve ounces bottle and went for the twenty-four ounces one instead.

“You’re still using this one? I thought you said you wanted to change it up every time?” He asks, propping his head onto your shoulder lazily. Minho remembers how you started to try out this brand three months ago and he laughed his ass off at you for being so determined to go through all of their scents. It’s dumb, yes, but he commented on every single one of them anyway.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?”

Your body tenses up when he sniffs at your hair, nose brushing against the back of your ear, and it’s not helping either when his forearms are resting against the lines of your waist so he can hold onto the cart while you’re too busy bombarding Yeji with questions about the frat party she attended last night. You’re basically trapped between him and the cart; you can’t believe you’re only realizing that just now.

“Hold up, I thought you usually go grocery shopping alone?” Yeji flips the table and inquires slyly on the other line, then she lets out an audible gasp. It’s so loud that Minho staggers backward from surprise, almost hitting the cart behind. “Is that Lee Minho?! Y/N, what are you two doing at the Asian market at ten AM? Together?!”

Words spill out of your mouth before you can even process them properly. “We saw each other coincidentally and ended up using the same cart.” And now you want to put your head through a wall because what kind of an answer was that? Your brain had to malfunction at that very moment, in the middle of that very call, it just had to. “Okay, whatever, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow during Park’s lecture, see you,” you hang up just like that, not knowing how to act because now you have to tell Yeji about how you—a complete loner—is finally having a roommate. But that roommate isn’t her specifically.

“You good? You look a bit..feverish,” Minho rests a hand on your forehead while his free one pushes the cart forward. Still in a daze, your heart shudders, and your back accidentally comes in contact with his chest, making you drop your phone onto the carton of eggs in a panic. “Careful there, that’s two months worth of eggs,” he reminds you, clearly not having a single clue of how giddy you are right now.

Also, saying that you’re giddy is an understatement.

You shake your head and mutter, “Right, sorry, you were saying?”

“I just asked why you stopped trying the rest of the scents and committed to April Cotton so easily.”

“It’s because you said it’s the best one so far,” you answer honestly, almost too honestly because right now, Minho feels like someone’s using his heart to juggle right inside his chest cavity.

four.

That night, after Minho’s monstrous shift at the cafe and three hours of you FaceTiming Yeji to procrastinate about a writing assignment, you both are sprawled across your white fuzzy carpet that sheds more than three of his cats combined.

In between is an empty cup of McFluffy, a sad piece of pepperoni pizza and leftover fries, all being placed on a piece of newspaper because Minho’s promised you that if he ever dirtied your carpet, he’d take you to a concert. His bank account isn’t ready for that yet. A Dog’s Way Home just ended two minutes ago and as the ending credits roll, you’re all curled up inside your over-sized hoodie, sniffling into a piece of tissue.

“Day one with your new roommate here and you’re already shedding tears Jesus Christ,” Minho tells you after stretching his limbs out tiredly, eyes becoming droopy.

“Shut up,” you punch his arm and laugh, wiping the remaining of your tears with your sleeves. “I swear I saw your eyes watering when Bella reunited with Big Kitten.”

“They did not?” He shoots you a shit-eating grin when he settles back down onto the floor, supporting his head with his hands. To be fair, the CGI was kinda shitty, a little bit noticeable but the reunion was too emotional for him to care about something as meaningless as that.

Minho ignores how you’re mumbling something and instead, turns onto his side and grabs a piece of fries, chewing obnoxiously. “So, Y/N,” he inquires rather cautiously. “How does it feel like to finally have good company along with good food?”

You hum for a while but answer with little consideration, eye closed, “I could use someone with a smaller mouth, and a smaller ego too but yeah, it’s kinda dope.” And you open one side of your eyes to see him being the literal CTRL+V of the surprised Pikachu meme. He looks betrayed, as if someone just sneaked into your apartment and snatched all of his packets of instant ramen in one go, just like whoosh, out the door they go with his daily breakfast.

“It feels kinda nice too,” you proceed to continue, staring at the ceiling to avoid eye contact with him. “Because I know although this person acts like an asshole most of the time, he’s just a really big softie on the inside. I like how he called his friends in the middle of his shopping trip to see if he’s getting them the right flavor of protein bars, how he paid for the groceries even though we’re equally broke, and how he skipped dance practice to volunteer at a nursing home every weekend.”

You’re not looking, but you’re pretty sure that Minho’s smile is growing so big, his cheeks are about to crack in half. “I didn’t tell anyone about that,” he stifles a laugh. “It’s either you’re somewhat a creep or you’re just really cautious about what kind of people you let into your life.”

“I’m a loner, what can I say?” You chuckle lightheartedly, feeling slightly fuzzy inside for no particular reason. “I am really cautious when it comes to stuff like that because the more you let people into your life, the more it hurts when they decide they’re gonna leave you.”

“Hah! So that’s why you’re so stubborn about the whole not having a roommate thing?” You nod sheepishly at that, feeling kinda embarrassed because it feels like he’s unraveling your secrets right under your nose.

The signature catlike smile lingers on his lips when you turn on your right to face him, and your useless heart thinks it’s a good time to skip a beat when your eyes meet his round ones with ridiculously beautiful lashes. You’ve never felt like this towards anyone before, it’s risky, you know it but you think you can trust him. You can trust Lee Minho.

Although he wasn’t this big, sassy persona that has a questionable obsession with cats and dancing when you first met him. You encountered Minho for the very first time backstage at the school’s music festival to support 3RACHA’s performance. Initially, he made absolutely no effort to even greet you like how a civil human being would, but he was intrigued when he saw the SpiderMan plush keychain on your backpack. And it seemed like fate was only trying to push both of you closer together because you kept bumping into him on campus. So it’s only a matter of time before he decided that he hated eating lunch alone and asked for the empty seat next to you, offering you his watered-down cup of coffee.

“What made you change your mind then? Why not just reject me?” Minho scoots closer to you, eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“Because I feel like..you won’t be leaving me anytime soon..”

“Damn right, I can never stop bothering you.”

You don’t know where, how, or why you can muster every fiber of courage left inside of you to tell him that. But that doesn’t matter now, does it? Maybe this is a sign, the universe wants you to stop being so closed up all the time and open up to new people (regardless of how shitty you think they are) because life’s way too short to play the role of the lone traveler on this planet. And it’s madness to think that all it took this boy was half a cup of Vietnamese coffee and a call at such an ungodly hour for your heart to be completely his. Nothing’s gonna change much, you think. You’re gonna still free-fall into this hellhole called ‘college’ with your first world problems like everyone else but the only difference is that you don’t have to be alone anymore. There’s a hand for you to hold, a shoulder for you to lean on and your heart has found its new home. You don’t think you’ve ever felt it being so alive before. However, you’re not against it even when you’re still dubious.

Because that’s how you’re supposed to feel your entire life.

❖ p/s : I hope you enjoyed this little monster that I managed to whip up in the past few days, I thought it’d be nice if I could give you guys smth as a “parting gift” for my [rest]. I was very, very sleep-deprived as I proofread this so please don’t come for me & I’ll see you in the next fic!

#stayshub #skzwritersclub #stray kids lee know #stray kids scenarios #lee know imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids minho #minho roommate au #minho college au #lino fic #lee minho #lee know #lee know scenarios #college au #roommate au

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thatoneitaliangirl · 4 years ago

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Obey Me! Soulmate AU Lucifer 2

Sorry, I kind of dropped off the face of the earth for a hot minute there. I’m just going through some stuff, don’t mind me!~ I really hope you like this. I was planning on making it longer, but I felt like I left it off at a good place. I think I may finish off each story one by one, since I’m on a roll with Lucifer’s story, but it depends on my mood. I may start on Mammon’s part 2 soon, so you never know! Next part is either Lucifer part 3 or Mammon part 2 lol. I really hope you like it!!!

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When I was a little girl, scary movies always excited me. I would get on my hands and knees to beg my mother to let me watch them, even if I knew I'd have nightmares. There was just something about being scared but not being in danger that really made me happy. As I got older, it became an obsession. Horror movie posters littered my walls, and all other kinds of merchandise, some even rare items, surrounded me in my day to day life. But what always made my day was ghost stories. Some classic bumps in the night, others intense cases of demonic possession. Eventually, movies weren't enough of a thrill. I needed the real thing.

_______________________________________________________

"Are you sure about this, _____? I mean, I know you're into that freaky shit, but this is getting a little too real for me." _____'s best friend Monica says, holding herself in her arms.

"Oh please, Monny! It's just a little ghost hunt. Nothing to be worried about!" Her golden eyes widen as she gawks at her friend.

"Nothing to worry about? Girly, you know damn well I don't do ghost shit. That's all you, my friend, and honestly, I don't feel like dying before graduating high school!" _____ rolls her eyes, but this doesn't stop her friend's ramblings.

"You're following the information given to you by some rando on the internet you only met last week- he's probably leading you into a trap! This is one of those cases you see on HLN where the young, unexpecting girls get taken to be sex trafficked."

"We're not gonna die. And it's not even confirmed that there are ghosts here," _____ lifts up the broken chain-link fence and motions for her friend to enter.

"Wait, we're going through all this trouble and you’re not even sure if it's actually haunted?! Are you kidding me?"

"Look, if you're that much of a scaredy-cat, you can wait outside. I just want to snap a few pictures to post on my blog." Biting her lip and shifting from side to side, Monica weighs her options.

"Okay, fine. Just don't take forever. My mom wants us back before dark," Monica says, pouting.

"And don't call me a scaredy-cat!" _____ smirks.

"Okay, okay . . . Scaredy-cat!" She laughs, lightly jogging away from her friend and towards the abandoned building. With her flashlight in hand, _____ sneaks around the back under some fallen tree-limbs and clicks her tongue.

"If I remember right, the guy said it would be about . . . Here!" Finding the boarded window she was looking for, _____ slides the board up and enters the hole. She drops down into a dark room, the only light seeping in through the cracks in the worn wood covering the window. Quickly turning on her flashlight, the young girl takes a look around what appears to be the basement of the run-down house.

"He seemed to have left out the fact that my little 'tour' would start in the basement, but I can work with this." _____ takes a deep breath and scans the area. Besides some creepy old toys, nothing really interests her here.

So, she finds the door leading upstairs and slowly makes her way up the creaking wood. The leaky pipes and several rainstorms since the abandonment of the house have not been kind to the drywall and wood structuring. Reaching the top, _____ shines her flashlight around, taking in the once white walls of the family room, now covered in mold.

"A little Damp-rid would do this house some wonders, I'm sure." Her camera flashes as she takes her first shot, making sure to get in the ripped couch and fallen portraits. Had vandals and old age not did their thing, this house would have been in perfect condition.

"The people living here just up and abandoned it with no warning. Seems . . . Suss if you ask me.” She scrunches her face and shrugs.

"Alright, let's do some exploring." Shaking off her shakes of anticipation, _____ ascends the stairs leading to the second floor with caution. Despite her lack of fear for the paranormal, she still fears falling through the dampened wood flooring and having to explain to her mother why she's in the hospital getting tested for tetanus. A sudden sound above her makes her stop for a moment, halting the loud creaking of the stairs.

"What the Hell . . . ?" What sounds like a light tapping across the floor above slowly moves forward toward the stairs and ending at the door at the end of the hall. She shines her flashlight there, but it begins to flicker and dim.

"Shit! I just changed these batteries!" She bats it with her palm, but it does nothing as it fades away. The hinges of the door screech as it slowly begins to open, so slow that it's barely visible. What little light is streaming through the cracks of the boarded windows seems to almost be absorbed by the darkness inside the bedroom. _____ gets closer to the door, feeling an immense pull to open it and go inside. Her goal of capturing pictures long gone from her mind as she reaches out and touches the handle.

"_____! Are you done yet?!" Her friend yelling to her from outside startles her and she removes her hand. She releases a breath she didn't know she was holding and tilts her head to yell back.

"Uh, Yeah, almost! Be right out!" Her feet tap against the wood flooring as she descends the stairs, but pauses and takes a look back at the door all the way at the end of the hall.

"It'll only take a second . . . " She says to herself, never removing her eyes from the darkness within.

"Come on, _____! We're losing daylight!" Biting her lip, she lifts her camera and snaps a few photos before running back to the basement and out of the small window. Just as her friend said, the sun is almost below the horizon.

"Oh shit."

"Oh, shit is right! Let's get out of here!"

________________________________________________________

Growing up the way I did, I never really thought too much about what that day meant. Though every once in a while, I find myself thinking about that house. Monica and I left that town not long after we graduated, but the longing I have to go back has nothing to do with homesickness.

"Hey, look! I never thought I'd be seeing these pictures again!" Monica laughs, holding up the small box filled with photos from _____'s old camera.

"Is that prom?" She asks, making her way over to Monica with curiosity.

"I think so," She holds up more photos of the two girls in dresses holding hands with a boy and another girl.

"It has to be. Look, there's Jonah!" _____ rolls her eyes and groans.

"God, I hoped I would never have to see his face again. Burn the pictures!"

"No!" Monica holds the photos to her chest protectively.

"Just because you hated your date, doesn't mean I hated mine!" _____ laughs.

"True. Okay, you can keep 'em! I have all these on a hard drive somewhere, so I'll have plenty of memories!" The smile on Monica's face slowly begins to fall at _____'s words.

"Do you really have to go? I know I've said this like a thousand times, but how do you know you can trust this man?" It's understandable that Monica is concerned. I mean, most people would be if their best friend meets a guy and less than a month later moves out with them.

"I'll be fine. I promise. And I'll write all the time!" Monica groans.

"Exactly, you'll write! I mean, where even is this place that you're going, huh? No cell service, no internet? It's like this guy is taking you completely off the grid, and that's what worries me. He's not forcing you to do this, is he? Cause if he is-!" _____ grabs Monica's shoulders and looks her in the eye.

"Nobody's forcing me to do anything! I love him . . . Perhaps it's a little fast for most people, but I know for a fact that we're meant to be together. Please, trust me on this." The brunette's shoulders sink as if finally accepting _____'s answer.

"Fine. But just know that I don't like him!" A smile makes its way onto _____'s face and pulls her hands back.

"I guess if you don't like him then you won't want to be here tomorrow." Her head snaps up making her brown curls bounce around her head.

"Why?" The ghost hunter smirks and checks her nails.

"Well, my boyfriend and a few of his brothers are coming over to take most of the boxes. I wouldn't want you to be upset, so it's probably best if you stay away."

"Are you kidding me?! Of course, I'm gonna be there! I'm gonna give this bastard a piece of my mind! First, he takes my best friend away, and then he thinks he can just walk up in here and not even ask for your hand in dating from the one person that counts?! Oh, I'll show him! And his brothers too!" Fuming, Monica starts to pace, her arms flailing animatedly.

"Are you gonna give them all a stern talking to, mother dearest?" She stops in her rambling to glare at _____.

"Keep giving me backtalk, and I might just give you a stern talking to. With my fist!" _____ retaliates by throwing a couch pillow.

"Oh, it's on, girly!"

______________________________________________________

"_____, are you awake?" The young woman shifts in her sleep, stretching before opening her eyes.

"I am now. When did you get here?" Lucifer smiles, moving some hair from _____'s face.

"Only a moment ago. I didn't mean to wake you, I had just thought you'd be up." _____ takes a look at the clock on her nightstand, her eyes widening.

"Holy shit! It's almost two?" The tender moment is lost as she jumps out of her bed and runs to her adjoined bathroom. A smirk makes its way onto the demon's face, watching her frantically trying to brush her teeth and hair at the same time.

"There's no need to rush, my love. Although the sight before me is breathtaking, I'll go keep my brothers' busy loading boxes into the portal. Wouldn't want them stumbling in here and seeing something only I should see." The cheeky bastard leaves the room, and _____ looks down at her bedtime apparel consisting of panties and a large shirt.

"Well, that's not embarrassing or anything."

She quickly finishes getting ready and heads down the stairs to an argument.

"It's your fault!" Levi yells, gesturing to a box at his feet.

"Me?! What did I do?!" Mammon yells back, defensive.

"You made me drop it with your stupidity! If you hadn't been acting like a big baby, we would have most of this done by now!" The box in question happens to be the small box filled with photographs.

"Hey guys, don't worry about it! It's just some pictures. I'll clean it up, no biggie!" The two demons blush and look away, a bit ashamed to be yelling in front of the girl.

"Sorry, _____. If Mammon actually did his job, we'd be out of here by now."

"I'm helping!" Levi rolls his eyes.

"If by helping you mean complaining, then yeah, you've been a big help!" Mammon crosses his arms and glares.

"Oh, like you're any better? Just two minutes ago you were complaining about how you're arms hurt! These boxes should weigh nothing to you!" As the fight continues, Lucifer comes up next to her and sighs. I'm sorry about my brothers, _____. Would you believe me if I told you they actually volunteered to help?" _____ laughs.

Over the course of knowing Lucifer, the young woman has grown close to his brother's as well, mainly the two standing in front of her. Mammon likes her ghost adventure stories, and Levi just likes the fact _____ is willing to listen to his rants. Even Satan has enjoyed a few human books recommended to him by the lovable ghost hunter, and they often discuss murder mysteries together over text. It's no surprise to Lucifer that his soulmate gets along so well with his brothers. He cares dearly for his younger siblings, and _____ provides the care his pride prevents him from showing.

"I believe it. But, you know, brothers will be brothers," She smiles up at him, unknowingly making his heartbeat just a bit faster. Her eyes widen a bit and a small gasp leaves her lips as she takes another look at the clock.

"I forgot to tell you, but Monica is-"

"Where is he?!" The front door slams open, halting the never-ending argument and making _____ pout.

"Monica, any damage left gets taken out of my deposit. Could you be a bit more careful?" The brunette crosses her arms and scans the room, reading all three men, and assessing the situation. Her eyes narrow at Levi, making him whimper slightly and shrink under her gaze. Next, Mammon, who just crosses his arms back and raises a brow under his sunglasses. Her eyes land on Lucifer and her glare turns to a scowl. Target acquired. She dramatically raises her hand and points at the demon.

"You." Confused, he points to himself.

"Me . . . ?"

"You're the one that's stealing my sister from me!" _____ sighs and puts her head in her hand.

"Here we go." Monica walks over, practically chest to chest with Lucifer, though there's a notable height difference. Lucifer coughs awkwardly, looking down at the female.

"Is there a problem?"

"I don't know, is there?" _____ sighs again.

"Monica-"

"Don't 'Monica' me! I don't care how big and muscular he appears to be, he better square up, cause he's not taking you without a fight, sis!"

"This is ridiculous, Monica. You can't fight him." Her glare deepens, never breaking eye contact with Lucifer.

"Watch me." She raises her fist.

"I don't think you want to do that," Lucifer speaks up, temporarily halting her actions.

"There's nothing you can say to me that'll- Put me down!" Lucifer picks up Monica by her shoulders and gently holds the kicking and screaming girl until she gives up trying to escape.

"Are you done?" Huffing and puffing, she nods and he places her back on her feet.

"You are a truly worthy opponent. I'll be more prepared next time. Until then, you have earned my blessing. For now!" _____ rolls her eyes, and Lucifer smiles at her.

"Thank you. I apologize for not meeting you sooner. My work prevents me from leaving, and what little free time I have I use to talk to _____. It was wrong of me to not speak with you before arranging this." Monica looks at Lucifer, still skeptical.

"Hm, wise words and a wise decision, trying to butter me up. But I won't give up that easily!"

"Is she always like this?" Mammon asks, leaning up against the wall.

"Always like what? Amazing, beautiful, cautious, careful, caring, concerned??"

"Woah, slow down 'C for Catastrophe', I think you just come off as a little strong sometimes, Monny. Maybe tone it down for the newcomers, alright?" Pouting, Monica agrees.

"Okay, maybe I can be a bit overbearing." _____ raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything.

"That's an understatement," Leviathan says under his breath earning a death glare from the brunette.

"I hate to cut this short, but we should really be going." _____'s head snaps up to look at Lucifer.

"What? Why? You just got here?" His face saddens as he looks down at her, holding her hand in his.

"I know, but I need to head back. Certain duties require my attention," He pulls _____ close in a hug and puts his lips to her ear.

"And Lord Diavolo was only able to keep the portal open for a certain amount of time." His warm breath on her neck sends a shiver down her spine and a blush to her cheeks. She hugs him closer and nods before letting go.

"Alright, I hope you guys have a safe journey back!" She waves to them, Lucifer giving her a quick peck on the cheek, not really one for PDA, and they head out of sight through the front door. Monica clears her throat and looks down at the ground.

"Sorry." Genuinely surprised, _____ turns to her friend.

"For what? You were just being a good friend!"

"Not that," She sighs, and wrings her hands together.

"I didn't know his time here was limited. I didn't mean to keep you from him." _____ smiles and pats her friend on the head, which earns her an annoyed scowl.

"It's okay, Monny, don't worry about it! How about we make some tea and chill for a bit? I still have some packing to do before next week." The shorter female smiles and nods.

"Definitely! I'll start the water!" She rushes off to the kitchen, leaving _____ in the living room. It's true that she's upset she didn't get to be with Lucifer for very long, but she doesn't blame her friend. Magic is something she still doesn't understand but knows there are certain limitations.

Maybe if she had gotten up earlier, she could have talked with her soulmate a bit more, but she was just so tired. Her dreams kept her up tossing and turning most of the night, much to her displeasure. She doesn't remember exactly what they were about, but they weren't pleasant, and she's not sure if she actually wants to remember them.

Monica working to heat up the water, _____ decides to clean up the scattered pictures from the fallen box. There's no particular order they should go in since they were pretty much haphazardly thrown in there to begin with, but she tries to start from the bottom, attempting to keep some sort of linear timeframe of when she put the pictures in there.

"Eventually I gotta go through these and get rid of the junk. I don't think I want Lucifer seeing me at fourteen with braces, pigtails, and eyeliner up to my temples." She gently shuffles through the pictures, tossing them in as she goes, until she reaches the last group.

Undoubtedly the darkest of them, they immediately stand out from the family beach days and the cringe selfies. _____ picks them up, and examines them. The first few are of crumbling walls and boarded up windows, no doubt an abandoned house she's been to, but that's not what strikes her as odd. She never kept her hunting photos with her normal ones, especially back then.

Her mother would have killed her if she found out, so she would always develop them and put them in a lockbox under her bed. The last few photos in the bunch show a dark hall, and it's as if all the heat rushes from her body. A cold chill replaces any warmth she may have had as she looks from one picture to the other, the hallway becoming darker and darker before it goes completely black, the door at the end the only thing visible.

While she remembers taking the pictures, she doesn't remember ever actually developing them. It was her first abandoned house- thinking back it would have been weird for her not to take a look at them. But the more she tries to remember, the more she can't. It's as if she's blocked it out somehow.

"You okay, girly?" Monica places her hand on _____'s shoulder, breaking her from her thoughts.

"Uh, yeah, sorry. Got a little distracted is all," She places the pictures at the top of the box, closes it, and puts it to the side.

"Now, how about tea?"

The two girls spend the rest of the night packing and chatting, almost making _____ forget about the pictures. Almost. It isn’t long after Monica leaves that _____ finds herself drawn to the small box, knowing that the pictures are just a few feet away. A ringing from her pocket startles her, and she pulls out her DDD. The caller ID says Lucifer, and she smiles knowing how late it is. This is most likely his first break since he got back.

"Hey, are you okay?" Her smile drops a bit at the urgency in his voice.

"Yes, why? Is everything alright?" He sighs on the other end of the phone sounding relieved.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. I felt that you were in danger, and the pact was calling to me." Sure enough, the pact mark on her arm is glowing a beautiful blue, bright enough to shine through her shirt sleeve. She lightly rubs it, willing it to stop, and the glow slowly fades.

"Sorry, I didn't even realize I was doing it. It's just . . . " _____ bites her lip, looking over at the box.

"_____, what's wrong? Are you in danger?"

"No," Sighing, _____ turns away from the box and heads to her bedroom, attempting to put it out of her mind.

"I was just anxious . . . I miss you." He chuckles a little, making her heart race.

"I miss you too. I'm sorry I had to cut our afternoon short, but Lord Diavolo needed me. The higher demons are still . . . Skeptical about our father's decision. They've become nervous, and there have been talks of a coup."

"Oh, wow," She never really thought about it, but it makes sense why people would be skeptical especially demons. To them, it may seem like some plot to take over the Devildom.

"How's Lord Diavolo handling this news?" She's spoken to Lord Diavolo a few times, and he's always seemed like such a nice and positive guy that really cares about his kingdom and its citizens.

"He's upset, but not surprised. But he knows my brothers and I are on his side, so if a coup were to take place, they wouldn't get very far."

"I'm glad. How are you handling this? Want to talk about it?" She's concerned for him, despite knowing how powerful he is. His workload before was intense, but now she's sure it's even worse. He barely gets to sleep, and she can hear it sometimes when he's on the phone with her. He's even fallen asleep on the phone, much to her disappointment. She feels guilty every time that happens, because he's clearly tired but still staying up late to talk to her.

"I would love to, but unfortunately, there's not much I can say . . . "

"You never know who's listening, right?" He laughs.

"Yes, I'm sorry. But I can tell you that all of this will be sorted before next week. I'll make sure of it." The determination in his voice was enough to know he was telling the truth. Once Lucifer makes his mind up about something, it gets done.

"I believe you! But even so, I'm sure my presence might stir up the higher demons. Maybe it's best if I and the other girls stay here until the Devildom calms down." She's heard of his brother's soulmates before, though she's never actually talked to them. But it's not hard to assume that they are going through the same things she is, feeling the same things, and wondering how their lives are going to change.

"At the moment, any plans for you or the others to come here are still on track. But, I'm afraid you may have a point . . . "

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I know no matter what you decide, it'll be the right choice. I have the utmost confidence in you, hun." Lucifer clears his throat, flustered.

"I'm glad you do. Your safety is my top priority. One of them."

"I can only imagine the work you have right now. I'll let you go." _____ glances at the time. It's pretty late for her, and the time difference isn't too far off from her own.

"I'll call you tomorrow as soon as I can. Sleep well, my love." For him not to protest hanging up the phone, he must really be swamped with work.

"Sleep well." Laying down, _____ can feel her eyelids falling heavy and pulls the covers over her shoulders. Despite her pleasant thoughts of her love, her dreams are anything but.

To be continued ------

#obey me!#obey me! x reader #obey me! lucifer #obey me! mammon #obey me! leviathan #obey me! satan #obey me! asmodeus #obey me! beelzebub #obey me! belphegor #obey me! lucifer x reader #obey me! soulmate #obey me! soulmate au

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angelofbenignmalevolence · 4 years ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Virgil Tracy, John Tracy, Scott Tracy Additional Tags: Mentions of the incident with EOS, Brotherly disagreements, Sibling fight Series: Part 4 of Bad Things Happen Bingo Summary:

John descends from on high after EOS reveals herself. A full medical scan needs to be run. And there are some words that need to be exchanged between brothers.

This is for my "Bad Thing Happen Bingo Card." The prompt here was John and Pinned to a Wall. It was requested by @kenzie-running-free and @ohsheasus. A very special thank you to @thunderbird-one-ai for the help getting out of the corner I had written myself into.

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John was one of the brothers that didn’t mind visiting the infirmary so much. Alan hadn’t yet grown into hating the infirmary, since his scrapes had been relatively minor this far and thus he had only had a slightly stern Virgil and a doting Grandmother to deal with in the infirmary. Gordon tried to avoid the infirmary like the plague after his hydrofoil crash and so many subsequent instances where Thunderbird Four had gotten into some serious trouble. Virgil didn’t mind being the medic, but when it came to his own injuries, he made himself scarce in the infirmary. And Scott…well, Scott seemed allergic to the infirmary where his own injuries were concerned.

John wished that allergy to the infirmary applied to the brothers’ injuries as well. Perhaps then, Scott would not be standing across from him in the infirmary, glowering. Scott’s arms were folded across his chest, a sign that didn’t bode well for John. It was obvious that Scott was waiting for Virgil to finish full medical before giving John a piece of whatever was on his mind. John wouldn’t have needed three guesses to know what that was. Virgil stepped back as he completed the scans and battery of tests on John.

“Well, it looks like all your scans appear to be coming back normal. There doesn’t seem to be any long lasting effects from earlier,” Virgil said. John had been so close to death when Alan had pulled him into Thunderbird Three that Virgil just wanted to run all the tests again, as if he was afraid that this was some kind of an illusion and that John was still dying.

“So does that mean that I am clear to return to Thunderbird Five?” John asked. He was anxious to get back to his bird and fulfill the promise he had made to the AI that had, only hours ago, tried to kill him. Scott’s lips thinned into a line, a change of expression that Virgil didn’t miss and only barely managed to suppress himself.

“Medically speaking, I have no reason to deny you a return to Thunderbird Five, but it looks like Scott might have something to say about that,” Virgil said. John hopped off the bed in the infirmary.

“Well, he can tell me while I prepare the space elevator to take me up,” he said. If Scott was going to ream him out, he didn’t exactly want an audience. He didn’t give either Scott or Virgil the chance to protest as he headed for the infirmary doors. A set of footsteps following behind him told him that Scott had followed him. John kept walking, knowing that it was only a matter of time until Scott couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Are you going to slow down so we can talk?” Scott asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice. John kept walking.

“I suppose that depends on your definition of talk,” John said. “I’m not in the mood for a lecture.” Scott grabbed his arm and wheeled John around. He had been so close to making it to the hangar. John could see the stormclouds in his brother’s eyes.

“What the hell are you thinking, John?” Scott asked as John wrenched his arm out of his brother’s grasp. John took a breath before answering. Getting upset was going to get them nowhere fast, not with Scott’s volatile temper and John’s penchant for glacial fury when he was pushed to anger.

“I’m medically fit to continue to do my job,” John said. “To do that, I need to go back up to Thunderbird Five.”

“Back up with that thing that tried to kill you.” It wasn’t a question.

“She didn’t—”

“Don’t you dare try to tell me that thing didn’t mean it,” Scott said. “Or that it didn’t know what it was doing. It’s made from your code. You’re the smartest person I know and the one that calculates everything in advance. Your code taught itself how to evolve to near human intelligence. It knew exactly what it was doing.”

“Her prime directive was self preservation,” John said. “The same prime directive that we all have.”

“We don’t have a prime directive! We are humans, John! And what is to stop it from resorting back to that prime directive, from labeling you as a threat?” Scott said. John shook his head.

“I managed to get through to her. She has me at her core, Scott,” John said, trying to use his cool logic to defuse the situation.

“That didn’t seem to make a difference when it locked you out of your spaceship without any supplemental air,” Scott said. The sight of John’s lifeless body on the hologram projector, the glassy eyed stare as the oxygen in his suit thinned, these were images that would haunt Scott’s dreams for too long.

“Dad would have given her a chance,” John said.

“Well dad isn’t here right now,” Scott said. John folded his arms.

“You’re right. He isn’t. So stop trying to pretend like you’ve become him. You’re my brother at home, my commander in the field, but you will never take the place of dad,” John said.

“Goddammit John,” Scott said, grabbing the front of John’s uniform and pushing him roughly against the wall, eliciting a soft oof from his brother. “You aren’t listening to me!”

“Get off me, Scott,” John said, pushing against his brother’s wrists. Scott held fast, letting him up off the wall only enough to push him back against him again, forcing John’s attention back on him.

“No. You’re going to listen to me,” Scott said. “I watched you as you slowly started to suffocate up there, because of that thing. That thing pretended to be you so well that we nearly lost you.” Scott’s voice shook with suppressed fear. “I nearly lost you because that thing isolated you from us. And once we got you out of there, you went straight back in and put your life in its hands.” John could feel his brother’s knuckles shaking through the fabric of his uniform, holding on not as a threat, but instead out of fear that if he let his brother go, it might be for the last time. John laid his hands over his brother’s wrists.

“I’m still here Scott,” he said. Scott rested his forehead against John’s.

“I don’t trust that thing,” Scott declared softly. “I don’t trust that thing with you. I can’t lose you as well as mom and dad. It would break me.” John let go of his brother’s wrists to put his arms around Scott, assuring him of his presence. After a moment, Scott’s grip on his brother shifted to an embrace.

“You don’t have to trust her, Scott,” John said, pulling Scott close to him. “Put your trust in me. Trust that I won’t leave this family…I will do everything I can to make sure that nothing like this ever happens again.” Scott’s arms tightened around his brother as he heard the space elevator descending.

“Please, John,” Scott asked, barely audible over the creak and groan of the machinery. “Please…just…stay here on earth tonight…for my sake.” John pushed Scott back slightly to get a good look at his brother. His brother’s eyes were glistening with desperation and his shoulders were tight with panic. John nodded.

“Ok, Scott…I’ll stay tonight…I’ll stay…” John said. “Just let me smooth things over with EOS and then we can go relax, yeah?” Scott frowned at the mention of the AI but he nodded slowly, letting John up off of the wall. John moved over to the control panel for the space elevator and Scott let out a soft sigh.

John’s heart was far too big, and his trust often misplaced. But Scott knew his own trust in John was never misplaced, even if it meant compromise when Scott would rather exert his will to keep his brother safe. He waited until John had a brief conversation with the AI and dropped the tension he hadn’t realized he was holding in his shoulders when the Space elevator began to ascend again. John moved over and put a hand on Scott’s shoulder.

“Come on,” he said, leading the way out of the hangar. “Let’s get you to relax a little.”

#thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #john tracy #virgil tracy #bad things happen bingo #fanfiction #my fanfiction #one of mine

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stones-x-bones · 4 years ago

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It’s Only Love (Night 3) || Mina, Morgan and Bex

TIMING: Current (last night, continuation of this) PARTIES: @drowningisinevitable, @mor-beck-more-problems, @inbextween SUMMARY: Home is where the heart is. CONTENT: Head injury, Medical blood (wound cleaning, stitches), Domestic abuse mentions

They hobbled along, back through the trees, staying close to the river. The sun traveled across the sky until it was dipping behind the trees. They took infrequent breaks, racing against time and the sun. They weren’t winning, but they weren’t losing either. Bex squinted ahead, exhausted and ready to collapse, when she saw something new. "Mina," she huffed, shaking her, "Mina it-- it's the trail! The trail! We made it!"

I’m not,” Mina wanted to say. I’m not. “I’m not.” But she leaned forward and nodded her head, and she had to trust that Bex wasn’t lying. She wasn’t lying. She wouldn’t lie to Mina. “I”m yours, too. I am.” She was. If nothing else, she was Bex’s. If that was all she could be, then that’s what she would be. That was why it hurt so much when she left. That was why Mina was struggling so much with herself lately. “I don’t always get hurt. I don’t, really. It’s just-- It’s just a casualty of the job. It is the job.” But there wasn’t really much to say as they stumbled through the forest. Mina was desperate for them to get out of there before the sun set. There was no way she’d be able to defend both of them if night came while they were still in the forest. Mina knew what lurked in the shadows. She was in no condition to take it on. But there was the trail, and Mina could have cried in relief if she wasn’t so exhausted, if she didn’t feel like she was going to fall over from pain. “Maybe the fates are real,” she muttered. “We need-- we have to find a phone, or a person, or something. Anything.”

Bex refrained from telling Mina she hated her job. And from telling her that she wished she wouldn’t do it. But it was what Mina wanted, and so she would support her. There wasn’t much of any other choice. And that was fine. Bex was okay with worrying herself over Mina every day as long as she came home safe. Everything else could be figured out later. The trail opened up and sloped down and there, a way station. Dingy and broken down, which meant they were near the Gallows. She looked at herself, at Mina, then to a spot nearby. “Here, wait here,” she said, hobbling her over and bracing against the tree, “you’re...a little too not dressed to be going into public. I’ll--” she glanced over her shoulder at the station, “I’ll go see if they have a phone I can use. I’ll be right back, okay?” And she wanted to say that this would be the last time she’d leave her, but it wasn’t. It was the last time they’d be alone together for a while, though, wasn’t it? She turned back quickly, unable to help herself, and kissed Mina, a promise that she’d be back. “Okay...I’ll…” She pointed towards the building, before zipping up the old jacket she’d put on and straightening out her torn skirt as much as possible.

She hobbled down the hill, taking each step slowly, until she made it to the way station. It looked like there was a ranger office inside, too. Surely they’d let her use a phone for free, right? She opened the door slowly and peered in. “Hello?” No answer. But there, on the desk-- a phone. She raced over to it and picked it up, praying to hear the dial tone. “Yes.” Finally, things were working out. She jabbed Morgan’s number as fast as possible and breathed against the phone. “Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up.” Foot tapping anxiously. She wanted to get back to Mina as soon as possible. She wanted to get out of here before someone came back.

Morgan didn’t like unfamiliar numbers flashing on her screen any more than she did unexpected knocks on the door or strange cars by the driveway. But as with these other things, she knew that they could seldom, if ever, be avoided without consequence. She picked up, bracing for impact. “Hello…?”

Leaning against the tree, Mina managed to hum and say, “Yep, yes, no clothes, kind of scaly, really not interested in going in public. I’m-- I’ll just stay here. Right here.” She slumped against the tree, sinking a little further down until she was resting on the roots. She put her hand against her side. It came back sticky, wet. That wasn’t good. It had been quite some time since they’d been in the water. Stay awake. Stay awake. She glanced in the direction that Bex had disappeared to, still feeling the kiss linger on her cheek. She hoped someone came soon. They both really needed someone to come soon.

“Oh thank god,” Bex gave an audible sigh of relief, even through an old landline phone. “Morgan! It’s-- it’s Bex! It’s-- you can probably tell that by my voice. I-- sorry I’m calling you on a weird number. I-- we-- need your help. Mina--” she was babbling, with joy, with relief, she hardly noticed she was crying, her voice pitching through the tears, “Frank attacked her in-- in the forest. He-- that's not important, actually. Not right now. We need-- she’s really hurt. Can you come pick us up? I dont-- we can’t make it back to town. We’ve been walking for hours and she needs water and medical attention and I can’t help her anymore, I tried, I did my best, but I-- she needs--” She drew in a breath, holding it. She needed to relax. “Please, we need you.”

“Bex.” It was the last voice Morgan had expected. She was too stunned to cut in and tell the girl to slow down, take a breath, take a beat, think a little, it would be okay. But she caught Mina’s name and the part where they were in bad enough shape that they couldn’t get back on their own. “Bex, honey, I need you to tell me where you are. I will come, I will make it as alright as I can, but I need to know where you are. Can you take a breath and tell me?”

“Right, fuck, right-- we--” Bex started, stopped. She didn’t actually know. Somewhere in the Gallows. “H-hold on.” She fumbled the phone, trying to set it down gently but it clattered to the desk as she stumbled over to the map on the wall. “Five Point Ranger Station. Just behind Candelton. Five Point Ranger Station, just beyond Candleton,” she repeated it to herself as she made her way back over to the phone, picking it up as she slid to the ground, her legs suddenly nothing but jello. “Five-- Five Point Ranger S-station,” she managed to squeak out, “Just beyond Candleton cemetery. There-- there’s a b-back road, behind it. Leads right to it. To us. Pease-- please hurry.” She didn’t wait for the confirmation before she set the phone back on the receiver. She needed to go back and get Mina. Groaning, she lifted herself back up and glanced around. There was a walking pole by the entrance and she grabbed it, hurrying back up to Mina.

“Mina?” She collapsed just in front of her. “Mina, I’m back. Morgan is-- Morgan’s on her way. But we have to get down there, to the r-road.” She held out the pole. “I found this, it might help. The hill is gonna--” her eyes wandered to it, then to Mina’s leg, “--or I can carry you. I might have-- maybe have enough magic left to-to carry you.”

Stopping was always a bad idea. Mina stood by this as something that was a fact. Leaned against a tree, wounds aching, hurting, burning all over again with no water to soothe them, she didn’t think that stopping had been a good idea at all. She should have gone with Bex, lack of proper attire and inhuman appearance be damned. She also didn’t want to move, and that wasn’t good. That wasn’t good at all. She looked up as Bex came back to her, spots in her vision, but she blinked them away. “I can walk. I just need a little help getting up. Don’t use any more of your magic. Please.” She fought to stand, hands pressed behind her against the tree bark, but she managed. She felt like hell. They needed to get to help.

Morgan’s world narrowed to the size of a list and the route her phone was coaching her through. She’d grabbed everything she could think of and reach within two minutes, thrown it all in the Subaru and started driving. Water and towels. First aid tub. Water for drinking. Jackets from each girl’s room. Whatever had been on the fridge shelf when she swiped her arm over it and dumped its contents into a plastic Hannaford bag. Battery pack. She’d weathered enough disasters to cover the basics. She must have. She must have because if anything could give her miserable little mortal life meaning, it would be doing enough that the two girls she loved did not die.

Morgan pulled up to the building and got out, not even bothering to close the door or to check her appearance in the mirrors. She marched into the road in the tank top and shorts she’d been wearing when she’d picked up the phone, her dark fingers, flaking skin, and decomp-purple coloring on full display. It didn’t exist to her. “Bex!” She called.

Bex would’ve argued that she had plenty of magic, it was energy she was running low on. But they didn’t really have time to argue, not anymore. The sun had disappeared behind the trees and the shadows were growing longer around them, reaching for them like hands that wanted to pull them back into the dark world, where life and death were too close together. Bex helped Mina stand and wrapped her arm around her again, using her other hand to steady herself with the pole instead. They trudged down the hill, slowly, making sure not to slip or stumble or fall-- that would’ve been rather disastrous. But they made it, and there was still no sign of life at the ranger station, so Bex pried the door open again and deposited Mina inside on a chair. “I’m--” she glanced back around, “I’m gonna go look for Morgan. I’ll be--” right back. As always. She didn’t finish her sentence before she scurried back outside.

The last bits of sunlight had all but disappeared when Bex saw the headlights coming up through the trees. Morgan was flinging herself out of the car and Bex did her best to throw the door open again and scramble into the road. “Morgan!” she called out, tripping on herself, on weak legs that felt broken and raw, a weak voice that quivered through a fever and a concussion. “Over here!” She ran to her as best she could, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the Ranger station. “Mina’s i-inside. I can’t-- I’m not strong enough. She’s not strong enough to walk anymore.”

Every step felt worse than the last, but Mina continued to push on, using Bex for help as she went. It felt like it was taking too long; she was scared they’d be stuck out in the dark before Morgan got there. But Bex managed to help her into the building, and Mina sat heavily in the chair. She waited. She tried very hard not to pass out. She waited. When the door opened again, Mina looked up with bleary eyes as two figures walked in. She almost passed out from relief. It was okay. They were going to be okay. Mina didn’t pass out though, just hung her head and raised a hand. “Hi.” She didn’t really have the strength for a less lackluster greeting.

I’ve been through enough, I will do enough, I know what I’m doing, I know this, I know this. Morgan’s brain circled around the same few thoughts as she came into the building and laid eyes on Mina. She gave Bex’s hand a squeeze as she released herself and came for the other girl. Mina, stupid, reckless, self-destructive Mina with and infected mess on her side, wounds in each leg, and a burn on her face that had barely healed at all. Morgan made a mental note of the damage, prioritizing, puzzling together what she wanted to do now and what would have to wait til they were home in the pool.

“‘Hi’ is not gonna cover it,” she deadpanned. “But hi to you too, honey.” She bent and lifted Mina into her arms with ease and started heading back to the car. “Bex, no time to be a martyr, be honest: are you good to walk or are you hopping on like a spider monkey? I don’t care, I’m not bothered, I just need to know.”

Bex had almost gotten used to Mina looking on the verge of death, but when she looked at her in the dim light of the building, really looked at her, she found herself freezing up with pain. With sorrow. What she wouldn’t give to have been a healer, to have had magic that could’ve actually helped, or saved her, or gotten rid of the multitude of injuries that were now causing her pain. She wiped furiously at her face. “I’m-- I can walk,” she stated. Morgan needed to focus solely on Mina, they could see to Bex when they were back at the house and Mina was safe and in water and taken care of. “I can walk,” she reassured, standing and heading to the door, yanking it open and holding it. “We should go, quickly,” she stated, eyes both glued to Mina and wanting to look away. Just a little longer, she told herself, she just needed to be brave a little longer.

“Hey,” Mina said, followed by, “Ow.” As Morgan lifted her up like she weighed nothing. Really, to a zombie, she did weigh nothing. Her weight, her injuries, all of it was nothing. She gripped onto Morgan’s shoulder tightly, though, trying not to make any noise against the pain of it all. Stay awake. Stay awake. Stay awake. She had to stay awake. She couldn’t go to sleep. She might not wake up. She didn’t know. She couldn’t possibly know. “I don’t think some things are going to heal right,” she said quietly as they made it to the car. “Cold iron. It… hurts. A lot more than I want to say.” She looked at Bex, saw the worry in her eyes, the fear. It was fine. They were fine. They were safe.

“You would be surprised what Deirdre has healed from,” Morgan said, shifting her in her arms to open the back seat and lay her down. “And you’ve never had fae healthcare before. So let’s put all of that into the ‘maybe’ category and see what happens.” She pressed a kiss to her head, then knelt over her supplies and got to work: burn salve, disinfectant, cotton pads, and soaking towels. She lifted her gaze to Mina and saw the glaze forming over her eyes and the exhaustion she was so desperately fighting. “Hey, Mina? Some of this is gonna sting, but it’ll hold you together til we get to the pool. While I’m working, why don’t you tell me what Bex’s status is, health-wise. Then tell me what you think she needs. Think you can focus enough to do that?”

Bex didn’t make it all the way to the car, but that was fine. There was an old lawn chair sitting out by the curb, close enough, that she sunk into. She wanted to go over, she wanted to help, but her body was exhausted and it fought against her, even as she tried to stand up again. She’d let Morgan take care of Mina without getting in the way. Bex would only get in the way, now, if she tried to help, with her own trembling hands and grievous headache. She laid her head back and closed her eyes, just for a moment. Just for a moment. She could hear Morgan’s soothing voice floating over from the car, and Mina’s trembling, pained one. She wanted to hug Morgan. She could wait until she was done tending to Mina. Something looked off about her, about Morgan, but in the dim light and through hazy eyes, Bex couldn’t put her finger on it. Finally, she lifted herself from the bench, deciding she’d gathered enough energy, and started the long, maybe twenty foot trek, over towards the car. It felt like it was a smile away. “Is she going to be okay?” Bex called halfway over. “Is she-- did we make it in time?”

“It’s just disinfectant. It’s not going to hurt that bad,” Mina said. Really, compared to some of the things that she’d done to heal herself over the years, disinfectant was nothing. Mina closed her eyes and sat as still as possible. “She’s got a concussion. She was also stabbed, though its older than mine. The sutures have come undone, though, and infection has set in. She was running a fever most of the day yesterday. She used up too much magic. She hasn’t eaten in three days, and the amount of water consumed hasn’t been nearly enough, especially given the fever.” Mina gave the list of ailments as methodical as possible, focusing on remembering what she could while Morgan worked. “She needs stitches, antibiotics, water, food, rest. To not go back to her parents. Somewhere safe. To go home.” Mina opened her eyes again, looking at Morgan. “I— I want to come home. Please.”

Morgan made a note of Mina’s list and her treatment plan. She had some stuff on hand, but no home made patch job was going to replace good ol’ antibiotics. But maybe she could improve a little, enough to survive whatever came next for her. She finished what she could for Mina by the time the girl finished and moved her hand to hold the still-water-soaked towel in place over her body. “It’s your home as long as you want it to be,” she murmured. “That means you never have to ask, Mina. I’m--it’s yours. It just is. It’s there. Whether you want it or use it or not.” She gave Mina a soft look, blinking back tears, and narrowed her focus again. She searched the grocery bag and pulled out a thing of leftover fried rice and put it into Mina’s other hand. “If Bex hasn’t eaten in a while, you haven’t either. I don’t care if you spill, just try to get something in you. You’re not gonna heal any faster if you’re malnourished.”

She plopped the bag in the slightly emptied tub and marched to the front passenger seat. Time for Bex. She set her things down, pushed the girl into the seat. “I’m not a fae expert, sweetheart, but I’m really good at breaking traffic laws when I want to, and there’s a fae clinic not far that we can get her to if things don’t look better in the morning, and I’ve patched her up as best I know how. But, the sooner we get home, the better, and since I’m not leaving until we’ve got you a little more stable, the best thing you can do is not fight me on it.” She gave her a look to show how set she was on this and started rifling around. “Take this water bottle, and this Tylenol, and show me where your infected injury is.”

“Fae clinic?” Bex asked, blinking. She didn’t even realize Morgan had pulled her into the front seat and sat her down until a water bottle and some meds were handed to her. She obliged without a word. If it got Mina home safe faster, she’d do whatever it took. She glanced over the seat and into the back, eyes traveling over Mina as if expecting to see her somehow still bleeding out in the back. But Morgan’s patch job was better than anything Bex had done, thanks to the copious amount of medical supplies she had. Bex nearly smiled at her. “Much better than gauze and old blankets,” she said to Mina, before turning to focus on Morgan again, who was rifling around in the bag. Bex set the water bottle down and unzipped the jacket, tugging it off with great effort. Without a shirt on, the multitude of bruises her parents left on her were evident under the scrutinizing car overhead light, but she turned herself enough to give Morgan access to the stab wound Frank had left on her, torn stitches black and bloody. “It’s just that one,” she said quietly. The burns from her magic exertion couldn’t be seen to, so they didn’t matter. She’d deal with them later.

“I thought I should ask. I felt like I should ask. I was stupid to leave, I wish I hadn’t, I’m sorry I did.” And Mina might have kept babbling, might have gone on and on and on, but there was food in her hand, and she stared at it for a little longer than she should have trying to figure out what to do with it before she realized that Morgan wanted her to eat. Mina didn’t want to eat. The thought made her nauseated. But she opened up the container any way and picked at what was inside. She looked back up to the front seat, making eye contact with Bex. She gave her a tired smile, but her tongue felt heavy and so did her eyes and she still couldn’t sleep, not yet. So she watched the front seat and made sure everything looked like she expected it to, and she tried not to spill any of the rice, despite Morgan saying it was okay. She almost felt like she could genuinely relax for the first time in… awhile. It was overwhelming.

Morgan let out a deep sigh. Even ignoring Bex’s bruises, painfully difficult but not impossible after all the practice she had with Deirdre, Bex’s wound was definitely...a lot. “Okay. Disinfectant first, then I’m gonna take those out and try to do one better so you’re not leaking out of yourself.” She started working swiftly, trying to keep her world small and not think of other, terrible injuries she’d seen and how much more fragile, more human Bex was. “And yeah, fae clinic. They’re not a fan of me, but they take care of their own, which is all I really care about. So, Mina’s got lots of really great options. But--” She took another breath as she soaked another pad and did another pass at Bex’s wound. “That’s not important right now. Right now, I need you to take this--” She reached down for an ice pack and gave it a good crack to activate. “On your head wherever it hurts. And maybe this could be a good time to practice clearing your mind and giving your brain a rest while I finish up. You’ve done a lot of really good thinking, and you’ve got everyone this far, but your brain really needs you to take it easy so it can heal. So you can keep helping Mina later on. Okay?”

Bex was more curious about this fae clinic than she supposed she should’ve been. She winced as Morgan started prodding at her wound, pulling the old stitches out. She wasn’t as strong as Mina, despite being used to the pain, and she let out a short whimper, before she bit the inside of her cheek to quiet herself. She nodded and took the ice pack, pressing it against the large bruise on the side of her face. “N-now? You’re going to do more stitches now?” She didn’t have too much room to complain. She looked back at Mina once more, who was barely holding onto consciousness, and resigned. “I’m-- I don’t think I could, if I tried,” she admitted quietly. She was too worried, too afraid, too full of fear and anxiety. Even if Morgan was here and she knew they were safe-- they were safe because Morgan would never let anything bad happen to either of them, she would never let them die, not in her care-- she couldn’t shake the feeling of panic that had gripped her heart the moment she’d seen that text and ran off into the forest. Frank was still out there. Her mother was waiting for her back home. She’d said things to Mina she couldn’t keep. “He’s still out there,” she said, quieter, “Frank. He…” She wanted to go home, too. Just for a night. Just to make sure Mina made it through the night. “He’s going to try again.”

Morgan had everything ready but Bex was tense and trembling and whimpering and her world simply would not stay small while that was happening. She leaned over into Bex’s view and touched her hand gently to her face. “Hey. Look at me. You are safe, Bex. Right now you are so safe. And even though there is going to be some pain and discomfort while I work, I am not going to hurt you. No one is, not right now. You did so good, getting me here and taking care of Mina and yourself. You did amazing. But now the thing you need to do is stop and put down Frank and your parents anything else you’re carrying in your head right now. Close your eyes, breathe how I taught you, and put it down. And--it’s okay, if you need to cry out some.” She brushed her finger over the little dent in Bex’s cheek where she was biting. “Breathe and put it all down, sweetheart. As much as you can. That is the best and smartest and bravest thing you can try to do right now. And I’ll try to make it so it doesn’t hurt for long, okay?” She gave her as much of a smile as she could and went to work.

Bex blinked and Morgan was in her view, she was the only thing in her view. The more she talked, the more the world behind her head fell away. The cabin, the trees, the quiet, somber sky that was once again fading to dark. She released her bite on her cheek and drew in a deep, shuddering breath. Just like Morgan had taught her. In for three. Hold. Out for five. Her body began to relax, even as it trembled uncontrollably. Weak muscles and tired bones and a fever fighting to take control. She swallowed and nodded and tried to push away the thoughts of her parents and Frank and what they’d just been through. Did Morgan even know? Did anyone? How long had they been gone? Days. Three days. This was the third night. “I was so scared,” she finally admitted, her voice small. Morgan was safe. She hoped Mina didn’t hear. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know she was--” a nix. That she’d needed water. “I found water as fast as I could. But I was afraid-- I was afraid I didn’t make it in time.” Heavy, ugly tears streaked down her face and stuck to the ice pack. She didn’t make a noise of it, though. “I can’t lose her,” she added on, somehow even quieter. Her eyes went up to Morgan’s. “I can’t lose you.”

“It’s okay you were scared, anyone would be scared,” Morgan whispered, her eyes fixed on Bex’s injury. “That must have been so much. But you are so strong, so incredible, you didn’t let it stop you from helping. That’s what matters. The thing isn’t to stop being afraid, it’s to stop letting your fear control you. And you did it, my love. Okay? You did everything right.” Her eyes slid up to Bex’s just for a moment. I can’t lose you. It didn’t make any sense to Morgan and she was too preoccupied to hide her confusion. She hadn’t gone anywhere or done anything. She knew when she let the rest of her feelings find her, she was going to be desperately relieved that she had made amends enough to be allowed this close and help this much. How could she be lost if she’d just been here, begging Bex to come back?

She finished and put a good sized bandage over the thing, then she reached for one of Bex’s old jackets and a pyrex of fruit salad and leaned back into her view. “All done,” she beamed. “Sit up and put this on instead of whatever you were wearing and try to eat a little.” She brushed the girl’s matted hair back and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “You’re safe now,” she repeated, whispering even quieter than before, now that she was close. “I’m going to put everything in the trunk, except for this--” She hefted the grocery bag and set it by Bex’s feet. “And I’m gonna drive us home, and we’re gonna be one heck of a surprise for Deirdre, and we’re gonna be okay. Alright?”

Had Mina been afraid? Bex wasn’t sure. She remembered Mina pleading her to leave her in the clearing, held down by that trap, because Frank was going to come back. He was going to kill them both. She remembered the look on Mina’s face when she’d finally woken up on the couch and watched Bex move around the cabin, trying her damndest to keep them alive. Had they both just been afraid for each other? Her gaze drew back to Morgan as she was handed more things. You did everything right. She didn’t feel like she’d done anything right. She hadn’t known Mina needed water to heal, she hadn’t known any of it. She’d gotten there and just done whatever needed to be done. She’d almost given up so many times, but the thought of letting Mina die had pulled on her weary, exhausted muscles and made her move more, further, just keep going. She let out a long breath and pulled on the warm hoodie Morgan had brought her. It felt soft and cozy and familiar. It even smelled like Morgan’s house. She wrapped her arms around herself and let some of her tears dry up on the neck of the jacket.

Morgan set something by her feet, and she was trying to smile and be light, and Bex looked up at her. “Can I hug you?” was all she asked. She wanted to hug Morgan. She wanted to not just be told she was safe, but also feel safe. And without question, she knew it would feel that way in Morgan’s embrace.

“O-of course,” Morgan replied, suddenly struggling to keep her voice even. “Anytime.” And without any further hesitation she drew Bex into her arms and held her close. The word grew and Morgan ached with how much she missed the girl and how desperately she wanted things to be better. Her insides were melting, the only way she could clear her vision was to let some of her building tears fall, and stars above, she still had to drive. She swallowed, shoving down the lump that had formed in her throat. “I mean it. I love you, sweetheart.”

Bex grabbed onto Morgan and held so tightly she was worried, at first, that she might hurt her. But then she remembered Morgan was a zombie, that she couldn’t feel as well, and she held on tighter, burying her face into Morgan’s shoulder as she let herself cry a little more. Finally, something steady and solid and grounding. There was no more cramped cabin or rain or worry, no more threat of being found and killed, no more anxiety about whether she’d fall asleep and wake up next to a dead body. Finally, she could rest. “I love you, too,” she said into her shirt, through thick tears, and a strained voice. And she meant it, just as much as she had meant it when she’d said it to Mina, however long ago. And she was sorry, so sorry, it had taken her this long to realize it. That she’d had to destroy everything before realizing maybe love mattered more. She drew in another breath and tried to blink away some of the tears. “I have to go back to them,” she said quietly, so quietly. It sounded painful, as if she were saying it through a mouthful of blood. “I can’t come home yet.”

For a while, Morgan didn’t say anything. She had thought and hoped that she still mattered to Bex as much as before, but it was different, hearing her say it while held safe like the little girl she’d never gotten to be. After all this time, right when things were only going to get worse for her. “I know,” Morgan said into the girl’s hair. It hid some of the defeat in her voice, but not much. “I know. All of it. You can call a car from the house, or I can try to get you to the ferry before it closes. But we have to get Mina to the pool first. That’s not me wanting to keep you safe. She needs freshwater as soon as possible. We can figure you out after that.” She blinked her eyes clear and pulled on the hope in her soul to summon a smile before pulling back to wipe Bex’s face.

“I…” Bex started. It was a bad idea, she knew it was a bad idea, but her parents had no idea where she was, and what was one more night, anyway? She’d been making bad decisions all weekend. “I want to stay with Mina tonight.” Mina was all that mattered to her right now. Getting Mina home and to her pool, where the water she had bonded with, the house they called home, would heal her right. She could sleep in the water and Bex could know that she was safe and taken care of. She still wanted to stay with her, next to her, if she could. She would sleep on the hard ground next to the pool if Morgan would let her, but she knew she wouldn’t. “Just one night.” She just wanted one night away from that house, that place, one night that wasn’t a fight for her life or Mina’s. Just a safe space, to fall asleep and dream and not have to wake up to unending pain.

Morgan’s brow furrowed. She hadn’t expected that, and she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be thrilled or worried. She couldn’t deny that a night’s rest would help Bex stand a better chance against her mother, and few things in the world made her happier than the thought of Bex tucked safely under her roof and learning to smile again. That was it, wasn’t it? She had to take a night of this, and somehow let it go in the morning, knowing exactly what would happen. And now Morgan did remember what had become of her body, all her rot and necrosis pressed against Bex. She drew away slowly and shouldered into the jacket she’d originally brought for Mina, before Bex took notice. “If that’s what you really want, then that’s what we’ll do,” she said softly. She picked up everything from the ground and loaded the trunk and came around to the front seat, igniting the car to life. But she took another moment to breathe for herself. It was about to be one heck of a drive.

Bex wasn’t sure that was something she could ask for, but she’d asked anyway. She wasn’t sure she could actually walk through that house and sleep in her bed, in her room, and get up the next day and leave. She sat back in the seat, before turning once again to look back at Mina as Morgan made her way around the car. Was she asleep finally? She couldn’t tell. She hoped so. She needed to sleep. Bex looked across the seats to Morgan as she slid into the car and started it up. She felt oddly out of place, yet perfectly in the right spot. Morgan and Mina were her home, and no matter where she was, wherever they were, would feel as such. Even in a car, in the middle of a forest, full of blood and nightmares, and an iron knife that shared their pain. “I don’t think they know,” she said, settling back into the seat, looking down at the food container she’d forgotten Morgan had handed her. She pried it open and pulled out a piece of cantaloupe.. “What happened. Where...I am.” She didn’t think her mother knew what Frank had done, and she wondered who might be punished worse, once all the dust settled. “We were gone three days,” she went on quietly, her eyes drooping. She was growing tired as well, “this would’ve been the third night.”

There was conversation coming from the front of the car that Mina could only somewhat make out as her body decided that the best course of action, at least for the time being, was to not move at all. To shut down. So Mina let the voices fade into background noise. They’d made it. They were safe, or as safe as they could be. She didn’t feel like she had to run, not at the moment. She didn’t think she could, really. All she could think about was not passing out. She didn’t want to pass out. She couldn’t pass out. Mina tried to listen, tried to hear the conversation, but their voices were low, and she was steadily losing consciousness. She could pass out, if she needed to. She didn’t want to, but she could. She wasn’t going to, but she could. That was Mina’s line of thought as she set down the food, only a few bites taken from it, and slowly curled in on herself, moving to protect her side. She was safe. Two of her favorite people were with her, and maybe it wasn’t going to last, but she was safe. She blinked, not really seeing much in the semi-darkness of the car, and watched the front seat, making out the shapes and shadows of Bex and Morgan. As long as they were there, as long as they were okay, it was alright. She could close her eyes for a moment. She’d open them again when they made it home.

Morgan drove as fast as she could, barreling through downtown and up to the East End. She punched a button on her keys and the lights in the driveway came on, harsh and bright after all their fumbling in the nothing-light of dusk. She took a second to gather herself again, knowing she had to let go of her jacket to take care of Mina,that as strange and wrong-looking she seemed to herself, it sealed the guarantee that she could carry the girls anywhere tonight, that Odell was watching them and any good feeling that came out of this wasn’t anything to keep, that sometimes you didn’t need a curse to keep on suffering. “I’ve got this. Wait here, okay?” She mumbled, sliding out the car and dumping Mina’s old jacket in her seat. With any luck, Bex was asleep and wouldn’t know anything until she was safe inside.

Something was wrong with Morgan, but Bex didn’t want to ask. Some part of her knew, didn’t it? The rest of the drive was silent and Bex turned to check on Mina in the back several times, doing her best not to tug on the new stitches in her side as she did. She wished she were back there with her, holding her, but it was best for both of them she was up front. Finally, they pulled up to the house and Bex stayed still for a long time, not even unbuckling, as she stared at the front door. The bright porch light illuminated it and the front of the house, and she didn’t even swivel her head when Morgan spoke up again and slid out of the car to grab Mina. It was only once they were off inside that Bex unbuckled herself and got out of the car, limping over to the lawn, to the porch, and stared up at the front door. At the spot where she’d last been before she’d betrayed both of them and walked down the lawn into her mother’s arms. Her gaze followed the path she’d taken and stuck on the spot in the street where the car had been. She wondered if she knew yet, now that Bex was in town. She wondered how wide her mother’s net really was.

Mina was aware of being carried. That was the first thing that came back to her. “I’m awake,” she muttered, eyes still closed as she leaned her head against Morgan’s shoulder. “I’m awake.” She was awake enough. “I can’t walk right now, which… I want to say that I can, but I can’t.” Her tongue felt even looser than it had in the haze of half-sleep and achiness that was settling over her body. She wanted to walk. She wanted to prove that she could walk, that she didn’t need assistance. But she couldn’t walk, and she needed help, desperately, and it was almost a relief to know that Morgan wasn’t going to let her go. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I’m sorry you keep having to come get me like this. I’m sorry I didn’t protect her. I’m sorry she still got hurt. I-- I’m just sorry.”

“Shh,” Morgan soothed, walking faster toward the pool. “That doesn’t matter right now. If you want to be sorry, you have to live long enough to do something about it. So, live first; sorry later.” Then she was wading through the reeds and water flowers they had lined the steps with and cursing the way water made the world turn slow. No running. No plunging. Only a slow descent to the bottom of the pool, Mina still cradled in her arms.

It had been a while since she had spent time down here, even longer since she’d done it in the dark. Around her, stems floated by like wraiths, the water that pressed on them stretched before her eyes as if it were infinite. Morgan wanted to ask if Mina was okay, if anything felt better yet, if she wanted to be alone or if she wanted Morgan to stay. But at this hour, from this deep, they were in a dark neither the stars nor the warm lights of the house could not penetrate. So, when her worry for Bex started to grate on her insides, she gave Mina a squeeze and kissed her head and climbed up to the surface.

“Bex—?” She called.

Bex needed to go inside, she knew she did, but instead, she sank to a sit on the porch. She wanted to go inside and make sure Mina was okay, make sure Morgan was, make sure she was, but instead all she could do was stare out across the lawn into the darkness of night and watch the lights of the houses around the neighborhood flick on and off. She could just wait here. She didn’t want to go inside without Morgan, she wasn’t sure she could. Mina was home now, but was she? Could she be? Would her mother come for her in the morning again? A voice called out to her. “Here,” she said quietly, then, louder, “I-I’m over here.” They’d lived through all of that, and for what? For Bex to simply go back to her parents’ and fade into oblivion once again? Her eyes turned to a figure moving towards her, her vision dull and blurry from exhaustion. No, she decided. No. She would not fade.

It had been weeks since Mina felt like she was home. It had been weeks since she was home, since she’d felt comfort and peace and the relief that came with knowing she was going to be somewhere and find rest. Actual, proper rest, not just sleep that had been gleaned for a few measly hours face down in a pond in the middle of the woods. Actual rest. She stayed at the bottom of the pool for a few minutes when Morgan left, gills filtering in air as she curled in on herself. She was still in pain, but it wasn’t as bad. It was faded, dull around the edges, and she wasn’t worried about that. It was like the dulled pain that came from medicine. It was a kindness. Finally, she kicked up to the surface and swam over to the edge, resting against it as she listened for Morgan or Bex to come back or go inside.

Morgan walked, drenched, over to where Bex sat, ready to pick her up next when she remembered she was corpse cold and soaking wet and the last thing Bex needed was to roll the dice with pneumonia. Swearing under her breath, she went back to the car and dried herself off with Mina’s jacket, and swore again when she realized that left her with nothing to cover up with. She gathered everything in the backseat into her arms and hauled it as far as the front stoop before sinking next to Bex.

“I felt her, before I climbed out,” she said. “I think she’s gonna be okay.” That’s what she hoped at least. “So, talk to me about you.”

Bex watched Morgan stop at the car before making her way over to the porch. She looked down at the things deposited on the ground in front of them, then over to Morgan. In the bright light of the porch, it was clear, now, that her skin was paler, her eyes were sunken. She looked how she supposed Mina felt. Half dead. Maybe more. “That’s my fault, isn’t it?” she asked, reaching out and placing her hand on Morgan’s wet arm. “Because my mom…” What was there to tell of herself? All the days blended into one. “I’ll be fine. I wasn’t the one attacked.” She knew she mattered, too, to Morgan, to Mina, but she didn’t care about herself right now. She wanted to go inside, but her feet stuck to the ground. “I’m just tired. Is she-- is she asleep?”

For the first time, Morgan shied away from Bex’s touch. There wasn’t any talking around it; she was lucky Bex had been too stressed not to realize Morgan was at least three different not-alive colors before now. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” she mumbled. “And since you aren’t responsible for your mother’s actions, I’m pretty sure all this--” she gestured, flippant and bitter, “Is strictly a me and Odell thing. You didn’t do anything.” It took her longer than it might have a month ago, but Morgan found the strong part of herself she wanted somewhere at the bottom of her soul and pulled a kind smile and looked back at the girl. “Not sure if she’s asleep, but she is definitely resting, which is what you need to do too. I know I’m all--”Gross, extra-zombie. “But do you think you can sling your arms around me so I can carry you instead of making two trips. You need your rest too, even more than Mina.”

Bex pulled her hand away. “Sorry…” She didn’t know what it was like, to feel the way Morgan did, decaying, slowly, as she was being starved, but she hadn’t expected her to pull away. She folded her hand back into her lap. “That’s kinda why...it’s my fault, isn’t it?” she glanced over at Morgan. “I didn’t do anything.” She should’ve done something. She wished she had the courage to stand up to her mother. She scared her more than Frank and a knife, or a thunderstorm in the middle of a forest. Morgan was being Morgan, though, even in the face of her situation, and maybe, if she could be brave, so could Bex. “Can I sit with her?” she asked, scooting a little closer as she wrapped her arms around Morgan’s shoulders for support. “Just for a little bit.”

Morgan hefted her small mountain of supplies in one arm and scooped Bex against her hip with the other. She just managed to balance everything long enough to fish out her keys and get them inside. “Not until you’ve showered and changed into something clean,” she said. “And I’m sorry about--” She looked down at her hands as she set the girl down. “I just don’t like being this way. I’m trying to feel better about how it looks, but it’s hard when I know it means I’m more dangerous and easier for hunters to spot. I don’t mind being close to you.” She pulled her into another hug. “You are always wonderful to be close to. And maybe you haven’t found your moment for digging up whatever their weakness is yet, but you haven’t done anything that needs to be punished.”

Bex leaned against Morgan and realized how much her body was sagging, glad to have support. She wanted to reach out and help Morgan carry the supplies, but her arms didn’t move when she asked them to, staying limply by her side. It was purple and bruised where she’d landed on her wrist. She’d forgotten about it. “I can’t go up there,” she said, looking down the hall towards the stairs that led up to her bedroom and her bathroom and all the things she wished she had held onto and wished she could have again. “I won't come back down.” At least she was telling the truth now. No fae magic needed. She’d been telling a lot of truths this weekend. “Will you go sit with her? Until I get back?” She didn’t want Mina to be alone. She’d been alone when Frank had attacked her and she’d been alone for all the days they’d been apart. She didn’t want her to be alone anymore.

“Okay. Downstairs shower that way, I’ll leave you some clothes by the door,” Morgan said. “You better be dry and squeaky clean when I see you again. There’s an extra smoothie in the fridge, so maybe come out with that too to tide you over until I can get delivery. I’ll be out by the pool.” She gave Bex a little squeeze and shooed her away and went to work putting everything she’d packed back where they belonged, because if she watched Bex go or lingered on casual ease she’d spoken (like everything was okay, like they had all the time in the world, like their life had never been shattered) she would feel the truth and it would cut her and she would not be able to get to the pool. So, food back in the fridge. Make a restock list for the first aid tub. Wet stuff in the wet laundry basket she’d gotten after Mina started staying. Clothes outside the tiny downstairs bathroom. Chinese food on speed dial.

She turned on all the lights downstairs, and the ones on the back porch, and came back out to the yard where Mina rested against the pool steps. This, she reminded herself, this much might actually be real. “Hey,” she called softly, sitting down nearby, legs in the water. “I hope you’re not too sleepy, because I kind of already ordered you sushi. How are you feeling?”

Looking up as Morgan sat near the water, Mina managed to smile. “Hi.” She rested her chin on her hands, eyes closing slight. “I feel… like I’ve been stabbed and shot and caught in a bear trap.” She opened her eyes and looked up. “So, really, not as bad as it could be. Bad, but I don’t think it’s going to kill me.” The thought of food made her stomach turn, but she tried to shove that down. She needed to eat. She knew she needed to eat. “I appreciate that,” she murmured. “I’m not-- I don’t want to go to sleep right now. I don’t think I should. Just in case.” Just in case things went wrong. Just in case her wounds stopped healing for some reason. Just in case. “How’s Bex?”

“Bex is taking a much needed shower and will come to see you when she looks a little less like something fished out of a muddy lake. And you--” Morgan brushed back Mina’s wet hair. “Don’t need to ‘just in case’ anything. You’re safe, and you know exactly how dangerous sleep deprivation is, and I literally never sleep and Deirdre’s only out for five, maybe six hours a night? Let us ‘just in case’ for now. You, relax and let yourself heal. Tomorrow we can see about a house call from a fae doctor. I’m sure she’ll be understanding for a nix. It’s okay, Mina. Mission over. You got you and Bex safe.”

As nice as the shower felt, Bex made it as fast as she could. She scrubbed her entire body twice over, and washed her hair out until the drain ran clean, no more mud, no more blood, no more tears. But now that she’d stopped moving, her body felt heavy. She could feel everything that adrenaline and fear had stopped her from feeling in the past few days. Everything hurt. Still, she turned off the shower and hopped out. She dried and dressed quickly and tried to not look too long at herself in the mirror, at the bruise on her face, the bruises on her stomach, the bruise on her wrist. Bruises healed, they went away. It was why they only ever left bruises, the occasional broken bone. She shook the thought away and grabbed the smoothie from the fridge and made her way over to the back porch, only limping a little. The clothes Morgan had given her didn’t hide the tendrils of burns she’d caused herself carrying Mina through the forest, but she did her own best to ignore them.

She was quiet as she came out, watching the other two in the light of the porch for a moment. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt,” she murmured. Bex came over and sat next to Morgan, refraining from putting her own feet in, even if she wanted to. She knew the water was cool, and she was already fighting off a fever again. “How-- how are you feeling? Is this better?”

“I haven’t slept well in so long,” Mina said quietly, leaning into Morgan’s touch. Her hand was cold. It felt nice. “The iron burns on my side are just infected. Not bad, but I don’t know if it will heal well, even in the water, and I’ve never been stabbed with a cold iron anything, just slashed at with it, and so I don’t know if-- I just don’t know much about it. It hurts. It’s not as bad but it hurts.” She sighed, eyes closing, and she nodded her head. “Mission over.” Mission only marginally failed. She and Bex were both alive. That was what mattered. Frank was still alive, too, though. Mina’s eyes popped open. She was going to kill him. It was best not to mention that, though, as Bex came out of the house and sat down. “Better. This is better.” Almost anything was better than stumbling through the woods. Mina smiled at Bex. “How are you feeling?”

“Cold iron is pretty bad,” Morgan admitted. “And since you went without help for so long, it’ll probably scar, But I’ve seen worse.” She would have gone on, but Bex arrived, and Mina brightened and it was so good to have the family she wanted almost complete, she re-worked the grittier words she’d been preparing and reached out for Bex so she had one hand on each girl.

“Wow, I know I’m dead, but I’m pretty sure I can smell the difference from here,” she teased. “You look good, sweetheart. Now, because I know the two of you are going to be worrying about this, let me tell you, no bullshit: this is not the most terrifying set of Warden injuries to walk through this house. And our Mina is way too resilient to go down to an idiot like Frank. It might take awhile, and putting strain and trying to push through injuries will absolutely make it worse, but if Deirdre can survive worse--and I do mean worse, she wasn’t able to walk unassisted for weeks--and still be the most attractive person in White Crest, then I don’t see why Mina shouldn’t get back to being her stubborn self eventually, too.” She turned to Bex and gave her a more thorough look. She was probably due for more Tylenol soon. “I got you your favorite from the Chinese place, but you have dinner for breakfast tomorrow if it feels like too much for your stomach.”

Afraid was the first word that came to Bex’s mind, but she was so tired of feeling afraid. “Like garbage,” she said instead, tracing her finger around the rim of the smoothie cup. “But better.” She scrunched her nose at Morgan. “You try being trapped in a cabin for three days,” she grumbled, but she wasn’t upset and it wasn’t angry. It was just quiet. She looked back down at Mina in the water, still full of scales, and resisted the urge to wade in and kiss her. Now that they were back, she wasn’t sure if they’d get a chance to do that again. Not anytime soon, she supposed. She was even still hesitant to let herself believe it would ever happen again. She preoccupied herself with drinking the smoothie as she listened to Morgan talk. Our Mina. And Mina really was hers, wasn’t she? Even if she had to go home tomorrow. Frank’s name made her inside clench with anger again, but her tired body released it almost immediately. There was nothing to be done about it now, or even anytime soon, so she had to let go of it. For now. She just smiled at Mina, knowing Morgan’s words were true. She would get better. Now that she was home, she would get better. “This is fine for now,” she said, shaking the smoothie cup. “I-- should probably leave early tomorrow.” In case her mother’s prying eyes found her here again and the consequences turned out even worse. She didn’t look at Mina as she said it.

“If I was worried about scars, I think I’d have had a lot of complications in life starting about seventeen years ago,” Mina said, keeping her voice light. She looked at Bex with concern but said, “I’m glad you’re feeling better. I really am.” She didn’t like the idea of things taking awhile to heal, of this lasting that long. Broken bones were bad enough. She didn’t want to spend weeks trying to heal from this. She wanted to be well enough to kill Frank as soon as possible, before she lost the nerve. It was all she’d been able to think about since she looked into his eyes, and, now, it was still there, still important as she rested in the comfort of her own home. “Am I really that stubborn?” she muttered. She didn’t think she was that stubborn. She was raised to be resilient, to keep going no matter what, but she didn’t know if that was stubbornness. She looked at Bex sadly, then to Morgan, as if the older woman could somehow convince her to stay. Mina understood Bex’s reasoning, though, as much as she hated it. “How… How early?”

Bex just smiled at Mina. She didn't really have the heart to tell her right now that she really only felt better because Mina was okay. She was home, in her pool, and a doctor was coming tomorrow and barring any huge misfortunes-- which were so unlikely now that they were with Morgan, she would never let anyone hurt Mina in her own home-- Mina was going to live through the night. It was the first time Bex was sure of that in days-- Mina would live to wake up tomorrow. "You are," she agreed, glancing at Morgan, "so stubborn." She went quiet again. She didn't know the answer, not really, just that she didn't want to risk anything, not when Mina was in critical condition and Morgan was falling apart, literally. "Probably…early enough to catch the first ferry." Six am. She looked at Mina just as sadly. "It won't-- this isn't forever," she said, even if she was unsure herself. "I'm going to fight back."

“The most stubborn,” Morgan agreed. She tried not to tense in the quiet, to not fight herself against what she understood was best for the moment even if it was also the worst for everyone. “That doesn’t change anything I said earlier,” she murmured. “I’ll set an alarm and make sure you have something to eat…” What Bex said next made her heart clench. She looked over at her, wide eyes cautious. Don’t say that if you don’t mean it. Don’t give us more hope if it isn’t real. But Bex seemed...determined, if a bit uncertain, and everything in Morgan burned to believe her. Before she could come up with anything substantial to say, two sets of headlights came up the drive, and soon there was the unmistakable sound of Deirdre giving the delivery person a hard time. Morgan sagged with more kinds of relief than she dared count and pulled her feet out of the water. “I’m proud of you,” she said to Bex. “I hope you do. Now if you’ll excuse me, the food is here and we all deserve five easy minutes with the girls we really want to be with.” She winked at the pair and darted off to the driveway.

Mina’s eyes followed Morgan as she walked away, out the backyard and to the front. She eventually settled back, moving her head to rest on her arms as she looked back up at Bex. This wasn’t forever. Nothing was forever, she’d always known. Good things went away, but bad things did, too. This wasn’t forever. And there were things that Mina could do while Bex was gone. She was still restless, but she was going to stop running so much. She had to stop running so much. And Bex would be back. Eventually. This wasn’t forever. “I believe you,” she said. She pulled one of her hands out of the water. Scales, webbing, claws, scars; there was a bit of it torn between her pinky and ring finger. This was who she was. She held it out to Bex. “I believe you. Just-- You have to be good to yourself, too. If I do, you do, too. You know that, right?”

Bex didn’t hesitate to take Mina’s hand, wrapping her own around it. With webbing between Mian’s fingers, she couldn’t quite intertwine theirs, but she curled her own around Mina’s and scooted closer. “I don’t know how long it will take,” she admitted quietly, “I can’t-- I have to be careful about this. Whatever secret they’re hiding, it-- it destroys people.” She’d watched it happen too many times. She leaned her head down enough to brush her lips against Mina’s knuckles, examining the torn webbing between two of her fingers. “I’ll try,” she answered. And she would. She didn’t need to be bad to herself when her parents did enough of that for her. She used to, but she didn’t anymore. Hadn’t in a long time. She tugged on Mina’s hand gently. “Can I kiss you again?” she asked quietly.

“Then be careful,” Mina said. “Be careful but-- but I’d really like it if you came back to me. Please.” That was all she wanted. She wanted Bex to be safe. She wanted.. She desperately wanted her to come back. She didn’t want to lose her again. And, if she couldn’t keep her forever (because Mina still had trouble believing in something as impossible as forever), then she wanted to keep her for as long as she could. “I don’t care how long it takes. I really don’t. Just-- Whenever you can. If you still want to.” She squeezed Bex’s hand before making the webbing go away and lacing their fingers. She wanted to be close. She wanted to be closer. She sat up and leaned in, moving herself up towards Bex. She was close. She wanted to be closer. “Yes,” she murmured. “Yes. You can kiss me again.”

“I will be,” Bex said, nodding, “I will be. I pr--” No, she couldn’t. She wanted to, but she couldn’t. There was going to be a time where she’d have to be careless or brave or not careful. The close she got to the truth, the less careful she was going to have to be, she knew that much. “I will.” She wanted nothing more than to be able to come home to Mina, to this house, this pool, her bed. She watched as Mina intertwined their fingers, and it looked so much less painful now than when she’d tried to change herself back at the cabin. Bex squeezed her hand. Mina was close, but she wanted to be closer. It was a bad idea, but she didn’t care-- Bex slid into the pool on the first step so she could be closer and pulled Mina into her and kissed her. Finally really kissed her, like she’d been wanting to the past few days. Like she’d been wanting to the past few weeks. One hand went up into her wet hair and even if her stiff body ached, she just didn’t care. She wanted to kiss her because tomorrow it would all go away again. “I love you,” she said against her lips, “I’ll come back to you. I promise.”

“Just— Just try to be. That’s all I ask,” Mina said. She knew how hard it could be to be careful in this town, this world. Not that Mina had ever really tried. Still, it was almost impossible. That wasn’t a promise Mina wanted Bex to make. She just wanted her to try. She almost protested as Bex got into the water with her, but any protestations died on her lips as she was kissed, as they were as close as they could be, at least like this. She sighed into it, relaxed, at peace. This. She wanted this. She wished she could keep this. “I love you, too,” she murmured. She traced her fingers against Bex’s cheek. “So much. So very much.” Mina kissed her again. “Which is why I release you from that promise.” She tucked a strand of hair behind Bex’s ear. It was a nice promise but a dangerous one. If it couldn’t be upheld, it would be a killer. “I don’t need you to promise me anything. I believe you.”

Bex wanted to make the promise not for Mina-- not quite-- but for herself. It wasn’t really a promise to Mina. It was a promise to herself that she had something to fight for, something, someone she was beholden to. Someone she wanted to come back to. She understood the consequences of a promise like that, after the things she’d seen in Mina’s dream, after the way her body had violently fought her when she’d missed their hot springs date because Frank had taken her. But Mina released her and she knew why. She licked her lips, tasting Mina on them. She liked that better than the smoothie. “Okay,” she said. She leaned in to kiss her again, slow and deliberate, arms wrapping around her bare back. She was going to come back to her. She was. The scary part was not knowing when-- and in what condition.

“Okay,” Mina echoed before she melted into the kiss again, into the feeling of it, into the moment. She was bone tired and sick and hurt, and she wanted nothing more than to stay in that moment forever. Covered in scratches and scales and only half-clothed; if she was in any better state, she’d be self-conscious about it. Instead, it was hard to cling to modesty at this point. Beside, now there was really nothing that Bex hadn’t already seen. There was no reason to feel shame. Still. “We… should really stop. Before Morgan or Deirdre or both comes back,” she said, though she was still kissing Bex back, the words muffled against her lips. She thought about pulling away, even broke the kiss briefly, but she stayed close, barely a breath between them. She rested her forehead against Bex’s and savored the moment.

“I don’t want to stop,” Bex said against Mina. She didn’t want to stop. She wanted to stay right here, kissing her, holding her, knowing that in this moment she was hers and they didn’t have to worry about bleeding out or hurting one another or catching a fever. Sure, they both ached and they were both beyond tired, but she wanted to stay here, and kiss her, just a little longer. Just a little more. Even if Morgan came back. How many times had they walked in on her and Deirdre kissing? They were due a moment of their own. Mina’s forehead rest against her own and she looked into her brown eyes and remembered seeing them look up at her from under the surface of the lake. They were beautiful then and they were beautiful now. “You’re so beautiful,” she said, unable to keep words inside that often would have stuck in her throat. She kissed the corner of her mouth, her jaw, her neck. “I love all of you,” she mumbled into her skin, “all of you.”

“I don’t particularly want to, either,” Mina said, even though they should definitely stop. Really, they should stop. They needed to stop. They weren’t stopping. Honestly, Mina was going to be mortified when one of the older women walked back out and saw them, but, in that moment, she really didn’t care. She couldn’t. She could barely even think. “You-- I-- Ich liebe dich,” she murmured. “Ich liebe dich mehr jeden tag.” I love you. I love you more every day. And it was true. It was all true. Mina could only say the truth. She only wanted to say the truth. She had nothing more to hide. She didn’t think there was anything else about her to hide. “So much. You’re so much to me. Everything.”

Bex knew what that meant, actually. She remembered from what little Mina had taught her. She smiled against her skin before lifting her head to kiss her lips again, soft and slow and lingering, even as she knew Morgan was coming back out soon. “I know,” she muttered into the kiss, “I know.” And she did, she did. She knew she loved her and she knew Mina knew she loved her back. They’d finally said it, and Bex couldn’t stay. She wondered if it would be more or less painful to leave now. Maybe, with the promise of returning, it all wouldn’t hurt so much. Maybe, with hope for something good again, it wouldn’t be so tiring. But for now, she would kiss Mina until someone made her stop.

Beyond the young witch and the fae she loved, another couple much like them embraced. Morgan hadn’t stopped talking since she’d run into her love’s arms. Even as she kissed her, frenzied and excited and so, so, very relieved, she was tumbling through the story. The girls were stranded, they were here, well Bex was only a little here and she didn’t want to think about that, but they were here right now and Deirdre should’ve seen them in that run down little station and how brave they were and how well they took care of each other and it shouldn’t be funny at all because Morgan hadn’t been sure Mina would be okay until they were talking by the pool, but she’d never seen any people so afraid and fearless at once since she had stood in the forest a year ago and told Deirdre she loved her. And it was stupid, so stupid to think that anything would go well for them from this absurd moment of recognition, but what if it did?

“This, all of us being here, it’s only seventy-five percent real at best, and it all turns into smashed pumpkins tomorrow, but the way we love each other is real. Just as much as I love you. So we can act like we can have the rest of this, right?” She asked, mumbling the words into her love’s neck as she kissed up to her face. It was the kind of question that wasn’t a question at all, because Deirdre loved her enough to say of course, of course my love, and Morgan knew it.

And so under the cover of indigo clouds and fading stars, they returned to the girls and teased them as if they had never stopped and picnicked with their styrofoam plates in the grass and shared their secret constellations as though this was a summer dream. And later, when the need for rest couldn’t be denied, Morgan and Deirdre lay sprawled with Bex in the great room, windows cracked, just in case Mina called out in the night. Morgan didn’t call it keeping watch or taking shifts, even if she did periodically get up to look a little closer at the water as she adjusted the air or retrieved another pillow, another book. It was a bubble of a dream, held up by tired smiles and long looks. Morgan settled back into her spot around Deirdre as the sky started to pale and closed her eyes. It was a dream, yes. That didn’t mean she wanted to watch when it broke.

#chatzy #wickedswriting #chatzy: mina #chatzy: morgan #domestic abuse tw #head injury tw #medical blood tw #mina #morgan #tHE CONCLUSION #FINALLY #it's only love

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skinnyghosttears · 4 years ago

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May 22, 2021

8:28 am

So uh, Im suspecting an intolerance to nuts since I started to feel itchy (and I shower 😩) in the same day I dtarted to eat those again. I want to wait some days and see of it gets better. Damnnnnn Im sad. Good thing is I feel skinny today, no bloated at all, Im gonna weight myself and see if I can eat my snack for breakfast with my parents (I never have breakfast since I do intermittent fasting but it would be cool to show them Im eatin something.

IM 59,15KG??? HOW????? I mean yesterday I was feeling soo tired and I still burned a lot, so it can be. I still think the scale batteries are dying so I have to change those. Damnnn im so happy and relieved, Im gonna eat that mf pizza today

9:22 am

Had a big breakfast. Im regretting it but I have some stuff to do this morning and plus exercise like hell so at least I have energy to do that. Its gonna be a good day, and even if today I will not lose weight, tomorrow I'll have a low cal plan. I didnt binge, so thats the important thing. Now Im gonna prepare my green beans for lunch, then clean the room for my grandma.

11:55 am

Damn Im so hungry rn, I hate dojng breakfast because my stomach just ask for food way early than normal. I cleaned the room for my grandma, and now Im on the cyclette, 700kcal already burned. I want to burn another 300, then I'll do the same after dinner, or ar least I'll just do it until my body can since Im still feel tired af.

But even with that big breakfast my belly is not big, Im so incredibly happy, I feel in control of my body again!

1:00 pm

Damn I ate stuff because I was alone in the kitchen and SO hungry, now I will def burn another 1000kcal on the cyclette after dinner.

Damn I really fucked up. Thanks god tomorrow I will eat less. I cannot even try to throw up since my parents are here.

3:56 pm

Well I counted the calories of everything I ate and yes, today is a cheat day lmao. Im trying to stay positive, Im feeling really full so I will not binge on other stuff today, and I already burned 1000kcal plus the other 1000kcal I'll do in the evening I should be fine. Well, I'll wait for weight myself, I dont want to cry tomorrow.

9:00 pm

Ate more because im fucking miserable, I probably ruined my hair. They keep falling. I just want to die.

10:14 pm

I walked a little and now Im on the cyclette. Idk how much I can do but I'll go until my body can take it. Also tomorrow morning I pretend to burn 1000kcal again on this thing, my grandma will sleep in this room so I will not exercise like this until she'll be here. Istg tomorrow I cant count the cinnamon bun I'll eat, but it will be small and the rest will be only 238kcal. And I need to drink more, my hands and lips start to be dry af again even if I drink like a cow.

Today I tried some jeans and now everything I have on my wardrobe fits me. I should be happy. So why Im not feeling good?

12:19 am

I know its technically a new day BUT I burned 2000kcal on the cyclette plus the walks, its not that late and I can continue so I'll try my best. Probably tomorrow I will be in pain so I'll just go out for a walk if its not rainy.

#ana #thinspiration #thinspo #thin #skinny #ed #eating disorders #eating problems #eating diary #weightloss

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shuskas-story-book · 4 years ago

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Just like this

‘

Art/Sauron/Cyrusk all belong to @clockworkreapers!!!

This story is a fusion of two songs to try and get a good mix of both of the characters personalities. Saurons song was ‘One last time’ by Jaymes Young and Cy’s song is ‘just like this’ by the chainsmokers/coldplay

This is my half of an art trade with one of the best artists I have the honor of calling a friend and I hope that I’ve done them, and her, justice with this story.

PLEASE NOTE Sauron is a MUTE character and is thinking all of his parts. As such I have them in ITALLICS to help discern their parts of a conversation

please enjoy~ and Thank you so much to Clock once again for allowing me the honor of writing about these lovable dorks!!!!!

((minor spelling errors now corrected))

Two shadows could be seen passing through the abandoned part of the old town, soft whispers heard as one seems to be reading the other's thoughts. The darkness didn’t bother the two males, in fact it was comfortable for the two as they worked themselves into a long forgotten apartment building. With the comfortable closeness they had, even with the muted troll carrying a couple bags of goodies they had a good clip to their pace. “Come on Sauron, we're almost to the top'' The leader said softly, a chuckle in his throat as his rust companion rolled his eyes.

Yea yea I know we are Cy. We've come up here how many times now? Sauron thought to his companion, smiling a bit as Cyrusk laughed at him. “I know I know. And you know how much I love coming up here!” He hummed in return, opening the door to the roof and taking a deep breath as he stepped back out into the cold night air.

The two were now far above the abandoned streets of the ghost town and able to really see the stars that twinkled in the sky above them. Sauron gave a soft sigh and closed his eyes for a moment before moving over and settling himself on the edge of the roof with his feet hanging off the edge. This feels nice. A good breeze, no neons blinding us to the stars… “No one to bother us as we just watch the sky till daylight” Cyrusk finished for his mate, a sweet smile on his lips. The rust blood looked up and let an unfamiliar quirk of a smile to grace its way over his features.

You know, Ive been reading a lot of old books in my spare time recently. All about the old legends and myths like that of Achilles and his gold and Heracles and the gifts he received “yea? I personally would rather read about Spider-Man’s control and Batman training with his lusus” Cy rambled in response, making a few joking jabs at Sauron's shoulder with a happy smile. The rust just rolled his eyes and let out a silent little sigh.

Cyrusk was about the only person he ever smiled for nowadays, and in all honesty that’s sort of how Sauron liked it. He hated to really show his soft side to those around him and Cy? Cy was a special case that was just for him. A special person that he could properly trust with his red quadrant.

Of course I’ll never see myself on any lists like this, My caste doesn't really show up in the history books after all Sauron thought to the other, shaking his head and jumping a bit as Cyrusk reached out and carefully cupped his lover’s cheek. “Hey…..Where do you want to go?” he asked, leaving the mute completely flabbergasted what?

“Where do you want to go Sauron. How much do you really want to risk?” he continued to ask, his eye lidding half way as he offered a sadly sweet smile. “Because I’m not really looking for anyone with superhero gifts. No superhero. Just us” he said sweetly, Sauron tilting his head and offering a small pout in return

No blissful fairy-tale?.....Because in all honesty I don't want that either….I just want someone I can turn to when I’m depressed again and…..someone I can kiss when I’m feeling happy.. Cyrusk smiled and nodded, leaning in to press a soft little kiss to Sauron’s head. “I want something exactly like that Mr. Yetzar” he chuckled, getting a raspy little groan as the rust rolled his eyes, and honestly his head as well at the sappy little piece of sass beside him.

They sat there and Cy eventually got Sauron to smile again with his shenanigans, the two of them drinking and smoking through the next few hours as the sun began to rise. With it being a weekend for them, the couple had planned on just staying in the abandoned apartments to wait out the burning rays of their world’s sun. Cyrusk managed to pass out long before his lover and it allowed Sauron to relax a bit….not have to guard himself and worry about what thoughts were running through his mind that could have accidentally been ‘seen’ by Cy’s ability.

The rust sighed and sat up from the pallet they had managed to set up so he could turn his eyes over to the window that was covered up with black curtains to block out the light of day. You know Cy...I’m fading… and it's much, much too fast for me… God, I could drop off the face of the planet right now and… Cy’s voice rang in his head from earlier “I want something just like this Sauron. Just the two of us here on this rooftop. Nothing special, just us and a couple good drinks”

I’m fading much too fast for you...you deserve so much more than my love. The rust looked back to his lover and took a chance to reach out and lightly caress the bronze blood’s cheek with a sad little smile. I’m waiting for it to pass… When I’m with you I don't feel like I'm about to fade away into nothingness, that I'm going to just slip away. He admitted to himself. The heat of Sauron’s fingers caused Cyrusk to groan softly and shift to his side, prompting Sauron to finally lay back down against his lover. These days were always so long, always full of sleeplessness for the rust….but with the warmth of another beside him that he trusted he was able to fall into a mostly restful sleep.

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

“You know Sauron, last night's conversation kinda niggled at the back of my mind all night…. And it reminds me that I read a few older comics recently you know?” Cyrusk hummed as the two of them were settled right back on the rooftop with a fresh bag of drinks and snacks. “ and even though they were just comics you could really recognize the testaments they told and what legends and myths they actually followed” he rambled, Sauron rolling his eyes a bit and taking a deep drag of his cigarette as he continued to listen.

“They went through this one arc where the moon was eclipsing and superman had to fully unroll a costume to change into instead of just having it ready under his normal suit! It was so interesting to see that differential!” he hummed, eyes turning up to their moons with a smile. You know I'm not the kind of person who really reads comics right? Cyrusk sighed and shook his head a bit with a pout “you realize that I don't care about that right? We ramble back and forth and that’s just our way of showing our love right?” he asked, head tilting to the side lightly as he reached out to move some hair out of Sauron’s face.

The rust was spooked a bit at the sudden hand in his face but relaxed a bit as he turned a tired little look to the other. He took a deep breath and put out the end of his cigarette before pulling his legs back off the ledge of the roof and facing the bronze with an oddly forward motion of reaching out to cup Cy’s cheek

Cyrusk....we only have one more night before I have to leave on an assignment for a while…..Can I just….feel your skin against mine for the day?..... Before I have to say goodbye? He asked curiously, a tilt to his head Or just…. I don't know…. I feel like I can't breathe tonight. I want to breathe one last time, I want to be able to feel your breath against my skin, share your breath again…..before I have to go on my assignment. Cyrusk just listened in confusion before melting at his matesprit’s words. He leaned into the touch and kissed Sauron's palm with a sweet smile “of course…..Where do you wanna go for this? Do you want to lay down and cuddle? Do you want to take a risk and go on a joyride with a busted drone?” he asked, trying to offer Sauron something that wasn't just wallowing in the despair and anxiety he could see settling in his love's eyes. “You know I'm not looking for anyone with special gifts or a high position in life so even if we just sit here it’s all I could ever ask for” he hummed, shifting over to press his thigh to the rust’s gently.

“You don't have to make our lives some kind of fairy-tale, you just need to stay here and stay alive so I have someone to turn to… and someone I can miss when they’re out on assignments” Cy chuckled softly, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Sauron’s cheek gently as the rust wrapped his arms around the others waist in a tight hug.

I feel like my world’s been losing its light Cy… “well then let it loose light. I’ll be here with a flashlight and a candle for when the batteries die” he hummed, pulling Sauron in for a tight hug “I want to stay just like this…..”

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

The day had passed once more, leaving the two with precious few hours to spend together like this. Sauron woke up first of course, not really having been able to sleep through the day and just listening to Cyrusk snoring seemed to help the day before. He sighed and closed his eyes as he allowed himself to have a moment of peace. His arms wrapped around the bronze as he buried his face in that fluff of hair that always seemed to hide that eye that he loved to see.

I have to leave soon…..pack my bags and get on the train....this is a cold, cruel world we live in huh Cy? He thought to himself, sighing and staring off at the far wall as he just let himself sit in the relative silence of their embrace.

“Hey Sauron? Where’d you wanna go if we could just risk it all and leave right here and now?”

Sauron turned his eyes down to Cy’s sleeping face and smiled a bit to himself as he listened to his memories. No pleading could turn back time for us to redo this weekend….. I’m glad I spent it with you Cyrusk… You mean the world to me, even if I don't tell you or show you as often as you deserve. You tell me you aren’t looking for someone that has super powers or a lot of money but…. I do want to at least bring your life a bit of joy from time to time

Sauron hadn't noticed Cyrusk waking up, having zoned out as he thought and got settled with his chin on the other’s head again. The bronze smiled a bit and nuzzled up into Sauron's touch, accidentally causing the rust to jump and pulling a sleepy little chuckle out of the bronze’s chest. “You don't gotta be so dour…. You just gotta be someone I can turn back to and kiss when ‘m happy” he hummed softly, Sauron smiling sadly.

Good evening Cyrusk….. He thought in return, honestly happy to just be there for once. Cy….is it ok that I can feel your skin against mine? He asked softly, head tilting lightly as the bronze in his arms stretched a bit he got a nod in return and relaxed again with a rumbly little hum in his chest that wouldn't really have a sound anymore. I’m safe….I have someone to kiss before I have to say goodbye again….. I can breathe again tonight…..as long as I have you in my arms I can always pull through and breathe so much easier than if i was on my own he thought to the other, getting a sweet smile in return

“And you know what? I want nothing more than this right here. I want you to be right here, happy, safe, and feeling like you are free as a bird” he hummed sweetly, the alarms on Sauron’s phone starting to go off to warn them of their time together dwindling. The rust glared at his phone as though it had told him he was unlovable and reached over to smack the screen so it would shut up.

“Hey Sauron?.....Can we share one last cig before you go?...give you a chance to calm down again before the walk home?” he asked softly, sitting up with a soft groan and another stretch to pop his back. Sauron nodded and stretched out now that his lover was sitting up instead of being curled into a singular position against his chest.

Yea…. I’d enjoy one last chance to take a deep breath of you so I don't curl up and die on the ride to the next town over. Cy frowned “How about lets don't? I’d like you to come back so I can hug you and tell you how much I missed you while you were gone!” he huffed, poking his love in the side and getting an almost squeak out of the lanky male. Sauron pouted and glared at the other with a huff as he sat up and crossed his legs before getting a good look at his lover and giving a small little smile. You know what Cy….My world might be losing light but….I think it’s just so you can burn a little brighter…..

I love you

“I love you too”

#cyrusk #sauron #@clockworkreapers #just like this #homestuck oc's

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garciaswebhistory · 4 years ago

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Crushed; Reader x Spencer

warnings: mentions of torture, rape, possible death

summary: the one time you take off a case and your boyfriend goes, he ends up as a hostage inside of a violent, religious cult

based around S4, E3 timeline “Minimal Loss”

Vacation time. An unknown concept of a job for an FBI agent, especially a BAU member. Every day, the air was sick with energy and adrenaline as the constant cases flooded in.

Of course, as you looked down at your wrapped up foot that had been itching like crazy for the past five and a half weeks, you realized how boring vacation was. Especially when your boyfriend had gone back to work, even though he hadn’t wanted to.

But his job needed him and his brain more than you needed him to give you a massage every five minutes and follow you around like a lost puppy.

Always a conference call, neighborhood serial killer, an issue with the public media, or the occasional terrorist kept everyone on their toes, and it was addicting. How or why would anyone ever want to leave?

Sure, seeing a dead body at least twice a month, or the occasional fear of being taken as a hostage was always there. The fact that your life was more at risk than others, or that it was more common to get shot than not on the daily?

Again, good reasons. But that was what kept you coming back day after day.

You were 25, having joined the BAU three years ago, and like the adrenaline junkie you were with a thing for men in uniform, you fit right in. Not to mention your team that was more of a family then your biological relatives, and your wonderful boyfriend and now fiancé Spencer Reid.

He was 30, with a baby face, sharp jawline, and curly brown hair. He was a doll baby, sweet and sensitive but could take down someone if he had to. You two were just perfect for each other, and it was obvious to everyone who saw you two in the same room.

You gravitate towards one another, smiling, winking playfully, giggling, and playing footsies. You two were like small children with one another… best friends and the love of each other’s lives.

Just two nights ago, he had proposed to you after 15 months, 2 weeks, and four days of being together (you knew this thanks to your lover boy computer), so you had given him the obvious answer.

Some would have said that you were moving too fast, but that was just the life of a federal agent who put their lives on the battlefield for the sake of others on a regular occasion. Never once had you questioned him being your soulmate, and you never would.

After him being kidnapped and shot multiple times, and you being raped and tortured horribly on separate occasions, life just was too precious for you to beat around the bush. Plus, even

Rossi said that he knew what a failed relationship looked like, and that failed relationships didn’t cook with one another, draw faces on each other while sleeping, or put their lives at risk for one another.

Again… soulmates. :)

Maybe that was why you had been so happy when you had taken a pregnancy test just minutes ago and had now found it positive. You ran to the couch, trying your best to ease your broken foot that was so close to healing.

Grabbing your phone, you opened it to dial your boyfriend’s number when the tv in front of you caught your attention. You always kept the News on when Spencer was gone, fearing you’d miss something. Plus the missing people reports and traffic jams in your city were no news to you.

“Here I am, right outside of an underground facility in La Plata County, Colorado that is said to be hospitalizing a cult. Among the cult are women, children, and three child services agents held hostage who went in earlier to do a wellness check. Federal units are doing their best to get everyone out safely but so far the progress has been minimal. I will have more on this story as we continue this.”

You stopped cold, remembering JJ give the evaluation of the case to everyone just hours before you had to say goodbye to the team. It was a call from a teen girl about underage marriages and Cyrus, the cult leader, taking advantage of his young, female followers. The cult was on a ranch, and was its own society basically.

You had wanted to go, but had been told to stay home by everyone on the team. Spencer had wanted to stay with you, but he was a valuable part of the plan. He was to go with Pretniss and a real child services agent to disguise themselves and not cause any panic. But now… He was a hostage.

You dialed Garcia’s phone, knowing that she would be the one most likely to have their phone and not be preoccupied, although that was already a long stretch. Fortunately though, you remembered that you were Garcia’s third favorite person after her boyfriend and Morgan.

“Thank you for calling Fairy Godmother and Gizmos, your fairy godmother speaking.” She chimed in, sounding stressed but like she was trying to put on a brave face. “Hey, it’s Y/n. I’m sorry to call like this but I need to know what’s going on.”

You could head typing on her keyboard before she cleared her throat. “Alrighty, here’s what we know but it’s not much. Reid and Prentiss went in with another agent to check out the call and then there was a raid we weren’t aware of. Right now, they don’t have any reason to hurt any of them. I- What? Oh god, oh god.”

You suddenly became terrified, screaming into the cell phone as your eyes laid glued onto the tv screen. “Garcia? What? What is it?” You asked as you heard her heavy breathing on the other side. “Hotch gave me access to their radio so I can listen in, and… they just… Oh my god.” You hated the pause, wanting to both hug and kill her in that moment.

“One of the agents got hit in the raid, but they’re not saying which one. Hold on, I’ll forward you to Hotch.” You heard her clicking her keyboard even more. “Oh and Y/n? Whenever you get in touch with our boyfriend, tell him I’m going to kill him if he doesn’t come back in one piece.”

“Not if I do it first.” You heard Garcia chuckle at your response, but you didn’t feel like smiling even though she was trying hard. Spencer was in danger. You stayed on the phone until you heard Rossi’s deep tone.

“Hello? Agent Rossi.” He picked up on Hotch’s phone, and for a second you thought Hotch was in trouble too. “Rossi! I… I need you to tell me what’s going on. The news isn’t giving me anything and I… I don’t know what to do. I knew I should have come.” You began crying, letting the hormones control you.

“Hey, listen to me. Reid needs you strong. We all do. Reid is in there, but we have no reason to think he’s been injured.” He tried to explain, but it didn’t help the tears streaming down your face. “What about Cyrus? He said one of them got hit.” You heard a sigh from Rossi and began crying even more.

“Yes, the agent Pretniss and Reid went in with died. But it wasn’t the cult’s doing. I don’t think they’re going to hurt him.” Rossi tried to make you feel better, and he did, but it only gave you more questions.

“What do they want with them?” You asked as Rossi sighed. You could tell he was just at a loss like you were. “If we get the women, children and our agents out, Cyrus knows that we will have no reason to hold back. He has to keep them alive or else he’s as good as dead.”

“Just… bring him home Rossi. All of you better be at the agency tomorrow at 7 on the dot. Please. I’ll call you back if I hear something happens.” You began to hang up before you heard Rossi chuckle lightly. “Yes mam.”

You sighed in relief as you grabbed a pillow and hugged it against your body, squeezing it tightly. All the times you had taken Spencer for granted, telling him to go to work and not waste his time with you.

Now, all you wanted was to be in his arms. You wanted to comb through his hair with your fingers and give him a massage for once. Did he know how much you loved him? Did he know how obsessed you were with him? How you would trade places with him right now without a second thought.

God, you should have gone. Fuck your bad foot, you could stand there and watch. You could watch a building from a safe distance like all of them were doing. You could even go in, and maybe they would take it easy on you and not suspect anything if they saw you were injured.

Anything was better than having your one and only in a building of armed, mentally disordered people with secrets and something to die for. You gripped the pillow tighter, and began silently crying again. You just wanted him there. Was that too much to ask?

Finally, the News updated. “Live from the source. After speaking with the federal agents, it is known that one of the two alive hostages right now is an FBI agent. I am looking right now at the ranch, which is circled with SWAT vehicles. We can only hope that this won’t be the bloody battle it’s leading up to.”

You froze, dropping the remote and watching the back of it snap off, sending the two batteries rolling across the floor in opposite directions. Your immediate reaction was the call Rossi, and with your hand shaking, that’s exactly what you did.

“We saw Y/n, we saw. I don’t know how they knew that but it’s… it’s not good.” Rossi confessed. losing your attention for a minute. “H- Is he going to die? Are they going to kill him? Rossi answer me!” You yelled into the phone, hearing muffled yelling but no answer.

“I’ve got to go Y/n. I’m sorry. I’ll call you back when any of us can talk.” And he hung up on you, leaving you feeling empty and alone on the couch that you had once sat on with Spencer, in the apartment you both paid for. You glanced at your stomach and sighed, putting your hand on it.

It looked normal now, but in just weeks it would become obvious. When would you take off work? When would you tell the team? Who would be the godfather and mother? When would you tell Spencer? Would you ever even be able to tell Spencer?

No. You slapped your hand. You can’t think like that. You have to be strong. For Spencer. For yourself. For everyone.

You held your legs to your chest and put your phone down, staring at the tv and then at your phone. Please give me an update. Please give me something.

Hours passed, and although the News did hourly updates, the only change was that it was now nighttime. Finally, you picked up your phone and dialed JJ, knowing she’d be updated on everything and possibly free.

“Y/n? How are you holding up?” She asked, and you again were reminded why JJ was the BAU’s voice to the public. Her soft voice could almost convince you that your boyfriend and team’s life wasn’t at risk.

“Nobody is answering my calls and I’m so scared JJ. I… Just tell me straight. Please.” You explained as you heard her sigh on the other end. “Reid and Pretniss were questioned and Pretniss confessed that she was the FBI agent. She got beat up pretty bad.”

You felt relieved, but also guilty for feeling such. Poor Emily had confessed to save your boyfriend from a painful fate, and you would remember to give her a nice gift if and when she came back.

“They gave us almost half of their people, and we don’t know why. Right now, we think they’re going to commit mass suicide. There’s no evidence that they’re going to hurt Reid. Just… Just relax.” JJ tried to comfort you, but you still felt uneasy.

“I just… I…” You stared at the tv as they were doing another hourly update. It looked like nothing had changed. That was, until a large light hit your tv. You put on your glasses with regret of taking your contacts out, and then stared at the tv screen in horror.

A large explosion replaced where the church had sat, and it took a moment to register that the explosion had been the mass suicide JJ had just told you about. “Oh my god!!” You screamed, dropping your phone as you raised your hands to your mouth.

“Y/n? Y/n? Answer me!” You heard the phone click as JJ hung up, but you didn’t care. You stared at the tv, and couldn’t help but feel your heart drop. Spencer was inside. Pretniss was inside. JJ would have told you if either of them had come out. He would have called you surely.

“N-No.” You stuttered, unable to grasp the concept that he was gone. He was hurt. He was… dead. No… You were about to cry out, but your phone began buzzing, snapping you out of it.

You grasped it slowly and brought it to your ear with your shaking hand. “Hello?” You spoke, feeling your voice quiver from the sobs threatening to come out. “Y/n? It’s Hotch.” You nodded, realizing the let down when you realized it wasn’t Reid, but your boss.

“Everyone is okay. I just called to tell you that.” You froze, just holding the phone without noticing the man on the other line trying to get your attention. “What time are you getting to the airport?” You asked, already getting your shoes on.

“Six thirty, why?” Hotch asked, but you had already hung up. You fixed your hair, put in your contacts, and grabbed the keys, ready to go.

The car ride to the airport was long, but the wait inside the building was even longer. Every minute felt like an hour, and every brown-haired man in the building looked like Spencer from afar. You just needed to see him. You wanted to see him.

You would have called him or texted him, but you now knew he was on a plane, and you just had to wait.

Finally, though, six-thirty came, and you prayed that Hotch would stick to his word like every other time. You waited at the gate, and after checking it three times in five minutes, you knew you just had to play the waiting game of misery. Around you, airport security and employees gave you pitiful glances as you paced, sniffled, and tried to hold yourself together.

Slowly though, you began to sink into your seat and drift off into a light sleep, only to be awakened by your boyfriend. “Hey Baby.” You murmured before closing your eyes again.

Wait.

“Oh my God, Spencer!” You jumped up and wrapped your arms around him, dangling like the shorty you were. “I… Oh my… I hate you so much.” Spencer laughed lightly, feeling your grip around him tightly. “I… I thought you died. I thought… I’d never see you again.” You began crying, finally letting all your emotions resurface. You felt his grip on you tighten as he lowered you back to your feet.

“You were inside and then I saw the bomb and I-” The tears kept you from talking as you buried your face into his chest. “I hate you so much.” You whispered, holding onto his shirt tightly. “Don’t ever leave me again. We need you here.” You looked up at him as he stared at you with confusion. “We?”

You patted your stomach and grinned slyly. “I-I’m pregnant.” You confessed, watching his eyes light up with happiness and surprise. “Y-You’re kidding. That’s… Oh my god!” He looked overjoyed, lifting you up by the waist and twirling you around.

“I’m going to be a Dad!” He shouted, the few other people around the terminal giving applause. “Oh my gosh, there’s so much to do. So much to buy. So many people to tell. I have to read all those parenting books!” Spencer began to pace around before you brought him back to reality with a hug. “Just kiss me to start.”

#spencer x oc #spencer x y/n #spencer x reader #spencer x you #reader x spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds #minimal loss #criminal minds x reader #x reader

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stutterfly · 5 years ago

Text

Love Bytes 07 | User Privileges | KNJ (M)

Last time on Love Bytes 06: Seokjin gives you an earful before you spend a peaceful evening with Namjoon. You try to convince yourself whatever is happening between you is nothing to think twice about, but you have to reconsider when morning comes. Luckily you’re able to focus your energy on the new matches on your dating app... Or so you think.

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Word Count: 12K

Series: Love Bytes (7/?)

Genre: F2L, fluff, humor, SLOW BURN, friendship feels, ANGST! pining, sexual tension, smut, Bestfriends!au, CollegeProjessor!Namjoon, IT/Nerd!Reader

CW: anxiety, sexual tension, angst, pining, sexual thoughts, language, sexting, grinding, panic attacks (mentioned), reader gets gaslighted, negged, and bullied like this is the 6th grade (verbal abuse by a side character/anatagonist), reader gets dubcon groped (not any of our perfect boys; them and Jennie swing into action), brief homophobic comment by an antagonist, fuckboy Jungkook showing his soft side (s/o to Swipe Right Jungkook; believe in him), alcohol use/mention, best friend Hobi, bestie Jennie, BFFLs to the rescue, protective/jealous Namjoon, soft Namjoon feels, Namjoon about to whoop some jerk’s ass, reader is a Dumb Bitch™ about her feelings and toxic relationship warning signs

Pairings: Namjoon x Reader, brot7 masterlist // previous chapter // next chapter

Do not repost.

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You haven’t been able to put down your phone all day. An onslaught of “Super Likes” has you playing the foreign role of an extrovert, acting as peppy as possible to present your “best self” to your potential suitors. By the time your battery percentage is down to single digits, you’re feeling just as drained. You fumble with the charging port near the head of the couch, cheek squishing against the armrest. It’s hard to find the energy to rise. Why is trying to get laid so much work? Jennie made it sound way easier. Keeping your eyes open becomes more of a struggle than it’s worth. No amount of socializing feels as rewarding as letting yourself drift off.

You don’t mean to sleep through several group texts and phone calls, but your phone’s reverberations fall near silent against the back cushion. You might sleep through the night if not for a loud series of loud, familiar knocks on your door.

‘Knock--knock-knock--knock--knock.’

You groan into the air, “Whaaaaaat?”

“Open the dooooor.” Even muffled behind the thick wood, you recognize Hoseok’s nasally whine.

Still half-asleep, you shuffle towards the sound. The deadbolt clicks against the light pressure of your fingertips and yields the shining face of your friend. His grin practically reflects the light of the hall and amplifies its shine. It's almost sickening.

"What, were you sleeping?” He frowns narrowing his eyes at you as he scrutinizes every last detail set in your features. “Were you crying? You’re not still upset about your terrible date, are you?”

You smack his hand away as he fusses with the rat’s nest that is your hair. “No, I’m fine. I’m just exhausted from socializing on Tinder all morning.” You yawn, reaching for your phone. “What time is it anyway?”

“You sound like Yoongi,” he laughs, drawing the curtain across the room to let in some natural light. “Don’t worry. You didn’t sleep through the night. It’s almost two.”

“Oh good, it’s only been a couple hours.” You wince as the room brightens, holding back an annoyed hiss. Soft rain patters against the leaves on the tree outside of your window. Maybe the weather is finally letting up and you can see some real sunshine again sometime soon.

“I just wanted to check in. I know you’re too polite for your own good sometimes.”

You miss the concern in his face as you scan the latest batch of matches that have messaged you since your power nap. There was a guy asking if you wanted to meet for lunch, but you missed the window. He seemed pretty nice so you want to apologize as fast as possible so you don’t seem like a total bitch.

When you don’t even acknowledge Hoseok’s words, his face hardens. “...But not all the time, apparently.”

You look up from the keyboard on your phone, halfway through constructing an apology. Sensing his annoyance at your manners, you turn off the screen and offer a guilty smile.

“I’m sorry, Hobi. Jennie and Tae sent me the photos this morning and--”

His countenance changes in an instant, dropping his pout and grinning like a maniac as he sprints across the room. “What? Really? Let me see!”

He hip checks you into the couch and you both fall to the cushions with a graceless flop. You know you could convince him to drop it if you really wanted to, but a part of you is really enjoying the positive reactions from your matches and the attention is doing wonders for your self-esteem. What’s one more person inflating your ego?

“Oh, just one sec. I want to apologize for ghosting this dude.”

“You ghosted someone?” Hoseok shakes his head in disbelief, throwing his arm around you. “I’m so proud! Did he deserve it? Was it the guy at the coffee shop?”

You snort, fingers tapping your keyboard thoughtfully. “No. There’s this guy I was talking to earlier. He asked me to lunch right after I fell asleep.”

He furrows his brow at you. “I’m not really sure that’s ghosting if you planned on responding.”

Your fingers stop tapping the keyboard and you look up at him. “Oh. Well. I definitely ghosted the coffee guy. Just unmatched and deleted his number.”

“Attagirl.” He grins, playfully nudging his knuckles into your jaw. “So what’s this guy’s name?”

“Mmm. Don’t want to tell you, in case it doesn’t go anywhere,” you mumble, backing out of the conversation.

Hoseok glances down at your screen and raises his eyebrows when he notes all of the conversations you have going simultaneously. “Wow! Someone’s popular.”

“I didn’t expect such a big change once I got the photos. I hate to admit it, but you guys were actually right for once.”

His eyes widen. “Hmm? Say that one more time? Hold on!” He pulls out his phone like he’s going to record the statement and then laughs. “I’m glad you finally see my wisdom. Now gimme.”

He flexes his fingers a few times to make grabby hands at your phone. You navigate to your profile and allow him to peruse at his leisure, nervously micro-analysing his blatant facial expressions. You’re mostly getting a shocked and excited vibe, laced with a hint of pride as he keep repeating “wow” at each new image. Just as he’s moving on to the bikini photo, your cleavage is obscured by a new message.

“Jihoon? Is that your lunch guy?”

“What? He responded? I’ve been cussed out for ignoring a dude for five minutes. They’re usually not so understanding in my experience.”

“Yikes, is that what it’s like for girls?” Hoseok shivers. “On behalf of all men, let me apologize to you.”

“You’re absolved of your guilt for waking me up,” you joke, prodding his side with your finger and giggling when he wiggles away from your touch. “What did he say?”

“He says he still wants to grab a bite with you, if you’re up for it. Ooh he called it a wake up snack with a winky face!” he teases, already bringing up the keyboard to respond for you. “What should we say back? Let’s see… I’m not hungry, but I’ve got a snack for you if you wanna come get it…. Winky-- Hey!”

You snatch the phone back from him, smacking him lightly in the chest. “I’ll figure out something a little less eager, thanks.”

He shrugs. “Suit yourself. I think you should go though.” He’s already removed the scrunchie from your hair and is brushing it with his fingers to retie it. “Nothing like a rebound to get your mind off of things.

“I’m not having sex with him,” you mumble, sending off your response to Jihoon.

“Oh, by the way, we’re meeting up at Seesaw later. You can use that as your out.”

“You gonna buy me drinks this week too?” you ask sweetly, puckering your lips at him.

He scoffs. “Pfft. At Yoongi’s bar? Yoongi’s buying. Now, go put on some clothes that don’t look like you wore them to bed with someone else.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

A points system is something Hobi helped you come up with. You meet up for a snack at a bar and have one drink with him, telling him ahead of time you have dinner plans with friends so he gets the idea right away that your time is valuable. He starts with 100 and you can deduct based on gross mannerisms or behavior.

That way he starts in the positive and only falls to the negative if things go poorly. If he loses enough points, you can end the date by saying you have to get ready because you’re someone’s ride--which is technically true since Namjoon refuses to get his license and you've naturally taken to being his chauffeur.

Now that you're treating dating like a game, it seems like a piece of cake. You can just throw if you've been matched with a shitty teammate. This time you're expecting it. No way are you going to get trapped for 2 hours talking to some dude who doesn't give two fucks about who you are. You’ll probably be back home in no time, eating some of that ice cream still in your freezer and pretending to be interested in some other guy's messages. That's what dating is, right? It's fine. It's a good plan.

You can tell Hoseok and Jin that you made an attempt, are too tired to go out, get drunk alone in your apartment, have a good cry over some self indulgent romantic drama, and pass out with your vibrator cupped in one hand. It definitely sounds like the night of a well adjusted adult with healthy coping mechanisms for rejection, loneliness, and anxiety. It's in your nature to turtle when you feel so shitty about yourself, and your friends know it. You're just hoping they'll accept your excuse of fatigue as a simple fact rather than a disguise for your unhappiness.

There's just one little hiccup you've run into with this foolproof plan. The guy who agreed to meet you for a single drink isn't the one you'd been talking to all morning. He's funnier, twice as handsome, and at least three times more suave than his online persona. Deducting points from someone so charming is proving to be difficult, even after downing a second rum and coke in your haste to work off the genuine butterflies fluttering in your belly.

You can’t get your hopes up. You tell yourself this and yet your brain is ignoring that mantra in favor of bashing you over the head with feelings of excitement, especially when he drops his hand beside yours on the bar. He gently brushes his pinky against the back of yours as he laughs. Suddenly you don’t want this date to end. The smallest touch sets your nerves alight and you’re craving more.

Do you dare to pull out your phone to check the time? Is it rude? You don’t want him thinking you’re not having a good time, but you promised Hoseok that you’d keep it short. It’s a risk you have to take. Pulling the mobile device from your pocket, you try to casually bump the power button to check the time. You bite your lip, realizing you’ve already gone ten minutes past the time you’d decided to end it.

“You sure you can’t stay for another? I’m buying.” The man beside you smiles and playfully bumps his shoulder against yours as his fingers finally curl around yours on the bar. Your gaze is fixed on the motion of his thumb caressing yours.

The breath catches in your throat and you stutter out a flustered laugh. Shy eyes peek up from beneath fallen strands of hair, trying to decide if this is actually happening or if someone is playing a cruel joke on you. His lips part into an amused grin as he tucks the strand behind your ear. His fingers are warm as they lightly trail along the side of your face and instinctively you close your eyes and lean into his touch.

“Mmm,” you hum, losing yourself in the simple sensation of fingertips brushing against your cheek. The comfort the motion brings reminds you of someone else, someone you’ve been feeling incredibly confused about as of late. Panic settles in your belly as you almost say his name. “Na--” you catch yourself and clear your throat.

Trying not to draw attention to your mind’s slip-up, your eyes pop open and settle on the bar as you slink away, nearly falling from the stool as you collect your purse.“N-Nah. I, um, have plans. But, um...”

He curiously cocks his head at you. “Are you okay to drive, lightweight? I can call you a Lyft.”

A nervous laugh passes your lips as you twirl your fingers around the metal ring that houses your keys. “I’ll be okay. Thank you! I’m just! Really clumsy. Sorry. Th-this was nice though. Can we--Can we do this again?”

Shit. Way to sound desperate.

Much to your surprise, Jihoon offers a dimpled smile with a raise of his phone. “Hit me up again, beautiful. Any time. I'll tell them to go easy on the rum next time."

You hesitate on moving in to kiss his cheek and instead decide to nod and spin on your heels, nearly missing the waitress balancing a platter full of food beside you. Adrenaline rushes through you on the walk back to your car, a soft rain dampening your clothes and speckling the screen of your phone as you check your messages.

Hobi: how’s it going?

Hobi: you’ve gone over time Dirty Girl

Hobi: 😂

Hobi: tell me ur alive?

As you settle into the driver’s seat, you fingers are already working to craft a response that might reveal everything that you’re feeling, but nothing you try to say seems to do any justice to it.

You: I survived. SS? :)

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Hoseok leans back in his chair, taking in everything you’ve told him with a big grin as he picks at the nachos on the table. “So he didn’t try to kiss you?”

You wrack your brain, which is starting to fill with the haze of alcohol. "No. He held my hand for like half a sec though.”

He snorts, crunching down on a chip. “Risqué. Who would have thought you could be so naughty?”

You roll your eyes, debating on whether or not you should admit why you were able to end the things when you did. You scan the plate of nachos and your jaw tightens, shifting from left to right as you try to reason that you hadn't been thinking of someone else while on your date.

"I mean he might have tried to kiss me if I didn't end things so abruptly," you contemplate aloud with a dramatic sigh. “He was so nice. What if he never wants to see me again? What if I blew it?”

Hoseok is scrolling through your messages with Jihoon, scrunching his nose. “Hmm. Or maybe,” he pauses to flip the screen towards you, “you’re just being silly. What, did you get drunk off one beer again?"

Jihoon: Make it home safe, lightweight?

Your lips curl into a smile reading the message, quickly texting a response.

You: I'm fine lol i told you I wasn't drunk. Sorry if I worried you at all!

Jihoon: oh good guess I can spend the rest of my night thinking about you for other reasons now 😏

Breathing gets a little harder as your heart swells to your brain and turns it to mush.

"Damn this guy's smooth," Hoseok murmurs as you set the phone down on the table, feeling completely dumbstruck.

"What do I say?" you ask, suddenly unable to form a coherent thought. Panic bubbles deep in your belly. There’s no doubt in your mind whatever you say will make this guy never speak to you again and you actually maybe kind of enjoyed his company.

Hoseok drums his fingertips on the table, a devilish grin spreading across his features as he begins to walk them towards your phone. “I can type out something for you.”

He bursts out laughing as you quickly snatch the device, sending off a simple blushing smiley.

“Bo-ring,” he sings into the rim of his glass, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Just as he’s putting his drink down, you’re bringing yours to your lips. “So does this mean you’re not sleeping with Namjoon anymore?”

A cough sputters from your mouth. Your drink comes dribbling out from between your lips like a boozy waterfall and ice cubes plop back into the nearly empty glass. “Namjoon told you?!”

‘Wha?” He raises his eyebrows, mouth hanging open. “For real?!”

Oh no. Oh. Nononononono.

“Not! Like that!”

He saw Namjoon coming out of your apartment this morning, but he failed to mention any recent developments. What’s he at, two weeks now? He can’t have confessed, but it’s clear that something has happened. Did he make a move? Did you?

A smug grin splits his face in two, as he plants an elbow on the table and rests his chin on his palm. For some reason the only thing playing in your brain as he stares at you like this is a quote from Spongebob Squarepants: ‘You like Krabby Patties, don’t you Squidward?’

“Stop looking at me like that!”

He continues to stare at you with his accusatory grin and you feel yourself cracking under the pressure.

“Hoseok!”

Silently waiting, he does a slow blink and lets out a lofty sigh full of longing.

“I--! We--! Slept. Literally slept. Not. Dirty,” you panic, trying to fix the mess you’ve made. Here you are telling Hoseok after making Namjoon promise to forget, to not say anything himself. You’re a filthy hypocrite. You only maybe planned on telling Jennie. Maybe. Because chances are she’d be looking at you the same way Hoseok is right now and you’re not sure you can handle the mortifying experience twice.

You drop your forehead to the table hard enough to rattle the plates and cups on the table. Hoseok cringes and reaches out to place a comforting hand on your back but then thinks better of it and awkwardly pats your head instead.

Your voice is muffled as you wrap your arms around your face. “We didn’t have sex. We were just sleeping in the same bed. Please don’t make it into something it’s not.”

He polishes off his drink and looks down at you. Something it’s not? It’s definitely something that should be. You idiots are so close to being everything you both want to be for each other, and yet for some reason you refuse to accept it as the truth. If you’re sleeping in the same bed, regardless of whether you're feeling each other up or if it really is just innocent cuddling, you’re already in too deep to call yourself ‘just friends.’

You narrow your eyes at him when he rolls his. It seems like admission is still a topic to be avoided.

“Fine,” he huffs, feigning indifference. “I was just hoping for some drama.”

Namjoon better get his shit together soon. You might actually see this smooth-talking person again. If he’s as charming as he seems, he’ll have you falling for him in no time. Hoseok contemplates whether or not the guy is just fishing for casual sex with an easy target, but he doesn’t know enough about Jihoon to say for sure. But you? As big as you talk, you’re soft. Squishy, inside and out. Either way Namjoon will be crushed; there’s no way around that. But the last thing Hoseok wants is to see is not just one, but two of his friends heartbroken.

“Don’t say anything. Please,” you beg, reaching for the hand resting on the back of your scalp and fixing your gaze on the table. The sound of desperation seems to confirm there’s more at play than friends snuggling up in the same bed. He wordlessly curls his fingers around yours, giving them a squeeze, which causes you to look up.

“I won’t say a word. Who do you think I am: Jimin?”

It feels like he’s opening the curtains in your apartment to let the sunshine in all over again when he smiles and you can’t help but let the silent giggles break your nerves down.

Familiar hands press down on your shoulders, giving them a gentle rub. “Damn. Drunk already, Geeksquad?”

You can’t help but straighten your spine and slink back into the motion, despite the fresh briar of worry prickling your insides. Are things weird? You feel like things are weird. You try to make sense of the confusion blossoming with your nerves, but fuck, it feels so good when he does that. “No…mmm.”

You melt into the man at your back and are met with a familiar dimpled smile. The anxiety in your stomach disperses as quickly as it came on. Hoseok watches in silence with pursed lips that threaten to curl into a smile. You guys are morons. The way you’re looking at each other is almost sickening; it’s like you’re the only two people in the room. Something has definitely evolved in your relationship, but it’s not enough. Not yet. He’s never wanted to smush two people’s heads together so badly.

Hoseok clears his throat and stands, pinching your arm as he passes by you. “I’m gonna get another drink.”

You smooth your palm over the tender flesh, wrenching yourself away from the hypnotic pull of the man behind you as you down your backwashed drink. He lets his hand linger on your shoulder as he slides into the chair beside you. Suddenly all you can think about is how good those hands felt holding you steady as he rutted his hips against your ass. You swallow, casting your gaze at the table while trying to push the memory from your brain. The harder you try, the more you remember. Moaning and grinding your ass back into him. The growl in his throat. The frantic panting in your ear.

He leans in, a familiar concern evident in his hushed tone. “Everything okay?”

No.

“Yeah.”

You wilt under his skeptical eyes, shifting your attention to the glass you’re now sliding back and forth between your hands.

“You sure?” he asks, letting his thumb trail down your arm

You try to remember to breathe, not wanting to draw attention to the flustered heat in your chest. It’s easy to attribute the inappropriate thoughts to your conversation with Hobi. He brought it up and he doesn’t even know. Not really. And now it’s all you can think about.

“No.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, brow furrowing.

Yes.

When you don’t answer, he rests his elbow on the table and uses his palm to support his head. “Office hours are closed but Namjoon’s therapy hours are open.”

I want you to come home with me again so we can dry hump like we’re teenagers. You wish you had a shock collar for your thoughts. Stop. This is Namjoon.

You shake your head and force a guilty smile as you meet his gaze. Regret courses through your stomach, causing it to do somersaults. You can tell he spent way longer styling his hair than he would have you believe, but you’d be lying if you said he didn’t do a great job. It’s surprising he would let it get so long in such humid weather, but the ashy brown color compliments his dark eyes well and you hate to admit he looks rather attractive with it falling over his forehead like this. It just looks so…

Pullable.

You want to twist your fingers in it and draw him in. Your tongue pokes the inside of your cheek and you scold yourself, squashing the thoughts before they can take over. Think about something else.

Easier thought than done. Your brain has moved onto another target, focusing on the muscular forearm supporting his head. Has he really been working out? In his current position, the shadowy contours sculpted into his flesh seem more prominent than usual. It’s like you’re seeing them for the first time. The loose tanktop hanging around his torso probably has something to do with it. Your eyes linger far too long on a brown nipple poking out from behind the thin fabric.

He raises his eyebrows, watching your eyes wander everywhere but his face. You’ve been silent too long, but every thought in your mind threatens to spill out. You clear your throat, forcing your eyes to rest on his face. Anything is better than the hesitation heavily seated on your tongue.

“I had a date today.” Of course the first thing that comes out is just a complicated addition to the stockpile of conflict in your gut.

He does his best to remain stoic, despite the tendrils of hurt creeping up his chest. It's easier to mask the pain as surprise. "Oh? For real?"

"He seemed okay." You nod. "I didn't even spill anything on myself this time."

"Wow," he chuckles, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Look at you, all grown up."

“Yeah. I put my bra on by myself and everything,” you joke, oblivious to Hoseok’s approach.

His hands reach around your sides, planting two drinks on the table. One looks suspiciously like something you would drink and the other is most definitely beer.

“Wow, what did I miss?” Hoseok asks, hugging you from behind. Any excuse to tease you is a good one, especially knowing there’s something going on between you and Namjoon. His fingers walk up your arms and tussle your hair.

Namjoon watches your expression morph into embarrassment and graciously brings the beer to his lips. You’re so cute when you’re flustered. Warm butterflies attempt to extinguish the inky tendrils of despair using his heart as a vice grip. Again he had his chance to confess this morning, and again he didn’t. And now you’re here running through the details of your date with someone else. It would be selfish to tell you now, wouldn’t it? It’s just something he’ll have to deal with.

Hoseok watches his friend’s eyes drop to the table as you prattle on about your date. While you’ve known Namjoon for a little longer than a year, Hoseok’s been friends with him for much longer. Maybe that’s why you can’t see it: the hopeful light being sucked from Namjoon’s eyes even as he hangs on your every word. Because he’s so in love with you, he’ll listen to anything you have to say, even if it’s about your attraction to someone else.

Hobi pinches your sides, shifting the focus of the conversation to his grabby little crab fingers and how much you hate them. He mocks you, dodging your playful smacks to his ribs. If the opportunity arises to spare Namjoon from another second of heartbreak, he’ll take it. He knows Namjoon never will, no matter how much it hurts.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The work week passes quickly. Things almost feel normal again. It probably helps that you made a point not to get sloppy drunk, you didn’t kiss Jimin, and you didn’t invite Namjoon back to your place for another dry-humping session disguised as platonic cuddling. But there’s this nagging feeling in the back of your head, constantly reminding you that you liked it. Try as you might to deny it, nothing sounds more appealing than the safety and warmth of his arms.

Instead you’re rolling against the cold sheets of your bed, trying to will yourself to get up. Again you’ve been dreaming about him. Again you tell yourself it’s just sexual frustration latching onto a familiar face. And again you stare at the ceiling, entirely unconvinced that there isn’t something more to it. You wish you invited him over again this weekend. You missed how good it felt to have him at your back, sliding his fingers along your arms until you fell asleep.

You talk to him every day and yet you’re still itching for more, looking for any excuse to talk to him, hoping he’ll break something that you’ll have to come fix since he hasn’t all week. It’s strange. So roll onto your side, face smushed into the pillow as you send him a text.

You: i heard u say u were gonna buy me coffee today. That’s so nice bae 😍

You wait a few minutes before the dots appear on screen.

Joonie: You are literally the worst. My alarm was just about to go off.

You: 🙂

You: u gonna tho

Joonie: Buy your own damn coffee

You: WOW RUDE 😭i just wanted a little succ

You: of the

You: caffiENE

Joonie: Why are you like this?

You: because ur my favorite person

Joonie: ….

He sends a meme from Spongebob where a fish is extending its neck with a judgemental stare.

Joonie: You don’t have to butter me up to get free coffee. Just text me your order

You: ashkfls;adsfkshfk ok ok gimme a sex

You: SEC

Joonie: 🙄

Talk about Freudian slip. You pause, considering what kind of coffee mood you’re in today. Bitter espresso or sugary sweet?

You: Vanilla iced coffee with one sugar pump please

Joonie: aight stop by my office. I’ve been having trouble connecting to the printer but no one has come to check it out

You: did u set up a ticket?

Joonie: Of course. I guess no one is as competent as you

You: kiss ass

Joonie: 😘

You roll your eyes, close out the conversation, and purse your lips before setting the phone down. Your latest dream resurfaces in your brain, straddling Namjoon’s torso as he leans you back over his desk and peppers your chest with kisses. Again you tell yourself it’s not about Namjoon, but the thirst associated with the drought of your sex life. Running your fingers down your torso, you start trying to work off some of the residual tension from your dreams.

Conflicted doesn’t even begin to describe your feelings. Confused doesn’t cover it either. You’d already met up with Jihoon again for a serious competition of indoor minigolf followed by a casual fast food dinner. Even then you found yourself thinking of one lanky professor, his dimpled smile replacing Jihoon’s every time he laughed. It’s why you didn’t take him up on the offer to return to his place. That and the fear of potentially being murdered.

You don’t want to have sex with someone when you don’t feel safe, but you consider ways to combat that that feeling for the next one. Maybe bringing him to your place is safer. After all, Yoongi and Hoseok are just down the hall. They’d be sure to check in on you if they knew you had company. People have sex with strangers all the time. It’s not that complicated. Why are you making it into such a big deal?

You can’t help but feel a little guilty. Things have been progressing with him pretty fast, but you have plenty of other offers to meet up with guys that you just haven’t jumped on. It’s kind of overwhelming now. Maybe you should call this dating thing off until your figure out what the hell is going on with your brain.

Or maybe you should just focus on masturbating instead of the confusing guys lighting up the switchboard of your brain. As you reach for your phone and start typing in the familiar web address of your favorite porn site, a photo message from Jihoon appears. You wonder what kind of meme he’s stolen from twitter this time. Carefully, you pause your search in favor of opening his message. It’s definitely not the meme you were looking for.

What you do see is a whole lot of skin along with a carefully placed kissy emoji over his crotch and a “good morning” text accompanying the image. You swallow hard, allowing yourself to be a creep for half a second. You spread your fingers across the screen to zoom in, taking in the sight of the rippled shadows lining his stomach.

You: 😵

You: im dead sorry we cant see each other anymore

Jihoon: 😂 sorry was that too much?????

You want to say no, but your belly does somersaults at the prospect of sending your own crafted picture as a response. It takes some finagling but you finally manage a shot with your arm wrapped around your chest at the perfect angle. No rolls showing, just a set of perfectly pouty lips, slanted jaw, and a great shot of cleavage. You know it’s taken you far too long to respond and you’re only slightly panicked as you scramble to send the photo over.

You see texts fly in from Namjoon and Jihoon and you swipe to close out the conversation with Namjoon. You quickly attach your photo and hit send, hoping Jihoon will feel rewarded for his patience. But your stomach sinks like a stone has been dropped into it. Your image doesn’t appear in the string of messages with him.

Jihoon: Left you speechless, huh?

You: JUST A BIT I NEED TO GO

You don’t give him a chance to respond or sass you for potentially getting off to that pic. You know how your statement reads, but you can’t be bothered to care with the other thought on your mind. Quickly navigating to your conversation with Namjoon, you wince, seeing the previous message he sent with the image you intended for another recipient.

Joonie: Whipped cream?

And there’s the risqué image.

If you ignore it, will he pretend he never got it? Or should you apologize right now and purge the view of the image by sending a billion texts? You decide on the latter, trying to perform damage control. He laughs it off and sends off a joke about just wanting a yes or no along with a few sickly emojis. You still feel terrible. How many times can you fuck up with him in one month? You’re surprised he still agrees to be your friend.

Hanging your head, you forgo touching yourself in favor of a cold shower.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

By the time your get to his office he’s just setting two cups on his desk and shrugging off his long trenchcoat. His back is to you as you attempt to quietly slink in, but he turns to hang the damp piece of clothing on the rack to your left. You freeze like a deer in headlights, but his eyes soften.

“Mornin’ Geeksquad.”

“Good morning,” you sheepishly mumble, shrugging off your own damp hoodie.

The shirt you’ve chosen today is a flowy button-up blouse, which is a step up from the t-shirts you normally wear. Paired with the form-fitting slacks and makeup you took painstaking attempts to apply this morning, you feel confident that you’re at least somewhat stylish, even if you’re not on Namjoon’s level.

“You…” He tries to remember what words are as his eyes roam over your form. Noticing the top two buttons of your blouse are undone, he clears his throat and tries to push the photo from this morning from his mind, but it keeps coming back. “You look really nice today.”

You smile, folding your arms over your chest as he noticeably stiffens, fumbling with his words.

“I mean, you look nice every day. But, ah…. This-This outfit looks good on you. Really good.”

He rubs the back of his neck and you relish in the appreciation he offers, even if he’s a mess about it. Your cheeks are on fire and you giggle, finding your heart jumping at the way he stammers his way through the conversation.

Why are you acting so shy? You love it when he loses composure. You swallow, allowing yourself to embrace the heat in your belly. Isn't this exactly why you started dressing up more at work?

Pushing the demon on your shoulder back into the floating expanse of your stomach, you press your lips together in a thin line, trying to hide the grin threatening to show off the teeth you've recently started whitening.

“And you’re waiting… For the uh…. The computer. Printer. Thing. Of course. Hold up. Let me log in.”

He crosses the room and sits in his chair, eager to focus on something other than your gorgeous face and distracting body since it's clear you're feeling yourself today. You plop down in the cushioned chair on the other side of his desk and rest your neck on the back of the chair to stare at the ceiling. He focuses on the screen, slowly typing his password and trying his best not to look past his monitor at you. He begins twirling a pencil between his fingers to keep himself from fidgeting.

While he had tried to make you feel better about the accidental photo, it was just another thing piled on to your interactions lately that have been making it harder and harder to keep his feelings to himself. Was it really an accident? Maybe you’re just testing the waters. After everything that’s happened, he’s not sure what to think. Everything feels too coincidental to be anything other than pure attraction flying between the two of you. But if that were true, you’d have asked him to spend the night again.

He was hoping for it, hoping for another chance to make his move. This time he’d be sure to lock the door and switch your phone volume to silent. This time he’d buy you a dozen misfit roses with a billion thorns. This time he had it planned out: flowers, dinner, movie, and confess with a kiss.

After hearing about your first date with this Jihoon guy, he decided he was going to suck up his insecurities and finally go for it. It was bad enough when he thought you’d end up with Jimin, but the thought of losing you to a stranger is far worse than he could have imagined. But the weekend passed without invitation and his courage waned as soon as it was clear he would have to initiate.

Thinking about it and actually doing it are two different things. What if he messed things up? Time already appeared to be running out when Hoseok had given him a deadline to confess by, but with your new dating developments, time seemed to be slipping through his fingers even faster than before. His hesitation helps nothing.

His stomach lurches as he considers the ramifications of the image you sent this morning. If you didn’t mean to send it to him, then it must have been meant for Jihoon. Are you really already exchanging nudes with this other guy? Has he seen all of you? Has he already lain with you? Filled the space in your bed? In you? Maybe Jihoon is the only one he knows about. What if you’re talking to even more people and that photo was for someone you haven’t even mentioned yet?

The pencil in his hand splinters into pieces with a loud crack and your head snaps up to look in the direction the sound came from.

“What was that?”

“Uh… Just me being the God of Destruction.” He rises motions for you to take his place in the chair as he pockets the fragments of the broken pencil.

You shake your head, grabbing your drink as you circle the desk and get comfortable in his chair. “You’re hopeless.”

Navigating the network doesn’t take very long. It just looks like a missing password to connect to the printer’s address. Huh. You don’t remember updating anything. Maybe your coworkers reset it. Regardless, it’s an easy fix. You take a sip through your straw and slam the cup down on the desk.

Suddenly your dream is on vivid display in your head and you freeze as you stare at the smooth, dark surface of the polished woodgrain. The sound of his balls slapping your ass echoes in your ears. You can see the scenario, clear as day. He grips your hips and fucks himself into your tight cunt, tits bouncing in his face as he sucks a hardened nipple into his mouth, praising you for your tightness, how you squeeze him, how you take him so well like the dirty slut you ar--

His hands come down on your shoulders. “Hey. You okay?”

Blood rushes in your ears and you shake the daydream off. You really need to stop watching naughty teacher porn but it’s always on the first page. You tell yourself it has nothing to do with Namjoon and everything to do with laziness. The problem with that is you’re usually very particular about the videos that you watch. Can you fully attribute it to laziness when this is the type of thing you found yourself skipping over just a few months ago? Don’t dwell on it, you tell yourself, continuing typing where you left off.

“Sorry, just… spaced out,” you mumble, leaning back in the chair as you finish up. “There. Should be all set.”

He allows his gaze to drop down past the two open buttons and straight to your breasts, perfectly nestled against the silky black material of your bra. His eyelids flutter and he licks his lips, hoping you don’t notice what a creep he’s being right now. How much spank bank material can he collect in one day?

“Do you want to test it?” you ask, quickly rummaging through the millions of icons on his desktop for any word document.

His breath hitches as you hover over one labeled ‘Draft_Trivia_L,’ double clicking it without a second thought. His hand catches your wrist and he spins you to face him as the document opens.

“You can’t just open things. That’s private!” he flares, heat building in his face. His gut fills with immediate regret.

You blink a few times and look down at your lap, feeling rather foolish. You’ve never seen him snap like that; it must really important. Regardless of your friendship, you know better as a professional. Your gut tumbles in endless circles. Just knowing you’ve upset him on top of everything else you’ve fucked up with your friendship has your mind heavy with guilt.

“I’m really sorry. I should have asked first,” you murmur, feeling like you’re about to cry. You’re not a child. You can handle being scolded when you’ve done wrong, even though it sucks. But this is different. He’s never gotten even remotely angry at you before. And you’ve never wanted crawl into to the server room and volunteer the remainder of your week sorting cables, but there’s a first time for everything.

The hands at your wrists fall to his sides and his expression softens. Before he can offer the apology on the tip of his tongue, you rise and head straight for the door.

“Test it out and let helpdesk know if it’s working.”

Just as you grab the handle and pull open the door, his hand pushes the heavy panel back in place with a click. You turn around, your back resting against the door, but he keeps his arm steady, hovering over you in a way that makes your heart race, despite the turmoil churning in your tummy.

“Wait. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap,” he says in a gentle tone. “It’s just… that particular document is… very personal. It’s--”

“You don’t have to tell me,” you say in a quiet voice. “I fucked up. I’m supposed to let you drive after I fix stuff. I’m not supposed to touch anything other than what’s broken.”

“You know I don’t have a license,” he jokes, earning a soft laugh from you. He sighs. “Remember how I told you about that one student? Well it turns out they really resonated with our poetry studies. They told me it reminds them of something they like to do for fun.” He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck.

“They like to freestyle rap. Do tons of underground competitions, that kind of thing. So I’ve been working with them on bridging the gap between literature, poetry, and rap. And that document you opened… I’m trying my hand at it to lead by example. I want to share it with you, but it’s... not done and it’s a mess I’m still working through. But I promise I will let you see it when it’s done.”

“I’m sure it’s amazing. You’re a genius,” you admit with a shrug of your shoulders. “You have a way with words unlike anyone I’ve ever met. Don’t feel like you have to show me anything, Namjoon. You’re not obligated to.”

He scoffs, relaxing his posture to pinch the bridge of his nose as the compliment starts to sink in. Did you just acknowledge his sexy brain? He can’t help but grin like an idiot as he shakes his head. “I have to show you. It’s actually… I kind of wrote it about… I mean, for you.”

Your eyes widen, curiosity bubbling in your chest. “M-Me?”

What the hell could he possibly have to say about you that could turn into a literary piece to lead by example?

“Yes. You.” He takes a sip of the beverage in his hand before thrusting it in your direction. “You know what? I don’t actually hate that.”

“I know. You have a sweet tooth,” you giggle, swiping your finger across the whipped cream covering the tip of his nose.

You take your finger into your mouth and lick it clean. He watches you with hungry, longing eyes, replacing your finger with something else in his mind. He quickly covers the look with a sigh, gathers your coat from the rack nearby and throws it over your head, shielding himself from your teasing actions. You scramble to regain your field of vision and grin at him as he sits down at his desk again.

You turn to finally leave again, this time in much better spirits. “I’ll talk to you later, Joonie.”

“Geeksquad,” he calls, causing you to pause. “We’re good, right?”

You rest your face on the doorframe as you peer back at him with a shy, slightly smooshed grin. “Of course. As long as you don’t hate me for the million ways I mess up.”

He chuckles, warm dimpled smile gracing his features. “Never.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Thursday night. Finally. You sit on your couch legs propped up over Jennie’s lap, finding some time to catch up with your bestie. She passes the bowl of popcorn over to you, engrossed in the comedy-drama you’ve been binging for the last couple hours. When you shake your head and push the bowl back in her direction, she looks over at you.

“What’s wrong.” It’s a demand, not a question.

“Why would you think anything’s wrong?” you ask defensively, already feeling like you’re about to cry.

“Because I know you, you dumb bitch,” she responds with the love of someone who has definitely seen you at your worst. “Also your leg has been bouncing for the last ten minutes and if you had to pee you would just get up.”

Immediately you halt the motion you hadn’t realized you’d been making. “Jihoon wants to meet up again this week.”

“Wow. Does that make date three? Bow-chicka-wow-wow,” she jokes, causing your feet to rise as she bumps her hips up and down.

You swipe at the air and roll your eyes. “Please, like he wants to.”

She scoffs, stuffing her mouth full of popcorn. “Didn’t you say he tried to get you back to his place after the last one? Dude def wants to bang it out.”

You twiddle your fingers nervously. “Do you think I should?”

“What, fuck him?” she asks, blinking at you as though she’s carefully analyzing your body language through the fluttering of her eyelids.

You slowly nod, puffing your cheeks out and letting air slowly escape the little ‘o’ you’ve made with your mouth. “I already told him I would get drinks with him and I’m nervous about taking things further after.”

“Y/N, honey, why are you asking me? I’m not gonna do it for you. Do you want to fuck him?”

“I don’t know…” You rub your forehead nervously, looking back at the television. “But I think it might take my mind off of some things.”

“Like...?” she prods, realizing there’s something else you’re on the verge of needing to get out, but you need a teensy push to get there.

You purse your lips and stare up at the ceiling, trying to figure out a way to make it sound less crazy than the bottled up way it’s consuming your thoughts.

“When I’m with him... I can’t stop thinking about Namjoon,” you say quietly, feeling lightheaded just from having said it out loud. You said the words. You admitted it’s a thing. Now what? Jennie will know what to do.

“Ew,” she says out of instinct, knowing anytime she’s broached the subject of you getting together with Namjoon you’ve made gagging sounds. But when she sees the horror on your face, she pauses. “Oh, are we not at ew anymore? Are you finally cool with me saying he’s fine as hell? You feeling a little change, babe?”

“I don’t know what I feel. But it’s not ew. Not even close. I keep having these…” you pause and look at the unlocked door, wondering if there are any ears listening on the other side. Your voice drops to a whisper and you lean in. “I keep having these dreams where he’s… you know?”

“Oh, okay,” she says with a nod, not quite understanding what you’re getting at, but trying to be a good friend by agreeing anyway. She plants her elbow on the back of the couch and rests her cheek on her palm. “But like… how do you mean?”

Your eyes look everywhere but at her face. “You know…”

“Oh?” Her eyebrows furrow and it’s not until you make a crude circle with your hand and poke a finger through it a few times that her eyes light up with understanding. Her voice takes on a surprised tone. “Oh!” She pushes your legs off her lap, pauses the show, and scooches closer. “Okay. Wow. This is really happening. Finally. Details. Spill it.”

With a groan, you recount every last thing you can remember about the time you’ve spent with Namjoon in the last few weeks, everything from toilet hair to the most recent photo mishap. When you’ve finished, Jennie sighs loudly.

“I take off for like a week and this is what happens. I love you, but you are a serious fucking mess.” You’ve just been fanning the flames of the torch he’s been carrying for you. No wonder it’s all coming to a head like this. She’s surprised Namjoon hasn’t caved and finally confessed already. Isn’t he ready to blow at this point? She stifles a giggle at the double entendre.

“I know.” You stare at the ceiling, hands folded over your lap. “So what do I do?”

“Okay. Let me get this straight. You’ve slept in the same bed, cuddled, flashed him, almost made out with him, humped him, sent him a nude, you’re having sex dreams about him aaaaand you’re thinking about him while you’re on dates with other people… And you’re asking me what to do? You know what to do. Just bang it out already,” she says, clapping her hands together on the last few syllables to emphasize her point.

“Obviously there’s something there. So why don’t you just test the chemistry? You guys might be surprisingly compatible.”

You shake you head and run your fingers through your hair. “I can’t risk his friendship. I’ve fucked up so much already. Like what if we do it and he’s like… cool let’s not ever again. And then he tells me our friendship is over.”

“He won’t,” she groans, tossing one of the throw pillows at you. “Stop being dumb.”

“But…” Your mind races as you consider every last thing that could go wrong, hugging the pillow to your chest. “Jennie, I’m too scared to lose him. I can’t.”

Her brow knits in concentration. Your fears are understandable, but she knows you can be happy with him if you just open up to the possibility, especially since you’ve become such good friends in such a relatively short amount of time. But she also knows pushing you too hard too fast will make you clam up. You may not be willing to address what you feel, but at least there’s admission of some kind of feeling. That’s progress.

“So where do we go from here, Y/N? What are you doing?”

You wish you had an answer. “I… I’m calling Firewall on this. Right now. Namjoon keeps me in line with everyone else. You keep me in line with him.”

Jennie swallows, her heart breaking for you both as she nods. “Okay. If that’s what you want,” she agrees softly.

“It is,” you say, voice already full of uncertainty.

You have a date tomorrow night with Jihoon and you’ve decided you are going to stop thinking about Namjoon for the entirety of it. For the sake of your friendship and your sanity. You have to keep things simple and divided. So why does it feel like that’s way too easy of an answer?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Jihoon is way better at dancing than you are, which doesn’t come as a surprise, honestly. What you do find shocking is the blatant boner you feel poking against your ass as he guides you across his hips and the filthy things he whispers into the slope of your neck. Clearly he uses dancing as an excuse to cop a feel, but the butterflies in your stomach and the heat in your cheeks tell you you’re okay with that. You shyly reach up to cradle your fingers around the back of his head, breath staggered as you slowly lean back to press your lips to his. His jaw is stiff, but his lips are big and soft and it’s easy enough to substitute the person you’re craving without a second thought. Fireworks explode in your brain, blocking off all possible hangups about the action.

As he brings his hands up to your chest, giving your tits a rough squeeze, you come crashing back down. Fuck. You had one job tonight. Firewall, remember? Your eyes shoot open and you’re left with a suffocating swarm of bodies around you and hands that feel constricting. It’s too much. You need air. You need air and space around you to figure this out.

You grab his hands and move them back to an innocent place on your hips. “I’m gonna get another drink,” you say, desperate to escape this place you suddenly feel trapped in.

He allows you to slip through his sweaty fingers and disappear into the crowd.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Namjoon says, unable to take his eyes off the way you’re moving with the man at your back. Is this his fate: destined to watch you grind your body on someone else?

Jennie, Jungkook, and Tae exchange worried looks. Hoseok just scoffs as he peers through the glass railing across the sea of writhing bodies.

“I know. What kind of dancing is that? It’s like she can’t remember anything I taught her. Crescent moon shapes. CRESCENT.” He grunts in frustration and drags his hand down his chin. “I’m gonna have an aneurysm.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, leaning back in his chair and placing his arms out around the back of Jennie and Jungkook’s chairs. “Of course that’s what you would see.”

She grumbles as Tae manspreads, knocking her knee with his. She settles for the way his fingers trail feather light touches at her back.

“Namjoon, you didn’t have to come,” she says sympathetically. “I just wanted to keep an eye on her just in case… I’m sorry. I know you guys think I’m crazy. But like… I’ve been with crazy. And if that experience has taught me anything, it’s to trust my gut.” She pats her stomach a few times and takes a small sip of her drink. “And my gut says don’t trust a hoe you don’t know, especially with your bestie.”

“That’s exactly why I had to come,” he sighs.

Touche, she thinks.

Suddenly you’re moving in a slow, sweet way that Jennie recognizes as your telltale shy kiss. As much as she likes the feeling of Tae’s fingers dancing with the ends of her hair, she stands and takes Namjoon’s hands, pulling him from his seat. She can hear Tae’s grumbly protests as she moves away, but it doesn’t matter. She’d really like to spare Namjoon the heartbreak of watching the person he loves kiss someone else.

“Joonie. Get up. Switch places with me. Come on.”

Her act of heroism comes too late. He falls back into his chair with his jaw hanging open, unable to stomach the sight. So he forces his eyes to focus on the ambient lights dangling from the ceiling. It's stupid. You're not even his, so why did that feel like getting punched in the gut? He closes his eyes and swallows the growing lump in his throat. Get it together.

Jungkook grimaces at Hobi, mouthing the words ‘what do we do?’ Hoseok looks from Jungkook to Namjoon, and then down to the floor where you’re prying Jihoon’s hands away from your chest and shying away. Squinting to get a better view of your form, he realizes you’re not just slinking away, you’re running away.

Hoseok rises, dragging his dejected friend to his feet. "Hey, let's get you something stronger than a ginger ale. Up! Up! Time to get our bodies moving. Things will be okay!"

Hoseok jerks his head in the direction he saw you running off to, making eye contact with Jennie. "Y/N is obviously okay! So let's not have wasted this time sulking when we could be getting endorphins going."

Jennie cocks her head to the side as she stands and peers over the rail, trying to discern whatever information Hoseok wanted to relay. Then she sees it: the distant form sneaking into the bathroom.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Namjoon groans as he leans his elbows on the bar. “You know what, I’m starting to think this wasn’t such a good idea. She’s obviously safe and happy. Can you please drop me off at home?”

Hoseok is looking past Namjoon, squinting into the crowd as though looking for something in particular. “You know this is your last weekend to confess before I tell her for you, right?”

“Hey. Don’t complicate her life. She’s got someone now. I appreciate the push, but it’s done. There’s nothing else to--”

“Hey isn’t that the guy?” Hoseok interrupts, hastily thrusting a pointed finger just in front of his friend’s nose.

Namjoon’s gaze follows Hoseok’s fingertip to Jihoon on the other side of the bar, putting his hands around some other girl’s waist and burying his face into her neck as they grind on one another.

“What the fuck?” Namjoon breathes.

His feet are moving without provocation and before he knows it, he’s angrily wrenching the couple apart. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

“Dude what the fuck? Do I know you?” Jihoon blinks, giving him a shove.

Namjoon’s shoulder dips back, but his stance is firm. He drags his lip through his teeth, a manic grin threatening to spread through if he doesn’t keep his jaw tight. “Try that shit again. I dare you. I will lay you out.”

The girl he was dancing with grimaces and quickly backs away, sensing the danger in this situation. Jungkook is waiting. He catches her wrist and spins her gracefully into his arms.

“Careful, gorgeous. Don’t want you mixed up in whatever that is, hmm?” he says, brushing the hair from her face with featherlight touches that contrast the solid mass of his body pressed against her side. “Don’t you want to dance with me instead?”

She looks like she’s about to slap him for a fraction of a second, but melts into a puddle as soon as she meets those big brown eyes. She weakly allows him to lure her away from the squabbling men.

“Maybe…”

“Hah. Well then. Maybe I’ll let you,” he teases, poking his tongue into the side of his cheek and disappearing into the crowd with her hot on his heels.

Jihoon’s jaw grows taut with annoyance as he watches his target slip away. He scoffs. “What the fuck is your problem with me? I don’t know you. Get lost.” He clicks his tongue and mutters, “fucking punk.”

“You’re here with Y/N and you’re out here feeling up other girls. That’s my problem with you.”

“Pfft. That’s what this is about? What are you, her boyfriend? Or do you just have white knight syndrome? Look, I don’t care what you guys are. Everybody has a side piece. Why are you being so judgemental?”

Namjoon’s concentrated brow briefly transforms into confusion, causing his response to die on the tip of his tongue. Jihoon catches the panic before he can turn his face to stone.

“Oh, that’s not it is it? I see how it is now. You’re stuck in the friend zone.” Jihoon lets out a smug laugh. “Are you stalking her? You must have seen our kiss. Tell me. How badly do you wish you were me?”

Namjoon feels like his teeth are going to break if he keeps grinding them together like this, but it’s all he can do to keep himself from unloading on this guy.

“Heh. Judging from your silence, pretty fucking badly. How long have you waited? Months? Years? Be honest. It drives you crazy knowing that I’m going to have her tonight, doesn’t it?”

“You don’t deserve her,” he spits back, unable to hold the jealous venom from his tone. “I’m not even worried. She’ll figure you out.”

Jihoon shakes his head, taking a few steps closer to him. “You’re wrong though. I know her type. She’s desperate for somebody to love her. Anybody will do. It doesn’t matter who.”

His words are like a sucker punch to the gut. What if he’s right? Regardless, he powers through his insecurities, knowing a guy as shitty as Jihoon is trying to go for the low blows to throw him off his game. “Man, do you ever get tired of spewing shit?”

“Dude, why do you even want her?” Jihoon shakes his head with a laugh. “Yeah, she's kind of cute but there are plenty of hotter chicks out there.” He clicks his tongue. “I thought I saw an easy opportunity to get laid but I didn't think someone as desperate as her would take this long to get in the sack. It’s kind of more trouble than it's worth for what's bound to be a mediocre lay. I can just tell.”

Namjoon clenches his jaw tighter, knowing that he’s just egging him on at this point.

“But I’ll fuck her anyway. Because I can.”

Namjoon lunges toward him but Taehyung and Hoseok are already grabbing his arms and steadying him like vines entangling a tree. Jihoon silently laughs like this is the most amusing game in the world.

“He’s not worth it. Don’t do something you’ll regret,” Tae says, glaring in Jihoon’s direction, who rolls his eyes in response.

“Time to cool off,” Hoseok whispers, working on backing him up. “Come on. She’s smart. Believe in her.”

Namjoon glares at the enemy he’s made today, wishing he got at least one punch in. “You best keep your mouth shut, or I’ll make sure it stays shut.”

“That’s fine. I’ll make sure Y/N’s stays wide open though, don’t worry.”

Namjoon seethes with rage as he pushes his friends forward, trying to return to the man pushing his buttons. “You really wanna throw hands, or you wanna keep making backhanded comments like a bitch? Let’s fucking go.”

“Joon, come on,” Tae and Hobi take turns trying to diffuse the anger in his eyes

Jihoon rolls his eyes again. “Listen to your boyfriends, bro.”

“Yeah, keep rolling your eyes. I see you looking for your fucking brain,” Namjoon quips with a snort. With a frustrated sigh he finally allows Tae and Hobi to goad him back to a distance where he’s not in danger of putting his fist in someone’s face.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You come back from the bathroom, panic attack only a hazy memory thanks to one of your best friends showing up to talk you through it. Of course Jennie followed you here to make sure you’d be okay. Honestly, you couldn’t be more grateful right now. She gave you the pep talk you needed.

When you finally spot Jihoon, he’s standing alone at the bar, casually leaning against it but looking pissed as fuck. Before you can ask if everything is okay, he’s pulling you into a deep kiss, forcing his wet, slimy tongue down your throat. He’s sure to make a show of it knowing that Namjoon is watching from somewhere nearby.

You wedge your hands between your bodies and break free of the kiss, feeling like that was super out of character for him with how you left things. You were hoping he’d be more thoughtful and considerate of your earlier reaction, but it only adds more proof onto the obvious statement that he is not Namjoon. You try to give him a pass because you know being horny definitely makes you stupid and needy.

“What’s gotten into you?” You giggle nervously, trying to ignore the anxiety nagging at the back of your mind. The butterflies have become a swarm of angry bees circling your belly.

He leans in to whisper against your ear, “I just want you so badly right now. I’m sorry. You wanna get out of here?”

You shift uncomfortably, unsure if you're ready for that, or if you even want that with him. A sense of obligation floods your brain, even though you know you don’t owe him a thing. How fucked up is it that you feel guilty for not putting out on the third date? You don’t actually know this guy that well, so how can you bring yourself to fuck him? Stop being a prude. It’s just sex.

Fighting the sinking feeling in your gut, you grab his hand and shyly smile at him, trying to reason with yourself that at least if you go back to your place, Hobi and Yoongi will check up on you. He takes the action as wordless approval, giving you another wet, sloppy kiss that makes the stone in your stomach feel even heavier.

He discards your fingers and moves to tugging on your wrists in a way that makes them ache. The ice pick of dread starts chipping away at the corners of your mind. He hasn’t given you a reason so far to think he’ll freak if you back out now, but the way he starts leading you towards the exit ties a knot in your throat. Soon you’re practically being dragged across the room. As heavy as the stone in your stomach is, it does nothing to slow him down.

“Jihoon. Hey, slow down! Wait a sec!”

It’s too late. Your shoulder hits the doorframe and you wince as hot pain radiates from the point of impact. Oh, that’s definitely going to bruise.

“Dude!” You wrench yourself away from his grip, nursing the growing welt on your shoulder.

He raises his eyebrows and turns back to face you, concern burdening his features. A light rain begins to blanket the two of you. “Oh, you should be more careful, Y/N. Are you okay?”

Despite the fact that he practically slammed you into the door on the way out of the building, you start to feel guilty for causing him to worry as he begins fussing over you. His fingers ghost over the hand you have clamped down over the ache.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to,” you mumble, attempting to shake off the anxiety in your gut. “But I need you to slow down. You don’t even know where I live.”

“So show me,” he prods, trailing his fingers to your chin. “I’m just so excited to be with you.”

You can hear Hobi’s voice in your head, backing the unsettling feeling traveling throughout your body. Stop making excuses. Ghost him!

You pull your head back, trying to gather the willpower to be brave and back out. “Okay… But-- I-I…” You allow a nervous chuckle to pass your lips. “Look, I-I don’t think tonight is gonna work. I’m sorry. I’m just feeling kind of sick.”

The smile on his face falls. Before he can respond, Jennie’s voice cuts through the sound of rain pattering nearby cars. “Hey!”

He looks over at the sound, furrowing his brow when he sees Namjoon walking out behind your friend.

Showing up to watch, Friend Zone?

Jihoon loudly sighs. “You know what, I’m feeling kind of sick too. Sick of you saying one thing and really wanting another.”

You blink, jaw dropping open. “Excuse me?”

“You’re a fucking tease. Always giving those bedroom eyes, telling me how much you want me, how bad you want to fuck me,” he declares, raising his volume as he watches Namjoon stop dead in his tracks.

Your face grows hot, despite the mist gathered on your cheeks. “H-Hold on. I-I never---”

“But you got this shy act going so I played along. For a bit. You want to play games again. Trying to tell me you want to wait, but I know you don’t. You were the one putting my hands all over your body earlier, practically begging me to fuck you out in the open the way you were pressing that ass into me.”

You can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth right now. Is this really happening right now? It’s a nightmare. You’ll wake up any second now. Everything he’s saying is a fucking lie. So why do you feel so ashamed, so guilty?

“You know what, Jihoon?” you pipe up, the distress in your voice apparent as the shrill words escape. “You’re being a real douche right now.”

“Yeah, well you’re being a real prude for someone who is maybe a six at best,” he snorts. “And god you’re fucking boring. You should be thanking me for even considering sleeping with you.”

The words shock your system and you stand for a few seconds just processing all of the hurtful things he just said. Suddenly the heat in your cheeks radiates throughout your chest. You feel like a fucking moron. Rage. Regret. Shame. Self-loathing. Everything hits you like a truck at once, culminating into a bubbling pressure in your throat. You want to scream, but nothing comes out except for the boiling tears streaking down your cheeks. Your hand flies up, landing across his face with a satisfying smack.

Realizing what you’ve done, your eyes go wide and then clamp shut in recoil as he raises his hand to retaliate. But the blow never lands. When you open your eyes Namjoon has his hand clamped around Jihoon’s wrist, glaring daggers at the man.

“You do not fucking touch her,” he growls. “You better get the fuck out of here before I beat your ass for even thinking about it.”

Your brain has already shut down by the time Jennie grabs your waist to pull you back into a bear hug from behind. Jihoon ticks his jaw and clenches his fists, tearing himself from Namjoon’s grip. When Tae, Hobi, and Jungkook appear by his side, it seems like he reconsiders the punch he was about to throw and backs away.

“You can have her. She’s not worth it.”

Your friends stand in front of you, an unmoving daisy chain of rage as the tears fall from your face along with the apologies on your lips. Namjoon is the last to turn around, but he’s the only person you can focus on as your body convulses with the emotional distress coursing through it. You’re soon enveloped in a group hug, pressed with a deadly tightness against Namjoon’s chest. It doesn’t make you feel any less broken, but it does make you feel grateful to have such a supportive and caring family. What would you have done if they weren’t here tonight? You shudder to think about it.

Namjoon’s fingers press against the back of your head as you spew snotted, muffled sorry’s into his shirt. He’s still holding you long after everyone else has let go, offering comforting words, making sure you know you have nothing to apologize for. In this moment, the world falls away, the pain falls away, and the only thing that matters is the overflowing love you can feel emanating from the man before you.

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