#it was made quite quite rapidly- as is obvious -but hey. i think it’s worth it. smiles ^_^

[kr-210-r2700-prime]

myself, discord, 10:01pm:

“…most definitely be stickers. any and all kinds of stickers. decorate your metal wife awesome style. half-tempted to say a majority of the stickers would be gold stars or those “good job!” stickers that they tack onto him with reckless abandon”

[whiteqnn]

PURE [4] - Corpse Husband x Fem! Reader

A/N: I’m back. Shout-out to my sister @mojajasnoscmrokirozproszy , who encouraged me into finishing this part.

part 1 

part 2 

part 3 

part 5

PURE [4] 

Corpse was confused, to say the least. He stared at the screen with his brows furrowed, not exactly understanding what just happened, or what caused Y/N to leave so suddenly. He thought they were all having fun, or at least that’s the impression Y/N gave while interacting with other players. 

Was she just pretending she’d had fun when in reality, she didn’t want to spend time with them? 

He knew it was none of his business. They didn’t even know each other, outside of these two short games they’ve both been part of. But Corpse was quick to get attached to new people, and Y/N’s sweet voice, her innocent demeanor, and pure personality made him instantly like her... 

Perhaps it wasn’t exactly a good thing that he felt so worried when she left, given the fact that two of them have spoken maybe for a few minutes since they met each other. But Corpse couldn’t help it, and certainly couldn’t stop this weird feeling that something was wrong and that he needed to make sure that Y/N was okay. After all, he was the only one who knew that she left. Except for his audience, of course. 

So the moment her white little astronaut suddenly disappeared, Corpse went on a killing spree. He didn’t even care about that whole finish my lyrics thing he decided to terrorize his friends with, he just wanted to finish this game and check on Y/N. It was obvious that she wasn’t telling the truth. Even though it looked like she was trying really hard to contain her emotions, he could still hear her quavering voice. It was too hard to hide, and he knew it firsthand. That’s why he made it his point to at least check on her.  

“Jesus Corpse, you just went full berserk on us...” Felix murmured when the last person was killed, and Corpse could see a sign victory on his screen. It didn’t make him smile though, not how it usually would. 

“It was great though! Let’s do it again, but maybe on the other map?” Sykkuno suggested, clearly very excited about this hide and seek game they’ve come up with. 

“Sure, let’s get the first one maybe?”

“Actually, would you guys mind if we had a little break?” Corpse asked before they could start another game. “We’ve been playing for a little while now...”

“Ah, yeah! Bathroom break!” came Rae’s response, followed by a few hums of approval. Corpse sighed in relief. He was afraid his worried voice would draw the attention of other players, but they didn’t seem to notice it. 

“All right, is ten minutes good?” asked Sean, and when everyone agreed, Corpse excused himself from his audience and muted his mic. He grabbed his phone and unlocked it, only to be hit by a sudden realization.

He didn’t even have Y/N’s number. 

“Fuck...” he cursed quietly under his breath, running a hand through his hair. How the fuck was he supposed to check on her? He couldn’t use discord, he was still streaming after all... Maybe Twitter would work? Nah, she probably wouldn’t even notice his messages. What was left then?

Of course. 

Sean.

Corpse didn’t even think about any explanation as he quickly typed in a message to the said man, asking if he had Y/N’s number. The response came almost immediately. 

“Yeah, I have. Why?” 

Okay, now what? He couldn’t just tell him what happened. Corpse knew that Sean and Y/N were close, but he felt like it wouldn’t be fair towards the girl if he told Sean what happened. Maybe she didn’t want anyone to know... Maybe she didn’t want to speak to anyone. 

Him included. 

But Corpse felt as if he had to do it because that was something he wished someone would do for him if the roles were reversed. To at least show that he cared, that she wasn’t alone with whatever it was that bothered her... 

Was he being intrusive, for wanting to make sure that everything was okay? And what if she was totally fine and he’d just end up making a complete fool out of himself?

“Not that I haven’t already made a fool out of myself...” he mumbled under his breath, his fingers quickly typing the response to Sean. However, before he could finish it, the said man’s name appeared on his screen with an upcoming call. 

It was so unexpected that Corpse almost dropped the phone.

“Um, hey man” he said after picking up, his hands trembling as he tried to come up with some good explanation as to why exactly he needed Y/N’s number. “Look I-”

“Does this have something to do with her disappearance?” Sean cut him off, leaving Corpse with his mouth hung open, utterly shocked.  

“I um- no. I just wanted to call her and... cause I don’t have her number...”

“Corpse, I heard what she had told you...” Sean sighed into the phone “I was flying around you after you murdered me.”

“I...” Corpse tried once again and again found himself at the loss of words. His brows furrowed suddenly as he realized something “Wait- are you still streaming?” 

“I left for a moment to grab something to drink and call Y/N. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t say anything on the stream.” 

Corpse sighed in relief. If Sean managed to somehow play it off, then his fans maybe haven’t figured out what was going on. He didn’t want them to attack Y/N’s social media with tons of questions she obviously wouldn’t answer. 

“Do you know what happened?” Corpse asked quietly, hoping that maybe Sean knew something more that would ease his nerves. He hoped that it wasn’t anything serious, that maybe Y/N just had a bad day. “She left so suddenly and I got a little worried...” 

For a moment there was silence between the two of them, Corpse impatiently awaiting an answer and Sean thinking about the right words... or wondering whether he should tell him the reason for Y/N’s disappearance in the first place. 

“It’s- ugh.” Sean groaned, before letting out a heavy sigh “It stays between us, all right? I don’t want others to start texting her out of nowhere, asking if she’s okay. She would probably kill me.”

“Yeah, absolutely” Corpse nodded his head rapidly, even though Sean couldn’t see him. 

“Okay... So I don’t know the exact reason of her disappearance...” he began, and Corpse felt his heart sink in disappointment. “But I have some suspicion.”

“Can you be a little more specific, Sean? We don’t have much time before the next game...” Corpse didn’t want to sound rude but he was slowly growing impatient, and even more nervous when he still wasn’t able to check on Y/N and make sure that she’s okay.

“She received lots of hate after our last stream.” Sean finally explained, although his voice sounded quite reluctant. “And when I say lots, I mean lots, Corpse.”

“What?” Corpse grunted, his brows knitted together in confusion “What do you mean?”

“Oh you know, man... Comments on Twitter, on her Instagram, even under her latest video...” Sean let out an exasperated sigh “Apparently, some people are not happy that she’s playing with us.”

“Why?” Corpse managed to utter, completely shocked at the news. For some reason, it was the last thing he expected Sean to say. It didn’t even cross his mind that someone as sweet and polite as Y/N might have to deal with this kind of issue. 

She was always so kind, why would anyone hate on her? 

“You know how some people act online...” Sean murmured, his voice clearly gloomy, as opposed to his usual cheerful tone. “They think she shouldn’t be playing with us cause she’s not popular enough. Some consider her annoying, not funny enough, and so on...”

“What does popularity have to do with who we’re playing with?” Corpse almost growled these words, feeling anger slowly bubbling up in his stomach. He couldn’t comprehend why anyone would act this way towards Y/N, towards this little angel as Sean put it last time they played, towards this sweet, innocent girl, his partner in crime... 

“That’s what I told her before the stream” Sean explained with a sigh “And that she shouldn’t worry about what strangers think of her... but it’s easier said than done.” 

“You think she received another text or something?”

“I don’t know man” Sean sighed “I tried calling her like ten times already and she didn’t answer. It’s not like her to leave so suddenly, without saying goodbye. I’m worried something happened...” 

Corpse clenched his jaw, closing his eyes for a second. If Y/N didn’t answer Sean’s calls, why would she answer his? They barely knew each other, while Sean was her best friend.  

“Maybe... I’ll try calling her?” Corpse suggested anyway, his voice low and almost shy. He figured it was worth at least a try. 

Sean was quiet for a moment as if contemplating what to do. They were already running out of time, and Corpse didn’t know what to do. On one hand, he didn’t want to end the stream and leave his fans, he felt bad at the thought alone of disappearing so soon and disappointing them... But on the other, he couldn’t just leave Y/N like that. Especially, since as Sean explained, it wasn’t like her to act this way. It only proved that whatever happened was rather serious.

“Y’know what?” Sean suddenly said “I’ll give you her number, maybe she’ll pick up from you.”

“Thank you, Sean” Corpse said quietly, ready to end the call, only to be stopped by Sean’s words. 

“Look... I know I shouldn’t be asking you to do it, but... could you maybe try talking some sense into her?” he asked, clearly uncomfortable with this request “I feel like you’d be able to calm her down...”

“I...” Corpse stuttered, running a hand through his hair “I’ll try, okay? I’m not sure if she’ll want to talk about it though, I’m basically a stranger, so...”

“Corpse, she agreed to join us only after reading your last tweet.” 

Oh. 

His heart fluttered with something that didn’t seem like growing panic. And even though his face was expressing his worry, his lip corners formed a small, bashful smile. And whether he liked it or not, his cheeks turned completely red.

“I’ll... I’ll see what I can do” he managed to reply, before ending the call. 

Corpse ran a hand through his locks and down his face, releasing a heavy breath he didn’t know he was holding. He considered getting Y/N’s number a difficult task which, however, turned out to be the easiest one. Now came the real challenge. Calling her. 

For a moment, he just stared at the screen of his phone, scanning the new message from Sean, which consisted of Y/N’s phone number. It looked as if he was memorizing the number when in reality, he just felt panic overtaking his body and complete chaos in his mind. 

Let’s say she picks up the phone, and then what? Should he just say hi? Introduce himself? 

“Hi it’s me, the guy you basically don’t know and who became paranoid after you disappeared from the game” 

 Yeah, sure. Perfect introduction for the pep talk he was supposed to deliver. 

Why was it always that he acted almost as if on instinct one second, only to start having second thoughts a moment later. He couldn’t back out now when he had already got her number. Not when there was also another person counting on him. Not when he still didn’t know what the fuck happened, and for some reason was determined to find out. 

And then was the problem of his voice, which suddenly seemed stuck in his throat. It was a very weird feeling, typical for one to get while being on the verge of a panic attack. As if there was a need to talk, but the body refused to. As if his vocal cords were paralyzed and not eager to cooperate. 

As if it was him who just experienced something strongly upsetting, not Y/N. 

Corpse fidgeted with his phone for a moment, before deciding against the idea of calling the girl. He figured he wouldn’t be able to utter a single word if she picked up the phone from the unknown number in the first place. If she did though, she’d probably consider it some misdialed call or some prank. Which was the last thing he wanted her to think.

Instead, he opted on sending her a text. 

He sat still for a moment, thinking about a message that wouldn’t right away reveal the cause of his concern, but which would say enough to figure out who sent it. His thoughts drifted back to the game they were both playing, remembering his stupid comments and her gentle voice. His fingers typed out the message almost automatically. 

“Wanna jump into the lava with me?”

He hesitated just for a second, before sending the text, his heart doing a backflip in his chest the moment he pressed the send button. Corpse gripped the phone tightly in his hands, his eyes staring at the screen and waiting impatiently for those three little dots indicating that the other person is typing a response to appear. He waited and waited, and a lump slowly formed in his throat when Y/N didn’t respond immediately. 

Was he really getting paranoid? 

Maybe he was just tired. Or she had a bad day. Or she just found this game boring.

Or she didn’t want to play with them. Or she thought his comments were annoying. 

“I’m an idiot” Corpse muttered to himself and slapped a hand on his forehead, pushing those thoughts away. Deep down he knew that wasn’t the case, but the longer Y/N didn’t respond, the louder was the voice at the back of his head, telling him that her problems were none of his business and he shouldn’t be asking for her number in the first place.

But it was the right thing to do. He knew it, Sean knew it, and Corpse also hoped that Y/N did not perceive his text as some pathetic joke. He waited for a couple of minutes, before typing another message:

“I’m here, partner, if you need to talk.” 

He felt the need to assure her that despite the ongoing stream and the other players probably already waiting for him to return, he was there for her. That’s what he considered the best option, not to force her into talking, but to let her know that she wasn’t alone. And that it would take just one word from her to make Corpse drop everything and listen to her. 

After what seemed like an eternity of staring at his phone and analyzing his own messages, Corpse put his phone away, realizing that Y/N wasn’t going to reply anytime soon. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed in himself, and guilty as well. Perhaps it would be a better idea to call her, but at that moment he wasn’t able to trust his own voice. He thought about sending her another message but decided against it. Another new text was probably the last thing she needed, with her phone being drowned by hundreds of notifications from angered, and worried fans. 

All Corpse could do was hope that she saw his texts and that she knew she wasn’t all alone. He sure as hell wasn’t going to make her feel as if she was obliged to confide in him. After all, he was a stranger. 

Then again... sometimes to understand a problem and look at it from a different, new perspective, what one needed was, indeed, a complete stranger. 

-

The next two hours felt almost like an eternity. And a complete hell to Corpse. He tried his best to focus on the game and interacting with his fans, but no matter what, his eyes would drift towards his phone every now and then. Hoping to see Y/N’s name pop up on his screen, with a message saying that everything was fine. 

But then again... would it be enough to calm his nerves? Maybe she’d write something like that just so he wouldn’t worry. Just so he would leave her alone.

She might as well just tell him to fuck off...

The fact that he received so many notifications all the time, especially now, during a stream, didn’t really help. Each time his phone lit up with a new notification, he would crane his neck with the hope of seeing Y/N’s response, only to be disappointed when it turned out to be just some new comment or someone tagging him in an instastory. Something that usually made him really happy now was the reason for his irritation. 

He couldn’t focus on the game itself either, finding it difficult to do his tasks and form some logical arguments during discussions. He didn’t really care, to be honest, when people threw him away almost at the start of the game. Winning or being the best Impostor was currently the last thing on his mind.

So when he said his goodbyes after the last round of Among Us and ended the stream, after thanking his fans, Corpse didn’t know what to do with himself. The game, even though he didn’t really pay much attention to it, provided at least some distraction from his phone, which was still silent when it came to Y/N’s texts. She either didn’t see them or didn’t want to see them. Corpse could only guess what was her reaction if there was any. 

He’d exchanged a few messages with Sean though, the man asking about Y/N during the stream and after it ended. Corpse couldn’t stop the guilt from growing even more when Sean expressed his concerns regarding Y/N and her absence. He knew the older streamer counted on him when it came to checking on the girl, but, obviously, he failed at getting a simple message from her. 

What was he even hoping to achieve in the first place? That she will text back right away, telling him everything that bothered her, confessing all her problems? He would have to be a total idiot to expect this girl to react to his messages.

It was all so overwhelming and frustrating at the same time that he felt almost nauseous. 

Leaving his phone in his room, Corpse walked to his small kitchen to grab a glass of water. The cold liquid brought much-needed relief to his burning throat, giving him a momentary sensation of comfort. He tested his voice, clearing his throat carefully and mumbling some nonsense under his breath. A sigh left his lips once he realized he could talk again and this weird feeling disappeared. 

He splashed his face with cold water and returned to his room, plopping down on his chair and giving his phone a quick glance. Perhaps he didn’t expect Y/N to reply to his texts at all because at first, he didn’t even notice her name on the screen of his phone. He looked back to his computer, almost out of habit, glancing between the tabs he had opened on his screen before. 

And it struck him suddenly, making him almost jump out of his skin when he realized that she did text him back. 

Grabbing his phone quickly, he unlocked it and opened the messages, almost hitting the one with Y/N’s name on it. 

“Hey, partner.” was all the message said. And yet it made Corpse’s heart almost jump out of his chest, both from relief and a sudden feeling of panic. 

She texted him back. Now, what the fuck was he supposed to do?! 

He stared at her text for a second as if trying to convince himself that it was real and he didn’t accidentally pass out on his desk, dreaming that Y/N takes his comments and texts seriously. 

When he came to the conclusion that the text was, indeed, real, and Y/N probably expected him to write something back, he thought about the best way of asking her what happened. On one hand, he knew from Sean what could possibly be the reason for her disappearance. On the other, what obviously mattered was Y/N’s version. How to get it out of her though, without being too intrusive?

Corpse decided that the best option will be to make some dumb, small talk, which would ease her (and his) nerves.

“Y’know, I almost didn’t manage to finish the mission without you” he texted her, concluding that playing along this partner thing would maybe work. In his text, Corpse referred to the one time he was the Impostor after Y/N left, and which happened to be completely boring without her running around “Had Toast and others suspecting my every step all the time.”

This time, much to his relief, the three little dots appeared almost immediately.

“I’m glad you managed to kill’em all nevertheless.”

He imagined her saying it with that sweet voice of hers, which made him snicker, whether he liked it or not. While thinking of some right response, Corpse couldn’t help but wonder how did she know that he managed to kill every crewmate during that round... she wasn’t playing anymore then, so that could only mean she watched his stream.

“Not gonna lie though, everything would go way smoother hadn’t my partner in crime left me on the battlefield all alone :/” he texted her back. Corpse watched intently as the three dots danced next to Y/N’s name and suddenly disappeared, then appeared back again after a few moments, only to disappear again. And for a second he panicked, that maybe this text sounded passive aggressive, or that it made Y/N blame herself for leaving the game... 

However, when her response finally came, he realized he was wrong.

“Can I call you, Corpse?” 

For the first time in a really long time, Corpse was so eager to agree on a phone call.

He replied frantically, telling her that of course, she could call him, and then waiting impatiently for the call. And when she didn’t call immediately, like he expected her to, he found himself wondering if she suddenly changed her mind and decided against the idea of calling him. 

But then his phone buzzed and her name appeared on the screen.

The device almost flew out of his hands, his heartbeat quickening and a lump forming in his throat once again.

Relax, man. It’s Y/N, your partner in crime. You’ve heard her voice before. 

But this was different. The circumstances were different and the reason for a call was different too. And now it was just the two of them, as opposed to a lobby full of friends. And Corpse tried so hard to figure out how to convince her that all the hate she receives on social media didn’t mean anything, that for a moment he forgot she was still calling.

He pressed the green button carefully, as if he was defusing a bomb, and found himself unable to utter a single word, just like before. There was silence on the other line too, as if Y/N expected him to speak up first. 

So Corpse build up the courage and took in a deep breath, before letting out a quiet, almost shy:

“Hi”

 The word left his mouth almost as a whisper, and for a moment he thought that the girl didn’t even hear it, but then her voice told him otherwise.

“Hey... Corpse” she mumbled. She sounded so different, almost as if she was sick. Her calm and soft voice was so quiet that Corpse had some trouble hearing her at first. She sounded so tired, so hurt, so defeated, that he completely forgot every advice he had managed to stock in his mind before this call. 

“It’s good to hear you, partner.” he said after a moment, realizing that asking what’s wrong wasn’t the best thing he could do at that moment. He felt that she’d probably hung up on him if he did... “I didn’t think I’d hear from you after you aborted the mission.”

He heard her sigh out a laugh at his words, his tone playfully accusatory. The girl cleared her throat and wondered for a second, before replying:

“It wasn’t exactly my mission... And if I remember correctly, you were the one who broke our partnership, chasing me around the ship.” 

He could almost hear the smile behind her words, which made his lip corners curl up slightly. He was glad she still managed to joke with him. It meant that, perhaps, it wasn’t that bad. 

“Did I kill you, though?” 

“You would if you had a chance.”

“I had plenty of chances Y/N, and I never took one” he replied right away with a chuckle. “I may be the murderer, but I’m no traitor.”

“You say that after luring me to that lava pit and killing me and Sykkuno? It was a trap all along, wasn’t it?” she asked suspiciously, but he knew she was joking “I bet you were conspiring with MrBeast all this time...”

“How dare you” he scoffed, trying to hold back his chuckle “I took you there cause it’s a special place, it was no trap! It just happened to be the wrong place and the wrong time...”

“Sure, partner”

“I’m serious!” he laughed “Besides - I apologized, and if I remember correctly, I think we both agreed that I jumped into that lava pit for you after all...”

“After they voted you off! You didn’t have any other chance!”

“Maybe it was all planned?” he said, changing his voice to more mysterious “Maybe I conspired with MrBeast so I could jump into that lava pit... and the only way to do it is by being voted off. So, either way, I kept my word.”

“Fine... whatever.”

Their laughter died down and was replaced by surprisingly comfortable silence. Corpse was happy with how the conversation started - he believed it would be easier for Y/N to explain what happened now, if she wished to explain, of course. 

“Y’know...” he began after a second, deciding to change the subject and finally address the issue. “Partners are supposed to help each other... and be there when the other person is in need...”

He was careful with his words, being full aware that Y/N might find it uncomfortable to share her problems with him. He wanted to encourage her, just slightly, if his previous texts weren’t enough. 

She sighed quietly and he could sense her reluctance. 

“But only if the other person wants partner’s help.” he added after a moment, keeping his voice as soft as he could. Y/N didn’t respond right away, but she didn’t hang up either, which Corpse took as a good sign. He gave her a couple of seconds to collect her thoughts, before asking another question: 

“What made you so upset, Y/N/N?”

He could hear her inhale the air sharply as if she had trouble breathing steadily. The line went silent, not that Corpse was surprised. He waited patiently, giving the girl the time she needed to decide whether she wanted to answer that question and what words should she choose if she did. 

And when she finally spoke up, Corpse felt as if his heart could break.

“They are just so mean...” she almost whispered, her voice cracking. He didn’t have to ask whom she meant, it was obvious. “And I don’t even know why... I didn’t do anything to those people, and yet they are so mean towards me.”

Corpse hummed in response, allowing her to keep talking. If there was one thing he knew that helped coping with stress, it was sharing it with someone else. And even though he himself had a lot on his plate, he felt the need to be that someone for Y/N. 

“I... I don’t want you to think that I’m some crybaby, who takes everything super seriously and can’t take a joke, but...” she stuttered for a moment and Corpse fought the urge to cut her off and tell her that what he thinks of her is the complete opposite. “But those comments... those weren’t jokes, Corpse. I don’t think anyone would find them funny.”

His heart ached at the sound of her quiet, weak voice. And then it angered him, that some anonymous haters managed to upset this cheerful, innocent person. How could anyone do something like that to Y/N?

“I... I’m sorry for telling you this...” she suddenly trailed off, sounding rather awkward and uncomfortable. “I shouldn’t be bothering you with my silly problems...”

“They aren’t silly as long as they are problems to you, Y/N.” 

“Yeah, but... I’m sure everyone from the group has received such comments at some point of their career... or maybe they still receive them...” she murmured almost embarrassed. “Maybe it’s no such a big deal after all...”

“Let me ask you something” Corpse said, feeling anger bubbling up in his stomach. Not directed at Y/N, of course, but at the people who made her think this way. “Imagine that someone, let’s say me, calls you because of the same reason. Would you consider telling me that online hate, or any hate for that matter, is not a big deal? That those are just my silly problems” 

She was silent for a moment, thinking about his question, and probably not expecting it in the first place. However, after a few seconds of initial surprise, she replied firmly:

“Of course not.” 

“Then why are you trying to convince yourself that they are?” he asked in what would sound like an accusatory tone, but in reality was just his voice laced with worry. “There’s no such thing as a silly problem Y/N, as long as it bothers you. If you consider it a problem, then it is a problem. And the fact that other people receive similar, or even worse comments, doesn’t mean anything. Maybe just that they are longer on Youtube and they’ve learned to deal with this kind of stuff... And your reaction? It doesn’t make you a crybaby and please Y/N, don’t ever think that way about yourself.”

He said it all so quickly and almost on one breath, letting all his frustration out and trying to form his babbling into some logical statement. 

“I understand what you’re going through...” he confessed after a moment of silence between them. “I know what it’s like to go through the ocean of positive comments and find those few which say something completely different... something that is meant to hurt you and humiliate you... Something that ruins your day, or even a couple of next few days or weeks... Something that completely overshadows everything else you’ve read about yourself. Something that people write from the safety of their own computers or phones, without showing their faces and remaining completely anonymous.”

For a moment, Corpse allowed himself to speak about his own experience, thinking that maybe when Y/N realizes that he knew exactly what she was dealing with, it would make it easier for her. “And that is the key fact, Y/N, that they are anonymous. They do what they do because no one can see them because it is comfortable for them to leave a hate comment and not face any consequences. Because they don’t have to face the person their hate is directed towards.”

“Some of the accounts were not anonymous...” Y/N mumbled, and Corpse could clearly hear that she was speaking through the tears. “People were using their public accounts, with photos and everything...”

“But let me guess, those comments weren’t even about your videos, huh? They weren’t about any of your work?” 

“Well...” she whispered, thinking about Corpse’s question. “Truth to be said, no. Most of them just looked like some kind of a personal attack on me...” 

“Exactly. It’s not even criticism, it’s just plain bullshit cowards are sharing online. They probably aren’t even able to form some logical sentence, they just combine some random words which are supposed to hurt you.”

“It works...”

“Y/N...” Corpse sighed into the phone, hearing her defeated tone. “Let me ask you another question, okay?” she hummed in response, and Corpse cleared his throat. “Tell me, whose opinion matters to you the most?”

“My friends... and my fans’“she said.

“Okay.. and whom do you consider your fan?”

“Someone who finds the content I create interesting and entertaining and takes his time to watch my videos.” she replied right away.

“Okay. Do you think that people who left those comments took their time to even watch your videos?” 

“Probably not...” she replied after a second. “Look, I know what you mean Corpse... That I shouldn’t worry about it because they are not my fans and therefore their opinion shouldn’t matter... but that’s not the case. It’s the fact alone that for some reason people spend their time hating me when I didn’t even do anything to them.”

“You didn’t do anything to them.” Corpse repeated her own words in his deep voice. “And they didn’t watch your videos. It seems like they don’t have any reason to leave those comments, right?” he asked. “I know that it’s hard Y/N, I really do, but the truth is, you can’t really have everyone leaving positive feedback under your content... There will always be someone who will consider it a good idea to send you a hateful message, just because they can, not because they have any specific reason to. Now I don’t say that’s okay... but it’s in a way like some disease. The one there’s no cure for. Even though you can’t cure it, you can make yourself immune.” 

“How, Corpse? How do you make yourself immune to messages saying that you’re a fucking annoying bitch, that you don’t deserve what you have? That you don’t deserve your friends, and you are not good enough to play with them? To spend your time with them? How do you deal with comments suggesting that you should go and kill yourself, because you’re not famous enough, and you will never be?” 

Her voice suddenly rose, and Corpse felt as his heartbeat quickened with each comment she described. He gripped his hand around the phone, his knuckles turning white and his brows furrowing in an expression of pure fury. 

He considered her words for a moment, trying to come up with the best advice, but realized there wasn’t any that would satisfy her. He could imagine the state she was in, she probably wouldn’t take any of his advice seriously. And he wouldn’t blame her for that. 

“I’m sorry for snapping on you...” she suddenly said, her voice back to its soft tone. “It’s just too much for me to handle...”

“It’s all good, Y/N, don’t apologize. You have the full right to be angry and to show it. I just want you to remember that...” Corpse gulped the lump in his throat, feeling his cheeks getting warmer. “Those comments are not what define you. As a matter of fact, they’re not even about you. You know why? Because people who write them don’t know you. They don’t even take a moment to acknowledge what an intelligent and talented person you are, not to mention how kind... but I do. A-and everyone else too.”

She was silent for a moment, and Corpse panicked, that maybe he said too much, or made things awkward again. But then she spoke up, her slightly less weak than before.

“I suppose... maybe you’re right, Corpse.” she said, still sounding a little bit unconvinced. He understood, it was clear his one pep talk wouldn’t suddenly make her forget about it. It would be like telling a person with depression to stop having depression and expecting them to suddenly feel better. “Thank you. For listening to my pathetic babbling... and for not telling me to just pull myself together.”

“First of all, your babbling is not pathetic...” he began “Second of all... I know we don’t really know each other, but... If you ever feel the need to talk to someone, I’m here.”

“And for that I’m grateful, Corpse” she said, clearly smiling. “Sorry, I mean, partner.”

“Partner.” he chuckled into the phone, smiling from ear to ear. 

“It’s getting late...” she yawned into the phone. “Sorry. I think I’ll go to sleep, I’m really tired...”

“Of course” Corpse replied, hiding the disappointment in his voice. He really enjoyed talking to her, just to her alone, but he understood that the whole conversation and the event preceding it probably exhausted her. 

“Hey...” she suddenly said, and Corpse could swear that her voice sounded as if she unexpectedly became shy. “Um... it was really great talking to you, you’re a really good listener, Corpse.”

“Glad to hear that” he smiled happily.

“Um... would you mind if I called you tomorrow too?” she asked so quietly that he almost didn’t catch it, his breath hitching in his throat. “If you have time that is... if you don’t, or if you have some super plans, then I understand, it’s fine-”

“I don’t have any super plans, Y/N” he couldn’t help but chuckle, finding her nervous banter adorable. “Call me whenever you want.”

“Okay...” she sighed, almost in relief, but Corpse didn’t want to point it out to embarrass her even more. “So... let’s say, around 2 pm?” 

“Sounds good to me.”

“Great.” she said, her voice trailing off a bit. “I’m falling asleep here, Corpse... Thank you once again, for everything.”

“Anytime, Y/N.”

“Good night, partner.”

“Goodnight, partner.” 

-

Part 5 coming soon. It will probably be the last part of this series, I’m not sure yet though.

TAG LIST FOR PURE IS CLOSED. 

TAG LIST FOR CORPSE REQUESTS/OTHER FICS IS OPEN (if you want to be tagged, please send me a text)

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[spooky-nerd]

I Wrote an MSR Christmas Fic in September, Sorry

Christmas comes but once a year, or so he’s been told. Which means that he has 364 days (at least) to strategize. And yet, he never quite manages to be able to escape it.

He’s come close a small handful of times. A mere brush with victory followed by crushing defeat. In 1971 he was hospitalized with appendicitis on December 24. Unfortunately, the hospital gave out little teddy bears with santa hats that year to all of the children. In 1994, he tried lying low in his apartment, but Mrs. Sanders from across the hall had dropped off a fruitcake wrapped in red and green paper with a ridiculously frilled bow. The fruitcake had tasted horrible, but then that had been comforting, because he has never had a fruitcake that didn’t taste horrible and would find the very idea to be unsettling to say the least.

Twice he has nearly managed to avoid Christmas altogether. An almost impossible feat, and a coveted one amongst those who bemoan the holiday like he does.

He is not a grinch, as some would suspect, and his heart is not withered and cold. He does not have a propensity for stealing presents from under trees, and he has never once uttered the words “bah, humbug!”. He just does not care for Christmas.

This had come as a shock to Scully during their first year of partnership. She had whisked into the office on December 23rd in a cloud of merriment, smelling like peppermint and humming festively. “So, what are your Christmas plans?” she had asked innocently.

“Well, I’ll probably microwave some popcorn and watch Plan 9 From Outer Space,” he had said in complete seriousness. In spite of his delivery, she had laughed. Probably at the absurdity of it, which likely was obvious to outside observers, he had realized then. And yet, his world-weary soul had lacked the energy to care.

“You’re serious?” She had dropped the smile, and in its place was that frown of disappointment that he was rapidly becoming acquainted with. For some reason, he had felt a bit sheepish.

“Yeah, I’ve just never been one for the holidays.”

“But Mulder, it’s Christmas,” she had said, her incredulity ratcheting up impossibly higher.

“Oh I know, Scully. Trust me, I know. 104.9 started playing Christmas music in October. My building super put up tinsel in all the hallways on November 1st. I’ve been visually assaulted by this holiday on every street corner since the day after Black Friday. I know it’s Christmas. I just don’t really care.” He had shrugged, in case the rant came off a little too harsh. Not that Scully was easily intimidated. He was quickly beginning to learn that too.

She had shrugged, already poised to drop the subject. “Alright. Enjoy your popcorn, then.”

He had smiled. “Thanks, Scully.”

She had paused, turned back to him. He had gotten a whiff of peppermint again, and wondered if it was a new holiday perfume, or just the everyday magic of her. “You know, November 1st is a little early for tinsel.”

Looking back, it is possible that he had begun to fall in love with her then.

* * *

In the four years that Scully has been his partner, he has discovered that she has exactly one flaw: she loves Christmas. The music, the food, the gifts, the decorations, she eats them all up with a little festively-adorned spoon. At his request, she had refrained from stringing lights up in the office, but in exchange, he is forced to accept one Christmas gift from her each year.

Of course, he isn’t a monster, so every year, he buys her a present, too. Usually something quite ridiculous and useless. Their second Christmas together, he had bought her a mug depicting the entire cast of General Hospital. “It made me think of you,” he had said, to which she had raised an eyebrow and smiled, sliding her own present across the desk to him with false demureness. He had given her a suspicious look and ripped into the gift with exaggerated zeal, just to make her laugh. With delight he had pulled out a tie with little green aliens and flying saucers.

“Scully,” he had said, completely smitten. She had smiled and shrugged. He had decided that is was possible he didn’t hate gift exchanges as much as he had previously thought.

* * *

On December 23rd, 1997, he walks into the office and she is not there. It is not a surprise to him, but it is a blow nonetheless. She should be here, bringing him hot chocolate in addition to his morning coffee, placing a gift on his desk wrapped in ribbon so clinquant and overwhelmingly jubilant that it makes his eyes hurt. She should be here, making him dislike the holiday less and less with each passing moment. And if she can’t be here, he should be there with her. He calls Skinner and tells him he is taking a personal day. He does not explain further but he does not need to.

“Okay. Tell her I said Merry Christmas,” Skinner says.

“Thank you, sir. I will.”

* * *

Within an hour, he is at her doorstep with a hazardously overstuffed plastic grocery bag, a six-foot spruce that is growing heavier by the minute, and a gift wrapped in paper that had been sparkly at one time but has now transferred all of its glitter onto his coat.

It takes her a worryingly long time to answer the door. But she does eventually, looking completely drained, a sweater wrapped around her thin frame. She is cold all the time now and she never complains but it has not escaped his notice. She looks exhausted, but it stops his breath how beautiful she is all the same.

She is surprised to see him. Even more shocked by the one-man window display he has become.

“Mulder? What are you doing?” Confusion, but also a smile in her voice that he can see glittering in her eyes, too.

“I thought I’d bring the party to you, Scully.” He is still a little out of breath, but he smiles, and finally she laughs, melodic and joyful. She lets him in.

* * *

With the muted tones of Bing Crosby playing smooth and unobtrusive underneath, he makes them hot chocolate, dons a Santa hat, and gets to work decorating her tree. She sits on the end of her couch nearest him and opens up the little boxes of colorful Christmas ornaments, handing them to him one-by-one with delicate care. He gets tangled more than once in the Christmas lights, each time extricating himself in a flurry of limbs and curses. It’s worth it to hear her laugh. He wants to close his eyes and listen to the sound and pretend everything is okay.

When he is finished, she holds out her hands wordlessly and he helps her stand up. He wraps an arm around her and they lean against one another, admiring the finished tree. He wonders if she knows it means so much more to him than just a nice gesture. Her grip tightens around him in a brief hug.

“Mulder,” she says softly. “I don’t even know what to say. You really didn’t have to do all this.”

They are quiet for a moment. Bing Crosby sings that it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas. He finds that he agrees.

“I wanted to, Scully. I wanted to be here. The office doesn’t feel right without you,” he says. “Besides, you would’ve done the same.”

She huffs a small laugh. “You hate Christmas.”

“No I don’t.” She looks up at him and he meets her gaze. “I don’t.”

* * *

Exactly one year later, she is safe and whole and mulling over a file, tapping an absent beat on their desk with her pencil. He bounds into the office, over-laden with a diverse assortment of ridiculous Christmas paraphernalia. He dumps it all on the floor in an unceremonious heap, shakes the snow out of his hair, and tosses her a goofy smile.

“Hey, Scully,” he says, out of breath. “Wanna help me deck the halls?”

When they are finished, the office has never looked more unprofessional. They couldn’t be prouder of themselves. Before she leaves for the night, she gives him his gift and a kiss on the cheek. Also very unprofessional, as is the alarming rate at which his heart is beating. It’s just about the only thing he can think about over the holidays, and that in itself brings clarity.

* * *

Her hand is icy where it settles atop his on the steering wheel. He risks only a brief glance in her direction. ‘It’s really coming down out there,’ he had said obligatorily about thirty minutes earlier, squinting into the critical sliver of light their headlights were slashing through the dark flurries of snow.

“Let’s stop for the night,” she says. He nods and gets off at the next exit without question.

They find a motel down a nearly deserted back road that makes them both touch the concealed weapons at their hips just for comfort. The attendant wordlessly accepts their cash and slides them a key.

“You know what’s messed up?” he says as he flops onto the bed after a cursory inspection for suspicious stains.

“What?” she says, rooting through her bag for their toothbrushes. 

“I don’t even know where we are.”

She sighs, a weary sound that he has gotten used to hearing in the months they’ve been on the road. Almost four months now.

“We are somewhere in the southern part of Kentucky. That’s all I know.”

“Scully,” he begins, the word absolutely riddled with guilt.

“Mulder, stop. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.” They’ve had this small scrap of conversation several times. He keeps waiting for her response to change but it never does.

Silence except for her continued rummaging. Then, a triumphant “Aha!”

He peeks out from under the arm slung across his face. “What-“ He stops at the sight of her wearing a santa hat and holding a lumpy package wrapped in newspaper and held together with duct tape. She smiles and inclines her head triumphantly. The hat tilts adorably and the little pompom falls in front of her face. He laughs in spite of everything. In the spirit of the season, she joins him.

“Merry Christmas, Mulder.”

He shakes his head, in awe once again. “I love you.”

* * *

In an unremarkable house, in an unremarkable room, in an unremarkable chair sits a man. He is unremarkable in some ways and remarkable in others. He is holding in his hand a two-inch long replica of a Louisville Slugger that has been made into a keychain. A gas station trinket, unremarkable in some ways and remarkable in others. He turns it over in his hands and cannot help the smile that spreads across his face. It takes him back to a motel on a snowy night in southeastern Kentucky, and he has a mind to stay there awhile.

She walks in at that moment, wearing the most hideous sweater he has ever seen. After a moment of stunned silence he lets out a loud gut laugh. She smiles, spreading her hands in a silent ‘ta-da’. The sweater is red and green, and knit into it are alternating rows of Christmas trees, presents, wreaths, some colorful blobs that inexplicably might be potted ferns, and a pair of kissing reindeer, both of which have antlers.

“You look horrible,” he says, still chuckling. “I love it.”

“I found it at a Goodwill.”

“An ironic name for a store that would sell such an act of violence.”

She laughs. “I’m thinking of adding it to my regular rotation. I could get you one, too, and then we could match.”

“Well, people in town already think we’re crazy. Maybe it’s time to start leaning into it.”

She heads to the kitchen to make the hot chocolate, and he puts his hand in his pocket for the thousandth time that day, touching the small box like he’s afraid it will disappear. While she putters around the kitchen, he stares at the winking lights of their Christmas tree and gathers his thoughts.

Within minutes she is back with two steaming mugs filled much too full, sloshing dangerously. She sips a little out of both of them, burns her tongue, and hands him his. The mugs are hot. She pulls her sleeves up until only the tips of her fingers are peeking out and holds the mug that way. He watches the entire scene, completely enamored.

She throws herself onto the couch with a sigh and it is a Christmas miracle that she does not spill any of the hot chocolate on that horrendously festive sweater. He settles down next to her and sips gingerly from his mug, contemplating the mystery of those reindeer.

“Is it a misunderstanding of deer anatomy or a political statement, do you think?” she says, clearly reading his mind. He makes a mental note to open up an unofficial investigation into how she keeps being able to do that.

“All I know is it’s my favorite thing you’ve ever worn.”

“Aww. Thanks.”

“I am curious about those potted ferns, though.”

“Is that what they are?”

They wait there together, sipping and talking about everything and nothing until the hour whittles down to nil and the clock strikes midnight, Christmas Day. He puts an arm around her shoulders and marvels at the way her head fits so perfectly in the crook of his neck. He presses a kiss onto the top of her head.

“Merry Christmas, Scully.” He whispers it like a treasured secret.

She turns to kiss him. “Merry Christmas,” she whispers back. Then she is up, grabbing his presents. She is eager for him to see one of them, and has been carrying the secret of what it is around with her for weeks. She hands it to him first, and he makes a show of opening it agonizingly slowly. She rolls her eyes and shoves him gently until he picks up the pace.

“Oh wow, Scully,” he says softly when he pulls the tissue paper aside to reveal a vintage restored Polaroid camera. “Thank you. This…wow.” He runs a hand over the glossy surface appreciatively, and then points it at her. “Say cheese.”

Within moments, the photo of her completely unprepared and squinting painfully at the sudden flash develops.

“Ugh,” she giggles.

“I’m keeping it.” He slips it into his pocket before she can snatch it away. His knuckles bump the small box, and he swallows the sudden lump in his throat. “Okay, now it’s your turn.”

He retrieves the gift from under the tree and watches her open it. “Oh, Mulder,” she says, pulling the typewriter out of its box. He’d had to place an anonymous ad in the paper for that one. They had decided at the beginning of their life on the run that they would use only the most basic technology, which meant burner phones and nondigital alternatives. “It’s beautiful.”

It is. It’s an Underwood, glossy white, impeccably maintained. He’d paid a small fortune to a very old man for this one. They had met in a public park. He had paid in cash. The man had brought it in an old shoebox inside a brown paper grocery sack. The whole transaction had felt vaguely illegal. The man had looked at least 100.

“Thank you.” She gives him a hug. She smells like hot chocolate and peppermint. It reminds him of a Christmas many years ago. A conversation about why he didn’t like Christmas. Oh how things have changed.

“Actually, there’s one more thing,” he says when she pulls away. She raises an eyebrow. She hates to be outdone, especially on Christmas. Incredulity turns into disbelief when he pulls out the small box.

“Mulder,” she whispers. Her eyes fill with unshed tears when he gets on his knee in front of her, and if he’s going to make it through this, he cannot look at her.

“Scully, I-“ his voice catches immediately. He clears his throat. “I know that the past few years have been…well there’s no words for it. You are the only thing that has gotten me through. You’ve been there Scully, since the beginning you’ve been there and I- I can’t imagine my life without you. I want so much more for you. You deserve so much more, and I…I wish that I could give you more. But this is all I have to offer, Scully. This is everything I have. I want to grow old with you and, and love you and support you and laugh with you until the end of time. I promise to be faithful. I promise to have your back and to be there for you always.” He takes a shaky breath. “Dana Katherine Scully, will you marry me?”

He looks into her eyes, and he sees everything there. The love and devotion that had started small and fragile and had grown into something ineffably strong. He cannot imagine a life without this woman. Bing Crosby’s voice floats quietly over from the record player, singing about having a merry little Christmas. He wants a life with her, a thousand more little Christmases just like this one, filled to the brim with ridiculous, garish holiday cheer. She takes a deep breath, the words that will determine their future poised on the tip of her tongue.

“Yes. Of course I will.”

- - - - - - - -

Note: Btw, I wasn’t lying about that sweater

[kasienda]

A Miraculous Reveal: A Gift of Responsibility

It had seemed like an ordinary day. Except that Marinette had been on time for school. That, like, almost never happened. But here she was in her seat ten minutes before class was to begin, snacking on a croissant her father had handed her on the way out the door and chatting idly with Alya about nothing remotely important. 

Her classmates filed in slowly in clumps until finally everyone except Adrien was in their seats. She watched his empty seat with a hint of worry. She always hated when he wasn’t there - knowing he was either trapped in a photoshoot he cared nothing about, or was home in bed with illness. 

But before her anxiety could spiral too deep, he slipped casually through the doorway. But he paused, facing the whole class. He smiled softly as his gaze swept the room, but there was something sad and wistful about his expression. 

“Are you okay?” she asked him. 

His spring-green eyes whipped back to her, and his smile grew. “Yes, of course. I just… I have some changes coming up, and I just wanted to savor this normal morning.” 

“What changes?” Nino asked. 

“Oh… ummm…” Adrien’s hand flew to the back of his neck. “I’m going to go back to home schooling in a week.” 

Keep reading on Ao3

Marinette’s eyes shot open, and her gut twisted painfully.

“What?!” Alya exploded. 

“That’s so uncool, dude!” Nino was shouting. “What toe did you step out of line this time?” 

Marinette couldn’t speak through the lump in her throat or the churning in her stomach. 

Adrien shook his head. “I agreed to it, actually,” he admitted.

“What?! Why?!” Nino demanded, his face looked exactly how Marinette felt. What would life be like without Adrien’s kind and patient smile offering her warmth and comfort? What would his life be like when he was being shuffled between photoshoots and tutors without anyone who wasn’t being paid a salary to remain in his presence? 

“He needs my help,” Adrien said. “Nathalie is sick, and he’s under a lot of pressure and apparently he wants to start training me in the… family business. He said I can still have you all over once a week.”

She and Nino exchanged a glance. Of course, Gabriel would buy Adrien’s compliance by offering the one thing Adrien always strived for - his father’s high opinion and attention. 

“You’re even allowed to all visit at the same time, so we could have, like parties, and movie nights!” Adrien exclaimed, his face lighting in genuine delight, and Marinette couldn’t help reciprocate the expression. “That was our compromise,” he added softly before his eyes fell into his lap and he trailed off into silence. “I know it won’t be the same,” he whispered.

“It’s okay, dude,” Nino reassured with a huge smile. Marinette was completely confident Nino was burying his own feelings to put on a brave face for Adrien. “We understand. This is a chance to spend time with your old man.” 

Adrien nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it’ll be nice,” Adrien agreed, but his expression didn’t match his tone, and Marinette grew more worried. 

Her hand reached for his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” she asked. 

His smile stretched fondly across his face as his green eyes turned to her. Heat bloomed in her cheeks and she glanced down into her hands. 

“Yes, Marinette. I’m okay with it. I think it’ll work out well for a lot of people.” 

She made herself smile back at him. If he was excited, she wouldn’t poison it with her worries. At least she was still going to get to see him every now and again. 

“Actually, Marinette?”

“Yeah?” 

“Can I talk to you after class? Alone?” 

The blush in her cheeks burned hotter. “Uh… y-yes, absolutely.” 

She didn’t need to look at Alya, to feel the heat of her friend’s teasing gaze. Marinette kicked her from under the table. 

But then class was starting, Adrien had turned back around to face the front, and Marinette had to pretend that she wasn’t going out of her mind about whatever it was that Adrien wanted to talk to her about. 

The morning went by agonizingly slow. Like the clocks had clearly been spelled to go backwards when they weren’t being directly observed or something. 

When their morning classes finally concluded, Alya departed rapidly, hooking Nino’s arm through her elbow and dragging him away on her way out. Adrien watched them leave arm in arm with a sad smile before he turned back to her. 

“Shall we?” he asked. 

And she nodded, not trusting her tongue to form a coherent response, before following him out. 

It didn’t take long for them to find some privacy in a private alcove. She knew it was a good spot to not be seen. She had transformed here more than once. 

“So, I have a confession to make,” he said into the silence, his eyes gazing directly into her eyes. 

She nodded rapidly urging him to continue, trying to ignore her heart, which was currently threatening to beat out of her chest. 

“I lied earlier. I don’t have another week. Today is my last day.” 

Whatever she had been expecting or hoping he would say, that was not it. “I… What? Why?” 

“I just… I didn’t want everyone to make a big deal out of it today. I just… wanted one last normal day,” his gaze had shifted past her, and his sadness struck her in the chest. 

“I understand,” she said. “I won’t tell anyone.” 

He smiled again. “Thank you, Marinette. You’ve always been so good with secrets.” 

“Is this what you wanted to talk about?” she asked. 

He shook his head. “Actually, no.” And he reached into his bag and pulled out a small wrapped package. “I have something for you.” He handed it to her.

“For me? What about the others?” 

“This could only be for you, Marinette.” His tone was so certain and yet so gentle. How was she ever going to get over this boy? 

She started to open it, but his hands covered her. 

“Open it when you get home,” he said. 

Her eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t want to see what I think of it?” 

He shook his head. “I’m quite confident you’d give me an earful, but…”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “How much did you spend on me?” 

He held his hands up in surrender. “None, actually… Not that you’re not completely worth it! This just isn’t that kind of gift!” he told her. “Just… promise me that you’ll open it as soon as possible.” 

“You sure you don’t want me to open it now?” 

“I’m certain! It’s… private… and embarrassing! I don’t want anyone else to see it. It’s only for you, okay?” 

Her eyebrows furrowed together. It was like he was trying to tell her something, but wasn’t allowed to say it out loud. “Okay,” she agreed. 

He smiled. “Thank you, Marinette.” And he pulled her into a hug. She let herself linger for a second, but then tried to pull away. He just squeezed her harder, and she let herself melt against him, her arms wrapping around his back. 

A second later, she realized his whole form was shaking. 

He was crying. 

She had no idea what to do. 

“Adrien? Is… everything okay?” 

He pulled away, and wiped his eyes. He was shaking his head. “No,” he said, but then he smiled through his tears at her. “But it will be. I promise you that.” 

And then he was leaving, and she didn’t know what to say to bring him back. She just clutched the small package to her chest, wondering what might be inside. 

… 

The second Marinette was through the bakery doors of her family home, she bolted upstairs without so much as a “Hey, how was your day?” to either of her parents.

She pulled the wrapped parcel from her bag as she was climbing the slanted ladder to her room, and the second the trap door was closed, she dropped her bag unceremoniously to the floor, and Tikki buzzed excitedly in the air beside the present. 

“What’d he get you?” Tikki asked. 

“I don’t know,” Marinette said, even as she was tearing through the paper wrapper. 

She finally revealed a little black box and a letter that had been folded up eight times to fit under the box.

She opened the box and her giddy excitement vanished like a puff of smoke. In its place, she felt raw dread twisting in her gut. 

Before she could even ask Tikki for confirmation, A sparkling green light confirmed her fears. This was Chat Noir’s ring. 

Plagg manifested right in front of her. He whirled around, taking in her room. 

“Damnit kid! I told you to not be rash,” he grumbled. “Hiya pigtails! How’re things?” he asked casually as if it was completely normal to see her every afternoon. 

“Plagg?!” Marinette screeched. “What are you doing here? What happened to Chat?”

“Well, obviously he must have given me to you,” Plagg said. 

And Marinette felt dizzy. If that was true, Adrien was Chat Noir. But she couldn’t scream about that now. Something was wrong. 

“But why?” she demanded. Something was wrong.

“Did you read his letter?” Plagg asked. 

She tore open the letter, ripping it once in her haste, but it was fine. She could still read it.

Her eyes scanned through his words rapidly. 

Please forgive me, princess, for putting this on your shoulders. 

My partner and I have been chasing the same guy pretty much since the day you and I met. And yesterday, I found out who he is. 

He’s my father. 

That last line was blurred with obvious tear stains. 

I am entrusting you with this keepsake that was gifted to me because it is no longer safe with me. I couldn’t even risk using it one more time to contact my partner as I’m more closely protected than before. It’s far safer with you. 

And I’m asking that you do more than keep it safe. I’m hoping you will use it and take on the role that I once did in protecting my partner. 

And I know that is a lot to ask. But I’ve watched you handle all the tools in the box simultaneously, and you’re an absolute natural, princess. I have no doubt that you could fill my role seamlessly. 

My father’s assistant has fallen ill. He used to rely on her for everything, but now that she’s sick he has entrusted her role to me. 

But I can’t. I can’t betray my partner. I love her. 

Please entrust everything I’ve said to my partner whether or not you decide to fill my shoes. I hope together, the two of you can come up with a plan to deal with my father. 

And make it fast. 

I don’t know how long I can pull off pretending. 

~Your Black Knight

She was barely aware of the tears pouring down her face. She was too angry. 

“Plagg! Is he okay? Tell me he’s okay!” He hasn’t seemed okay during lunch. He had seemed sad all day, but at lunch, when they had been alone he had broken down for a moment. 

“I mean… he’s physically fine. The bastard didn’t hit him or anything. And on some level the man is trusting his son for the first time since his wife disappeared.” 

His wife! Adrien’s mother! That was why he was doing this, wasn’t it? 

Marinette could almost understand. Almost. She thought she might be capable of anything to protect her loved ones. 

But she liked to think that she would have stopped once she realized how much she was hurting others. She wasn’t sure though.

“But my kid’s heart is breaking that he has to betray him in the end,” Plagg continued. 

Then she shook her head at herself. Her partner was so good and so pure, that he was willing to stand against his own father. Willing to throw a wrench into a plan to bring back his own mother. Because it was the right thing to do. 

Marinette would follow his example. Her hand tightened around Chat Noir’s - around Adrien’s - ring. 

Gabriel didn’t deserve her understanding anyway. 

Because Gabriel hadn’t just hurt Chat Noir with his Akumas. Adrien himself had been a victim of them on several occasions occasion, he had been the target more than once. 

What kind of father did that to his own son? 

She slipped on the ring. 

“Marinette!” Tikki shrieked. “You cannot unify myself and Plagg,” she warned. “Not without risking reality itself.” 

Marinette nodded. “I understand, Tikki. Don’t worry. I have a plan.” 

As Chat Noir has pointed out, Marinette could use every miraculous in the box. And she wasn’t going to wait.

Because she had a partner to save, a friend to hold in a never ending hug until he was well and truly cried out, and a love to fight for. 

Hawkmoth wouldn’t know what hit him.

[giant-sketches]

Hello everyone and welcome back to another chapter of Mass Emotions after such a long wait. I worked very hard to make it worth that time of course, but please do be patient with me as I find more time to write and draw for this side blog of mine. :9

To find rest of the chapters you can follow this link!

If you would like to be added to the taglist please DM or send an ask. :3

Disclaimer: Crying/Shouting/Cursing/Anxiety Attack/Pain/Slight Physical Harm

Side-note: The main ship in this series is fluff LAMP. Janus is seen as a guardian figure to the other sides and is therefore not shipped with any of them. All sides are the same age, but their maturity varied in the past. 

It was night when Virgil started making his way out of the window from his room, sneaking past Logan’s surveillance drones, and into the surrounding woods. Two weeks had gone by of them discussing, or more like arguing over which of the remaining destabilized giants to go after. Obviously, Roman wanted to save his brother as soon as possible! On top of that Logan supported his wishes based purely on the fact that Remus was closest to breaking apart.

However, Virgil wanted to go for Janus instead. He was the first to destabilize so Virgil thought it only fair and Patton agreed with him. Saying he’d suffered enough of not being able to remember his family for the past years. Yet, there was another reason the anxious side wanted to save him first...Janus’s destabilization had been Virgil’s fault. He was the one who started it and He had to be the first to end it!

A surprise was waiting for Virgil though, a note stuck to the outside window instructing him to come to the cave on the West side, signed Janus. The timing was uncanny as he stuffed it into his hoodie pocket. Virgil was now alone in the woods making haste towards the obvious trap awaiting him.

Unfortunately, Patton’s sixth sense for tomfoolery kicked in as he suddenly woke up. Roman was snoring, Logan listening to his recorded tapes on scientific studies, and Virgil...nothing. Okay, that’s weird. Usually his Stormcloud liked to fall asleep to the sound of rain or ocean waves. Pat turned the knob to find it unlocked and then to find no Virgil sleeping within. “Oh kiddo.” He whispered, full of disappointment. He flew to the alarm and pressed the button to wake up the others.

“Holy! What, what is it?!”

“Ah! What time is it? Who hit the alarm?”

Patton stood in the hall with his arms crossed in full Dad mode. 

“Virgil’s gone.”

“He’s WHAT?!”

“You have got to be kidding me. H-he didn’t...you know?”

Patton nodded. There was no way it could be anything else. “He’s gone to meet with Janus.”

“Are you sure?”

Just then Pat held up a crinkled note. It was the one Virgil thought he stuffed into his pocket, but it fell out while he climbed out the window. Pretty much Virge had made a lot of mistakes despite thinking he was being careful.

“Shit. I’ll get my gear on.” Roman ran back into his room and Logan followed suit. There was no telling how long it’d been since Virgil had left. They needed to hurry.

---------------- Many Years Ago in the Mindscape

“Big bro Jan Jan!” Janus turned around to find himself being tackled by a slightly shorter side.

“Woah! Hey Virgil!” He smiled sweetly. “Be careful running around like that. What if you got hurt?” Virgie only giggled, “You’re such a worrywart Big bro Janus!”

“Well, that is true, I am Protectiveness after-all. I’m here to make sure we stay safe and can protect Thomas when he needs us.” He said as he took Virgil’s hand. “I’m also here as your all’s caretaker my little ball of Curiosity!”

The two used to be so close, just like brothers. Janus was always kind and stoic as he taught and cared for Virgil. He did the same for the other sides as well, since he was the most developed. Morality and Creativity being a little more mature than Virgil, as they all played together. To all of them Janus was like a guardian, despite all being the same age, and they loved him as such, but that did put a lot of pressure on the protective side.

One night, that pressure finally caused him to break. It was late when a strange sound caught his ear. “What was that?” He wondered, getting up from his bed to look down the hall. No one; still there was a slight breeze lingering below his feet. Is a window open or something? A sense of panic started setting in as he ran out to check on the others. Morality? He was sleeping while hugging one of many plushies. Then was Creativity okay? Yep, mumbling to himself about some dream. The last to check on was Curiosity...gone.

The window on the back wall was wide open as the cool night air taunted Janus’s paled face. “Virgil! Virgil, where are you? Please, please come here if you can hear me!” Where had he gone? Jan was trying hard to listen to any odd sounds around him, but the heart beat in his chest kept pounding. His eyes watery, ears ringing, why was this happening? Why did Virgil go outside when he’d been told to never leave the house without him? The stress had been building inside Janus for a while now.

His natural need to protect was eating away at him as the pressure grew. The pressure to be the perfect big brother Virgil idolized him for. The pressure to protect his family, protect Thomas, always be there, listen to their problems, and on and on! What about him? Didn’t he matter just as much? When was someone going to protect him, listen to HIM!

“No one ever really listens.” He grumbled. 

*SNAP*

Quickly, Janus turned his head around in the direction of the sound. Running at full speed until he saw Virgil on his knees on the cliffside. What was he doing? “Virgil!” He shouted.

Virgil turned to look at his panicked friend and smiled as he started to get up. Waving his hand around like he hadn’t a care in the world...and that’s when it happened. A strong gust of wind hit, causing the curious side to topple over and begin rolling off the cliff. “NO!”

Without any hesitation Janus jumped down and curled himself around Virgil to protect him as they both fell off the side. This was it; Janus was going to break apart any minute now. He was going to disappear forever. It wasn’t fair...he didn’t deserve this! It was all Virgil’s fault for going out at night, for not listening to his warnings about staying out of trouble. He’d given up so much to care for him, for ALL of them. At that moment something snapped inside of Janus as his body started to grow in size.

He easily filled the space below of the ravine he had moments ago been falling into. The heat and pain was so intense that he fainted, with a tiny Virgil still lying safely under his hand. An hour rolled by, before Virgil stirred awake and began taking in his surroundings. Yellow, warm, and soft? What had he landed on exactly and how was he perfectly okay? From what he could remember he had found a big hole in the Earth and was curious as to what was inside it. Then...he fell into it somehow? The now very confused side held his head as a distant, but familiar voice rang out in his head. Only to then be cut-off by the ground underneath him beginning to move.

“What the…”

He trailed off as his eyes wondered upwards to see a giant with hazy eyes looking down at him. OH SHIT! In a panic, Virgil slid down the side of the giant to hide behind some of the fallen rocks.

 He clasped his hands over his mouth and started counting down in his head to control his breathing. While the giant rubbed his eyes, none the wiser to Virgil’s stealthy escape.

“Where am I?” He groaned, working his way up to look around. “Some kind of ravine? Whatever, for now all I have is myself and that’s all I need.” Janus smirked as he walked away with a hum. Curiosity, now not so curious making sure the giant was gone before he made his way out and back home. All the while thinking how familiar the giant’s voice was.

--------------- Back to Current Time

Finally, he was here. The West side caves that Janus was hiding out in and enjoying his freedom ever since he destabilized. Virgil’s nerves started to wear on him as to what this slippery snake had planned for him. Had Jan started to remember his past now that the others' memories were coming back? Or was something else completely different going on?

“Aaaaaahhhhhh” A long groan came from inside, followed by a hiss of pain. The ground shook violently, but Virgil managed to make his way inside. The sounds of discomfort vibrating off the walls until he reached a large opening covered in lights. The interior was quite cozy for a cave. Leave it to Janus to make any location a perfect hide away. “You’re here!”

The greeting snapped Virgil out of his daze and back to the situation at hand. He’d refrained from increasing his size because he hadn’t come for a fight. “Deceit. Why did you call me here?” Virgil lacked information. He needed to see what Jan knew...what he remembered.

Janus bared his fangs with a toothy grin as he picked up his little guest. Luckily, no squeezing this time around. “Oh my dear little Virgil. Why do you think I called you here? I know you’re the one doing this to me.” This? What was he on about? “What do you mean?”

The smile vanished as his grip tightened around Virgil making it hard to breath. “Ah...stop please...Janus.” Suddenly, relief as the hand holding him relaxed. “That! Why are you calling me that?”

Virgil was still dazed from the lack of oxygen. He began wiggling his way out of the giant’s hand and rapidly began increasing his own size to match Jan’s. “You mean Janus. That’s your name.”

“No, no, no! My name is Deceit!” He banged his hand against the cavern wall as tiny items on shelves fell to the floor with a crash. “I don’t know who you think I am, but this is who I am!”

“No, that’s not true. Your name is Janus and you’re one of us. A side...a light side. There is no dark side Jan. Just you and me, and…and your family.”

“Family? Hahaha, what family? You LEFT ME! Remus left me. Everyone’s left...me.” The now sobbing Janus fell to his knees and wailed at the pain of past and present memories colliding inside his broken mind. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.” “And you don’t have to be Jan Jan.” Warm hands, familiar hands embraced him in a welcoming hug as he continued to weep.

“I’ve been having these dreams. Where, we’re all together in one house. I’m looking after you all as your big brother. Are these memories?” “Yeah, they are.” “Why didn’t I remember before then?” “It’s my fault. I’m so sorry Jan Jan. I-I was too curious and you got hurt trying to save me. You destabilized and turned into this monster in order to protect me!”

Virgil softly cried into Janus’s shoulder as he held onto him tightly. Fearing he may disappear at any moment. “I remember now. Oh Virgil, it’s alright. I forgave you a long time ago somewhere deep in my heart.” “R-really?!” Janus smiled and helped wipe away Virgil’s tears as they both stood back up. “I think it’s time I go back home to my family.”

Right as the two of them started to leave the caves the trio of fashionably late heroes appears on the scene. “Virgil! Oh my gosh Sweetpea are you okay?”

The exhausted giant waved down to his friends to show he was well and good. “Stand back from that scaly fiend!” “Roman, it’s okay. He’s started to remember.” “Remember? Do you mean to say he’s begun restabilizing?” Logan perked up curiously. “Yeah, though he’s not running a fever yet so I’m not sure when the process will st-”

Just then a hot wave started to bubble up inside of Virgil as he toppled over in pain. His face sweaty and pale. Janus was confused until he noticed himself shrinking. “What is this?!”

Between gritted teeth, “You all need to get away from here. I’m not completely sure what’s happening but I know it’s dangerous to be near me right now!” The group didn’t ask questions, they trusted Virgil’s judgement as they made their way quickly down the mountain. Meanwhile, Janus was shrinking fast and Virgil was crying out in extreme pain as his body grew rapidly. Soon he had reached his maximum height of 1000 feet, but he continued to grow. What was happening to him?

Once Janus had returned to the normal size of a human he too quickly got to somewhere safer than right next to a constantly growing giant. “Janus! How is Virgil? What’s going on?” “I’m sorry, I don’t know. I suppose if I had to guess he’s stolen my height and added it on to his own.” “He’s adding it on?” “Yes, but not in an exact manner. He’s already grown past 1000 feet, but adding mine on he would have stopped at 1070, but he hasn’t.” “How big is he going to get then?” Janus gulped as he looked back over to the mountain that Virgil’s new size was slowly consuming, “I have no idea.”

Virgil’s body now laid on top of the mountain as he could finally feel himself cooling off. More memories returning to him as his eyes focused onto his surroundings. He had grown to a whopping 5000 feet, nearly a mile high! Virgil quickly spotted the others not too far away as he reached down to grab them up. They were so small he needed to be extremely careful with them. Virgil then laid back against the mountain and smiled. He loved seeing more of his family together again.

The others were mesmerized by his tremendous size. Roman and Patton were definitely blushing as they called out to him. “Are you feeling alright now Darling?” “Yeah, I feel amazing honestly. Usually, I’m really scared and anxious when I’m so big, but this just feels so right.”

They all knew how much Virgil enjoyed being big and they were happy to see him comfortable, still they had to wonder why this happened. 

“Do you have any idea why this happened to you Stormcloud?” Virgil shook his head. He had no clue. “All I can say is that it was similar to the fever I had before, but it happened a lot quicker, so the pain was more intense.” “Then perhaps Janus’s restabilization was a catalyst of sorts.” “A catalyst?” “A substance that increases the rate of a chemical reaction without itself undergoing any permanent chemical change.” “Seriously Logan, not really the time for a chemistry lesson.” “True, but I think a secondary definition is in order. A catalyst can be a person or thing that precipitates an event. The person being Janus and the event being the increased growth of Virgil.” “Well, besides all the science talk...what does that actually help us understand?” “I’d need to do some tests and get more data, but my starting hypothesis is that somehow Virgil and his new stable form is linked to those who remain destabilized. That chaotic energy inside the body of someone unstable needs to go somewhere and I believe Virgil’s body has adapted in a way that allows him to absorb it. Thus his increase in stature.” “So he eats crazy energy?” “....yes Patton, Virgil now eats crazy energy.”

That was cool! Either way, that was one giant down and one to go. Although, for now it was time to head on home. There Virgil and Janus could both rest and in the morning he’d get an earful from Logan and Patton on protocol and house rules for him running away after finding a note from a crazy giant serpent man. Still, a good ending for now.

To be continued...

@crystalk17 @paranoidgurl @gentlegiantdreamer @suckedinfandoms @craz-ewaters @rainbowbowtie @pattonvirglsanders @enby-phoenix @sanders-sides-virgil @just-some-gt-trash @notkolaidoscop @bluegreeninbtwn @lgbtqiaemo @avenirunknown @ncanspeak @maryann-draws @himeperson @perfectly-princely-emo-nightmare @daydreamburritoworld @im-a-creepy-cookie  @radicalskatervirgil

[kjack89]

there are so many good ones on that list but UHHHHH... 24 or 31? (or 36. or 37 👀)

Every now and then I like to take a prompt that is clearly intended to be angsty and instead make it...not so.

This is one of those times.

ExR, Modern AU, established relationship. Brief misunderstandings, healthy(ish) communication, and lots o’ fluff.

31. “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

“Are you shitting me?” 

Grantaire stared down at the brightly colored flyer in apparent disgust, and Bossuet bent over to pry it from him. “What could possibly…” he started, trailing off as he saw what had caught Grantaire’s ire. “Ah. I’ll take it he didn’t, uh, clear it with you first?”

“It’s not about clearing it with me,” Grantaire snapped, snatching the flyer back. “I’m not his keeper. But I would think it would get at least a cursory mention.”

“What’s going on?” Joly asked from across the table, using Bossuet’s preoccupation to snag a bite of hashbrowns from his plate. Grantaire just thrust the flyer at Joly, who took it from him, raising both eyebrows as he read out loud, “‘Pucker Up for Change – A Kissing Booth to Fight to Legitimize Sex Work’?” He glanced up at Grantaire, who was scowling. “But what does this…”

It was his turn to trail off as he spotted the name listed among the other participants at the bottom of the flyer: Enjolras. Joly switched his glance to Bossuet. “What do you think?” he murmured out of the corner of his mouth. “Do you think Courfeyrac blackmailed him into it?”

“Either that or Combeferre’s getting revenge for something,” Bossuet muttered back.

Grantaire cleared his throat. “I don’t think the why really matters,” he said, his tone clipped. “When the more important thing is that my boyfriend is participating in a kissing booth and, y’know, neglected to tell me about it.”

“I’m sure it just slipped his mind,” Bossuet said bracingly. “You know that Enjolras has been so focused on the cash bail reform bill that’s in the House at the moment that he probably completely forgot he even agreed to participate.”

“Or,” Joly added, in what he clearly thought was a helpful way, “maybe Courfeyrac signed him up as a joke, and Enjolras doesn’t even know about it!”

“Or, maybe Enjolras forgot that he had a boyfriend who wouldn’t be super thrilled about him macking on a bunch of randos for ten bucks a pop,” Grantaire said sourly.

Joly and Bossuet both stared at him for a moment before Bossuet bit his lip, and Joly elbowed him. “Not the time,” he hissed, and Bossuet shook his head rapidly, clearly trying to stop himself from laughing.

Grantaire sighed. “What?”

“Just…’macking’?” Bossuet repeated with a snigger.

The corners of Joly’s mouth twitched. “I thought you were going to point out the use of the word ‘randos’,” he said, the pitch of his voice rising as he tried not to giggle.

Grantaire sighed again. “You two are the worst friends,” he grumbled, picking up his phone and texting Enjolras the four most ominous words in the English language: We need to talk.

----------

They didn’t talk.

Enjolras texted Grantaire back that he was in and out of meetings between the community bond fund and various state legislators, and asked if it could wait until that night. Considering that the damned kissing booth was scheduled for that afternoon, that didn’t exactly give Grantaire any opportunity to bring up the fact that Enjolras was planning on spending his afternoon locking lips with random passersby.

He texted Jehan. Pretty fucked up that passersby is the plural of passerby, and not passerbys.

I’ll take it you’re freaking out about the kissing booth thing? Jehan responded not even a minute later.

Grantaire didn’t bother asking Jehan how he knew about the kissing booth, or how he knew that Grantaire was upset about it – he had learned a long time ago not to question Jehan’s borderline omniscient ways. Don’t you think he should’ve at least told me about it??

I think that you’re interpreting the fact that he didn’t as evidence that he doesn’t care about you, Jehan replied. Which is crap. Enjolras loves you. 

Loves me enough to make out with strangers without telling me about it?

Jehan’s response took longer this time. I highly doubt there will be any making out. And have you considered that the reason he didn’t tell you is precisely because he didn’t want you to feel this way?

The thought had occurred to Grantaire, who scowled down at his phone. Doesn’t change the fact that he should’ve told me, he texted stubbornly.

Maybe not. But maybe you should give him a chance to explain tonight.

Grantaire’s scowl deepened and he shoved his phone back in his pocket. He figured he could be magnanimous enough to allow Enjolras a chance to explain.

But he sure as hell wasn’t going to wait for that night.

----------

“Next,” called the bored-looking guy who was managing the short line waiting for the kissing booth, and Grantaire took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Boy, girl, or nonbinary?”

“Sorry?” Grantaire said, blinking at him in confusion.

“Would you prefer to kiss a boy, a girl, or a nonbinary person?” the guy clarified.

Grantaire knew he should be impressed that something as asinine as a kissing booth was inclusive, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to be. “Boy,” he said, and the guy gestured for him to head over to the right side of the booth.

Taking a deep breath, Grantaire squared his shoulders and stalked over, plunking a ten dollar bill down in front of where Enjolras was sitting. “I believe this is the going rate,” he said stiffly.

The look on Enjolras’s face was everything that Grantaire had hoped it would be, a mix of horror, regret, and a particularly Enjolras-like defiance. “I suppose I owe you an explanation,” Enjolras started, but Grantaire held up a hand.

“First things first,” he said. “I paid, so I should get what I’m owed.” Enjolras rolled his eyes but nonetheless leaned in obliging and gave Grantaire a swift peck on the lips. “Not sure that was ten dollars worth…” Grantaire said, before continuing, “Now, about that explanation—”

It was Enjolras’s turn to hold up a finger, and he leaned back in his seat to talk to someone on the other side of the booth. “Hey, I’m tapping out for the moment.” Whatever response he got was apparently enough, as he stood, reaching out automatically for Grantaire’s hand.

For a brief moment, Grantaire thought about yanking his hand away, but even as ticked off as he was, he couldn’t do that.

Instead, he let Enjolras take his hand, lacing their fingers together as they walked away from the kissing booth . Enjolras glanced over at Grantaire and opened his mouth to say something, but Grantaire shook his head. “Not here,” he said tersely.

Instead, they headed to a nearby Starbucks, though Enjolras made a face when he realized where they were going. “Starbucks, really?” he asked.

“You spent an afternoon kissing people who are not me,” Grantaire said. “The least you can do is buy me an overpriced coffee.”

Enjolras didn’t argue any further, and they both got their coffees and made their way over to stand against the bar, their shoulders brushing against each other as they drank their coffee in silence.

“So,” Grantaire started eventually, and Enjolras sighed, draining his coffee.

“So I gather you’re upset,” he hedged, and Grantaire looked flatly at him.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

A small smile crossed Enjolras’s face. “Am I at least allowed to make my defense?”

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “If you think there’s anything you can say in your defense that will make even a remote bit of difference.”

“How about this: I agreed to the kissing booth before you and I started officially dating,” Enjolras said calmly. “And you know that I honor my commitments.”

“Just not the commitment you made to me.”

It was unfair of Grantaire to say, and he knew it, but Enjolras just sighed and shook his head. “I’m not going to pretend that I owe you every part of my life,” he said. “And I’m not going to pretend that I didn’t decide that asking forgiveness was easier than asking permission.”

Grantaire frowned. “You don’t need my permission,” he said.

Enjolras arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t that what this is about?”

“No, this is about you deciding that it was easier for us to not at least have a conversation about it,” Grantaire said evenly. “I know damn well that you don’t need my permission for anything, and vice-versa. But you still should’ve at least given me a head’s up about it so that I wasn’t completely blindsided.”

For a moment, Enjolras looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he ducked his head and nodded. “You’re right.”

Grantaire blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“I said, you’re right,” Enjolras repeated, a little louder.

Grantaire smirked at him. “Oh I heard you, I just wanted to make you say it again.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Hilarious,” he said dryly.

“Yeah, but my superb wit is one of the things you love about me,” Grantaire said, still grinning.

“You are unfortunately correct,” Enjolras said with a light laugh, pulling Grantaire in and kissing him. “So does that mean that I’m forgiven?”

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “That depends. You got any other makeout sessions for charity planned?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “There was no making out,” he said, a little impatiently. “It was just kissing.”

“Tomato, to-mah-to,” Grantaire muttered under his breath. 

“And it wasn’t technically for charity. It was in protest of how things like kissing booths are completely normalized and accepted, but sex work is marginalized and—” Grantaire yawned exaggeratedly and Enjolras rolled his eyes again, but it was with obvious affection. “It wouldn’t kill you to pretend to care.”

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “Pot, meet kettle.”

Enjolras’s expression softened. “I do care,” he said. “And I’m sorry for making you doubt it.”

Grantaire softened as well, not at all surprisingly. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to stay mad at Enjolras for long. “Well, for that at least, I am more than willing to forgive you.”

“And for the rest?”

But that also didn’t mean that Grantaire was completely willing to just roll over. “Answer my previous question.”

“No, I have absolutely no future plans for any kind of kissing booth or anything like that,” Enjolras said firmly. “Besides, I don’t know if I could bring myself to do it again.”

Grantaire cocked his head slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

The breath seemed to catch in Grantaire’s throat, and a slow grin spread across his face. “Good answer,” he managed, before tugging Enjolras to him and kissing him.

When they broke apart, both men were grinning. “That’ll be ten dollars,” Enjolras said, a little breathlessly.

“Shut up,” Grantaire said, laughing.

“So am I definitely forgiven now?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire just kissed him again, curling his fist in Enjolras’s shirt, knowing full well that the kiss would say far more than words ever could, and content in the knowledge that from here on out, the only person that would be kissing Enjolras was him.

And he wouldn’t even have to pay $10 to do so.

[heinzpilsnergonewild]

Vegeta’s Character Analysis Looooooooooong Read

Oh my, what can I say? I just really love to write long essays in a language that isn’t even native to me, lol.

Well, nobody’s perfect, I guess. ... Were you expecting a Cell joke here? I may not be perfect, but that doesn't mean I have to be that predictable.

Ahem, anyway.

This isn't exactly a psychological analysis of the character - more like, hmm, a storytelling analysis. Or something in between, really.

You may not find anything fundamentally new in this text, but I definitely had fun writing it, haha.

It's mostly amateur. I have a useless psychology degree, but not a literature one.

My classic rant about vegebul fics is included, of course.

Summary: proper psychological analysis requires a single continuous personality, which Vegeta simply doesn’t have.

The more I think about Vegeta, the more I come to the conclusion that he is only pretending to be a consistently evolving character.

In fact, he's a bit like 10 different characters in one, which abruptly replace each other (and that's without considering the difference caused by the voice actors’ approach and the changes in his looks). Essentially, Vegeta's a collection of disparate images, arbitrarily lined up by Toriyama and hastily glued together. And the beginning of this line is so far from the end of it that these two extreme images cannot be perceived as belonging to the same person. Well, because human psychology just doesn't work that way.

(Not that Vegeta is unique in this respect – it’s a common feature of characters in long stories that authors compose as they write. Still, his case is quite extreme and interesting as example.)

I mean, take Vegeta in the Saiyan or the Namek arc. He's a complete psychopath. He clearly doesn’t suffer at heart from the unnecessary violence (as, for example, Guts from Berserk). His behavior looks like something natural for him, not an unhealthy defensive reaction. He enjoys it, he smiles happily, killing and torturing weak innocent people. And such a degree of psychopathy is not something that can be healed by a couple of deep personality crises or years of peaceful family life. Vegeta's redemption arc works through strong emotional impact and forgetfulness of the audience, but makes very little sense when viewed in retrospect.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Perhaps the biggest, hmm, splitting of the personality occurred with Vegeta right after the Namek arc. Toriyama had already made a small retcon of the character’s motives before (to include Vegeta in the context of the Freeza army after the Saiyan arc), but it didn't feel that drastic.

You see, until Vegeta was invited to Bulma’s house…..

(Gosh, Toriyama, you could’ve done it more subtly, really. Vegeta killed Yamcha, threatened to kill Bulma, gutted Zarbon in front of her eyes, slaughtered an entire Namekian village... Oh well.)

…Ahem, anyway, right up to Bulma's invitation, Vegeta looked to me like a character who, hmm, has a life of his own? I mean, you have always felt that his motives and behavior were generated by the bizarre social system, not related to the little world of Goku and his friends. Simply put, Vegeta was a natural product of the big space civilization, an organic part of it. His whole personality was formed by it, all his plans, motivation and ambitions were associated with it. And although in the Saiyan arc, he gave the impression of an independent entrepreneurial chief at the head of a small hierarchy, in the Namek arc it was revealed that Vegeta is actually far from independent. He lost his throne and his people, he was in slavery to the tyrant all his life, and wants to take power for himself. So, his social background and the motives caused by it post factum get much more complex. But in short, Vegeta wanted a highest possible position in the hierarchy he knew. In this way, he was… social? His belonging to the Saiyan race was only a small (although important) part of the overall picture. Because the Saiyans were dead, but the Freeza Empire was alive.

But when Toriyama realized Vegeta's popularity and decided to keep him in the story after Namek, it came as a blow to the character's personality. Apparently, the author simply couldn't come up with an elegant way that could keep the character in all its complexity around, and therefore did a very clumsy thing. He roughly cut Vegeta out of his social context and almost forcibly glued him to the main character group like a poorly done appliqué. But although you see rough edges and glue drips, the story moves on rapidly, distracting you with Freeza and Future Trunks, and you don't stop to think about what happened. This is how, almost imperceptibly, Toriyama changed Vegeta's motives (and, consequently, the basis of his personality). Yes, Vegeta's saiyan pride was also significant part of his character previously, but when it became his sole and central motivation after Namek, you feel like a very big and important piece of him has been arbitrarily cut off. This wouldn't have happened if Toriyama had followed the logic of previously established social motives, rather than his desire to make Vegeta a convenient figure. Now, bound hand and foot by the author, the character is forced to behave as the plot requires.

Still, all this can be justified by the fact that Vegeta experienced a deep emotional shock as a result of death, which forced him to rethink his life priorities and wait for Goku (especially in the manga, where he just lived with Bulma for a whole year after Namek, without even trying to use dragonballs) ... And then he waited for the androids (despite the final death of Freeza and his father, which was an excellent chance to try to take over the decapitated empire). Anyway, this rationalization doesn't negate the fact that the character, as a result, has lost a significant part of the fire that he demonstrated in the Namek arc. His new energy, the energy of obsession with surpassing Goku, turns him into a new character – bitter, marginalized and focused on training.

(Ironically, the very splitting that made him a less attractive character in my eyes allowed vegebul to take place. After all, imagining the romantic relationship of the nice Bulma and Vegeta at the height of his villainous ambition is really difficult. That just would be a psychologically implausible story.)

In the Android and Cell arcs, after brief glimpses of the SSJ superiority, Toriyama turned Vegeta into a plot tool, whose personality flaws he could use to spoil the situation favorable for the heroes. As a result, Vegeta continued to be an angry and unhappy character who has lost most of his charisma, but on top of that, he also started to be really annoying. ... Still, also kinda amusing thanks to his truly impressive inability to draw obvious conclusions from the ego bruises he gets.

(If you ask me, the character's biggest contribution to the Cell arc was to ignore the existence of condoms, lol. Although strictly speaking even it was an achievement of Future Vegeta (RIP). But seriously, Vegeta's relationship with Trunks turned out to be one of the few things that I was really interested in about this part of the story.)

And then there was Goku’s death and the 7-year-gap. ... At the end of which Vegeta still didn't look like a happy man who has found his place in the world. Even though he had seven whole years (and a spaceship) to change something. I mean, this is the case when it'd be logical to expect changes in the character, but for some reason they didn't really happen (or they did, but veeery quietly and unstable). I mean, Vegeta trains with Trunks, yes. And he's married to Bulma now, apparently (which we learn only at the end of the arc though). And he hasn’t killed himself yet, which means that he sees some meaning in his existence. Hurray, I guess?.. The problem is that when we first see Vegeta after the timeskip, he keeps walking around with such a sullen expression, as if Goku had died just yesterday. (Remember Vegeta in the Saiyan arc? He smiled quite often. For the wrong reasons, but hey.) Basically, Toriyama tried to sit on two chairs at the same time here - 1) keep Vegeta as recognizable as possible (because he hasn't decided what to do with him yet) and 2) keep him around (which doesn't make sense for the character if he hasn't undergone significant changes during the timeskip). And the result of this hesitant approach is an undesirable effect - it feels as if Vegeta hasn't built a new life for himself all these years, but only waited for Goku to return.

As if the man is unable to evolve without Goku's influence. Until Kakarot does or says something, or is just around, everyone else in Vegeta's life and his own reflection has little or no meaning. Old social ambitions? His wife and child? New insights gained from life on Earth? Pffft. Goku is able to destroy the seven years’ worth progress (no matter how small it may seem) in one day, and at the same time, one fight with him is enough for Vegeta's character development to jump forward explosively. It sounds like a solid ground for shipping, but In fact it’s just a direct consequence of the author's poorly chosen narrative structure.

The thing is, Toriyama tend to avoid romance and slices of life, and shows Vegeta's personality mainly through fights and their consequences. And at the time Goku just turned out to be the only significant character for Vegeta, the fight against whom could be used as an excuse to develop the character in front of the audience. Well, Toriyama couldn't get Vegeta to fight Bulma or himself, you know.

I believe that the plot structure chosen by the author (rapidly changing action events immediately after a long timeskip) is not a very good basis for a redemption arc. For a good redemption, a character had to have screen time during which small changes accumulate gradually, between the big points. And Vegeta simply didn't have it. Besides, the scheme by which Vegeta develops is really messy. Because at first, Toriyama kinda froze his development at the neutral point (thereby partially devaluing the influence of Vegeta's family on him). Then in one moment, the author abruptly reversed even this the-end-of-the-Cell-arc development with Majin Vegeta (this time completely devaluing the family factor, because the betrayal was Vegeta’s conscious decision). God, how I hated the Majin Vegeta idea. And in the next scene, the author made a quick retcon, which gave the family’s influence the status of a ground for Vegeta’s personal growth again for no apparent reason. It's as if a huge bundle of family values was post factum squeezed into the character in defiance of everything that we just saw with our own eyes. This is a complete narrative mess.

But... oddly enough, Vegeta's redemption still manages to work, and work spectacularly. My guess is that it's because by that time the audience is already SO sick of Vegeta, frozen in his bitter anti-heroism, that it desperately wants the author to finally do something new with the miserable guy. Well, at least get him out of his misery. So people are willing to accept it in any possible form.

... And the author chose the form of a powerful emotional catharsis. The explosion was legendary, haha.

I don't even know if this is a good reason to call Toriyama a genius (after all, he found a very clever way out of a difficult situation, in which he found himself thanks to his own bad decisions.)

The only thing I'm sure of is that despite everything I was very sad because of Vegeta's death. I didn't even realize that I had become emotionally attached to this asshole until he made such a spectacular exit, lol. As if something had broken inside of me, and all the analyticity of my mind couldn’t prevent it. I was surprised when I found myself crying really hard - usually my emotions don't reach this level due to fictional stories. (Well, maybe it was due to the fact that my own father was dying of cancer at that time, and the moment just triggered my emotions. ... Oops, it seems a little too personal, doesn't it? Well, at the end of the day, this fact is an integral part of my unique dbz experience. Come to think of it, in dbz, fathers die regularly).

But while this scene greatly affects emotions and forces a new viewer (or reader) to truly reconsider their attitude towards the character for the first time, the absence of a neat gradual movement towards this moment weakens its influence somewhat.

At this point, Vegeta’s character splits once again (perhaps the last time within DBZ). You simply cease to understand who this man really is and who he was before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now, when I look at all the images of Vegeta in general, I come to the conclusion that I like this character the most in the first two arcs and in the end of the last arc. Two directly opposite moral poles.

(Funny enough, because my initial reaction to Vegeta and Nappa was annoyance: "Well hello, the next stereotypical villains who like to chat and laugh maliciously instead of simply killing their victims." (Still, against the background of Freeza, Vegeta turned out to be a much lesser evil in every sense, haha). You see, usually I'm not a person who likes villains. Basically, I only distinguish such characters from others as a result of romance or redemption. It’s only after that I begin to see aesthetics in their villainous charisma as well.)

And now, in retrospective, I believe that at the beginning of the story Vegeta is at the maximum of his vitality and charisma. Especially compared to his ever-crisis moody version (who supposedly lives happily with a loving family). In the Saiyan arc, he's objectively the most powerful character (Freeza didn’t even exist in Toriyama's head at the time). Vegeta is domineering, playful and unpredictable, but most importantly - his self-confidence is fully justified. Oh well, it was good while it lasted. He's really in control. These are, if I may say so, quite exciting qualities in a man, haha. Even if he looks like an evil dwarf in stupid armor and bullies some weaklings. I'd even say his demeanor in the Saiyan arc (especially with the voice of early Horikawa) is suspiciously easy to translate into a sexual context (well, until he loses control and gets hysterical, lol).

The Namek arc, placing Vegeta in a broader context, somewhat spoiled his original image (after all the big words, it turned out that he was running errands for Freeza all this time), but gave him a more interesting background and a strong drive. He had ambitions and a socially significant goal, and he actively and passionately fought for them against a clearly superior enemy. In addition, his inability to defeat Freeza by brute force forced him to use his brains from time to time, and not just pull another power up out of his ass, as is now traditionally done in DragonBall. (Needless to say, I consider high intelligence to be one of the most attractive traits). All this made his position in the plot as interesting as possible. He literally sparkled with energy.

Well, we know what happened next. Brain Death, an eternal chase after Goku, and an off-screen family life on a backwater planet that Vegeta is supposedly happy with. Until he suddenly became a really beautiful character without a proper justification for this (well, at least the explosion was spectacular). Really, I like the general concept of redemption, and yet... the way Toriyama portrays it in the story just doesn't work convincingly enough for me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another point I’d like to cover in this already too long essay ahhh I'm a monster is Vegeta’s personality in fanfiction.

Reproducing (?) Vegeta is a bit like playing with a lego set - his personality and behavior is always the result of a conscious reconstruction, which is based around a specific point on the long contradictory line. Depending on which end of the spectrum the chosen point is, the author is forced to shade facts related to the opposite end, or to give new context to Vegeta's past (or future) actions. It's always noticeable when the author extends the later, sympathetic Vegeta's image to an earlier segment of the story. Apparently, it's possible to kill the person who raised you (with an evil smile on your face) just because the situation was too stressful lol. Likewise, when the authors allow Vegeta to remain a charismatic psychopath, the story wouldn't work without ignoring some parts of the later canon.

(And, of course, there is always a "medium" type of Vegeta - Vegeta from the 3-year-gap, whose personality is almost entirely based on anime fillers. Yay, here comes the promised vegebul rant

Honestly, I'm pretty tired of this "gravity room exploded again woman grrr" type of Vegeta.

Because if you take the manga, we have no idea how Vegeta actually behaved with Bulma and her parents, what his training regimen was, and what he did in his free time besides unprotected sex. People elevate his rudeness and irrational self-torturing to the absolute because of all these filler patterns, but this is just one of the possible versions of the events and the character's behavior during this time (albeit partly canonical). But... there are also alternatives. There are smart Vegeta, curious Vegeta, civilized Vegeta. Honestly - I don't think Bulma would've married him later if there was nothing in his personality that’d make communication with him enjoyable. I mean, she's a rich modern woman, she doesn't need a husband just for convenience and Vegeta is a marginal freeloader anyway. And if we subtract good looks (which people often attribute to Vegeta) from the equation, then the idea that he has no interest in anything other than training and cannot maintain an interesting conversation becomes completely unconvincing. Toriyama clearly didn't attach much importance to the fact of their marriage, and generally avoided romantic scenes as if they were on fire (and, perhaps, did the right thing), but these two just had to be capable of adequate and mutually pleasant personal interaction in order to take this step.

In general, Toriyama's lack of attention to most aspects of the characters' lives other than fighting and training, on the one hand, can be considered a drawback of DBZ, but on the other, it creates a lot of room for fans' imagination. But not everyone uses it. Most authors generally repeat the same tropes over and over again and don't try to look at the three-year-gap from a new angle, although the canon provides all the possibilities for this. Because of this, fics in this genre often seem boring. But in fact, it's not the setting itself that is boring, but only dusty formulas in the heads of the authors.)

Ahem, so where were we?.. Oh yes.

Actually, Vegeta's inconsistency is a very handy character trait for the authors, as it minimizes the chance of accidental OOC. Indeed, it's quite difficult to make someone to behave out of character if he has many different canon versions of himself, lol. On the other hand, this leads to the fact that the character seems to... kinda disintegrate. You never see his whole face, because he simply doesn't have it. As a result, Vegeta turns into a mosaic that must be reassembled each time. And I keep staring at this crazy kaleidoscope like an idiot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, that's... quite a lot of contradictions in my relationship to Vegeta, haha. Still, life without contradictions would be somewhat boring, I guess.

Thanks for your attention I suppose?..... lol, as if someone really got to this point

The End.

P.S. 1: The antisocial version of Vegeta who doesn't understand stupid human rituals and hates crowds, but puts up with it for the sake of his family is my spirit animal, haha. This is just so damn relatable to my autistic personality. Maybe I'm an alien myself.

P.S. 2: Actually, my favorite dbz character is Piccolo. Yep.

[closer-stars]

Good Thing - Mingi (1)

Member: Mingi Genre: A lil of drama, tension, fluff, maybe angst depending on how you look at it. Requested: Yes Word count: 8k  Content: Dance team leader y/n. Basketball captain Mingi. Both of them are stubborn. Enemies to Lovers. Mentions of food. Mentions of near fainting. Mentions of tension. Academics. Slowburn.  Notes: after a long creative block, I’m back once again with long fics. Divided this into two? three? parts. This was supposed to be short, what the fuck. Anyways, I hope this fits your expectations, anon! Please I didn’t expect this to be so long, but here we are. I was already itching to post something after so long so here we are. 

[ Mountain ] Capt, the venue’s already taken. :(((

That wasn’t a good sign. You were in class when you received that message from your best friend. It was a good thing your professor allowed gadgets as long as it was used for note taking. In true student fashion, you lower your brightness just a bit as you switch tabs to reply to San. 

[ You ] Look for the next best. I trust your decision. I can’t stay too long, prof might catch me not paying attention.

You close the tab quickly and catch up on what your professor discusses. Fingers fly across your keyboard as you continue to add additional connections and theories that aid in the discussion. Your best friend and your second co-captain, Wooyoung, was slightly struggling with keeping up with the note keeping, you were already sure that he would ask you for help. 

[ Mountain ] Don’t kill me, Please. :c 

That didn’t sound good. 

[ Mountain ] 6-9pm. Court 2. 

That is definitely not good. Before you could reply, the bell rings and a chorus of laptops closing, notebooks closing could be heard in the room. Your professor quickly reminds the class of an exam the following week along with other reminders that just fly through your ears. 

“Did you catch what he said about brand identity?” Wooyoung asks as the two of you leave the classroom with heavy feet. Your coach had thought it was a good idea to have all of you go through house drills for the first half of the training last night. Fast forward to today, you and Wooyoung were struggling with walking. Even with just simple walking, Wooyoung would make pained whines. 

“I got them. I’ll send you my notes when we get a seat somewhere. I want my coffee while I massage your old muscles.” The both of you found a good shady spot where you could discuss what to do in tonight’s training session as your coach had personal issues to deal with. “Can you message the team where our training’s going to be tonight? San said it’s at Court 2, 6 to 9 PM”

“Heh, six to nine and okay.”

“How mature of you. I’ll be back.” You (try to) jog to the vending machine as you get yourself a quick dose of caffeine. By the time you get back, taking small sips of the caffeinated bean water, Wooyoung stares at you as if he had realized something. “What?” You ask as you settle down next to him. 

“Court 2? That’s the only available one left for tomorrow?” He asks. 

You shrug. “It’s either we get free venues or we pay a meal’s worth for studio rentals.” You reason as you send your notes to the male. As a student-dancer, you knew how hard it was to get studios and have it come straight from your own pocket. The competition was three months away and you didn’t want the team’s finances to run dry this early. 

“Can you at least try not to bite off Mingi’s head?” Wooyoung pleads, almost pouting. 

Song Mingi is the team captain for your university’s basketball team. That said, he’s also often the face of the school due to his grades and being captain of the team. He also often got in your nerves whenever you cross roads. You’re also fairly popular in and out of school: captain of the dance team, often competing in outside school competitions, and even being featured in some big time gigs. The gigs paid the most for your bills. 

You pat your lap so that he stretches his legs from the muscle pain. Careful fingers press on his muscles, causing him to yelp in pain. “Breathe, you baby. I’ll try my best.” You snort, clearly entertained by how low his pain tolerance can be outside dancing. “Tell San we’re in the usual spot if he wants to--”

“Ello!!”

Speak of the devil and he will appear. Your co-captain and best friend as well has appeared a few feet away. “Captain!” He calls out, once he could see your face. Him noticing Wooyoung first then you wasn’t a surprise anymore. These two often plot pranks on you during down time since your second year in the team, this was old news to you by now. “Captain, I’m really sorry. Court 2 was the only one available. The other team already got our first choice and-” he goes off, rapidly defending himself. 

“San, it’s okay. I know how annoying that team is. Let’s just do our best tonight so we can take over the studio for finals okay?” You shake your head, understanding the issue. The dance competition had your own team versus other dance teams inside and outside the university. It was a big event that tickets to watch were always sold out. 

“Please. I don’t think I can handle you snarking Mingi off when he tries to drop by.” San mumbles. 

The thing is, Mingi and you had a handful of common friends. The expectation of his course, Business Administration, being more difficult than yours, a Media Arts student. His tendency to be just as stubborn and strict as you are in your respective fields made it hard for both of you to see eye to eye. 

“I don’t think I’m ready to see their bitch face anywhere outside the stage.” Wooyoung mentions lightly. It was an obvious fear though. The amount of auditionees for your team each year was pretty hefty, the reason? Your friends had pretty faces. To put it simply, your resting bitch face is scary even if unintentional but an intentional one had a lot of people staying clear of you. To whom do you give the intentional one? Shallow auditionees and Song Mingi.

By the time you’ve eased the knots on Wooyoung’s leg, you’ve finished your coffee. “Guys, I promise I won’t fight him tonight.” You say with a sigh. 

San just looks at you with a raised eyebrow. 

You pout at him. “I promise! Besides tonight’s cleaning and drills. If I get distracted by that demon, give me the spiderman reps.” Wooyoung places his other leg on your lap, a cheeky grin on his features. A look of empty annoyance shoots from your eyes at him but you still do as he needs. Your two best friends give in with groans. It’s next to impossible to reason with you sometimes. It’s also your stubbornness that brought the team to the current greatness it had. 

“Three sets of spiderman reps. After training.” 

The bell rings, signaling your next class which was quite unfortunately, with the two of them still. San rises from his seat, your bag and laptop already in his hands as he waits for the both of you. 

“Last class for the day.” He states as you take your belongings from him. 

It’s going to be a long day for the three of you. 

“Five minute break” The entire team’s breathless from the drills. Some of them walked off the burn, others drinking water, others opted to lie on the cool tiled floor. You were part of the first group. You bend your back a little to get rid of the soreness that was starting to wear on you. The burn on your arms and shoulders is already a familiar feeling to you but you still hate it. At least it means your body was getting stronger, if the burn only started to set in now. When you reach for your water bottle, you realize that it was already empty. “Fuck..” You groan as you look for a water refilling station. 

The nearest one was near the basketball team’s court. 

Whatever. 

You make your way to the station, making sure that you would go unnoticed by the basketball team as they did their drills. So far, so good. No one paid attention to you as you fill your bottle up with water. That was until Jeong Yunho had noticed you. 

“Hey! Are you training here too?” His warmth made it hard for you to despise him even if he was best friends with Mingi. Why couldn’t he be the captain instead?

Eyes shoot up and you’re greeted by his pink hair. You wave at him quickly then take a sip of water. “Hey Yunho! Yeah, Is the music too loud?” 

He shakes his head, a few strands of hair covering his view. He pushes it back and it was there when you realize just why he had a large following. “Don’t worry about it. The guys appreciate a little music every now and then.” A sigh of relief slips through your lips. At least the volume isn’t too destructive for everyone. Why wasn’t he the captain instead?

“I have to go now. Good luck with your practice!” You bid goodbye quickly, your Mingi radar was going off.

Yes, you had a Mingi radar in your head. 

When you turn on your heel, you are greeted by his stoic features. Even without words, the tension was pretty thick in the air. “Anyways,” you mumble onto your bottle as you try to walk past him. 

“If you’re going to train in here too, being conscious of your noise would be helpful.” Mingi’s voice drips with deep annoyance towards you. You on the other hand, are trying your best not to do spiderman push ups so you just hum in response. 

“When I talk to you, you speak.” He says, rubbing his temple in annoyance. It was moments like this that genuinely make you wonder how he is the face of the school when his attitude was absolute horse shit. 

“Noted with thanks, Song Mingi.” You say simply. Yunho looks at the both of you in mild alarm. He was aware of your less than stellar relationship with his captain but he never saw how bad it was until today. Is it easy to keep your face from shooting lasers at the tall male? No but you were going to do your best. The two of you exchange steely gazes until both of you look away, stalking back to where your team was. 

“What took you so long?” Wooyoung asks as he watches the rest of the team clean the choreography, with San leading at the back. 

“Mingi tried to stall me.” You explain under your breath as you take your spot next to Wooyoung as your eyes keep an eye on their movements. With those who have been accepted, you weren’t as intimidating as you make yourself to be. You wouldn’t admit it openly, you viewed them as your family. You weren’t strict all the time, knowing when to have an iron fist and when to relax. Thoughts were drifting elsewhere that you found yourself gnawing mindlessly on your own water bottle as you watched everyone go through the choreography. Two blinks and you’re focused again. To the untrained eye, it already looked pretty good but to the three of you, you knew it could be better. The team holds the last post for a few counts before doubling over for air. “Catch your breath first then from the top. Seventy five percent energy but I want you guys to focus on your angles and extensions.” You state, much to the relief of some. 

“Does this mean you’re going to have to do spiderman reps?” Wooyoung asks, trying his best to not show his excited smile at seeing you struggle. Little shit. 

“If you’re looking forward to it so much, do it instead.” You shoot back with a smirk. You direct him to join the team in dancing with a quick jerk of your head to their direction. “Join the run. I want to see how you’ve been doing as well.” You stand up. “San! Join the team in the run. I want to see how the two do as well.” 

That’s how the rest of the night goes: repeated countings, claps, and feet stomping to the beat, with the occasional cheering from members to keep the energy up. Before you let everyone go for the day, you asked for one more run of the piece to record. The only issue now is who to ask to hold your phone because all possible places for your phone were either too low or too dangerously high to be on its own. 

You spot Yunho coming out of the basketball court with his bags. His training must have ended. “Jeong Yunho!” Your voice manages to surprise everyone with the volume. Who knew you could bellow at such strength? The tall male’s startled by your voice and walks over to you.

“I didn’t know you could yell that loud. Do you need help with something?” He notes bemused at such a feat. 

“Training can do that. Can you record our run for us, please?” You raise your phone up, hoping he says yes. Everyone’s tired and so are you. His hand is outstretched and it makes you sigh in relief. “You’re the best.” You say. “Start recording when I press play.” The tall male gives you the okay signal as he raises the phone’s angle to make sure everyone’s seen in the screen. Bless his soul. He does as you told him. The run goes without a hitch, by now everyone knows to give their all in the last run to which they do. As your team dances, you notice a familiar brown mop of hair in the peripheral vision. ‘Focus.’ You force yourself to do so as you do your segment, all while cheering for the others who were starting to lose breath. He stands next to Yunho, watching your entire team dance. A small part of you hopes that he’s watching the team as a whole. Once the run was over, a few of the members drop their sore bodies to the floor, relishing the cool feeling of the cement. You dismiss the team, telling them to cool down and stretch on their own as it was late. You walk over to the angel and the demon, both with different emotions displayed on their features. “How was it?”

Yunho hands your phone back and flashes two thumbs up. “That was really cool! You guys really keep with your team’s legacy.” 

Those words make you smile through the exhaustion that has set on your features. “Thank you, you probably have to go now since it’s late. Thanks again for helping us!” You wave him goodbye, doing your best to not look at the demon next to him that stares you down. Just as you were about to leave them be, he speaks up. 

“You looked tired the entire time.” Mingi says with a shrug. “Gotta be an example to your members, y’know?” 

Without looking back at the two males, you heave a sigh. You were tired and the stress for your team and academics was setting in. “Song Mingi, I really am in no mood to deal with your lack of a filter. Please just leave already.” Before you could stop yourself, you find yourself looking over the male. “You call yourself the captain when you’re here throwing unneeded comments. Please do reflect first on yourself before trying to fight me.” You say with a roll of your eyes as you take the chance to leave. 

You don’t see Yunho drag Mingi away before he could say anything. You do see Mingi greet some members of your team and your two best friends as if he didn’t just try to rile you up. You also do see Wooyoung and San’s concern for you. “Don’t do the spiderman reps today. Just do it tomorrow.” Wooyoung immediately pipes up. He knows how you get when you’re angry, the last time you tried to do something out of spite, you sprained your wrist.  

“Let’s just go grab some late dinner. I need food.” Your voice comes out breathier than usual. Too exhausted to bother keeping up a front as you wipe your sweat with the collar of your shirt.. 

The three of you were seated in a fast food chain, dietary plans be damned. You needed something filling and if it was going to be through nuggets, a burger and a big cup of iced coffee then so be it. You had your head in your hands. The two had taken cared of your order, both of them returning to your table with trays full of food and drinks. 

“This is just so shitty..” you mumble, staring at your nuggets. “I have to deal with the mess the alumni left the team with. I mean, I don’t mind covering the expenses from the gigs I’ve done but it’s not going to be enough. Not being in a studio is already so..” you couldn’t continue your thoughts so you shove the entire nugget into your mouth. 

“Don’t beat yourself up. You’re doing everything you can for the team.” San reminds you while he eats his burger. How he manages to fit what looked like a double decker in his mouth was still a mystery to you. 

“The team already knows of the issue since day 1 and they know you’re doing everything you can.” Wooyoung adds gently. He hated seeing you be so tough on yourself.  

Both of them were right but it doesn’t stop you from beating yourself up for having to do your best with tied hands. This isn’t a choreography where you could still move as freely even if you had your hands tied. This is real life with no practice. 

“I know you’re still annoyed at Mingi’s comments but come on, he doesn’t dance. So don’t pay attention to him.” San reminds you, already halfway with his burger. Boys with their almost insatiable appetites without gaining that much weight is something. 

You take a deep breath, pushing the strands of hair that cling to your face as you pull yourself together again. If you were going to cry, it wasn’t going to be here. “Fuck it. I’ll enjoy these nuggets. San, where are we training tomorrow?” 

“Studio. Yeosang got us a discount.” 

“Perfect. Also, make sure he stays in the team once I graduate. His strengths could be so good for house segments also that discount trick he has.” 

“Don’t talk about leaving us yet!!” The two of them cry out at the same time, and by chance they harmonize. 

“Don’t leave the dance team for the choir. Both of you are taking over my position.” You shoot back with laughter. 

The next training comes and it’s a lot more peaceful for your head. Your coach was back teaching another segment for the entire time. Whenever your coach was around, you cut back on your jokes and made sure that everyone didn’t go too out of line with their ways to keep the morale up. The training session leaves everyone much more exhausted as compared to yesterday. 

“Good job guys, you guys did a lot better compared to the last time I saw you. Let’s go for gold.” Your coach says as the three of you, along with Yeosang manage the payments. It’s that type of comments that make this entire competition season worth it. Once all the payments were settled, everyone was slowly going on their own separate ways to deal with their own requirements. Wooyoung and San were going to head to a computer shop to play for a game or two, how long that would be was unknown. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Don’t be late for our history class… Please.” You stated, knowing just how your professor was strict with attendance and tardiness. 

San whines at you. “We won’t! We promise.” 

Wooyoung interjects, “Call him an hour earlier, you know how he is in the mornings.” 

You shake your head at their antics and wave them off. “Fine, see you guys.” You readjust your bag as you slowly make your back to your dorm. A long shower and a hearty meal were needed before you could focus on your papers. After you freshen up, you pick up your laptop and other essentials as you make your way to your usual coffee shop. 

The staff in the coffee shop already knew you. The amount of late nights you spent here to catch up on your studies to the point where they have to tell you to leave as they were closing was innumerable. They also know your current situation just based on your orders. If your order of coffee is stronger than usual, you were most likely stressed. If you had a meal with your drink, you were going to be forcing yourself to finish your requirements. 

You ordered a macchiato with an extra espresso shot and a sandwich. 

By the time your orders came in, you were taking down notes from the reading on your screen. You thank the staff for bringing your order to you, probably having missed them calling your name from the adrenaline in your body to get all of these finished. It’s only when you look up that you catch sight of two familiar faces that were ordering. An exhale and you reach for your earphones. Once you find them you plug them into your laptop, going back to work. 

An elbow jabs his side, and he pulls out his earphones, looking at Yunho with a miffed expression. “What? Yunho, there’s barely any free table here. Let’s just get our orders and leave.” Mingi grumbles. The spare tables were outside but that also meant being in the company of smokers. Yunho pays no heed to his best friend’s complaints and gestures to the table next to yours. 

“That one’s free.”

“You’re insane.” 

“I’m just pointing it out! Besides, air con.” Yunho also adds with a grin. Since last year, his rivalry with you had become a little blurry. He doesn’t remember what the two of you constantly fought about at this point but he clearly knows he can’t stand your presence. His best friend on the other hand, wanted to change that before all of you go on your own lives. 

The air con point was a strong one to fight against. Instead of fighting against it, he just grumbles and lets Yunho do as he wishes. At least if a fight breaks out between the two of you, he could point it at Yunho. The logical part of his head also reasons that if a fight breaks out, his reputation along with the school’s would be destroyed. He couldn’t win. 

He waits for their orders off to the side, prolonging the inevitable of having to sit near you. Once their orders have arrived, he and Yunho carry them towards where you are. 

A hand appears at your peripherals and you look at the owner. The recognition taking a while to set in. The dazed look in your eyes after being disturbed was a little amusing in his perspective. 

“Hey, sorry for disturbing. Is this table free?” He asks with an apologetic smile.

Your eyes scan the entire coffee shop for possible places for them to stay just so they don’t disturb you. All tables were taken. “Uh yeah sure, go ahead.” With that, the two boys sit next to your table as you go back to your work. 

Thankfully, the boys leave you be as you continue to write and read. When you let own a yawn, you knew you had to give yourself a bit of a break. You pull out your earphones as you start eating again to give your brain a break. You look at your list of things to do and a little bit of relief sets in when you manage to finish a good portion of what can be finished tonight. 

“About time you ate.” 

That was enough to cause you to choke on your coffee. You look at the source of the voice and it was Yunho, who was obviously amused with your reaction. 

“Did I scare you?”

“You’re still here?!” You ask incredulous, when you shift your gaze to your front, you were greeted with the devil. Mingi obviously looks like the reading material isn’t much of an interest, not that you could blame him. A small tinge of sympathy sets in you when you realize his notebook was filled with calculations. Yuck. 

Yunho tilts his head in confusion then nods. “Yeah, we have an exam coming up.” The male peeks over his laptop to see that Mingi was on a different topic. “I thought you were studying for history.” 

“Marketing had more things for me to deal with.” The other states in a flat voice as he continues to spin his pen. 

That’s when you notice that there were some eyes on your table, to be specific, on Mingi. It made you a little thankful that you weren’t as out there in the public as he was. It didn’t change the fact that you feel a little bad for the both of them. “Is this under Professor Hwang?” You ask as you catch sight of a familiar reading on Yunho’s laptop. 

“Yeah! Did you take it already?” This causes both pairs of eyes to land on you. 

“I took it earlier today. Do you guys need help?” 

That was enough to make Mingi lean a little forward, for Yunho to look a little more awake. “Are you sure? You’ve been working hard with your own thing.” Yunho reasons carefully. Your to-do list reaches your view again and you take a moment to gauge how good you can juggle your work and theirs. As much as you despised Mingi, Professor Hwang’s anger was something you’d rather everyone avoids. 

“When’s your exam?” By now, your gaze has shifted to your laptop screen as you try to look at your schedule. 

“Friday..” 

“Give me your schedules.” You say, giving Yunho your contact details. “Both of your schedules. I’m already thinking of how to squeeze you into my schedule.” The two boys look at each other in surprise but they give you their schedules, your tone left no room for any opposition. No wonder you were the captain. No wonder people are intimidated by you. Mingi found it impressive. 

“I’ll message Yunho when and where to meet me. We can’t meet during the day, tell me immediately. If both of you want a study session after our respective trainings that work too. Just keep in contact with me with any update.” It wasn’t a request. It’s an order. 

You didn’t even notice that Mingi had pulled his hoodie down to look at you properly. Your attention was too focused on what Yunho was talking about regarding the coverage. None of you really intended to do so but you eventually were giving them tips on how to study for her exam, and they promise-- well more of Yunho promises to make it up to you after. 

“Excuse me, We’re about to close up for the day.” the staff informs gently as he goes to the next table that still had people poring over their books. 

With that, the three of you pack up your things. You finish the rest of your coffee. 3AM. You have 5 hours of sleep left to last through the day. “I’ll see you both depending on your schedules.” It was a reminder for Yunho to send their schedules and he does immediately. You bid them goodbye, as you leave the coffee shop on your way back to your dorm. 

“So they put away their rivalry with you, Mingi.” Yunho notes with a glance at the male who put his hood up once more. He hums in response. To others, he might as well have ignored his best friend for the comfort of his own thoughts. Yunho knows better. Mingi just wasn’t the type of guy who openly admits his thoughts. 

“If we’re studying with them later, can we choose a spot where no one’s looking at us.” He mumbles. Yunho felt for the guy. He didn’t want the role of captain, wanting to just play basketball with a team. Yet being the captain also meant that he would eventually become the face of the university and potential love calls from potential sponsors. The poor guy could barely focus on his studies without having strangers oogle at him when he was outside university grounds. 

“Will tell them.” Yunho returns as the two make their way to their own apartment. 

You reach your room after freshening up. 3:15AM. You were definitely going to need a strong cup of coffee throughout the day. A reminder to call San when you wake up was prepared. With that, your sleep was swift. 

The cursed wind chime alarm jolts you out of your slumber. 8AM. A curse elongated by a dry groan escapes your lips. As you wash your face, you call San’s phone. “Pick up the phone, you sleepy butt.” You mutter as you prepare for your day. 

He finally answers the phone though with a whine that pleads for more sleep.

“Get up. We can’t be late for class.” 

His whines could’ve been mistaken for cries but you hear the sheets ruffle under his movements. 

“I’ll buy you a donut, San. Just please get up and get ready for class.” The things you do for your friends. 

“I’m up, I’m up. Can you get the birthday cake version please?” 

“I’ll buy it after class, so you better show up.” You hang up just in time for a message to come in. 

[ Yunho ] we’re free at 2-4 pm and 10-2am later! 

[ You ] I can help 2:30-4 meet me by the benches near the chemistry department. 

The class goes by painfully slow but you give San the money for the donut. Before he could complain that he wanted you to buy it for him, you quickly cut to the chase. “I just need to help someone with their studies until 4. See you guys later.” 

You arrive at the benches with a sandwich in your free hand. No sign of the two boys yet, so you choose a bench away from prying eyes but visible enough for the two to see you. With some time to spare still, you take a few bites of your sandwich as you look through the notes as a refresher. The shuffling of feet against the pebbles and grass catch your attention. Did you expect Mingi to come first? Maybe this exam really meant a lot for him. 

“Yunho’s following shortly. He just had to use the restroom.” He explains when he notices your wandering eyes. That shuts you up as you give him a polite nod, letting him settle on the bench opposite you. 

“I think you forgot something.” 

When did he strike conversations with you? He hands you your earphones then rubs the back of his neck. 

“You left before Yunho or I could catch you.” 

Your jaw drops slightly at the sight of your favorite earphones. How could this have slipped your mind? This pair was your favorite and your most used due to your activities. “Oh my god. Thank you for taking care of it.” There was no hint of underlying annoyance in your voice as you kept them in your pocket. 

Just then, Yunho jogs towards where the two of you are, sitting next to you. “Sorry to make you wait!” Mingi lets out an exasperated sigh, as he brings out his notes. 

“It’s fine. Let’s get started now cause I don’t think we’ll have any strength to study later.” 

That’s how the ninety minutes go by. Quizzing the two guys on certain topics while giving them tips on how to do well for the exam. It’s not in you to spoon feed them the answers, and even if you did, the exam was half multiple choice and half essay. With every right answer they gave, you would smile brightly and nod. The smile seems a lot brighter around Yunho, when it came to Mingi your smile was a mix of pride and surprise. Not that you thought Mingi slacks off on his studies, he just seems like the type to not pay attention to things that don’t interest him. 

Mingi also notices how you seem to open up when things go smoothly. Almost the entire time, your eyes were on Yunho as he carried the conversation with questions and clarifications over the topic. When he hears his question on the connection of the uprising to succeeding events, he pipes up.

“Wait, Yunho. That’s not part of the coverage, also, a totally different event.. You confused it with the other one.” Mingi explains, brows slightly scrunched as he explains the event to the best that he can from memory. 

You look at him with an impressed smirk. He definitely had brain cells that give him the credit that he deserves. You gesture to him as you shift your gaze back to Yunho. “There’s your answer.” 

Just like that, the bell rings, telling all students that the ninety minutes is over. The broody male is the first to pack his things up, thanking you under his breath. The pink haired male on the other hand, thanks you profusely and waves goodbye to you as they head to their last class. 

You don’t realize the breath you were holding until they left, eyes drop to the earphones that Mingi had returned to you. It’s a nice change you suppose, as compared to all the daggers you’ve thrown at each other. 

Today’s training was held in the same place. Court 2. You could hear the basketballs bouncing against the court floor along with the squeaks of rubber shoes against the floor. If you listened carely, you could hear Mingi cheering for the other members as they continued with their drills. You had your own drills too. This drill being new choreography. The team was picking up the new choreography faster as compared to the past. Those who weren’t part of the segment your coach was teaching were off to the side, cleaning what they know. San and you were part of the group that was learning the new segment. Both of you being the centers. The choreography is admittedly trickier. You didn’t think you’d be doing krumping next to San but here you are. Your group goes through it over and over as your coach directs on how and where to execute the movements. Occasionally, your coach would ask some of you to try a stunt or trick. He wants the gold as much as the entire team and it sometimes reaches the point where he forgets he’s leading student-dancers. 

Your group was gasping for breath afterwards that you had to remind your coach to check on the others and teach the other segments that need to be taught. It worked and it gave your group some more time to breath and rehydrate themselves. Only five weeks left. Ideally, after this week would be intensive cleaning and minor editing. Everyone already had the mix but your coach constantly would try to change little things. Were you worried that this would be rushed and cost the team a place in the top three? Definitely. Being an overthinker and having a coach who was just as bad, if not worse wasn’t helpful. You thanked Wooyoung and San for reminding him of the logistics and reality of things. 

The next few hours go quickly and everyone is admittedly, surprised and relieved that they finished the piece. San gives you a quick massage to relax your nerves as your coach asks the team to do the entire piece, cleanliness not really being something he’d look into for now. The entire number goes by with a few road bumps, none of which he seems to mind. At least he had mercy after being reminded, and by the last run, everyone lets themselves crumple to the ground. Training was officially done for the day. Everyone pays their share for the coach for the day then leaves. Wooyoung and San help you gather the payments then leave quickly, both having to cram papers that were due in two hours. 

This leaves you and your coach alone.

“When is the team going to pay? I need the money too.” You knew where he was coming from. His family had some health issues that had to be dealt with, it was why he didn’t come the other day. You’ve been pestering the team the past few days in the chat for their share, some of them always pushing it back. Your body wanted nothing but to eat something then sleep. Even if you had your gigs as a source of income, it was enough to get you by. With how your coach urgently needed the money and how you couldn’t think clearly, you caved. You ask for his bank account details and right there, you transfer the money to his account from yours. You put the phone screen to his eye level to show the proof of transfer. 

“There.” You say, waiting for him to notice the proof before packing up your things. He nods and you try to keep a note to raise your talent fee in order to make ends meet. He thanks you for the payment and as he was about to discuss another matter regarding the team, he gets a call which you assume is from his family. 

“I have to go. Let’s talk tomorrow.” 

You nod, bidding him goodbye before packing up your things. Holy fuck you were hungry and stressed. Studies, dance and now money? Of all times it had to be when it was near hell week? You want to cry. 

“What are you doing here? It’s late.” Mingi asks, his tone clearly not helping you in your current predicament. 

“What, I can’t stay here now? Is this your territory, Song Mingi?” A groan slips from your lips, but at this point it just sounds like a growl. “I can’t let myself catch my breath here?” You spit out. For once, his eyes widen at your venom. 

“I’m asking because it’s already midnight. You know how the streets outside can be a little dangerous at this hour.” He’s exasperated. A small part of him can’t get himself to be his usual self around you after having helped him in his studies. 

You immediately stand up from your spot, about to give him a piece of your hazy mind. Only, when you stand up, you feel the blood suddenly rush and your head spins for a moment. You lose your balance in that moment and the man knows better than to say anything that could make this worse. 

Maybe it was because of his long limbs that you’ve come to be envious of, or his quick reflexes from his basketball history, regardless he manages to hold you up before you crumple to the ground. His finger gently pulls your lower eyelid down to peek at the color of your eyes. Pale pink. You need to eat and drink something fast. 

“You need to eat.” He states, holding your bag with his free hand as he tries to keep you up. 

You knew that you weren’t really fine but you still had some sort of want for self preservation that you let out a weak lie. “I’m fine.”

“No you aren’t.” The chances of you putting up a fight were low so you let him guide you to the nearest food chain. 

It was the same fast food chain you go to with Wooyoung and San every post training. You couldn’t get yourself to look at the menu, the smell of meat, fried strips of potato and grease were overwhelming you. The bright lights made you want to shut your eyes. He notices this and brings you first to a booth far from the noise of people. “Stay here.” He doesn’t know why he said that, you were in no position to go anywhere else as you bury your features in your arms. He crouches down to your hunched level. “Do you want anything in particular?” You shake your head weakly. “I’ll buy you something okay?” You just nod. No strength in you to say that you didn’t want him to pay for you, that you were broke, that you just wanted to go home and sleep. 

The time he was off buying your meal, you were floating in and out of consciousness. You reach for your water bottle, to finish what was left before the food came. All that was left were two mouthfuls of water which you suppose could stave off the hunger pains. As you wait for Mingi, you fish your phone out from your bag as you message the team to remind them of their unpaid dues. Your next gig wasn’t going to be until after this competition. Could you juggle a gig within the next five weeks while dealing with your student duties? Probably not but it is being considered. 

Mingi arrives shortly with a tray full of food for you and him. “I owe you.” You mumble as you straighten up at the sight of food. He shakes his head as he hands you a double burger, orange juice, and ice cream. For him, a burger, nuggets, ice cream and coke. 

“You need this. Call it even, you’re helping me with my exam.” 

You stare at him for a moment then look at the meal. You were hungry and you couldn’t stop yourself from digging in anymore. The size of the burger makes it a little tricky for you to take big bites, forcing you to take small bites slowly. All of which was Mingi’s plan. After seeing how pale and weak you were, having you eat quickly all of a sudden wasn’t going to be good for you. 

“H-hey, is everything okay?” Mingi asks, alarmed as he hands you some tissue to wipe your cheeks with. “You’re crying.” 

The pad of your thumb brushes against your cheek and you could feel the wetness of your thumb. You take the tissue from his hands as you wipe your eyes. “I guess it’s the stress.” You mumble. It still hasn’t set in that you’ve reached your limit and you’re just wiping away the tears as they come. 

“Wanna talk about it?” He offers. For tonight, he puts aside the sour relationship he has with you. 

So you do. Through the tears and food, you share what’s been causing you distress. The internal issues of your team thanks to the alumni’s mishandling of the finances. The financial issues of having to cover some of those issues with your own money. Your academic workload. The pressure of being a captain when you feel like you just became one because there was nobody else willing to take on the role. Along the way, you ended up admitting your jealousy towards Mingi: how the school tends to favor the basketball team as compared to the arts and dance teams, how he’s doing so well as a captain, how finances is the least of his worries for the team. 

That takes him by surprise. The entire time he’s been giving you hell, you’ve been going through your own hell. The idea of internal financial issues never crossed his mind, though that was mostly due to the fact the school covers the expenses for travel and what not. Along with the sponsorships his team receives from sports brands. While he was so caught up in his own jealousy towards you, he didn’t realize that you had your plate just as filled as his, if not heavier. He says nothing, opting to eat his food as you unload everything you’ve kept from everyone. It was obvious from how affected you were, just how passionate you are for this field and to be disregarded, disrespected and be the one to clean up after the mess would clearly take a toll on anyone. He watches you carefully, you’ve stopped crying but your eyes were puffy. It takes a while before you take a deep breath and that was a sign you finished with your tirade. 

“Are you open for my own thoughts or is it better if I just listen?” He finally asks after finishing his burger. 

You let him take the floor this time as you continue eating your burger. 

Here, he admits his wrong doings to you. Just as you were jealous, so was he. Jealous of how you could keep a low profile despite having performed in front of so many people over the years. How he thought you were doing well in juggling your academics with your workload. How you could manage a team as the sole captain, even if Wooyoung and San were your co-captains. He also admits how he thought your team was doing well in terms of finances considering the clothes you have for the performances. Along the way, he apologizes for having added to your hardships. “If you guys need help with financial stuff, just tell me.” Maybe the words passing around of how rich his family was true. 

You stare at the male, your drink halfway to your mouth. That was enough to make him backtrack his words. “I mean, if that’s okay with you.” Instead of saying anything that could worsen the situation, he just opts to eat the rest of his food in silence. 

For the first time that night, you chuckle at his actions. Fingers brush through your hair as you push away the strands that block your vision. “I’ll think about the offer. Thank you though for it.” 

For the first time, he actually shoots you a genuine smile. He walks you back to your dorm, not minding to carry some of your things. It was a quiet walk, not that any of you minded, at least this silence was comfortable as compared to the tensed ones of the past. 

Once you reach your place, you take your bags from him. “Don’t forget tomorrow okay?” 

He stares at you, confused at what prompted you to say such. A few seconds pass and it clicks. “Ah! Yeah, we’ll be there, same place?” 

You nod as you unlock your door. “Get some sleep Mingi. It’s been a long night.” You bid him a good night with another smile before retreating into the safety of your abode. 

The male realized that your smiles seem to make him feel odd emotions. 

The following day goes by quickly. You manage to do alright in your exams and presentations-- though a good portion of your presentation being candid. You go through your usual routine of buying your lunch as you wait for the two in the same spot. 

You didn’t expect Mingi to call your name out, especially in disbelief. Yunho following him shortly. “What’s the occasion?” Yunho asks as he eyes your business formal attire. You look down at yourself and you realize that they are probably more accustomed to your casual wear and training clothes. 

“Oh, presentations. Some of my professors are particular about the attire so…” you trail off with a shrug. “Anyways, let’s get started before you need to go to your next class.” 

You twist your questions a little more this time, testing their memory and understanding of the events. They manage to answer your questions with ease, even going as far as connecting the events to events that happen after. Your heart swells with pride and confidence. If they pass the exam, they were going to do so with flying colors. 

The bell rings and it’s the same old once more. “That concludes our last session. You’ll do great tomorrow.” You say as you give them a standing ovation. Yunho was the first one to react. 

“Whaaat, it’s that fast?” He whines with a pout. With your attention sole on the faded pink male, you don’t catch Mingi’s mixed expression. Just when the two of you were getting along, both of you were going back to your own lives. “We won’t see you anymore?” He asks, almost like a child whose lollipop was taken from them. 

“Boys, you got class. You’re going to be late!” So you shoo them off. Mingi nods and stalks away, Yunho waving to you as he jogs after Mingi. 

“You think we’ll do okay tomorrow?” 

“We’ve been studying for this more than needed. We better, man.” 

You watch them jog towards their next class until San notifies the group chat of their venue for the upcoming days. 

[ Mountain ] Hey everyone! We’re using the studio for the remaining weeks starting today! ^^ 

[ Welsh Corgi ] fries are on us every pre-training so be there early!

[ You ] *only on wooyoung and san :p 

Who knew that today was going to be the last day you’d see Mingi and Yunho?

Part 2

[set-phasers-to-whump]

i’ve got red in my ledger

prompt: broken nose

whumpee: sonny carisi

fandom: law and order svu

hi! here is a second, hopefully better svu fic. i rlly hated how little they focused on what could have been a pretty serious injury in 16x15 so i decided to fix that >:) i hope you enjoy!

“Hey. Hey, what about me?”

“Hey, shut up,” says Nick, closing and locking the cage door. “You made us miss the game.”

Sonny sinks back down onto the bench, pressing the rapidly-melting ice pack back to his face. He isn’t alone in here, surrounded by pimps and johns and who knows who else, but he might as well be. He’d appreciated, at least, the look Fin had given him when Nick had come and taken him away. Like maybe there was something to be a little concerned about, with his definitely broken nose that still hasn’t completely stopped bleeding. 

Like the universe is mocking him, the small bit of paper that’s been doing a fairly decent job of stopping his nose from bleeding too much suddenly shifts, makes his nose itch, and he can’t quite stop himself from sneezing. 

An intense pain radiates outwards from his nose and blood starts pouring much more rapidly down his face, dripping onto the floor. Distantly he hears one of the other people in the cage mutter something, but he’s a bit preoccupied with trying to fix all this. 

The most obvious solution is to pinch his nose shut and lean forwards. The second his fingertips make contact with his nose, though, he’s wincing and pulling them away. That hurts way too much for him to have any hope of doing it for long enough to stop the bleeding. 

He’s at a loss as to what else to do. The only thing he has on him is the ice pack, which isn’t going to do much to improve his current issue, and he’s pretty sure nobody else in here has, or is willing to share, anything to help him out. 

So he just sits there, bending his head forwards in the hopes that this will at least do something. He watches drops of his blood hit the concrete floor and wishes - not for the first time - that he’d shut up sooner. 

“Hey,” says a rough voice from above him. Sonny looks up, meets the eyes of a very tall, kind of scary looking guy, and for a second pretends like the man is about to offer him a handkerchief, or a wad of paper towels, or a receipt - anything at all to make this stop. Instead, though, the guy says,

“Quit breathin’ so loud, and quit fuckin’ bleeding all over the place.”

Sonny would like to explain that he can’t exactly stop doing either of those things. He’s breathing loudly because his nose is broken and preventing him from doing it normally - he has to instead breathe through his mouth, as evenly and calmly as he can, inevitably getting blood in his mouth every time he does so. It tastes terrible, intensely metallic and uncomfortably warm.

“I’m serious, man. Knock it the fuck off,” the guy repeats, and Sonny is at a loss. And then a flash of inspiration hits him, and he unbuttons his dress shirt, grateful that he’s not especially fond of it. 

He bunches the shirt up and gently presses his face into it. It hurts, but it stops him from bleeding on the floor and it muffles his breathing, which seems to satisfy the tall scary guy, who ambles back over to the corner he’d been standing in and starts humming to himself. 

Sonny lets out a shuddering breath into the already-ruined fabric of his shirt. When he breathes in, a substantial amount of blood comes with the air, and he just barely manages to stop himself from coughing on it. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s in there. People come and go from the cage and he doesn’t bother to look up - it’s been made painfully clear to him that he is not important right now. He doesn’t disagree completely with that - the success of this operation is a lot more important than a little bit of blood - but he knows his colleagues can see the blood on the floor and the blood rapidly soaking through his shirt and he just really wants to get out of here. 

The door to the cage clangs open for what feels like the hundredth time. “Hey, you,” Nick snaps. Sonny is under no illusions that Nick is talking to him. He muffles a cough into his shirt, bites back a groan of pain due to said cough, and wonders whether it’s possible to bleed out through your nose. 

“Hey, I’m talkin’ to you,” Nick says again, and Sonny considers raising his eyes to see if there’s a fight brewing. He doesn’t, but he thinks about it. 

Someone touches his shoulder suddenly, and he jumps, lifting his eyes - but not his head - and coming face to face with someone that he vaguely recognizes from the op. 

“He’s talking to you,” the guy says, and Sonny almost laughs, and then there are footsteps in front of him and he looks up and meets Nick’s eyes. 

A thick torrent of blood pours down the back of his throat with the sudden change in his head’s position, and suddenly he’s choking and every cough sends a dull wave of pain spreading through his face and he can’t breathe and the taste and smell of his own blood is overpowering and sickening and he maybe loses a little bit of time because all of a sudden he’s on his knees and gagging and there’s a sort of ringing in his ears and he’s pretty sure Nick is saying something to him, probably, “don’t you dare puke in here,” but it’s too late for that and god, that hurts, and he can’t quite stop himself from making a noise that definitely falls in the realm of ‘pathetic.’ He feels his face burn and distantly wonders how that’s even possible with the amount of blood he’s surely lost. 

And then Nick is hauling him to his feet and his head is spinning and the blood is again flowing freely down his face, his shirt forgotten in the chaos. Nick half-drags Sonny out of the cage and into Liv’s office, leaving a trail of blood drops across the floor. Nick opens the door without so much as a knock, interrupting a conversation between Liv and Barba.

“Knock, please -” Liv says, but that’s as far as she gets. She stands up quickly, crosses the room and stands smack in front of the two of them, Barba close on her heels. “What’s wrong? Carisi, how long has your nose been bleeding?”

Liv sounds worried, looks worried. Barba, too, looks somewhere in the realm of concerned. Sonny feels slightly gratified by this, like he’s not wrong for thinking this might be serious.

He shrugs in response to her question. “How long have I been in there?” he asks. These are the first words he’s spoken in quite some time, and they’re shaky and taste like blood.

Liv’s worried look grows more worried. “Almost an hour and a half. He needs an ER. Now.” The second part of her comment is addressed while looking at Nick, but it’s Barba who answers.

“An Uber will be here in three minutes.”

“That’s fast,” Nick observes.

Barba shrugs like the speed isn’t impressive. “I ordered it as soon as I saw Carisi. Regardless of how long he’s been bleeding, nobody that looks like that should be anywhere but in an emergency room.”

Sonny wonders, not for the first time, what he looks like. Very bad, evidently. He imagines bruises and swelling and blood and misery and decides that actually, he doesn’t want to know how he looks.

“Are you gonna be okay getting there on your own?” Liv asks Sonny, at the same time that Barba says to Liv, “I’ll go with him.”

“The case -”

“Can be discussed remotely. Unless you’d rather your detective bleed out through his nose in a packed waiting room because I’m not there to push him to the front of the line?”

Sonny resents the implication that he isn’t capable of pushing himself to the front of the line, which, though true (not because he isn’t capable, but because he believes in waiting his turn), is embarrassing to hear said aloud, particularly by the man whom he looks up to a great deal. 

But then Barba carefully pats his arm and says, “let’s go,” and Sonny decides that he’s okay with the embarrassment, because it means that some part of Barba recognizes him, cares about him, even. Sonny thinks knowing that might be almost worth the broken nose.

thanks for reading this! hope you enjoyed :)

[risingsouls]

Recruited: Chapter 18

[Hey, this one actually has a little more meat to it! Anyway, here’s some emotional shit for you. I was actually going to make this go through the fight with Ginyu at the ship, but since Nabs likely won’t be super involved in that, it didn’t quite feel like the natural place to end the chapter the more I wrote. 

Bonus note: while I was editing, “Man, I Feel Like a Woman” by Shania Twain came on Spot.ify while she was *SPOILERS* doing some killing and it was honestly hilarious. 

ANYWAY, as usual, you can find the rest here!]

Nabooru

Nabooru regained consciousness slumped against the same wall Vegeta blasted her into, the back of her head pounding from the impact. She shoved another soldier's corpse from her lap and regained her feet, senses immediately reaching out for first Vegeta's familiar ki. She located the prince's energy. In motion and rapidly zipping across the planet. Frieza's overwhelming ki remained near the ship along with what remained of his forces. Zarbon's was nowhere to be found.

She sensed the approach of the five menacing power levels before she located Frieza awaiting the arrival of the Ginyu Force outside the ship. He did little more than comment that he was surprised she survived Vegeta's attack, confirming that Zarbon had not been so lucky. The pods crashed into the planet's surface not far from them, interrupting any chance for further conversation. Fortunate for her, perhaps; though she survived, she failed to stop Vegeta. A success for her but a failure in Frieza's eyes that could have earned her the most brutal of punishments.

The five members of one of the Cold Empire's most prestigious forces could not have been more diverse. Or odd with their penchant for flair and over the top poses which they showed off in way of introduction and greeting. She recognized the captain from his image on the screen during his meeting with Frieza. The tallest member of the team--Burter--resembled a blue, bipedal snake. Recoome had Nappa's tall, muscular build but kept his untidy crop of ginger hair unlike the bald Saiyan. The smallest member of the team, Guldo, was short and squatty with an extra pair of eyes. Jeice stood as tall as Vegeta, perhaps, and sported long, snow white hair. He delivered the case holding the requested scouters to Frieza. Though unneeded, she took the scouter offered to her and fit it to her face.

She suspected impatience and secondhand embarrassment urged Frieza to send the team off with orders to retrieve the dragonballs and bring Vegeta back to him alive. The tyrant filled their wait time--short, too short--with idle conversation about what he planned to do first with his immortality, and she nodded along while monitoring the meeting across planet at his request. She reported that the Ginyu Force found Vegeta, and that the scouter picked up two other readings with him. Likely the same pair they encountered at the last village they conquered. Within minutes, Ginyu parted from the rest of the group and headed back in their direction. Alone. Vegeta wouldn't go with him willingly, that was obvious. But her stomach churned with the possibilities of why Ginyu would leave Vegeta with his team instead of remaining to force him to comply.

When he arrived, he confirmed her most dire suspicion: all seven dragonballs drifted from him to rest at Frieza's feet. The emperor's glee was palpable and she was surprised he found even the split second it took to end Ginyu's "Dance of Joy" prematurely. Her mind raced with courses of action. Grab a dragonball and throw it. Break it. Try to run Frieza through with a ki sword or decapitate him before he could make his wish and deal with Ginyu's retaliation after. Think up some distraction from the ludicrous request of asking Ginyu to finish his dance to destroying the ship. Escape.

Frieza raised his voice and demanded immortality to the heavens and she found herself inert and unable to act on any of it. Several agonizing seconds passed by with none in the vicinity daring to make a sound. Watching. Waiting. And in Nabooru's case, trying to keep from vomiting on the orange spheres. Ginyu finally broke the silence, voicing what they all were thinking: had it worked? Was Frieza immortal and, therefore, unstoppable as the undisputed ruler of the universe? It was all she could do not to suggest he allow her to help him test it, but Frieza decided on his own it hadn't and deigned to personally track down whatever remained of the Namekians to request instructions on how to activate the balls, leaving her alone with Captain Ginyu and the rest of the soldiers.

She wanted to find amusement in Ginyu forcing the remaining soldiers to bury the dragonballs--the location of which she took keen note of-- and the following try out session the captain forced them to endure to fill the unexpected opening at Guldo's swift defeat (which she only reasoned her way out of with the excuse that Freiza likely wouldn't be pleased if he tried to recruit his last general without his permission), one they both witnessed via their scouters. Her continued monitoring of the battle between Vegeta, the two strangers, and the three remaining members of the Ginyu Force kept her from enjoying the show as Guldo would be the only success for Vegeta: within minutes, his and the strangers' ki signatures hovered dangerously close to zero. Lips parted to relay the information to Ginyu, who was berating the lackluster posing skills he witnessed, only to stop short when another power level appeared. A significant one. With all the members of the Ginyu Force accounted for and Frieza on the other side of the planet, she could only guess that some powerful Namekian warrior had just now decided to jump into the fray. But doubt circulated such a theory: with how proud and courageous the rest had been, why would this one wait so long?

One, two power levels lowered. The third raced back in their direction. All those of the remaining Ginyu Force members. The downed ki signatures were then reduced to nothing, but she was pulled from her confusion, the ever-raging battle between hope and anxiety especially with a new contender she could not identify as friend or foe placed on hold, by a panicked, battered Jeice rejoining them.

"Captain!" The warrior sounded as though he might burst into tears at any moment. "Captain, you've got to come quick! This guy, this Saiyan, just showed up outta nowhere and trounced Recoome and Burter like they were nothing!"

Another Saiyan? Jeice would know Nappa by name, likely, and this power level far exceeded what Nappa could have managed in the short amount of time since she lost track of him. The only other Saiyan she knew of was Raditz's brother. Had he come to Namek? Did that mean the other two who saved the Namekian child were in fact Earthlings? Why would they come all this way?

"A Saiyan? You don't mean Vegeta? He's no match for Recoome or Burter, and the rest of the Saiyans are dead." Ginyu waved a hand, allowing those he hadn't sent into orbit over a sloppy turn or weak arm extension. "At ease, men."

Jeice shook his head. "No, Recoome dealt with Vegeta like he was nothing. But this other guy showed up before we could finish the job with the kid, baldy, and Vegeta and took Recoome out with one blow!"

"What?! That's impossible! No Saiyan could stand up to Recoome and Burter! Let alone so swiftly!" When Jeice failed to rescind his report as a joke, Ginyu growled. "Well, we can't just let him get away with such an egregious affront to the esteemed Ginyu Force!"

He turned to Nabooru. "Keep guard of the balls, and if Lord Frieza returns before I do, tell him the captain went to take care of business."

"What else would I do?" Her question went unanswered and likely unheard as the pair shot off into the sky, back toward the battlefield Jeice left behind.

Her gaze drifted from the relieved soldiers to the tamped down dirt covering all seven dragonballs. With no more idea of how to work them than Frieza, digging them up and making a wish herself wouldn't do her any good. She once more considered the idea of hiding one to continue to hinder at least Frieza once he returned. At this point, destroying them entirely felt like the best move. The endeavor had been exhausting and more trouble than they were worth for Frieza in her opinion. Who could possibly threaten him? No one held a candle to his power and he knew that. Unless he truly worried about Vegeta gaining immortality himself, the continued quest for immortality in the face of each upset only proved how deep his paranoia went. If any other endeavor had proven this troublesome, Frieza likely would have abandoned it, either as a lost cause or place some other retinue of soldiers on completing it. The fact that he stuck around this long meant he feared losing everything no matter how powerful he was.<

Laughter caught her attention. One of the soldiers entertained the others with a series of lewd poses he suggested they show Ginyu when he returned. No matter her decision, she didn't dare risk an opportunity for witnesses to relay her betrayal to Frieza and bring him back to the ship before she could make her move to hinder his wish.

She grasped her scouter and removed it, fingers curling around the device to crush it. The crunch of plastic and static turned the men's attention to her. One folded his arms and clicked his tongue. "Why'd you do that? We just got these scouters and you go and break yours? Do you like being blind or something?"

Orange-yellow energy swirled in each of her palms, further heightening the soldiers' confusion, glances exchanged between each of them. "Has this boring planet made you lose--"

Nabooru extended her arms and fired a wave of ki, overwhelming the squadron for a clean kill. Save for the one that had enough foresight to spring into the air to avoid the blast, arms crossed and shielding his face from the flash of light and debris.

"You really have lost your damn mind!" Panic struck her as his hand twitched upward toward his face, his scouter. Nabooru cursed under her breath and shot upward. She grasped his wrist halfway to the device in a crushing vice grip. The soldier yelped in agony in lieu of protest when her free hand tore his scouter away and destroyed it. She pressed her hand to the middle of his armor, power coursing through her body once more to center in the palm of her hand.

"Please, I beg you. I won't tell Fr--"

She didn't wait for him to finish his warbling. The blast swallowed him as it had his comrades, leaving no more trace of him behind than dust carried off by the planet's pleasant breeze.

"So, you did survive my blast. I thought I sensed your pathetic power level, but it’s difficult to say among the rest of the mediocrity here..."

Her body went rigid and she whirled around, senses and gaze locking onto the unexpected presence. Vegeta stared up at her from the ground, hands on his hips and a wicked smirk on his face. His armor and battle suit had taken further damage in his bout with Recoome, but outside of stray blood and dirt staining his flesh, he seemed to shrug off the shame of being so thoroughly trounced as Jeice suggested.

Nabooru drifted back to the ground but maintained her wits and guard. Vegeta remained a potential adversary to her despite their shared goal. "I was hoping for a little peace and quiet," she answered, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. "And then you showed up."

"Too bad for you," he responded gruffly but not without humor. "Where are the dragonballs?"

Nabooru nodded toward their location. "Over there. Buried." He glanced in the direction she indicated, and she added, "Frieza tried to make his wish but they didn't work. He sought out the last few Namekians to find out how to make his wish."

A growl rumbled from the prince. "Figures. Kakarot and his cronies were right, then." He stalked toward the ship and indicated she follow with an impatient wave of his hand and a glare shot over his shoulder. "Let's go. Consider yourself my prisoner now because you won't be leaving my sight. Got that? Try anything stupid and I will kill you."

Nabooru pursed her lips, nose scrunched in distaste, but followed him back aboard the ship. "You want to track down a collar leash to make sure I don't go anywhere, too?"

"Don't tempt me." 

They trekked through the ship's hall, dodging debris and stepping over corpses of the unlucky retinue Frieza brought with him. They ducked into the crew locker room and storage area, one of the few places on the ship that seemed to have escaped the havoc wreaked upon it since arriving on Namek. Nabooru followed Vegeta's order to lock it behind them, a seemingly unnecessary precaution when everyone outside of Freiza and the Ginyu Force had perished, and from what she could sense, were still engaged in their own affairs.

"Where's your scouter?"

Nabooru turned from the pin pad near the door to face him. "I destroyed it. Before you showed up, I had planned to dig up the dragonballs and hide at least one to keep Frieza from getting his wish. I didn't want the communicator to pick anything up."

"Hmpt…" He pulled the damaged armor over his head, tearing his gloves off with his teeth and kicking off his boots. "That makes you useless in keeping a watch out for Frieza. You could have been in the middle of that little scheme of yours and gotten caught."

"Don't insult me. I'm not an idiot." Nabooru flipped her ponytail and crossed the room to her storage locker. She pulled off her glove and rested her palm against the scanner. With her own battle suit tattered from Vegeta's attack, she decided the current lull was as good a time as any to swap it out for the spare set she brought with her. "I taught myself how to sense energy. I heard you and Nappa talking about how the Earthlings could do it without a scouter, so I decided to figure it out. I wanted any edge here I could get."

Vegeta didn't reply and instead headed toward the back of the room for the showers, peeling off his battle suit as he went. He switched the water on and stepped in. "Good. Keep watch then."

She rolled her eyes and mock saluted him, yanking the tie from her hair and removing first her armor then her battle suit. She was halfway through pulling the fresh top back on when she slowed. "Vegeta, where's your tail?"

He glowered icily from behind the glass door, and she imagined the usual lash of his tail that would accompany a killer glare like that one. "The Earthlings cut it off."

"Oh…" Nabooru slid her armor back over her head and seated herself on one of the benches. She lifted her leg and pulled her burnt red stockings over her feet and up her legs. "You mentioned Kakarot earlier. That was the name of Raditz's brother, wasn't it? He's here? That other power level that showed up a bit later to your fight with Recoome?"

Vegeta grunted, seemingly more focused on scrubbing his face than listening to her. Still, she continued, keen on taking advantage of what would likely be her one chance to shed light on all the confusion surrounding the last few months and fill in the gaps in her knowledge. "So those other two that were here...they're Earthlings, then? Why would they come here though?"

"The same reason you and I are here: the dragonballs." He finished scrubbing the dirt, blood, and grime from his body and kicked the door open. Dripping wet, he stalked to the general storage cabinets, leaving puddles in his wake. "If they listen to Kakarot, they'll be heading this way with their radar and hopefully whatever password they need to summon the dragon."

She almost asked why they wanted them, but assumed Vegeta wouldn't have cared enough to ask. "You don't seem worried about that." She slipped her feet into her boots and replaced her gloves. "Are you going to let them summon this dragon and then steal the wish from under them?"

"Precisely. So long as Ginyu keeps Kakarot busy, it will be no problem."

Nabooru hummed, intrigued by the order in which he named the two men currently engaged in battle from what she could detect. "What Jeice said is true then. Ginyu didn't want to believe a Saiyan defeated Recoome and Burter. Kakarot must be an impressive warrior, then, to first cause you guys and then the Ginyu Force so much trouble."

"Tch, whatever." Nabooru glanced back at the Saiyan, slight amusement dancing in her golden eyes as he angrily jerked a new battle suit of a dark gray hue on. "I'm stronger now, too, so if Kakarot decides to be a problem, I'll kill him."

She hummed, aware that his claims of gaining more power were in fact true after the beating he took from Recoome. Another boost in his strength to further increase the ever growing gap in their power. Annoyed as she was by it, she had one last question she needed answered before either of them could be distracted again. She chewed her lower lip, twisting the hair tie between her gloved fingers.

"What happened to Nappa? Did Kakarot kill him?"

He snorted. "No. He should have, though."

Though his words should have relieved her, for it suggested the chance he still lived, dread twisted her stomach into knots. "Where is he, then? All intel I received suggested he never left Earth."

"That's because he didn't." Vegeta finished pulling his gloves on. "I killed Nappa."

Nabooru was on her feet before she could stop herself, her anguish transforming to rage at the confession. "You what?!" Leather creaked as her hands balled into fists, and Vegeta's continued unbothered demeanor only heightened her anger. "Vegeta, how could you?! Nappa was nothing but loyal to you! Basically raised you! Not to mention one of the very last--"

"Don't patronize me, woman."  He turned to face her fully, dark eyes voids of nothingness. He spoke with the authority of a parent chiding a child that couldn’t know better: “I don’t have to explain anything to you, but killing Nappa was a mercy. As a warrior, one he would have preferred to than being unable to continue to fight. Then or potentially ever again. He was useless to me and himself.”

Her emotional response far outweighed reason, any understanding she found in his words based in her personal and cultural understanding of herself as a warrior or what she had gleaned of the Saiyans. “That’s a leever dung excuse and you know it! You could have easily gotten him back to his pod and sent to the nearest base! You just…” Alarm bells rang in her ears but rage silenced the warnings to stop while she was ahead. Before she said something she didn’t mean and knew was far more complicated than a black and white right or wrong. “You wanted to kill him! You wanted to because you’re a monster! You’re a monster just like Frieza who--”

Her back slammed into the far wall before she saw the attack coming, before her senses caught the quick uptick of his energy as a warning. Vegeta yanked her down to his level by her armor, and his other hand clutched her neck with just enough force to restrict her breathing and bruise.

Rage once more burned in his onyx eyes, a sight somehow less concerning to her than the emptiness she witnessed there not moments before. She met it with her usual defiance, stubborn scowl fighting to keep the natural pain and panic from her features that came with being forced into such a vulnerable, compromised position.

“How dare you,” he seethed. Fingers tightened on her airway, and she bit back a pained squeak. “How dare you compare me to him. I should kill you right now. You’ve given me the information I need, and I’ve more than humored your shit long enough. You’re a weakling, and you’ve more than outlived your usefulness to me.”

She grabbed his wrist, this time unable to hold back her gasp for air or avoid fighting back through the instinctual need to live. Her mind clouded from the lack of oxygen and her lungs burned. Then, the tightness around her neck subsided. She sucked in a heaving breath and just barely managed stretched her arms outward in time to catch herself and keep her face from slamming into the tile floor. She rubbed her neck and refilled her lungs.

“Pathetic…”

Her fingers curled into her palms. Pathetic. A weakling. A whore and a traitor. She could almost feel the blade of ki in her hand, visualized it piercing through his armor, his chest, out his back. His blood dripping from the wound as she forcefully reminded him how powerful she was. What it meant to cross a Gerudo warrior, even one that had a higher tendency toward mercy than many others, scorned and pushed too far. But she knew she couldn’t take him. She knew he was right that he far outmatched her, would stop her attack before it started. And though she wanted to fight him anyway, to engage him in what would likely be a final, infuriated assault, she remembered what was at stake. Home. Her people and seeing them again. Returning to the life she dreamed of night after night and so desperately wanted back. The one ripped from her to serve and do the horrific bidding of a tyrant. Even if the chances of dying far outweighed those of actually making it home with two people ready to off her, if their odds of defeating Frieza depended on everything working out perfectly in their favor without a single hiccup, proving herself to a man who would never see her worth again, who had written her off as the worst sort the moment Frieza promoted her, felt insignificant.

Jaw tight, she pushed herself back up to her feet and refused to meet his gaze. The tension within the enclosed room threatened to suffocate her faster than his hand at her throat, but she refused to break it. To speak to him. She had nothing to say between her anger and grief. No matter how her mind whispered she should swallow her pride and apologize to some degree for comparing him to Frieza, she refused to entertain the idea. Her conscience would cease to matter when she was murdered or finally, finally, made it back to her home.

Any inner turmoil she battled was forgotten when a pair of ki signatures approaching and landing outside of the ship alerted her and, if his glance toward the side meant anything, Vegeta. “Finally.” He strode to the door and opened it. “Let’s go. Keep your mouth shut and stay close to me. Once the dragon is summoned, we’ll ambush them. Got it?”

He didn’t wait for her reply and disappeared into the hall again, the tap of his boots on the tile quickened with his revived urgency. Nabooru bent to retrieve the dropped hair band and pushed her hair back into her usual high ponytail, twisting the elastic around her thick, crimson locks. With the fleeting consideration to steal the wish for herself, use it to teleport her back to her homeworld, she followed Vegeta out of the ship. Though she had little faith the prince would keep his word to her when this was all over, she would keep hers. Her desire to do it for him and the justice he deserved waned, but freeing herself from Freiza meant freeing her people from him. Thus, no matter how tempting, sabotage was out of the question.

She would continue to aid Vegeta for now. Until he made his wish and killed Frieza. Until she could escape Namek and return home.

[nayutai]

Baby Don’t Move

⇢ Pairing Yunho x Female OC | Office Worker AU

⇢ Word Count 6.010

⇢ Warnings Yunho has a filthy mouth and a huge dick, oral sex (female receiving), rough sex, cursing (in general), aaaand I think that’s it

⇢ Summary Naima Yancey is ambitious and determined so her promotion at DevTech comes as no surprise to anyone. What should be a joyous moment for her is tainted. The promotion comes with a real office, more money, and a higher status, but it also comes with close proximity to the office golden boy Yunho. He gets under her skin in a way no one ever has, but she’s determined not to let this oversized menace ruin this opportunity for her. Turns out, Yunho would rather ruin her instead.

The muted ding of the elevator sounds much too joyful to Naima. Her transfer to the accounts receivable department should be marked by the sound of a death rattle or a dying elephant. A twinkling little ding only makes her even more pissed off. She glances down at the contents of the box nestled in her arms to see the brand new name plate she’d been given for her new office. 

Naima Yancey

Receivables Supervisor

The youngest supervisor in DevTech history according to HR. She guesses that anyone else in her position would be excited about the transfer she’s mentally griping about. It’s not every day that someone like her gets unexpectedly promoted to a supervisory position. Naima has only been with the company for three years and apparently she’d made the most of that time. She pauses next to a sea of cubicles to scan the numbers above the offices on either side of the employees rapidly typing away at their stations. Only a few of them even bother to give her a second glance and for that Naima is incredibly grateful. She finally spots her destination, hiking the cardboard box she’s unloaded her desk into a little higher on her hip. She takes half of a step and immediately regrets every life choice that led her to this point.

“Well look who we have here. Are you lost, Ravioli?” Naima grits her teeth at that god awful nickname, swallowing the scathing retort that’s burning her throat. The deep baritone voice sounding off somewhere over her left shoulder is the cause of every ounce of the work stress she carries in her shoulders like a boulder. 

Yunho Jeong. Beholder of an unfair amount of undeserved beauty and the victim in Naima’s most murderous dreams. 

“You were in the staff meeting when they announced my promotion, Yunho.” She deadpans. Her skin is starting to itch from the prolonged exposure to the man in front of her. The smirk that is practically permanently etched on his face does nothing but piss her even more. She wants to smack him until it disappears.

“I’m just messing with you, Ravioli. You know that. Welcome to Receivables.” He shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans as he starts backing away. “Try not to fuck it up!” Naima can feel the thick cardboard of her box bending to the forceful clench of her fists. The weight of of nearly fifty pairs of eyes keeps the scathing remark she wants to make from bubbling up. 

Fucking Yunho. Naima hasn’t even been in Receivables for an hour and she’s already doubting if the extra money is worth the headache. Okay, who is she kidding? The extra money is definitely worth it. Getting ahead of her bills had felt like the pipe dream of a wistful millennial before it had become an unexpected reality just last week. No way she lets some oversized preteen bully ruin this for her.

Naima is almost done putting her things into her new desk when the sound of an office door loudly closing disturbs her concentration. She looks up to see the source of the noise is none other than Yunho himself. All of the offices on this floor conveniently have floor to ceiling windows next to the door which allows people directly across from each other to see into the other person’s office. Naima is absolutely horrified at the implications of this as Yunho stares her down with a satisfied smirk. It’s obvious now that he slammed his door on purpose to get her attention. 

“This is the worst day of my life.” Naima mumbles to herself as she does her best to ignore Yunho’s gaze burning into her forehead. 

IT arrives a few tense minutes later to set up her docking station and get her started on the training modules for her new job duties. She’s taking notes on how to perform certain functions in the billing system when she receives a chat notification from her work husband Knox Rivers back in her old department. 

KR: Hey wifey how’s the swanky new digs?

NY: My office is DIRECTLY across from Yunho’s office

NY: I can literally see every move he makes and he can see mine

KR: Dreamville? My treat

Naima immediately perks up at the mention of the bar down the street that has become a favorite amongst their group of friends. It’s going to take a lot to make her feel good about working in such close proximity with Satan’s hardest working demon, but a free round of drinks is a great start.

NY: I’ll meet you downstairs at 5:30

Naima nearly bursts into tears when she steps off of the elevator and spots Knox leaning seated in the lobby playing a game on his phone. She’s always thought that he looked like Thor with his long hair and athletic build and right now a superhero is exactly what she needs. A giggle bubbles up from Naima’s throat at the red stain that creeps down Knox’s throat when she sneaks up on him to kiss his cheek. 

“Come on, big guy. There’s a Blue Magic with my name on it and I intend to collect my due.” Naimah declares, clapping Knox on his broad shoulders. 

“Lead the way, my lady.” He holds the door open like the gentleman he is with a dramatic flourish. Naima’s heart twinges a little. She misses the days when talking to him in person required her to lean back in her chair as opposed to taking an elevator ride. 

A few other people from the office are already at Dreamville when Naima and Knox arrive. They’re quickly swept up in familiar gossip and more drinks than anyone has a right to consume on a Tuesday evening. She’s engaged in a dangerous game of darts with a new employee named Xavier when a horribly familiar voice rings out above all the noise in the bar. Her head whips in the direction the voice came from, but the dart flies from her fingers anyway nearly taking some poor girl’s eye out. She yells out an apology but apparently her almost victim has had a little too much to drink herself and simply waves her off.

“Nice aim, Ravioli. An inch to the left and you would’ve scored a perfect murder.” Yunho taunts. Naima crosses her arms across her chest in indignation. Her eyes watch him intently and therefore don’t miss the way his gaze drops to get a look at her cleavage. His jaw ticks and she wants nothing more than to comment on that but Xavier interrupts by extending his hand in Yunho’s direction as he introduces himself.

“Naima, you ready to leave? I was about to call an Uber.” Knox materializes out of nowhere, phone in hand and Naima’s eyes nearly pop out of her head when she sees that it’s nearing eleven. She hadn’t realized that they’d been there for so long.

“See you tomorrow, Ravioli. Later, Knox.” She’d almost forgotten that Yunho was still here. He winks at her before he turns to walk away and, despite the fact that he can no longer see her, Naima flips him off. 

Naima is still fuming nineteen minutes later when the Uber arrives. She successfully dodges Knox’s first few questions about why she’s so mad, but he eventually wears her down. She’d forgotten that Knox becomes a wannabe psychologist that likes to talk about people’s feelings after he’s had a few drinks.

“What do you have against him? You’re probably the only person at the whole company that doesn’t get along with him.” Naima rolls her eyes skyward. Yunho the golden boy is apparently loved by everyone and it makes her seethe even more. She wracks her brain for someone at the company that she can add to her side and thankfully comes up with a name.

“Fake news! Saia in purchasing called him a douche nozzle last week and I am inclined to agree.” Naima is quite pleased with herself as she settles back into the plush seating of the SUV. Her satisfaction is short lived.

“Saia doesn’t count.” Knox counters quickly. “Yunho dated her younger sister and it ended badly so that just leaves you.”

“The night before my first day at DevTech, my friends from back home came to town to celebrate and we went to this super fancy restaurant.” The red light at the intersection bathes them both in its glow which is ironic in Naima’s opinion. 

She regales Knox with the store of how her friend Keyanna had bought her a ravioli entree to go so that she could have her favorite food on her first day. Yunho had snuck up on her when she was in the break room, startling her to the point that she ended up dropping a ravioli on her white button up. Of course the evil bastard had laughed about it till he could barely stand. She’d had to walk around for the rest of the day with the sauce stain on her shirt and Yunho has called her Ravioli every day since then.

“That…” Knox pauses to piece his thoughts together. “okay, yeah, I can’t say I’d be too fond of him either after that.” He admits.

“See? He’s an asshole and I hope he steps on a lego every day for the rest of his miserable life.” Their Uber driver, who had remained silent aside from the quick hello when they’d gotten in her car, snorts at the curse Naima speaks into Yunho’s life. 

“You know he teases you because he probably wants to fuck you right? Men aren’t as evolved as people would like to believe.” Knox points out. Naima withdraws from him as if he just told her to go fuck herself.

“If he thinks that being an asshole will grant him access to my pearly gates then he’s a bigger idiot than I thought he was.” She and the driver exchange a high five when she chimes in with her agreement. Naima makes a mental note to make sure that Knox tips her good for being an intellectual.

A wave of exhaustion washes over Naima when their apartment complex comes into view.  Thoughts of a hot shower and her fluffy pillows makes the time required to drive to their part of the complex feel like an eternity. She bids the friendly Uber driver a safe and prosperous night before all but running towards her building with a wave to Knox tossed carelessly over her shoulder as he makes his way to the building directly across from hers.

“Morning, Killer.” Yunho is way too chipper this morning especially since Naima has already had to suffer through elevator chatter about how he won a drinking contest last night. It doesn’t help that now he’s bringing up her almost homicide.

“Don’t you have something else to do? Like your job?” Yunho pretends to recoil from her remark as he follows Naima to her office. She wishes she could just haul off and smack him but that wouldn’t bode well for her professional career.

He props himself up against the wall next to her office and it’s as she unlocking her door that she registers just how close he is to her. A small shift of her weight to her right foot would push her up against his chest. Her mind drifts back to what Knox had said last night. She side eyes him cautiously before turning fully to face him head on. If anyone were to ask, Naima would blame what she does next on residual alcohol still inhibiting her rational thought.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” Yunho blinks several times in shock but he recovers quickly. He flips around to take stock of the people still filtering into the office to see if anyone is within ear shot and is seemingly satisfied by the lack of people around them.

“I never pegged you to have an exhibition kink, Ravioli.” She curses herself at the way the low timbre of his voice resonates deep in her gut. The greasy smile on his face however, makes her want to puke.

“My kinks are none of your business. I’m just trying to prove a point. Now answer the question.”

“I can only imagine what that point is, but yes, I would absolutely love to ravish you.” He leans in even closer so that she can smell the minty scent of his toothpaste when he whispers in her ear. His closeness doesn’t make her recoil in the way that she thought it would and the reasoning behind that is definitely not something she’s willing to explore.

The second she gets her laptop booted up she’s tapping out a message to Knox.

NY: Lunch on me today. We need to talk.

KR: I’m all yours at 12:30 

Naima is still pondering her conversation with Knox when she steps off of the elevator to go back to her office after lunch. He seems to think that the best way to get Yunho off her back is to fuck him. According to Knox and his personal knowledge of “guy logic”, that will get her out of Yunho’s system and his annoying behavior will cease. Naima isn’t so sure about that. She’s so far inside her own head that she doesn’t even hear someone calling her name until they tap her on her shoulder. Of course, it’s Yunho. Luck is just not on her side today.

“Ravioli, you should consider getting your ears checked. I called you four times.”

“And you should consider that maybe I just don’t want to talk to you.” She replies. He makes himself comfortable in her office as she drops her purse into one of the desk drawers to jump back into her work. 

“Oh, don’t be that way, Ravioli. I thought we were past this animosity thing since you practically propositioned me in the hallway.” He looks so smug as he recalls her blunder from earlier. God he’s so infuriating. Naima adds this to her running list of why men should be removed from Earth. She says nothing, choosing to simply point towards her office door. Thankfully, he’s not too dense that he can’t take a hint and returns to his own office space.

She’s settled into a steady pace with her work when her computer pings with a message. The prospect of clearing out her dashboard and possibly being able to leave early is too sweet to break her stride. Two more subsequent pings from effectively breaks her concentration.

YJ: hey

YJ: you look so cute when you’re concentrating

YJ: don’t ignore me I’m sensitive 😭

She looks through the glass into Yunho’s office to see him already staring directly at her. His head being propped up on his hands suggests that he’s been doing it for a while. He blows a kiss in her which she returns with a middle finger. She raises her computer monitors so that he’s no longer able to see her face. 

Next order of business: buying blinds

Naima groans out loud when her computer pings with yet another message. At this rate she’s going to have to stay late to get everything done. She halfway expects the new message to be another annoying attempt at conversation from Yunho but thankfully this one is from someone that she actually doesn’t mind talking to.

KR: hey did you hear that Yaya bought a new house?

NY: yeah she just texted me that she’s having a bbq this weekend to celebrate the closing

KR: you going? 👀

NY: don’t ask me a stupid question like that of course I’m going

KR: lmao okay so we can split an uber then

KR: wanna leave at like 3?

NY: yeah that’s fine with me!

Naima is so happy for Saturday to finally roll around that she could cry. Yaya had told her a few things on the menu on Wednesday and her mouth has been watering ever since. Her husband is a chef at some fancy restaurant so she knows that this will be the best food she’s had in a while. 

Knox and Naima are both slack-jawed at the absolute grandeur of Yaya’s house as their Uber driver comes to a stop in the center of the horseshoe shaped driveway. She’d neglected to mention that her new house is actually a castle. Naima frowns when she spots Yunho’s flashy Mercedes amongst the cars already parked in the driveway, but she’s determined to have a good time despite his presence. They follow the sound of music and splashing to the backyard to see a majority of the DevTech staff in the backyard. They’re quick to strip down to their bathing suits to join in on the chicken fight in the pool.

Naima has just sent Alexis from marketing flying off of Xavier’s shoulders when Yaya announces that it’s time to eat. It’s a race to get out of the pool as everyone is hustling for a good spot in line. Naima is cursing the god awful heaviness that plagues her every time she steps out of a pool when she hears a low whistle from behind her. It’s Yunho and his eyes are trained directly on her ass. Big surprise there.

“Yellow is definitely your color, Ravioli.” He produces a large, fluffy towel seemingly out of nowhere, offering it to her. She’s hesitant to accept it but a quick glance towards the now empty table that had once held an assload of towels changes her mind.

“I think I would look just as good on you.” Yunho smiles as if he’s just hit her with the best pick up line known to man. He’s gotten quite brazen with his flirtatious attempts ever since he’d exposed his sexual intentions on Monday.

“You talk a big game but everyone knows that overly confident men are just…” Naimah trails off with a pointed look at the front of Yunho’s jeans as she takes a sip of her lemonade. “overcompensating.”

Yunho pokes at the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he considers the woman in front of him with amusement. He revels in the way she swallows nervously when he closes the gap between them. Every breath she takes causes her barely covered chest to graze against his but, to her credit, she doesn’t back away. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but being this close to Yunho is making her blood run hot. She chooses to blame it on her primitive instincts and not actual attraction, but even she knows that’s a lie.

“Didn’t your parents teach you not to speak on things you know nothing about, Ravioli?” She can’t decide what she’s more mad at, the nickname or the insinuation that this asshole just said she’s wrong. She’s not.

“Didn’t your parents teach you not to lie?” She bristles. Yunho’s sarcastic little grin only grows in response to her anger. It’s like he gets off on making her want to wring his neck.

“Admit it, Ravioli. You want this just as much as I do.” Naima gasps when Yunho suddenly wraps an arm around her wait, jerking her to him. He leans down so that he’s speaking directly into her ear and in that moment, Naima knows she’s a goner. All these months of resisting him and he’s about to break her by whispering in her ear. She wants to scream bloody murder. “All you have to do is say the word and I’ll take you higher than you’ve ever been.”

“Prove it.” Naima feels like she’s put the final nail in her own coffin. Yunho has successfully worn her down. She can’t see his face, but she doesn’t have to to know that he’s smiling like he’s just won the lottery.

“Let’s go, Ravioli.” Naima expects Knox to be disappointed to see her leaving with Yunho when she waves at him to say bye, but instead he wiggles his eyebrows at her suggestively. She makes a mental note to yell at him for that later.

The ride to Yunho’s apartment is entirely too short. Naima’s shoulders are wrought with tension as she follows him up the stairs. Part of her wants to turn and run, but a much larger part is telling her to stay to see this through. Yunho has spoken quite highly of his sexual prowess and she’s more curious than not on just how much of it is true.

Yunho is on her the second she toes off her shoes by the door. One of his large hands firmly holds her jaw in place while he ravages her mouth with his own. Naima clings to his shirt to both hold him to her and ground herself in the moment. She feels lightheaded but it’s not from lack of oxygen. He uses his grip on her jaw to pry her mouth open, furthering his claim on her. The hand not covering her jaw skims across the skin above her shorts before deftly undoing the button. Her lips chase his when Yunho pulls away but he avoids her advances.

“Your lips taste so sweet. I want to taste all of you.” Naima shivers at the roughness of his voice. His normal baritone is a lot to deal with but this is downright sinful. He roughly hauls her off her feet into his arms, causing a fresh wave of arousal to flood her panties. 

She busies herself with leaving marks along the column of his neck, loving the way she can feel his gruff moans vibrating against her lips. The smack of Yunho’s hand hitting the wall to steady himself when she grinds her hips against his startles her into.

“Jesus fuck, you’re killing me, baby girl.” Naima smiles mischievously, letting her lips linger on his skin. Something about the pet name he called her makes the heat simmering in her belly grow even hotter. He tosses her on his oversized bed once he collects himself enough to finally make it to his bedroom. She watches him curiously as he turns to dig around in his nightstand. His hand reappears with several foil packets in his grip which he promptly drops onto the mattress for later use. 

Clothes fly haphazardly as Yunho hastily strips them down till nothing but his boxers remain in place. He smirks when he notices Naima’s playful grin drop when she takes in the size of the bulge he’s sporting. His large hands grip her hips, flipping her onto her stomach and rustling her around to a more favorable position. Finally satisfied with the way her face is pressed into the expensive Egyptian cotton of his bed sheets, Yunho buries his face in her dripping cunt from behind. He groans at his first taste of her and her answering whine is nothing but appreciative at the way it vibrates against her.

Naima yelps when Yunho’s large palms suddenly land on her ass with a resounding smack. He soothes the sting with tender caresses against her flesh. His tongue never leaves her entrance as he continues to coax a seemingly endless stream of arousal from her. She has the sheets in a death grip, moving her hips as if to separate herself from Yunho’s lethal tongue but wherever she goes his face simply follows. The slurping sounds of him feasting on her are absolutely obscene but she’s way too far gone to be embarrassed. She doubts that she would be able to form a coherent sentence of protest even if she wasn’t. 

“You’re so fucking wet. I could drown in this pretty pussy.” Naima keens at his filthy words, squirming restlessly as the pleasure builds and builds within her. 

It’s no surprise when she tumbles over the edge with a strangled shout, but she’d expected for him to release her once he’d made her come. Much to her surprise, Yunho doesn’t seem to have any plans of stopping. He tongues her through her orgasm, sucking gently on her clit as he thrusts two fingers into her still spasming entrance. Her knees buckle immediately from the sharp pang of oversensitivity. Yunho pulls his fingers from her long enough to land another harsh smack to her ass while his other holds her hips in place. The discomfort bleeds into pleasure until she’s racing headfirst into a second orgasm.

“That’s it, baby. Let go. Give it all to me.” Naima swears she’s on the verge of blacking out when Yunho finally releases her. She collapses against the mattress when he relinquishes his grip on her, trembling from head to toe. His chest is warm against the sweat-slicked skin of her back when he covers his body with his own. He leaves chaste kisses along her shoulder as he loops an arm around her torso.

“Don’t tap out on me now, love. There’s still more fun to be had.” Yunho grinds his cock against her ass, smiling against her skin when he feels her shudder in his hold.

He pulls himself up on his knees, dragging Naima’s tired frame with him. He makes quick work of removing his boxers and rolling on one of the condoms he’d grabbed earlier. She jerks when the head of his latex covered cock bumps against her sensitive clit as he covers himself in the slick still leaking from her cunt. Yunho watches the back of her head like a hawk as he slowly presses himself against her entrance. He swears quite creatively at the way her muscles lock down on him.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Yunho!” Naima drops her head to rest on her arms, doing her best to relax. He reaches underneath her to rub circles into her clits and succeeds in pushing forwards a few more inches.

His breath catches in his throat when she pulls her hips before pushing back against him to sink down a little further on his thick length. They work together until he’s finally seated balls deep inside her. Yunho’s eyes roll back in his head at the tight squeeze of her perfect cunt. He’s been inside quite a few women in his day, but this feels almost like uncharted territory. He hisses when she flexes around him involuntarily, tightening even further though he didn’t think that was even possible.

“I’m going to wreck this pussy, baby.” He punctuates his statement by withdrawing till only the tip remains, pushing back in with a purposeful thrust of his hips. Naima nearly chokes on the pitiful whine that claws its way out of her throat. “You’re gonna feel me in here for days.”

To his credit, he tries to keep his pace even and not too fast. He really does. His fingers are probably bruising her skin from how tightly he’s gripping her hips but it’s the only thing keeping him grounded and sane at this point. 

“You call this wrecking me? I could’ve done this at home with my Rabbit.” Naima can admit that Yunho’s dick was a hard pill to swallow at first, but she’s thoroughly adjusted and in need of more. Judging by the way his hips still she’s about to get just what she was aiming for. She gasps when he grabs a fistful of her hair, yanking her upright so that he can whisper in her ear.

“Didn’t I tell you to watch that pretty little mouth of yours?” He practically growls in her ear as he grinds against her cervix. The pain mixes with the pleasure in a way that’s starting to make her lightheaded. 

“No, you didn’t.” She responds breathily. Her fingernails dig into his thighs painfully but Yunho doesn’t care even a little bit.

“Well, I should’ve.” He shoves her back towards the mattress not giving her even a few seconds to get her bearings before he’s rearing back to slam back into her tight heat. 

She shouts his name, squirming in his iron grip but he shows her no mercy. The time for that has past. Yunho’s hips piston in out of her at a furious pace. His gaze is fixated on the way her pussy creams on his dick with every thrust. His chest rumbles in protest when manages to pull away from him enough for his cock to fall out of her.

“Don’t run from me, Naima. You wanted this dick and now you got it.” She keens at the sound of her real name coming out of his mouth. The way his husky tone wraps around the syllables should be illegal. He fists the sheets next to her head with one hand as he uses the other to reposition her hips to allow him to slide back inside. His legs straddle both of hers, giving him the leverage he needs to fuck her into the mattress.

Naima’s fingernails are leaving crescent shaped marks in Yunho’s wrists as she holds on for dear life. She’s never been so thoroughly fucked in all her life. He’s reaching spots inside her that she didn’t even know existed until now. She’s on the verge of tears when he slows his frantic pace. He lowers himself so that his larger frame dwarfs hers once more. His arms looped under hers to hold her close to him. Yunho resumes his movements, opting for a much more relaxed cadence. The purposeful grind of his hips is just as overwhelming if not more so after the intensity from before.

“This is my pussy now.” Yunho grunts into her ear. He sucks marks into every inch of skin that his lips can reach. “No one will ever fuck you this good. Never fuck you this deep. You’re all mine.”

Naima bites down hard on a pillow that she must have grabbed at some point as she clenches around him hard. It dawns on her vaguely that Yunho hasn’t touched her clit once. She’s about to come from penetration alone. A feat she’s never been able to accomplish. The very Earth feels like it’s opened up beneath her when the orgasm that had been flirting with her senses finally washes over her. She feels him grow impossibly harder inside her as he reaches his own end. Black spots dance across her vision when the throbbing sensation of him filling the condom triggers a smaller, biting orgasm. 

She’s surprised that she manages to stay conscious if only barely. Her surprise only grows when she feels a warm towel gently wiping between her legs. Her shock reaches a fever pitch when Yunho’s fingers start working into her calf muscles. She chooses to stay silent out of fear that he might stop if caught being nice. 

“You done pretending to be asleep? Or did I actually fuck you stupid?” She can practically hear the smile in his voice as his fingers climb higher to her thighs. So much for peacefully enjoying this massage.

“I like you better when you don’t speak.” His amused laughter brings a smile to her own face despite her attempts to tamp it down. She shivers when he places a chaste kiss on the swell of her ass before going back to his ministrations on her legs. Knox is never going to let her hear the end of this once he finds out.

 She’s about to go insane. Naima’s stomach has growled twelve times in as many minutes and if she doesn’t eat something soon there will be fatal consequences. She checks her phone once more to check Knox’s location and nearly cries when it says that he’s arrived at DevTech. Just a few minutes stands between her and hot bacon, egg, and cheese croissant and an extra large caramel macchiato. 

The sight of Knox navigating the sea of cubicles with her breakfast in hand may as well be the second coming of Christ. She throws her arms around her neck the second he steps into her office. He pretends to be disgusted when she pecks him on his cheek repeatedly. Knox takes a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of her desk to talk before he goes back downstairs to work. Their conversation when Yunho suddenly burst through the door.

“What the hell are you doing?” Naima is appalled at the way he’s just invited himself into her office without even having the decency to knock first.

“I should be asking you that. I asked you for the Murchison report fifteen minutes ago but I guess you were too busy with your little boy toy here to actually do your fucking job.” Knox stands, mouth fixed to defend her, but she holds up her hand to stop him.

“Knox, can you excuse us please?” Naima says sweetly. Her tone is sweet and even, but there’s a hard edge to it that tells Knox she’ll be able to handle Yunho’s temper tantrum just fine.

Naima wraps her sandwich up as she motions for Yunho to have a seat in the chair Knox has just vacated. She shrugs her shoulders when he refuses, crossing her modest office to lock the door and close the blinds she’d installed.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you, Jeong? Did you fall and hit your head? How dare you come to my office and insinuate that I’m not doing my job?.” He can tell that she’s working hard to keep from yelling at him but her words feel like a slap in the face either way. 

“Look, I just need the Murchison report so that I can finish some paper-” Naima doesn’t even let him finish his sentence. She has no patience for him and his bullshit.

“Cut the bullshit, Yunho. The Murchison report wouldn’t be useful for anything other than end of year reporting which we are eight months away from so what the fuck do you actually want from me?” She’s seething. DevTech has a super relaxed company culture but HR still wouldn’t take too kindly to her punching another employee in the throat.

“Why didn’t you text me back yesterday?” Naima is taken aback. She remembers receiving a few texts from him on Sunday — how he got her number she doesn’t know — but it wasn’t anything that she felt warranted a response. 

“Why would you want me to?” 

The more they talk, the more Naima realizes that they went into that bedroom with very different ideas of what was going to happen afterwards. She’d intended for it to be a one time thing for him to try and prove her wrong which he’d succeeded in doing. Nothing more, nothing less. Obviously, Yunho had other ideas that went far beyond the four walls of his bedroom. 

“This is new territory for me. I’ve never been jealous over women because I can get a new one in five minutes. I’ve never had a problem in that category.”

“Get to the point, Yunho.” She’s quickly growing bored of this conversation and she’s ready  for it to be over.

“The point is that I want to see where this goes. Are you down for that?”

“No, you’re an asshole.”

“I mean, yeah, that’s true, but I’m cute and I’ll eat you out till you cry so what’s it gonna be?” He looks so hopeful that part of Naima wants to reject him again just to mess with him, but she’s not totally heartless. She decides to make him a deal.

“I’ll give you one week and then we’ll go from there now about this eating out business…” She trails off, looking at him suggestively. 

“Come home with me after work and I’ll give you what you want and more.” The mischievous grin on his face promises another day of limping around and Naima is excited to say the least. 

“You’ve got a deal. Now get out of my office.” She deadpans as she starts to unwrap the breakfast sandwich she hadn’t been able to finish earlier. He catches her off guard when he swoops in to steal a kiss from her lips as his “parting gift”. 

“Later, Ravioli.” 

She touches her fingers to her lips as she watches him walk back to his own office through her open door. It’s going to be an interesting week.

[empyreanwritings]

The Cure to Heartbreak

Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes x Reader, Ex!Peter Quill x Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: loads of language, break up angst, mentions of alcoholism, suggestive themes

Summary: An impromptu road trip with your neighbor is exactly what you needed to get over your ex. 

A/N: Y’all, I watched Someone Great on Netflix and then I somehow ended up with 4k words worth of Biker!Bucky. It may be a little all over the place, but I wanted to place emphasis on the reader realizing her worth outside of a relationship, ya feel? Let me know what you think! x

Waking up to your best friend pulling the curtains open and blinding you wasn't the way you wanted to start your day. In fact, you didn't want to start your day at all. You planned on wallowing in your bed all day - avoiding all responsibilities and pretending like you didn't get your heart ripped out of your chest the night before.

Peter Quill was supposed to be the love of your life. You two met at a party your freshman year of college and hit it off quickly. At first, you didn't see him as anything more than a one-night stand. It was your chance to be slutty! You had just moved to the city far, far away from your parents, and you wanted to be a little reckless. But reckless never worked out for you.

When Quill brought you breakfast in bed the morning after, you knew you were a goner.

Five years. That asshole let you be in love with him for five whole years before he told you he met another woman, who he just "connected" with at work.

Thing had been rocky for the past few months. You got one of the editor positions at Stark publishing, and you let it take over most of your life. But could anyone blame you? Being an editor was something you worked for your entire college career. It was all you ever wanted to do besides becoming an actual author.

But you didn't think rocky meant you were pushing him into someone else's arms.

As much as you wanted to hate him, you couldn't do anything besides blame yourself. You let work become a priority, and somewhere along the way, you stopped showing Quill how much you truly loved him. Maybe it was all your fault, but you liked to think he could have stepped up and said something. He could have tried to save what you two had before falling in love with another woman.

Another woman with a stupid name, you might add.

"Not today," you groaned and pulled a pillow over your face.

"Oh no, you are not wallowing today!" Wanda scolded as she ripped the pillow away from you. "Get up, we're going to brunch with Carol and Peter."

"Tell them I'm too sick."

Wanda rolled her eyes. "You are not too sick. You're just a big baby."

You tried to fake cough for emphasis, but she wasn't having it. She grabbed your ankles and practically threw you off your bed. And when you glared up at her from the pile of blankets you grabbed in surprise, she just stared back at you completely unfazed. The woman was persistent.

"I brought you bagels from your fave," she held up a brown paper bag but kept it away from your reach, "You get them once you've taken a shower and gotten dressed! And I mean it on the shower, girl, you look crusty."

You glanced down at your hair, which still had hairspray in it from last night. You had meant to take a shower, but you were so distraught that Quill broke up with you at your anniversary dinner, you forgot. Well, you didn't forget, per say - you were a little too drunk to figure out how to work your own shower.

A shower sounded terrific, but you barely had any energy to stand, let alone clean yourself. Thankfully, Wanda could see your hesitation and pushed you towards your bathroom. She even made sure your face wash and favorite body wash were on the edge of the tub for you to use, which brought a small smile to your face. Sometimes, you forgot how great of a friend Wanda could be when you needed her most.

You decided halfway through your shower that your sadness would go down the drain with your shampoo. Being miserable wouldn't change the fact that Quill no longer wanted to be with you. Being miserable did nothing except make you look pathetic, and you refused to be the pathetic one in this break up.

And when you stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your body and steam pouring out from behind you, you felt yourself smile. Even if it was a little forced.

---

"If I drink another mimosa, I swear I'm going to puke OJ all over Carol's shirt," you moaned, giving your stomach a small pat. "But damn, they went so well with that French toast."

Peter nodded as he stared as his half eaten Belgian waffle. "I want to eat it, but my stomach might burst."

Carol looked between the two of you and shook her head, making it a point to snatch the waffle off Peter's plate and stuff it into her mouth. She managed to eat all her food, drink four mimosas, and she still wasn't ready to quit. When she committed to a brunch outing, she committed. And you didn't miss the way she called you babies through her mouthful of food.

Brunch started out more emotional than you cared to admit. By your second mimosa, you were spilling all the details of your breakup. How everybody gave you sympathetic looks when you stormed out, and how the hostess gave you a free meal voucher on your way out because she felt terrible for you. She probably cringed when she saw the mascara running down your cheeks, but you didn't care. Free food was free food.

You teared up. Your friends listened until you started crying into your egg's benedict - that was when Carol smacked the back of your head.

Once all the emotional shit was out of the way, you had a nice time. The four of you ate more food than your stomachs could bare. Peter talked about his date with MJ, which he didn't want to do at first (he claimed he didn't want to make you feel bad, but your baby boy was dating! How could you be upset?) And all was good.

Until Peter fucking Quill walked into the café with his new girl.

Not even a full twenty-four hours after your break up.

"Do you want me to kill him?" Carol asked, her glare on full display.

"I'll clean up the evidence," Peter added.

"And I'll help bury the body," Wanda said with a coy smile, clinking her glass against Peter's.

You shook your head. "No. If he wants to be with that woman then let him. She's got cheap pink streaks in her hair, so who's really thriving?"

While your words were confident, you could feel yourself breaking down. The urge to down an entire bottle of champagne crept right back up, and you hated yourself for it. Drinking wasn't a bad thing but drinking when you were emotional was. You always did it at the worst of times, and it was why your sister thought you were an alcoholic to this day.

You sucked in your cheeks and excused yourself quietly, trying not to bring too much attention to your table. They wanted to follow you out, but you reassured them you'd be right back. You just needed to get some air.

Your heart beat so rapidly, you could feel it jump to your throat. You were almost certain you were going to burst into tears at any moment, and you weren't sure which one was more embarrassing: crying over your ex or crying over your ex next to a dumpster that reeked of sun-cooked booze.

The rumble of a motorcycle pulled you out of your thoughts. You peeked around the corner of the alley and saw Bucky Barnes, the only normal neighbor on your floor. You hadn't run into him on your way in last night, but you were sure he heard you shamelessly singing Lizzo at the top of your lungs.

Oh god, you were a terrible neighbor.

"Y/N?" Bucky called out before you could retreat towards the dumpster.

"Hey!" You heard your voice crack, and you quickly cleared your throat. "Sorry, hey. What are you doing here?"

"Were you crying by that dumpster?"

You let out a watery laugh and tried to run your fingers through your already tangled hair. "Whaaat? No way! I-I…I totally was."

He hummed, trying to hide the smile creeping up on his face. "Does this have anything to do with the concert I got last night?"

"Fuck, I am so sorry about that. I was drunk - the kind of drunk that sings Truth Hurts at three in the morning."

"It's okay, really," he laughed. "I had gotten home only a few minutes before. Me and Steve were out celebrating with Sam on his new promotion."

You released a relieved breath. So, you weren't a terrible neighbor, just an obnoxious one.

Bucky's gaze flickered to the inside of the café, and you almost questioned what he was looking at when you turned and saw him staring right at Quill.

They weren't big fans of each other. Quill always got insanely jealous when he found out Bucky was hanging out at your place for a movie night or a game night, which Bucky wasn't a fan of. He thought it was childish.

He didn't ask what Quill was doing with another woman. He didn't ask what prompted you to get drunk and sing last night or cry by a dumpster just a few minutes prior to his arrival. He didn't need to. It was obvious what was going on, and he hated Quill for treating you like that.

You deserved so much better.

"Get on," he said as he held out his helmet for you.

"What?"

"Get on," he repeated with a shrug. "I wanna take you somewhere."

"I can't just leave. My friends are-"

Someone tapped on the window behind you, and you laughed when you saw it was Peter practically smushed up against it. He gestured to the hunk of a man behind you and made a waving motion that resembled something along the lines of "Go, crazy bitch! Don't say no!"

And you weren't sure if it was the encouragement of your friends or the fact that now Quill was looking directly at you from the counter, but you turned around and took the helmet from Bucky without another thought.

You wanted to ask where you were going, but you knew he wasn't going to tell you. Bucky seemed like the type who enjoyed being mysterious way too much.

Spontaneous adventures weren't your forte. You liked planning your trips out as much as you possibly could. When you and Wanda took a road trip down to New Orleans, you made sure every minute was planned - even what rest stop you were going to stop at. You liked knowing, you liked having a schedule.

You learned very quickly that Bucky wasn't that type of person. He had no idea where you were going when he asked you to get on his bike, and you started to realize that when he took random exits that didn't lead to the same place.

Every now and then, you found yourself standing and holding your arms out, letting the wind wrap itself around you. You had no idea where you were going, but you were going to make the most of it. You thought about pulling your helmet off at one point just to feel the wind in your hair, but Bucky reached back and pinched your thigh the second your fingers touched the straps.

He was a stickler for motorcycle safety, apparently.

It didn't feel like a long drive, though. It wasn't until you started to see signs for Atlantic City that you realized you had been driving for at least two hours. You should have been more aware of where you were going, but you enjoyed the ride too much. It was easy to lose yourself a bit.

"What the hell are we doing here?" You gasped once Bucky found a spot closest to the boardwalk. "You seriously drove us two hours away from the city!"

"Do you want to go back?" He wasn't asking to be mean. If you genuinely wanted to go home, he would turn right around and not complain.

The mist coming from the beach hit your face, and you could smell the fried food from some of the pier vendors. You weren't hungry by any means, but something about the smell of fried Oreos always made your mouth water.

"No," you replied after a moment, "No, I don't want to leave."

"Good." Bucky smiled over at you, and you couldn't stop yourself from smiling back at him. Something about that man's happiness was contagious. Every time he smiled, you had to fight the urge to smile as well. But today, you weren't going to fight it. You were going to be happy. Spontaneous. Definitely not sad over Peter fucking Quill.

He took your hand and led you down the boardwalk, assuring you that he knew where he was taking you now. You didn't believe him for one second, but you let him lead you nonetheless.

"I know the couple who owns this casino," he stated as he pulled you towards Ocean. "I did maintenance here before I moved to the city, and they really took care of me. I know they can give us VIP access to the rooftop party."

"How do you know there's a rooftop party already?"

He looked over his shoulder at you, "Cause it's Atlantic City. They're always partying here."

---

Your first year of college was something you thought you'd never be able to experience again. You were able to party without needing to get drunk. You danced like no one was watching because you were young, and it didn't matter what other people thought! All that mattered was you were with your best friends.

Today you got to feel that way again.

The pool was filled to the brim with bubbles, and even though you didn't have your bathing suit, that didn't stop you from at least going in ankle deep and tossing some bubbles at Bucky. People crowded the deck, and you constantly squished against his chest just to get through to the other side, but neither of you seemed to mind. And the best part? You had no desire to drink.

Well, you had one shot, but Bucky offered to let you do a tequila shot off his very chiseled, very tattooed physique. How could you turn that down?

But, other than that, you didn't need to drink. You enjoyed every second of the rooftop party, and you planned on remembering it all. It wasn't often you decided to get on someone's motorcycle and drive all the way to Atlantic City with said person.

"I got us a room, by the way," Bucky yelled over the music into your ear.

"You didn't have to do that!"

He scoffed. "You deserve to have some fun, Y/N. This is a city that never sleeps, you need to embrace it!"

You were about to respond to him when you felt your phone vibrate. You held your finger up, letting him know that you were willing to continue the conversation, but you froze when you saw Quill's name flashing across your screen. You hadn't changed his icon photo yet, so a picture of you two kissing was staring right back at you.

"Wow, cold bucket of reality," you mumbled.

Bucky wanted to take the phone away from you - to tell you not to answer - but he didn't have the right. You needed to work through your heartbreak however you needed to. If talking to Quill was what you needed, who was he to stop you?

It helped knowing Quill saw you leave with Bucky. He had to keep himself from smirking the second they made eye contact. And maybe that was what he was calling about.

You shook your head and quickly declined the call. The last thing you wanted was to hear whatever Quill had to say. Whatever excuse he had for moving on so quickly, or whatever issue he had with you hopping on Bucky's motorcycle - you didn't want to hear it. It would only dampen your mood. You deserved better than that.

"Do you want to dance?"

Bucky grabbed your hand and twirled you around. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, pressing your back against his chest. You held back a shiver the second you felt his lips against the shell of your ear.

"I would love to dance," he whispered, eliciting another shiver you couldn't hold back this time.

Being pressed against Bucky, moving to the beat of the music, felt…almost surreal. No one else around you really mattered. Someone could have elbowed you straight in the back, and you wouldn't have noticed. You focused on Bucky's hands on your hips; his fingers occasionally brushing against your exposed skin; or his lips that constantly grazed the side of your neck. It was hard not to lose yourself in the moment.

You didn't want to make Bucky a rebound. You made that decision before you took a shot off his abs.

Bucky was someone you knew you could fall for. You already spent a lot of time together, spent a lot of nights just getting to know each other. He knew things about you that no one else besides Wanda knew, and he wasn't afraid to share the darker parts of him. The first time you had a movie night, he told you about the scarring on his left arm that he covered with tattoos. And he listened when you opened up about leaving your parents behind.

What you two had was special. If it was meant to be something more than platonic, you couldn't ruin that by sleeping with him in the middle of a heartbreak. No matter how badly you wanted to.

"I want to kiss you right now," you confessed once you had a moment alone.

You two escaped the party and moved to one of the indoor pools. Everyone was at the party, so it gave you two the opportunity to enjoy some peace and quiet.

"But I'm guessing you're not going to?" Again, he wasn't malicious when he said this. It was almost as if he understood what you were thinking before you even said it out loud. He was far too understanding, and that made it even more difficult for you.

"I can't."

"I know."

You swirled your feet around in the water, keeping your eyes on the ripples at all times. Looking at him would make you crack right now.

"I can't be upset at Quill for moving on a day later if I do the same," you sighed. "Plus, I know I'm not ready. I want to be, ya know? I don't want to be miserable and think about how much my life is going to change now. I mean, I spent five years of my life with this guy - I had my future based on where we were supposed to be - and now…"

"Now you have to figure out who you are outside of those plans - outside of a relationship."

You nodded. You spent important parts of your life with Quill. You grew up and grew into the relationship with each other. You had no idea who you were by yourself. Single Y/N could be completely different from Quill's long-term girlfriend Y/N.

And you wanted to get to know who she was.

"If you ask me to wait for you, I will."

You quirked an eyebrow at him. "Oh?"

"I mean, I already have been," he chuckled. "And I don't mind waiting a little bit longer."

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, letting your lips linger on his skin a little bit longer than necessary. It was your way of telling him to wait without saying it out loud. You'd never be selfish enough to ask him to wait. If he met someone while you were trying to find yourself, you'd be happy for him. A little disappointed but happy. But if he genuinely wanted to wait and be with you, you would love it secretly.

He linked his fingers with yours and smiled to himself as you rested your head on his shoulder.

"You know," you turned your face up to look up him, curious as to what was about to leave that man's mouth, "I'd be okay with you using me for one night. No strings attached."

You laughed, not sure if he was serious or not. He stayed quiet, but he leaned in less than an inch closer to your face. It wasn't much, but it was enough to get your attention. He was serious. And you weren't sure if that turned you on or terrified you.

"Bucky, I don't want to hurt you," you exhaled shakily.

He shifted next to you and gave you a small smirk. "You can't hurt me, darlin'. I'm a big boy, I know what I'm getting myself into."

The air shifted between you; the electricity was undeniable, you could feel it tingling on your lips. You shouldn't have moved closer. You shouldn't have kissed him, and you definitely shouldn't have slept with him. It was a terrible, terrible idea. The angel on your shoulder warned you about how bad of an idea this could be. But the devil…she really wanted to get laid.

Bucky's thumb brushed your bottom lip, and all your inhibitions flew out the window. You could think about the consequences in the morning.

---

"Make sure to ice that ankle," you teased as you dropped Bucky off at his door.

"You weren't kidding when you said you were going to hurt me, huh?"

You gasped and punched him lightly in the shoulder. Never in your life had you accidentally twisted someone's ankle in the middle of sex. You thought he was trying to mess with you at first - playing around with the whole "you can't hurt me" bit - but when you woke up, it was swollen and blotched with purple.

You were appalled, especially when Bucky started laughing about it. He was never going to let you live it down, and you were dreading it already.

Hey, remember the time you almost broke my ankle during sex?

Hey, do you wanna try that thing again? Oh wait, that's how we sprain ankles.

And here you thought you'd regret the sex because you were using the man. Who would have thought this would have been what you regretted?

"Before you walk through your door, and we go back to being just neighbors," Bucky grabbed the front of your shirt and captured your lips in a deep kiss. You hummed, letting him take his moment to explore every inch of your mouth again. When you pulled away, you were both breathless and staring at each other with lust blown eyes. "Sorry, I had to get one more in."

"Talk about-"

"Y/N?"

Your heads snapped towards your, now open, apartment door. Quill stood there staring at you locked in Bucky's embrace, and you knew by the way his nose flared that he was irritated. He wasn't allowed to be pissed, but break up or not, it probably stung a little bit. Good.

"Remind me to take your key back," you spat at him.

Bucky asked if you wanted him to get rid of Quill, but you shook your head. You appreciated the gesture, but this was what you needed to do. Neither of you got the closure you both clearly needed after your break up. Quill moved on, but it was obvious he didn't want to see you with anyone else, especially Bucky. And part of you was still a mess. A long, mature talk needed to happen to make everything seem a little bit better. Just a little, teeny bit.

You gave Bucky a kiss on the cheek and waved Quill back into your apartment. Bucky reminded you he was just one wall away if you needed him, and you nodded. Thank god for your scary biker neighbor. You always felt safe with him.

Quill waited until the door was closed to turn and look at you. You held out your hand, a look of annoyance written all over your face. He knew what you wanted; you wanted the key to your apartment back, but he wasn't ready. He was the one to end it and fall for another woman but seeing you with Bucky made his stomach twist. He wondered if he was ready to move on after all.

"I think we made a mistake calling it off," he muttered.

You barked out a humorlessly laugh. "Oh, do you?"

"Is that your way of saying you don't want to hear what I have to say? That you're choosing him over me?

You clenched your fists at your side. Hot breath left your lips. You could feel the anger burning at the pit of your belly, and part of you wanted to lunge across the living room and punch him in the throat. A good fist to the throat always seemed to help situations like this. But you stopped yourself from doing so.

Violence wasn't exactly your thing.

"I am not choosing him over you or you over him," you seethed behind clenched teeth. "For once in my fucking life, I'm choosing me because I fucking deserve it."

"What the hell does that even mean?!"

"It means I'm going to be able to make decisions without wondering how you're going to react! It means I'll be able to find out what I love doing outside of a relationship. Maybe pick up a hobby or two, I don't know! There are so many possibilities for me, and I don't know who I'll end up with in the future - emphasis on the future, Quill - but I do know it won't be you!"

He stared at you, the words you said swirling around his mind. He wanted to call you selfish. Your life didn't have to revolve around him, but you could have at least thought about including him in it again. Things had a chance of working out if you wanted it to, but he realized you weren't going to change your mind. No matter how much he wanted you to. Begging was pointless, and he hadn't really thought through coming here in the first place.

He, technically, stood Gamora up to be here. Which would cause him trouble later.

"So, that's it then?" He croaked. "You won't even give us a second chance?"

"When have I ever believed in second chances, Quill?"

"Good point."

You ran your fingers through your hair. The odds of Bucky hearing this entire argument were high. You already had this conversation with him. It wasn't nearly as intense, and you definitely didn't close any romantic doors between you two, but you made it clear you needed to choose yourself for once.

You deserved to love yourself before you loved another person again.

Quill stepped towards you, and you quickly moved back two steps, making sure to keep as much distance between you two as possible. Despite his "I want you back confession," you knew he still had Gamora waiting on the sidelines. He'd be able to go back to her now that you rejected him, but you hoped she came to her senses and left his ass behind, too. The two of you would be able to form a fun ex-girlfriend's club.

"I guess I should go," Quill relented.

You clicked your tongue. "Yeah, I think that's best."

"I'm sorry…for everything."

"Me too, Quill, me too."

A small tear slid down your cheek when he closed the door behind him, and you quickly wiped it away. You didn't want to cry. You didn't want to let yourself admit the conversation affected you.

Less than twenty-four hours ago, you would have jumped for joy knowing Quill wanted you back. If Bucky hadn't whisked you away, you may have gotten back together with him, too. But time away did wonders for a woman's self-worth. You actually owed Bucky a thanks later.

A knock came from the wall that separated your kitchen and Bucky's apartment. When you two were too lazy to walk through the hall, you often did this to talk with each other. It was one step above physically talking in each other's presence and one step below face-timing or talking on the phone.

"I'm proud of you," Bucky said loud enough to hear through the walls. You could hear the smile in his voice, and you smiled too.

"Thanks, Buck," you hummed. "I'm proud of me too."

[theskywaslookingback]

doubt

[these are the ways that i love you] - [AO3]

Jon’s flat is cold and musty. It’s obvious from the moment they step inside that it hasn’t been occupied in some time. The curtains are pulled tight over the windows, the light from the street peeking around the edges with a hazy yellow hue. Dishes have been left in the dry rack, a mug on the counter containing something that might have once been tea. It is stifling in its bareness, empty walls and heavy bookshelves. The only point of warmth comes from two hands clasped together in desperation. 

Jon takes a moment to look at their hands and realizes Martin is shivering. “Sorry,” Jon says, “I’ll get the heating on.” 

Martin is still looking at him like he had in the Lonely, wide eyed desperation and disbelief. He’s beautiful, and Jon kicks himself for thinking that distress looks good on Martin. When he tries to untangle their fingers Martin clings on tighter. 

“Martin?” Jon asks. 

There’s an edge of panic to Martin’s voice, “Don’t- don’t let go- I-“

Oh. Jon gives Martin’s hand a quick squeeze. “Alright,” he says, and the smile on his face almost feels genuine.

“Can we-“ Martin shudders through a breath, “Can we just sit down a moment?”

“Yes,” Jon feels frozen in place for a moment before starting forward. He feels like a puppet, moving in stop motion. “Of course, let me just-“ He pulls them both forward into the sitting room. 

The couch can barely be qualified as such, as broken down and threadbare as it is. It does contain a liberal coating of blankets draped across its concave back, leftover from the days when Jon felt the need to swaddle himself in as much warmth as he could find. Long before his crawl through the Buried made that feeling more panic inducing than safe. 

Jon pulls the blankets around them now, pressed together hip to hip, their hands still held tight together. Martin makes himself small next to him, resting his head on Jon’s shoulder. He looks exhausted and Jon just wants to tell him that he can rest now. That he can put all his weight on Jon’s shoulder. That Jon can hold him up. 

He doesn’t say that. He doesn’t say anything. He just holds Martin’s hand and concentrates on not rubbing his thumb across those half-bruised knuckles in a way that would be far too intimate for the two of them. 

“Thank you,” Martin breathes, closing his eyes. 

Tea would be a wonderful distraction. Martin is solid and not quite warm beside him but rapidly becoming that way, leeching the heat from Jon’s skin. Jon wants to pull him closer, let Martin crawl into the skin of him until they are not two but one and Martin never feels lonely again. He wants to touch. He wants- he wants-

Martin’s hand tightens where Jon’s fidgets, fingers becoming shaking and anxious. Martin swipes his thumb over the back of Jon’s hand thoughtlessly, pulling a choked sound from Jon’s throat. 

“Are you all right?” 

“Fine,” Tears prick at the bottom of his lashes and he wipes them away, pretending to rub his eyes, “Tired, you know?”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t remember falling asleep.

He’s alone in a room, solid concrete walls and the whir of a tape recorder that he can’t see. The carpet is threadbare under his feet, socked toes curling into the bare patches. And it’s cold, it’s so cold. 

“Martin?” Jon whispers. His hands feel empty and useless so he clutches at his bare, shivering arms pimpled with gooseflesh. “Martin!”

There is no door. There has never been a door here. The walls are too solid for doors, thick and wet and gray. A ceiling fan whirs overhead, almost the same frequency as the tape recorder. There is a desk where the not desk was before and the tape recorder is there as it always has been. There is no stop button, no rewind, just the endless whir forward. It is listening, but Jon does not know what for. 

“Martin!”

Martin had been here once, in this alone room that was not a room but a prison. He was not anymore. Martin did not need to be anywhere anymore. 

The tape stops with a sudden click that is almost deafening in the absence of everything. The ceiling fan above slows and slows. Stops. 

Jon’s heart is the loudest thing in the room. He sees it sitting there on the desk, pumping arrhythmically, though there’s no blood for it to push through its valves and ventricles. Jon cradles his heart in his hands. 

The ceiling fan begins to spin again, backwards this time, and the tape in the recorder begins to play. It’s a mismemory of Martin’s voice, the tone and intonation are wrong, or Jon thinks they might be wrong, but maybe they aren’t. 

“This is where I should be. It feels right.” A click, like the tape is skipping, like a recorder set to the wrong track. “Nothing hurts here. It’s just quiet.” Jon lets his heart fall to the ground. He doesn’t feel it when he steps on it. His fingers clutch at the tape recorder, knuckles white where he grips it. “Even the fear is gentle here.” The recorder clicks and skips again, skipping past Jon’s reply. Martin laughs, distorted and mirthless. “I really loved you, you know?” 

I know, Jon thinks, I know, it’s too late, I know.

“I really loved you, you know?” It repeats, and it is at one more of Martin’s voice and not Martin’s voice at all, full of static. The tape spools out from the recorder, wrapping around Jon’s hands, his wrists, holding him in place. “I asked you to stay safe.” He says now, the tape winding its way up Jon’s struggling arms. “I told you not to die, and you couldn’t do that for me. I loved you, and you were gone. You left me alone, Jon, I was all on my own.”

I came for you, he wants to scream, but the Archivist has no lungs. He can only watch and listen and Know. The tape winds up his chest, his neck, into his mouth, down his throat. The ceiling fan spins on. The Archivist gags, choking, drowning, and falls to his knees.

Jon wakes up gasping, his cheeks wet, with Martin’s hand on his face. “Hey,” Martin says, so softly, “hey, you’re alright Jon. It’s okay.” His hand is gentle against the rough stubble along Jon’s jaw, his thumb sweeping along the sharp jut of his cheekbone. There are dark bags under Martin’s concerned eyes, and Jon isn’t sure if he managed to get any sleep at all. 

Jon grabs Martin’s trembling wrist, his thumb digging into Martin’s shaking pulse. “Sorry, I-” He lets out a shuddering breath and lets go, his hands falling limp to his lap, “sorry.”

Martin makes an upset noise, “Jon you don’t have to apologize. Nightmares are...kind of to be expected for us, I think.” 

Jon wishes that wasn’t true. Martin more than anyone deserves an uninterrupted night’s sleep. “Tea?” He asks.

“Sure,” Martin says, and moves to stand.

Jon reaches out and grabs Martin’s hand. “No, I uh- I can do it. You need to rest.”

Martin tangles their fingers together. “We can do it together.” He smiles and his eyes go soft, if Jon didn’t know any better he’d say the emotion in them was a lot like love. But it couldn’t be. Not anymore.

Jon smiles anyway. “Okay.”

There’s no cream in the fridge, or if there was at some point it was certainly not safe now, so they both take their tea with too much sugar. Jon doesn’t let his tea cool enough and burns his tongue, but it’s almost worth it just to feel the heat pool in his belly to remind him that he’s alive and he’s awake. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Martin, perched on a rickety second-hand chair he’d had since uni and hadn’t felt the need to replace yet. 

Martin watches him back, fingers trembling where they grip his mug too tightly. 

They should talk about it, probably. There’s a lot that has been left unsaid in the last few years between them, things whispered hastily into tape recorders when there was no one left to listen. There are things they should admit, openly and without fear. But Jonathan Sims is not a brave man. He clings to his coffee mug filled with Earl Grey, not steeped long enough and with too much sugar and not enough lemon, and lets the warmth of that rest in his palms like the warmth from a hand let go too soon. 

“We should talk about it,” Martin says after a while. His mug is empty but he keeps his hands around the well-worn ceramic anyway. “I mean, it’s been-”

“Yes,” Jon says, cradling his mug to his chest. There’s a sludge of sugar and leaves at the bottom that look like a hand held out in supplication. He places it in the sink. “Not tonight, though, I think.”

Martin breathes out a heavy breath. “Okay, I just-” He looks away, “okay.”

“Tomorrow.” 

“Sure.”

Jon clears his throat. “We should get some proper sleep, I think. It’s been rather a long day.”

Martin barks out a laugh devoid of warmth or mirth and it seizes Jon by the throat. “Yes, I think it rather has. I suppose I’ll take the couch?”

“No,” Jon says, albeit perhaps a bit too quickly, “No, I think- I think the bed is big enough to share. Unless you-”

“No, that’s- that’s fine.” Martin says.

Jon’s bedroom is as empty and cold as the rest of the flat, the air stale from the door being shut for so long. Jon has no clothes big enough for Martin to borrow to sleep in, so Martin just shrugs off his shirt and leaves his long sleeve under shirt on. His jeans will no doubt be uncomfortable to sleep in, but when Jon presses the matter Martin just waves it away.

They take turns using the loo, and when it comes time to turn off the lights Jon finds himself hesitating. His hand hovers over the lightswitch.

“Jon?” Martin asks, standing at the side of the bed. He looks as indecisive as Jon feels, so Jon makes his decision and turns out the lights.

“It’s okay, Martin,” Jon says.

Light from the street lamps outside breaks through the window, leaving a soft warm glow about the room. Jon climbs into bed and pulls the duvet up over his shoulders and feels Martin getting settled behind him.

“Jon?” Martin asks again into the dark, his voice a whisper.

Jon flops onto his back, turning his head toward Martin. There’s so much space between them. Jon hums in acknowledgement.

“Can I?” Martin asks, reaching out a hand into the space between them. He lays it there, palm up, for Jon to either take or disregard. 

Jon places his hand in Martin’s, feeling large fingers curl around his own and locking them in place. Even now, with the threat of something awful in the future weighing on Jon’s mind, this is the safest he has ever felt. Martin at his side, their hands clasped together. He could leave everything else behind if he was allowed to have just this.

Tomorrow they could deal with everything else, but for now Jon can  just let himself hold on to Martin and rest.

[perspective-series]

Pet Perspective (3/19)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Unwanted touching, injuries

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

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The borrower began to wander around, taking note of the various objects placed on the desk, the most useful being the lamp. Sending one last glance towards Virgil, Roman casually went over to inspect it.

 Virgil paused. Roman was being too quiet. He subtly glanced over the top of his phone and to Roman, wondering what he was doing.

Since he wasn’t stopped yet, Roman reached out, giving the lamp cord a gentle tug. Finding it relatively secure, Roman grabbed it with both hands and jumped off the edge of the desk.

 Virgil was quick to jump up and kneel down under his desk. “Nope!” He quickly reached out and grabbed Roman before he even made it to the ground.

Roman smirked. While he had not gotten as far as would be ideal, he had succeeded in pulling Virgil’s attention.

“What?” Roman asked innocently.

 Virgil rolled his eyes and brought Roman back up to the desk. “You aren’t sneaky, you know.” Virgil said. “It was obvious the second you stopped talking that you were up to something.”

Good to know. Roman took note of that for future escape attempts. “I wasn’t trying to be sneaky.” This time. “I was just entertaining myself, since clearly you won’t.”

 “You want to be entertained?” Virgil asked. “Fine.” He smirked and turned around, tossing Roman onto the bed.

Roman let out a yell, suddenly regretting his decisions as he flew through the air, tumbling to a rough halt on the heavily cushioned surface. 

Roman lay on his stomach, pulling his head up to stare incredulously at Virgil. “What is wrong with you?!”

 “Nothing. Why?” Virgil asked innocently as he took a seat on his bed near where Roman landed.

Roman started to roll closer to Virgil when the bed sunk beneath his weight, so Roman hastily got to his feet and tried to scramble back. “You can’t just throw me!”

 “Why not? It’s not like you’re hurt or anything.” Virgil paused, looking Roman over. “...Right?”

Roman’s eyebrow quirked, the borrower getting an idea. Was Virgil actually a human who cared about a borrower’s well-being? Well, Roman could certainly use that to his advantage during his temporary stay.

“As if you care.” Roman immediately slouched his posture, wincing as he grabbed at his side to fake injury. Of all his skills, Roman was quite proud of his acting talents.

 Virgil’s eyes widened. “Crap.” Virgil muttered, reaching down to gently scoop Roman up into his open palm. He brought him up to his face. “I figured the bed would be soft enough...where does it hurt? Do you need anything?” Borrowers were a lot more fragile than Virgil first thought.

“Ow!” Roman cried out, actually feeling nothing as he flinched when grabbed. “For one thing, I need you to stop making it worse.”

 “S-Sorry!” Great, he was already looking to be a bad owner. Virgil stood up from his bed and came back over to the desk, sending his hand down so Roman could get off himself.

Roman all but limped off Virgil’s palm, hiding a smirk as he did so. This was almost too easy. Perhaps his initial judgement was wrong; Virgil was easily manipulated.

 “Okay...do you think you might need bandages or anything?” Probably not, if it was just a bruise but Virgil felt the need to ask anyway.

“I just need to rest, and dress my wounds.” Roman moaned dramatically, sinking forlornly against the edge of the cage.

 Virgil paused for a moment, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “...Right.” He shook his head. “I think maybe some pain meds might be good for you. Just to be safe.” Virgil looked from Roman and then to the door. “Stay right there, I’ll be right back with some.” Virgil headed out of his room, closing the door behind him.

Roman’s eyes widened, watching the door close. This was incredible! Roman had never made an escape so soon, but with no time to waste Roman found himself dashing for the lamp cord with a hope in his heart. As he grabbed on and began to slide down he was already inspecting the room, looking for a suitable exit that could get him out, permanently. The borrower spotted a vent at floor level near the door and knew that, while dangerous, he was just going to have to make a run for it.

 Virgil, who was still right by the door, waited a few moments before throwing the door open. His eyes went to the empty desk and he groaned. “I knew it.” He searched the floor, looking for the tiny.

Uh oh. Roman quickly ducked around a pile of clothing, hiding himself from view and cursing under his breath. Alright, two options. Should he go back to Virgil with a good excuse, or make a break for it?

For once, Roman’s imagination failed him as he struggled for an excuse, so it seemed his decision was made for him. Taking a deep breath, Roman began to dart through the mess, using the emo’s hoarding to his advantage.

 Virgil thought he saw a flash but as soon as he checked under or around whatever was on his floor, he was gone. He continued to scan the room, frustrated with himself for having such a messy room. Great, now he probably had to clean it, once he caught Roman.

Roman peered around a discarded hoodie, pleased to see Virgil was looking the other way. This was it, the final dash. Roman sprinted for all he was worth, heart still rapidly pounding in his chest when he reached the vent. With a victorious grin Roman tugged on the vent, only for his face to fall as he realized he may have celebrated too soon.

The vent didn’t budge.

“Come on!” A frustrated Roman huffed, pushing his leg against the wall and using all his body strength to try and move the darned grate. It was no use- the bars were screwed into place.

 At the sound of a quiet voice, Virgil turned and saw Roman, trying to pry the vent open. He started over there. “There you are.”

“Uh oh.” Roman quickly changed tactics, instead launching himself forwards and trying to wriggle through the slanted bars. He didn’t get very far, now stuck with his torso wedged in and his legs uselessly dangling. 

 “Whoa, hey!” Virgil cried when he saw Roman trying to go through the bars. He kneeled down as he got there and grabbed hold of Roman’s legs, pulling him out with a hard tug and lifting him up, not bothering the change how he held him just yet.

“OwowowowOW!” Roman protested, painfully dragged out to dangle upside down. He gulped, the blood rushing to his head. Now would be a great time for an excuse. Roman thought distantly.

 Virgil rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m not falling for that again.” Looks like his pet was a little actor. “Wanna tell me why you keep trying to get away? Or, better yet, why you made me think I hurt you?” He had actually been worried there for a moment.

“Well you certainly hurt me now!” Roman winced, feeling his bones already beginning to ache. He hoped to avoid the first question entirely.

 “Right, uh huh.” Virgil rubbed at his face with his free hand. “You can drop the act, it ain’t working on me again.” He brought Roman back over to the desk, flipping him over in his hand before setting him down.

Roman rubbed at his side, realizing he might have made a grievous error in feigning injury- now that he was actually in pain, Virgil didn’t believe him.

 “Well? You haven’t answered my questions yet.” Virgil spoke with a raised brow.

Play dumb. “...what questions?” Not that dumb! Roman bit his lip, not meeting Virgil’s eye.

 Virgil narrowed his eyes. “Roman, I don’t sleep much. So I can be here all night if I have to.”

“Well that doesn’t sound very healthy.” Roman once again deflected the topic. “Have you tried an ambient noise machine? I’ve heard they help with insomnia.”

 “I have, doesn’t help. Stop avoiding the questions.” Virgil said, crossing his arms. Maybe getting such a stubborn and rebellious tiny had been a bad idea��

Roman took a step back, nervous as he continued on his tangent. “Maybe a weighted blanket then? Or a heated one. Those could certainly be comfortable.”

 Virgil grabbed Roman into a fist with no warning, bringing him up to his face and glaring at him. “Answer the questions.” He practically growled out.

Roman gasped, all the air knocked out of his lungs. He scrunched up his face in pain, his elbow jutting into his stomach and Virgil’s relentless grip sure to leave bruises. “V-virgil, you’re hurting me.”

 “I already told you, I’m not falling for that again.” He wasn’t even holding Roman that tight. “Now just answer me already and we can put this all behind us.”

“I was trying to get away!” Roman said hurriedly, his little heart beating rapidly as he began to panic. He tried to take a steady deep breath, but Virgil’s painful grip only allowed Roman shallow breathing. 

 “Why? Like, I get that you aren’t used to me yet but seriously, I have to be better than trying to survive out in the wild.” Roman would probably die out there.

“At least out there I can choose for myself, and-and have a bit of adventure while I’m alive.” Roman struggled to try and create even the barest bit of space for himself. “I refuse to live a life of submission and die of boredom in a cage.”

 “It’s not...that bad. Besides, you just got here. That cage is temporary.” Virgil sighed and went ahead and put Roman down, glad they finally were getting somewhere. “You can choose whatever kind of enclosure you want when we go shopping tomorrow.”

Roman immediately took the chance to take a deep breath, doubling over at the waist.

“I don’t want an enclosure.” Roman growled, glaring up at Virgil. “A cage by any other name is still a cage.”

 Virgil frowned when he watched Roman bend over. Man, he was really milking this fake hurt bit. Shouldn’t he have realized by now that it’s not going to work again? “Look, I know we’re not off to the best start but we’ll get there eventually. And maybe we can go on our own little adventures.”

Roman just rolled his eyes, focusing on getting air back into his lungs. Of course Virgil didn’t understand; none of Roman’s humans ever did.

 “Anyway, it’s time for you to go to bed now.” Virgil looked at the empty cage and stood to grab a clean shirt from his closet, stuffing it inside as a temporary bed for Roman. “There we go.”

“How thoughtful.” Roman said through gritted teeth, painfully straightening up.

 “Again, we’ll get something better for you tomorrow. Now in you go.” He lightly nudged Roman towards the cage.

Roman stumbled, letting out a grumble beneath his breath as he staggered into the cage, his body bruised and beaten.

 Virgil closed the cage door. “Alright, goodnight Roman.” He said, before turning off the light and hopping into his own bed. It wasn’t to sleep though. Instead, he got out his phone and started scrolling through tumblr once again.

Roman carefully propped up the shirt, doing his best to mold it into a suitable bed. The borrower nestled in, giving a whimper as his bruises flared up again. Roman had gotten cocky, and now he knew this was going to be no walk in the park. He was determined to succeed, no matter how Virgil tried to break him.

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

 Patton turned to his borrower after watching Virgil and Roman disappear upstairs. “I don’t know why Roman was treating you like that. And Virgil shouldn’t have been encouraging that behavior, I’m sorry about all that.”

“I was confused as well.” Logan admitted, having found the other borrower’s behavior odd. He did appear a bit more wild, so perhaps that was why he was so ill-mannered.

 “Hmm, well hopefully he’ll learn some manners soon. Anyway, are you all done? Or did you want some more?” Patton asked, ready to make another sandwich if it was wanted.

“I...could consume more.” Logan said. He was no longer hungry, but at the thought of being carried again Logan instantly chose the path which would delay the inevitable. Not a healthy mindset, he supposed.

 “On it!” Patton chuckled, making another mini sandwich. He handed it to Logan and sat back down, his own plate already discarded in the sink.

Logan took his time with this one, nibbling idly on the bread and hoping the meal could last forever, despite that being physically impossible.

 Patton hummed. “So, that tiny food is out of the question…” It had truly been disgusting. Patton gagged at the thought of it. “What kind of things do you like to eat instead?” Patton asked.

“Ah, well, I’m not quite sure.” Logan looked a bit sheepish. Being in captivity, tiny feed was often all he was fed. Other borrowers would get a bite of a shopkeeper’s meal if they were a favorite, but Logan had never fallen into that category.

 “Oh, well...how’s the sandwich? Would you want more of those?” Patton asked. He had to assume he liked it if Logan asked for seconds.

Logan nodded. Being full it had mostly lost its flavor, but he still found this meal far more satisfying. “Thank you, for going through the trouble. I know it wasn’t necessary.” Logan used his manners, knowing he would have a better chance at getting more favors in the future this way.

 “Aww, it’s no problem kiddo!” He was so polite, Patton loved it. “Just to ask, would you be willing to tell me your name now?”

Logan considered this. He would have been willing to exchange that information to be rid of the tiny food, but Logan had managed that (with Roman’s assistance) without needing to reveal his name. Seeing no reason to give it up now, Logan shook his head.

 Patton deflated at that. “Oh. Well, alright. Just let me know if you change your mind!” He said, putting back on his smile. “You all done?” He asked, noticing the lack of sandwich in the borrower’s hand.

Logan, hesitant as ever, nodded. He supposed it was better to get it over with, then.

 “Great! Then let’s go back up to my room.” Patton said, and gently scooped Logan up into his open palms.

Logan tensed, automatically reaching out his own hand to steady himself against Patton’s fingers.

 Patton cooed at that and walked upstairs to his room. He sat down at his desk and set the tiny down on top of it. “You know, I’m so happy I got you. I went into the shop not knowing how I was going to choose but when I saw you, well, it’s like I just knew, ya know?” Patton rambled.

“My recollection of such an emotion is lacking.” Logan said stiffly, brushing himself off to stop the shaking.

 “Well, I think I made the right choice. I can tell that you and I are going to have a lot of fun together.” Patton couldn’t wait to go shopping and get him so much stuff. He had a feeling he’d be spoiling the little guy.

“You said that before.” Logan recalled. He still did not share the sentiment.

 “I know! I’m just that sure!” Patton laughed. “How long were you in that place anyway? Were you anywhere before that?” Patton asked, curious about his tiny’s life.

Logan considered that an innocent enough question to dignify it with a response. “I’ve been transferred between a few facilities, all identical.”

 “Aww, that must have been hard.” Patton frowned sadly. “Well, now you won’t have to deal with the constant moving around anymore.”

“It wasn’t difficult.” Logan looked confused, thinking about the task literally. “My responsibilities regarding the move are equivalent to none.”

 Patton chuckled. “I know that. But moving from place to place can take a real toll on someone mentally and be kind of scary. But I promise, this is your last stop. I’m not planning on ever getting rid of you.” He scooped Logan up and held him to his chest in a hug.

Logan let out a strangled ‘oof!’, squirming immediately at the overwhelming contact.

 Patton chuckled before taking him away from his chest but he didn’t put him down. “Have I told you how cute you are yet?” Patton giggled, reaching out with his free hand to pet his borrower on the head and then down his back.

“I- yes, I believe it has been mentioned.” Logan shuddered. He tried closing his eyes to block out one of his senses, but that just made his sense of touch more heightened.

 Patton frowned as he noticed this. “Hey, bud, are you okay?” He asked, bringing him a little closer to look him over.

“I…” Logan paused, remembering his lessons. Though he loathed being touched by strangers, humans always seemed to want to coddle him and did not enjoy being told ‘no’. Hence, the collar. “I will manage.”

 “Are you sure? I want you to feel comfortable with telling me if something is wrong.” He didn’t want his tiny to feel alone and unwelcome in his new home, after all.

Logan almost snorted at that. How could he, when it was technologically impossible for him to do so?

“I prefer to be set down.” Logan explained quietly, gauging Patton’s reaction.

 “Hm? Oh! Sure thing, bud.” Patton set him back down on the desk, giving him a big smile.

“Thank you.” Logan gave a grateful nod, relieved to be on a solid surface once more and not being prodded.

 “Of course kiddo, now, I think it’s about time for bed, yeah?” Patton said and then grabbed a small blanket, stuffing it inside the cage. “Don’t worry, this is just temporary. We’ll pick out a bed for you tomorrow.”

Logan gave another nod, knowing his place as he walked inside.

 Patton shut the cage door as soon as he was in all the way. “Goodnight bud. Sweet dreams~” And with that, Patton turned off the light and got into bed.

[justatiredghost]

Fixes to the Timeline Ch7

Dave faces his biggest challenge being here in the future: surviving Klaus' family.

-

The Hargreeves have never been particularly good at pleasantries, so it was really thanks to Vanya that the conversation didn’t immediately fizzle out once they all got seated and started digging in.

“So,” she said, looking like she’d thought a long time about what she was going to say. Klaus couldn’t help but wonder how many questions she’d prepared ahead of time. “How did you two meet?”

“Oh, you know,” Dave said with that goofy grin of his that Klaus loved so much. “I like to think it was fate, or something. I mean, out of all of space and time, he got dropped literally right in front of me.”

It was a ridiculously sweet sentiment and Klaus had to bite his tongue to stop himself from making a joke about them both being half naked at the time. Not that either of them had really had time to think about anything like that. While Klaus’ inclination was always to ruin the moment, especially around his siblings, he knew this couldn’t be easy for Dave, talking frankly about their relationship when he’d had to keep that part of himself quiet for so long. He didn’t want to make it any harder for him and instead just took his hand under the table, squeezing it gently. He did roll his eyes a little though to keep up appearances. 

“That’s sweet,” Vanya said, smiling at them.

“And what is it that you do?” Luther asked. Apparently he also had a list of questions. 

“I mean, I got drafted,” Dave said a bit evasively. “Fought in a war, that sort of thing.”

“Right, Vietnam,” Luther said uncertainly. It was obvious he’d been asking for a bit more than that but didn’t exactly know how to prompt him along. Unfortunately Diego was much more blunt. 

“And before that?” he said. 

“Oh, you know, odd jobs,” Dave said. “I worked at a few restaurants, a couple bars, construction yards. Pretty much wherever I could find.” 

He and Klaus both knew they were trying to figure out if he was going to be dead weight like Klaus, or if he was actually going to make himself useful. Their intentions were good, Klaus supposed, and understandable given the kinds of people he used to associate with. But it still wasn’t fair, he was trying so hard to be different now. And Dave deserved a chance to prove how amazing he was without the interrogation. 

“And now?” Diego continued to push. “What are your plans here?”

“Come on, Diego,” Klaus groaned. “What does it even matter? Give him time to settle in at least. Time travel’s a bitch.”

“I know,” Diego said pointedly because of course they’d all done it by now.

“Fifty years is a big change,” Vanya said, voice still soft but at least they were listening now. “It isn’t fair to expect him to know what he’s supposed to do immediately. And he just came back from fighting in a war.”

“Exactly,” Klaus exclaimed, grateful to her for stepping in. 

“Man, you guys are such buzzkills,” Ben groaned.

“You aren’t even drinking,” Luther pointed out.

“I’m gonna need to if you guys don’t stop bumming me out. Come on, we’re supposed to be celebrating here. Unless, of course, you want to ruin the meal Mom worked so hard making for us.”

That shut Diego up at least.

Klaus grinned. They were all still a little weird about talking back to Ben. But Ben had no qualms about taking full advantage of that. Maybe Klaus had been a bad influence on him all these years. At least it meant tonight might actually go okay, especially with Ben and Vanya looking out for them.

-

From what Dave knew of Vanya, she had often been separated from the family, made to feel like she wasn't one of them. So when he saw her sitting slightly apart from the rest after dinner, he decided to join her. Besides, the conversation was rapidly descending into roughhousing, and Dave’s injury wouldn’t let him join in, so he dropped down into the seat next to her. 

“Wow, aren’t they a rowdy bunch?” Dave said. “Are they always like this?” Considering Klaus definitely was he thought he knew the answer, but at least it was something to talk about.

“Honestly, this is better than usual,” she said with a small chuckle. “You should have seen them at dad’s funeral. Diego and Luther were at each other’s throats.” 

“This is an improvement?” Dave said in disbelief, watching as Klaus jumped onto Diego’s back, trying to get the bag of chips he was currently trying to devour. Luther bodily picked them both up when Ben snuck in and snagged it from Diego and jumped back out of their reach, laughing.

“Yeah, it’s kind of nice seeing them all like this. Growing up we were more concerned with just trying to survive dad, I guess we have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Ah, I guess I did hear a bit about that,” Dave said. “Klaus doesn’t really like to talk about it. What I have heard is pretty fucked up though. Did you guys really only get a half hour a week to play?”

“Yeah, that really wasn’t the worst thing he ever did though.”

Dave hadn’t actually wanted to talk about depressing shit, not when they were actually all trying to get to know each other, so instead he changed the subject. “Hey, you know, I bet if we worked together we could get the chips from them.” He leaned in conspiratorially, pleased with himself when she smiled and leaned in a little as well. “If I go in as a distraction, you can snag it from them easy.”

“Are you really hungry after dinner?” she asked.

“Nah, but it’s the principle of the thing,” he said sagely.

“And you’d really sacrifice yourself? Are you sure you want to put yourself in the line of fire against all of them?”

“I was a soldier, you know,” he said with a wink.

She smiled and shook her head. “I have a better idea.”

The air seemed to hum suddenly. Most of them didn’t seem to notice, too caught up in their game, until the bag was suddenly ripped out of their hands and went flying towards Dave and Vanya. He flinched, but there was no need to worry apparently because Vanya easily snatched it out of the air easily.

“Whoa,” Dave said, staring at her in awe as she blushed and looked away, trying not to smile. “That was amazing. Can you teach me how to do that?”

That got a laugh out of her.

-

Dave made the mistake of going to the kitchen to get another coke alone and ended up cornered by Diego and Luther on his way back. It was kind of funny, Luther trying to look intimidating but mostly just looking uncomfortable. He was still huge, though, and Diego was plenty intimidating all on his own.

“So,” Diego said, standing much too close as he cracked his knuckles. “You ever do drugs?”

“Oh,” Dave laughed nervously, glancing over to where Klaus was animatedly talking with Ben and Vanya. They were clear on the other side of the room but hopefully he could get over here before Dave got himself murdered if this conversation went as poorly as he thought it might. He thought about lying but there probably wasn’t much point in it. He was a terrible liar. “I may have indulged a bit in my youth.”

Technically that was true, he had been younger a month ago. The army was practically handing them out, more than encouraging them all to take a cocktail that would keep them on their feet as they were all run ragged. Dave figured that little detail was better left unsaid, but apparently that didn’t matter because that still seemed to be the wrong answer given the way Diego’s eyes narrowed and Luther attempted to look disapproving.

“Any thoughts to ‘indulge’ again?” Diego asked and Dave couldn’t help but notice his hand playing with one of the knives strapped to his chest. 

“No, of course not,” Dave said and he didn’t need to fake the sincerity. “Klaus wants to get clean, I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize that. 

“You sure about that?” Diego said, voice full of scorn. “Guys like you, you’re all the same.”

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Dave said because he always did have a bad habit of talking before thinking and maybe getting in an argument the first time he hung out with Klaus’ family was a terrible idea, but he just couldn’t stand the thought of anyone belittling Klaus and that’s really what Diego was doing, wasn’t it? Implying that Klaus couldn’t change despite how hard he was trying? “Klaus has been working so hard, he deserves more than a little faith here.” 

“He’s right.” 

They all turned to find Five standing there casually with his hands in his pockets. 

“Thank you,” Dave said vehemently, raising a hand for emphasis.

“Now, hold on,” Diego said. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“We’re just worried about Klaus,” Luther said.

“Yeah, it’s you we aren’t so sure about,” Diego said, pointing an accusatory finger at Dave.

“You forget I was stuck with him for quite some time before I could bring him to the present,” Five said. “I could have killed him at any time if he turned out to be not worth saving.”

“Great, great,” Dave said with false cheer, once again not sure if he was joking or not.

“Don’t worry,” Five said, apparently having pity on him. “Do you really think I would have gone to all that effort if I thought it might have been a waste of time? Now, if we’re done here, I believe Dave owes me a rematch.”

“Whatever,” Diego muttered, apparently giving up as he and Luther retreated. He gave Luther a shove and Dave could have sworn he heard him mutter, “This is your fault,” and Luther shoved him back.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Dave said with a relieved sigh. The perfect excuse to get out of this incredibly awkward conversation. “Thanks. I’m pretty sure you just saved my life. Again. I don’t think they like me very much.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much, we hate most people. Barely tolerate each other, actually,” Five said with a shrug. You’ll grow on them like you grew on me. Like fungus.” 

“I like mushrooms,” Dave said, perking up at that. He caught sight of Klaus heading their way, no doubt wondering what was keeping him. It apparently did wonders for Dave’s confidence and his impulse to ruin any tension with terrible jokes as well because he added, “Also, thanks, Five. You’re a fun-gi.”

“Aaaah yeah, finger guns!” Klaus exclaimed, overhearing, raising his hands to do just that.

“You don’t need to say it out loud,” Five muttered, rubbing at his temple like he was getting a migraine. “Diego? I changed my mind. Please come back here and stab them both.”

-

“Are you encouraging a minor to gamble?” Klaus asked in mock disapproval as he leaned against the back of Dave’s chair, arms crossed. This left him at the perfect height to place his chin on Dave’s shoulder as he watched.

“Fuck you,” Five said, not even bothering to look up. Thankfully there wasn’t really any anger behind the comment and it got a chuckle out of Dave so he considered it a success. 

“I’m not sure you can really call it gambling,” Dave said. 

“It definitely is,” Five said. “You really are much more devious than I would have expected.”

“Devious?” Klaus repeated in disbelief. “Are we talking about the same Dave? The one who saves earthworms from sidewalks and feeds stray cats his own dinner?”

“Hey, come on,” Dave said, turning to face him and mock whispering. “I’m trying to look cool in front of your brother.”

“Well that’s been a losing battle from the beginning,” Five muttered. 

“Sorry, babe,” Klaus said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. 

“He’s just mad because he’s losing,” Dave said, holding up his current hand of cards. 

“I still think you’re cool. Well, kinda,” he added with a teasing wink. 

“Hey, I’ll take it.”

“With all the handicaps we put in place to make things more fair, you better be winning,” Five shot back.

“You wish,” Dave laid his cards out on the table with a smug grin and Five tossed his stack down with a sigh.

“Fine, what do you want?”

“I want,” Dave said thoughtfully. “For you to compliment someone you haven’t talked to in a while.”

“Easy enough,” Five said, standing up and leaving Dave to gather up the cards.

“What was that all about?” Klaus asked, taking Five’s seat and watching as Dave shuffled the deck.

“We started that while we were hunkered down in hiding after he saved my life,” he said. “I suggested it, he’s a hard one to get to know. Whoever wins gets to ask the other person to do something. Usually it’s just to answer a question, but I thought we could use a little levity here.”

Klaus glanced over to where Five was talking to Diego. Five patted his shoulder as he turned to leave and Diego looked like he was trying very hard to remain stoic but was obviously equal parts confused and pleased. Klaus couldn’t help but snicker at that. 

“Sometimes I think you’re too powerful, Dave.”

Dave just grinned back.

-

One thing Dave was realizing was that this family did not like to sit still. That was fine by him, he liked the energy just fine, but it did mean he kept finding himself confronted with a new sibling every few minutes. At least it was Ben who dropped into the seat next to him when Klaus got up to harass Diego after being egged on. The ribbing was all in good fun and thankfully not intentionally cruel so things were going well. According to Klaus, that was a work in progress.

“Hanging in there?” Ben asked.

“Still alive, for now,” Dave replied with a smile.

“Hopefully they’re not giving you too hard of a time.”

“I get it, it’s all good,” Dave said. “I suppose it’s your turn now, though. Go ahead, give it to me straight, I can take it.”

“Don’t worry,” Ben said with a laugh. “So far you’re good in my book.”

“Really?”

“What, you want me to have a problem with you?”

“No, it’s just, I kinda figured, out of everyone, you’d be the one with something to say. Diego gave me the shovel talk first thing but you haven’t really said a thing.”

“Look, Klaus tells me things he doesn’t usually tell the others,” Ben began.

“Uh oh.”

“It’s obvious you mean a lot to him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy. I mean, sure, he always acts like it, but it’s never been this genuine. You make him a better person and it’s just really nice to see him this way. So yeah, I don’t have a problem with you.”

“Oh,” Dave said, his voice breaking. 

“You good?”

“Yeah, yeah, all good, just-- I dunno, I guess I always hoped I made him even a tiny bit as happy as he makes me. It’s just good to know.”

“Rest assured, he is utterly hopeless.”

“So am I,” Dave said, glancing over at Klaus, feeling so warm and fond. 

-

After the little confrontation earlier, Luther seemed relieved not to have to try to be threatening. Diego for his part seemed to be trying a bit harder to behave himself. Although he was watching Dave very closely, like he was trying to find something to hate about him. To his credit, Dave managed to keep his cool and pretended not to notice. 

Maybe it was because of his close watch that Diego eventually seemed to relax and warm up to him as the night progressed. Well, as warm as Diego ever was with anyone who wasn’t his siblings or Eudora. But he saw the way he and Klaus interracted, how soft Dave was and how happy they both were together. Or the way he stuck up for Klaus and seemed to truly mean it.

They all constantly poked fun at each other, Klaus understood that, he didn’t take it personally if the comments hit a bit too close to home, but Dave was always quick to counter, to heap on the praise and drag everyone up with him. That’s just how Dave was and Klaus couldn’t help but smile to himself, feeling immensely proud of Dave even as he tried to brush off any compliments because, really, that was much too embarrassing. He knew Dave would win over his family, though. He was good like that. 

He was even managing to engage Luther who was usually not the greatest at this sort of thing. Luther could be a bit awkward with strangers at the best of times, but the added pressure of Dave being an important part of Klaus’ life as well as Diego pushing for most of the night for none of them to like him seemed to have left him a bit lost for words. But that’s always where Dave shined the most, finding anyone who was uncomfortable and making them feel like they belonged. 

Between him, Klaus’ relentless antics, and Ben and Five discouraging any arguments, things honestly weren’t as bad as Klaus had been expecting. It actually had been a little fun, even if it still had been an incredibly long night and he was incredibly relieved when he and Dave could finally escape. They hadn’t even reached the bedroom door yet when Klaus started pulling off his shirt with a heavy sigh. He tossed it in the corner once inside and stretched as Dave closed the  door and flopped down onto the bed still fully clothed, arm over his face. 

“You good there, my man?” Klaus asked, sitting down next to him and patting his knee.

“Yeah,” Dave said unconvincingly. “So, how do you think I did? Do they hate me yet?”

“Are you kidding?” Klaus said, leaning down to kiss his cheek, taking the opportunity to snuggle up against him as Dave raised an arm for him to slip under. “You were perfect and they all love you.”

“You sure about that? I mean, I know I didn’t get stabbed, but it’s a little hard to tell how they feel.” 

“Trust me, in this house? Not getting stabbed is practically a form of affection.” 

“They are quite the bunch, aren’t they?” Dave said.

“I mean, granted I was probably a bigger warning than they’ll ever be, but really if you had any sense this would be the queue for you to make a break for it.”

“Never,” Dave said, kissing his cheek and Klaus couldn’t help but smile. Dave was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. “I know things haven’t always been great with you and your family, but I’m glad you had them around after you got back.”

“Yeah, about that,” Klaus said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly and avoiding eye contact. “It took me a while before I finally opened up about everything that happened. Most of them didn’t even know I was gone.”

“They didn’t?” Dave said, looking heartbroken. Klaus hurried to explain, not wanting to give the wrong impression.

“To be fair, I used to always disappear, it’s really no big deal. And hardly any time had passed for them. Eventually they started noticing I was a bit different, I think. Well, they expected me to give up on being sober, I guess, so after all the end of the world business was taken care of and I was still at it, they finally started asking the right questions.”

“You never were great at opening up,” Dave said, voice fond if a little sad, bumping his nose gently against Klaus’.

“Even I can’t dodge questions forever,” he said. “Well, and Ben was around by then and he wouldn’t let me. Five knew I’d time traveled and Diego knew I’d lost someone and Ben kept yelling at them to just ask me and eventually I cracked. I’m sorry, I wanted to tell them all about you, but it’s hard when no one takes you seriously.”

“I get it, you don’t have anything to apologize for.” 

“Do you,” Klaus began and then hesitated because was he really ready for this conversation? But he owed it to Dave especially after everything he was doing for him. “Do you want to find your family?”

Dave laughed involuntarily, sounding almost nervous. He paused for a moment, as if he’d surprised himself with his own reaction and took a deep breath.

“No,” he said eventually. “I don’t think that would be a very good idea.”

“Why not? I mean, I know all this shit is weird, but everyone knows about the Umbrella Academy here, time travel is probably the least weird thing they’ve heard about us.”

“I don’t know,” Dave said, looking away. “It’s been fifty years, man. That’s a long time. They don’t need me dropping in on them now, they have their own lives.”

“I mean, I know it’s not really the same thing, but Five was gone for fifteen years and we were all still glad to see him,” Klaus pointed out.

“Five is great, though,” Dave said.

“So are you,” Klaus countered.

“But what good would it do?” Dave asked, suddenly sounding exhausted. “Either they’re great and I’m just getting in the way of that, dredging up any grief or loss, or they’re terrible and there’s nothing I can really do to help. I think it’s better this way, it’s not like they really lost much.”

“What are you talking about? They lost a whole person,” Klaus exclaimed.

“No, I mean-- fuck, this is gonna sound fucked up but, if I stay out of their lives, at least I can’t disappoint them. I’ve been telling myself that since before I got drafted.”

“Hey, come on,” Klaus said, putting as much emotion behind the words as he could because he hated how Dave was talking about himself. “You’re not gonna disappoint them. You’re amazing.”

Dave gave him a sad smile but instead of arguing he just pulled Klaus closer, wrapping him in his arms. “You’re here. That’s all the family I need right now.”

[forever-rogue]

I Love You for Beginners

A/N: Here’s a thing no one asked for and no one probably needs. But I was inspired so what can I say. I’m also just a forever slut for Gwil, so ya know, there it is. it’s just sweet, sweet boyfriend Gwil fluff. Enjoy! And thank you to @anotheronebitesthedeaks​ for the inspiration!

Word Count: 4.1k

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Reader

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff!

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Gwilym Lee was a man of words, yes that much was obvious, but more than that he was a man of actions. They said actions speak louder than words, and when it came to Gwilym Lee, actions were everything. Why waste time saying a few mere words when you could do a million other things that spoke volumes?

That's how you knew Gwil loved you, even long before the words spilled forth from his soft pink lips, in the middle of night as he sang you softly to sleep. It was a pretty magical moment to be fair, and you remembered how your heart had started to rapidly beat, the blush that rose in your cheeks, and how Gwil's breathe had hitched in his throat as he anticipated your response.

It had only taken a few moments before you rolled over to face him, and gently placed your hand on his cheek, running a finger over the high cheekbone. A smile stretched across his face, which was oh so beautifully bathed in the pale moonlight, as you leaned forward and placed the gentlest of kisses on his lips. I love you, you had whispered back in response. It was the first time you had said those words to anyone besides your immediate family, and it hadn't felt awkward in the slightest like you had always imagined. It was perfect and you knew you meant those words.

After the first time you had exchanged those words, you didn't say them again for a while. Not that it was because you had magically fallen out of love, or you had never meant the words, but because those words were sacred - they weren't meant to be thrown around all willy-nilly. They were saved for occasions when the time called for it, and then, hearing those three words in Gwil's soft lilt, or if he was feeling extra sentimental in Welsh, made you heart flutter with butterflies. It was like it was the first time all over again, ever time. That's what made it so special.

But what was also special, maybe even more so, was all the ways in which Gwil told you he loved that were nonverbal. Action was his love language, and he made sure you knew that all the time, even when he physically couldn't be with you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

When You're Completely Done with Everything

You stumbled through the door, letting a long sigh as you shoulders slumped and you kicked off your shoes and dropped your purse to the ground. It had been a long day on top of being a long week, and you were more than ready for two days to relax and recuperate. Between not seeming to be able to please your boss, not matter how hard you tried, and getting yelled at by clients for things that were completely out of your control, you were completely done.

Gwil had texted you throughout the day, a few times it was just a bad little joke or pick up line, but they had all gone without a response. You texted him back initially, and told him it was going to be a long, and harsh day. He knew immediately what he was going to do in order to make things better, however he could.

“Love, is that you?” he called from the kitchen, were he was busy cooking away, the smell of delicious food wafting throughout the apartment. A small smile formed on your face in spite of your sour mood, and you felt a little bit of the tension lift off of your shoulders. After a few moments of silence, he stuck his head out into the hallway, his features instantly lighting up at the sight of you.

“Hi Gwil,” you said quietly, heading over to him and letting him envelop you in strong arms, as he gently picked you up off the floor. He nuzzled his stubbled face into your hair, pressing a few gentle kisses to the side of your head. Your burrowed head into his chest, the steady rhythm of his heart was like music to your ears, “sorry for being so cold earlier. Today sucked...but it’s already much better.”

“How so?” he mused although he had a pretty good idea of what you were referring to. You pulled back him, taking a moment to kiss one cheek, then the other, and then the other, and the tip of his nose before placing one final kiss on his lips, “I have a feeling I might know the answer.”

“I’d hope so,” you teased, ruffling his hair, before giving him a fond smile, “how lucky am I to get to come home to you? To be able to have you all to myself. It’s such a wonderful thing and I do wonder how I got so lucky.”

“I’m pretty sure that should be reversed,” he said as he walked back into the kitchen and made quick work of pulling out two wine glasses, wiggling his eyebrows in the process. You eagerly nodded, and he bent down to the wine fridge and spent a few moments pursuing the small collection the two of you had acquired. He made a few sounds, trying to find the perfect pairing for your meal.

Plopping down into your favorite bar stool, you watched him work, looking around at everything he was preparing. It looked like he had gone all out, preparing a five course meal for you. It made your heart skip a beat; the fact that he had gone through this much trouble for you was everything.

“What?” he chuckled as he straightened back up, displaying the selection he had made for your approval. You glanced at the bottle briefly before nodding, letting him open and pour it. If you were being quite honest, you had no clue what you were doing when it came to wine, that was Gwil’s specialty. He handed you one of the glasses, before taking it and clinking it lightly against yours, “cheers.”

“Cheers,” you echoed, letting the sound of glass on glass resonate throughout the room, “you know you didn’t have to go through all of this. Especially not just for me.”

“I know,” he shrugged it off like his actions were no big deal whatsoever, “but I wanted to do this. It’s really not a big thing. Just dinner.”

“But it’s so much more than that,” you insisted, getting down your glass and reaching for his hand. You took it in yours, studying it intently, his long, thin fingers, the softness of his palms before pressing a feather light kiss to his knuckles. You swore you could see a light blush creeping into his cheeks at the small, intimate gesture, “everything you do speaks volumes. So thank you, truly and as always, for everything.”

“You know you’re worth everything,” he whispered, his voice so gentle and low that you almost didn’t hear him. He laced his fingers through yours, the two of grinning at each other like school kids…that was just before the smoke detector went off, making both of you jump in surprise. You’d been so wrapped up in your own little world; you could stare at this soft ocean eyes for what seemed like ages.

“Shit,” he missed as he turned his attention to the oven, which was currently emitted plumes of thick gray smoke, will you jumped onto the corner and disabled the fire alarm for the time being.

Once the shrill, piercing abruptly stopped, you let out a sigh of relief, sliding off of the counter and standing next to Gwil. He pulled out a very blackened roast, which had a crispy exterior and shrunken in size, setting it on top of the stove and looking at dismally.

“I’ve…I’ve burnt dinner,” he said in disbelief, looking at you with a pouty little frown, “look at this. It’s like a little briquette!”

“It’s okay, my love,” you insisted, trying to hide the laughter that was slowly bubbling to the surface. The whole scene in front of you was rather comical: a disheveled looking Gwil sadly looking at the small roast as the smoke lingered in the air. He let out a long huff before sliding down and plopping onto the floor. You quickly joined him, sitting across from him, nudging his knee with yours, “hey, you’re okay, I’m okay. We’re okay! I know how hard you worked on all of this, but at the end of the day it’s just food.”

“Chinese takeaway or pizza?” he asked, a small smile finally working it’s way back into his face. It was a beautiful smile, dazzling as ever, and made your heart melt all over.

“Chinese,” you said after a few moments of contemplation, “I think that pairs okay with this wine, right?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re the best?” he asked as he pulled into his lap, resting his forehead against yours, “because that’s what you are. That and so much more. You are everything.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

When You’re Pretty Sure You’re Dying of Sickness

You let out a long groan as you rolled over, mouth dry as a desert, head pounding, and eyes bleary. You had laid down for a nap earlier that afternoon, to try and stave off the headache you had developed - to be fair you hadn’t been feeling the best all day, but it never occurred to you that you were getting sick.

But you’d been asleep for about the last four hours, and now felt like the embodiment of death, which pretty much proved that you were indeed sick. Reaching for your water bottle, you quickly chugged down the rest of it before a small coughing fit rattling your body, leaving your ribs sore and tender. 

“Damn it,” you groaned, rubbing your temples in vain as you heard the bedroom creak open. You peeked over and immediately felt better when you realized that it was Gwil. He seemed confused, probably because the apartment was completely dark, whereas it would normally be lit up and full of life and laughter. You tried to clear your throat before greeting him but it ended up as a pathetic little croak anyway, “hi love. I don’t feel so well.”

“Oh dear,” Gwilym sighed as he came over and sat at the edge of the bed, putting the back of his large hand on your forehead. You pouted pathetically at him, giving him the biggest puppy dog eyes, which only caused him to chuckle lightly, “I think you’re developing a fever, my love. Someone has caught the sick.”

“No,” you insisted, trying to sit up but almost immediately regretting it as your head increasing its throbbing. You slunk back down and pulled the covers up to your chin, feeling a sense of coldness set into your bones, “okay, mayhaps you’re right. But I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.”

“That’s because you never slow down and it wear your body down and now you’re here,” he explained and while you knew he was right, it was annoying to hear. You just stuck out your tongue at him, before coughing again. Gwil shook his head at you, tenderly raking the loose strands of hair off of your face, “let me take care of you, my love. I know you hate it, but you’re not in a state to take care of yourself right now.”

“Fine,” you reluctantly agreed, trying to speak as minimally as you didn’t want to end up coughing again, “but only what is necessary.”

“Of course Miss Independent,” he promised, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, “lay back down, and I will bring you more water. I’ll run a bath and get dinner started-”

“I don’t wanna eat,” you were sure you sounded like a bratty child. but in your delirious state you just didn’t care, “I just wanna sleep. Will you hold me? You’re so soft and warm.”

“Of course, Y/N,” he promised, the idea that he could be getting sick not even crossing his mind, “but first, it’s bath time and then dinner, and then more sleep. And fluids...lots and lots of fluid!”

“Okay,” you agreed after a few of staring back and forth at each other, “you in this round Mr. Lee.”

“You say it with so much sass now, but you’re going to be thanking me later,” he insisted with one last little shake of his finger, raising an eyebrow at you, causing you to dramatically sigh before he finally let the room. As much as you despised being babied, you appreciated how much care and effort to attend to your every need. You were sure that just because of him, your colds and whatever ailments you had were always cut down significantly. 

You watched him walk away, enjoying the view of his backside as you closed your eyes and let you mind shut off again. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Psst,” you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder and opened your eyes only to find Gwil staring down at you, “come on love, the bath is all ready for you.”

You nodded sleepily, and let him help you up from the bed. It didn’t take but a few moments before he had you scooped up in his arms, cradling you to his chest as he walked to the bathroom, murmuring some soft reassurances into your ear.

Setting you down on the cool tile of the floor, he used one hand to keep you steady, helped you start to strip off your clothing. Luckily it wasn’t hard to take off your tshirt and shorts, and Gwil quickly followed suit, stepping into the tub and guiding you into it. Once he was sure you were steady, you settled down and pulled you onto his lap. The hot, bubbly water, infused with some lavender oil almost instantly relieved your aching body, and you felt a million times better.

“See, it’s not so bad, huh?” his voice was like velvet in your ear as you laid against his chest, letting the steam clear your clogged sinuses. You lifted your head and pressed a small kiss to his jaw, letting him wrap his long arms around you. It wasn’t long before he was tracing small, aimless shapes into your skin under the water, neither of you speaking for a long time, long the sounds of soft breathing in the still bathroom.

“Gwil,” you said as you left your eyes start to get heavy again, “will you do me a huge favor?”

“Anything,” he reassured you. He let out a small chuckle and you felt his chest vibrate under you, “let me take a wild guess...do you need help washing your hair?”

“Please?” your response was so weak, it prompted him to press a kiss onto your head, “I feel like such a pathetic kid.”

“If you don’t feel well, you don’t feel, there’s nothing more to it,” he said quietly, “come on then, love, let’s get you all squeaky clean and back into bed. I’ve got soup ready for you too. Don’t even try and argue with me, because I said what I said, and that’s final.”

“Thank you for being the best,” were the only words out of mouth as you marveled at the attentiveness and loveliness of your boyfriend. You couldn’t imagine how it could ever get any better than with him, “you are everything.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

When You’re Left Speechless

“Come on,” you whispered to yourself as you waited for Gwil to answer his phone. You’d been trying to get a hold of him all day, but your texts when unanswered and all your calls went straight to voicemail. 

Hey, you’ve reached Gwilym. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible!

You sighed at the recording, deciding not leave another message. You figured that five messages were enough, and you’d be home soon anyway, hopefully just to find some sleeping or busy with something.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Gwilym?” you called as you entered the dimly lit apartment; none of the lights were on, bu there were softly glowing candles scattered throughout the apartment. Either there was going to be a seance or something was interesting was about to happen. Kicking off your shoes, you noticed that the door to the balcony was slightly open, you went over to it, hoping it was nothing too bad.

“Gwil?” you repeated, looking around and feeling your mouth almost drop open when you realized Gwil was there, and okay, much more than okay. He was dressed in a suit, dinner on the table, along with champagne, all illuminated by more candles and carefully strung fairy lights. Your hands flew to your face in surprise, heartbeat increasing rapidly as you wondered what this all meant. 

“Surprise, my love,” he grinned at you, opening his arms out to you as you closed the gap between your bodies, almost knocking him over in the process with your eagerness, “hello to you too. You sure are an eager little thing.”

“Gwilym Lee,” you pulled back once you remembered that he’d ignored you all day. You lightly hit his arm and tried your best to glare at him, “what the hell! I’ve been trying to call you all day and you’ve got gone and ignored me. I was so worried! What if something had happened to you?”

“But nothing did,” he tried to reassure you, but you were still annoyed. A little annoyed, but not too annoyed, because you could never be completely annoyed by him, “but it’ll worth it, I promise.”

“Oh really?’ you crossed your arms over your chest, “is that why you put candles everywhere and could burn the house down any second?”

“They’re carefully placed and nothing will happen,” he promised.

“And leaving the balcony door open?” you pointed back at the door you had stepped through a few moments prior, “you’re asking for a burglar!”

“But I was out here the whole time,” he was bemused by this point, listening to you go on your little rant, “absolutely thing could have happened-”

“You need to be more careful,” you insisted, put a hand his shoulder and giving it a tight squeeze, “I don’t want anything to ever happened to you.”

“Love, nothing will happen-”

“Did you make sure the oven is off and nothing is burning-”

“Y/N-”

“And did you-”

“Love, can you please just shut up for a moment and let me propose to you,” he sighed in exasperation, and this time, your mouth really did drop to the floor in surprise. You had been expecting almost anything to come out of his mouth, but not that. That was  surprise that had thrown you for a loop. He looked almost as surprised as you at his sudden outburst.

“You...what?” you stood there, confused and shaking your head, “you’re proposing to me?”

“Yeah,” he admitted with a small smile, one hand nervously going into his pocket as he fiddled around with something in it. You had a feeling you knew what it was by this point, “I’ve been waiting for the right moment for some time, and tonight it just felt right.”

“I-I...don’t know what to say,” you could already feel tears prickling at the back of your eyes. He quickly pressed a finger softly to your lips, before getting down on one knee and pulling out the small velvet box from the pocket of his trousers.

“Don’t say anything for a few moments,” he insisted, his voice nervous and shaky, “let me just do this. I don’t know if I’ll ever have the nerve again. I don’t even know why this makes me so nervous....but here goes.”

He took one of your hands in his, and lacing his fingers through yours, as he gave you a smile, “you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You always say you’re so lucky to have me, but I truly don’t think you realize how lucky I am to have you. You are the sweetest, most kind, generous, smart, and lovely person I have ever met. From the day I met you I knew I never wanted anyone else. I always say you’re everything, and it’s true. I don’t need anything else in the world...except you.”

“Gwil,” you could keep silent any longer as a few tears rolled down your face, “you are everything to me too. You know that.”

“I-I know that I don’t say this often to you, probably not as much as other people in relationships, but I love you. I always have and I always will,” he promised and by now you were you had died and gone to heaven, “I really, really, love you. And I want to ask if you will do me the honor of marrying me, and becoming my wife.”

“I love you,” you repeated softly as he wiped the tears off of your face, opening the ring box and dazzling you with the most beautiful ring you had ever seen. You were entirely sure it was much too extravagant for you, but Gwil always went all out. Everything for My Everything he always insisted, “we’re not the most overly lovely dovey couple, I know, but I always know you love me too and I hope you know how much I love you. Even though we don’t know always say it, I know it always true.”

“Does that...does that mean you’ll marry me?” his voice cracked, causing him to almost sound like a teenager going through puberty. You had completely forgotten about answering his little, huge if we’re being quite honest, question in the excitement of everything. But you nodded fervently and it only took a few seconds before he slipped the ring onto your finger, admiring the way it looked on your hand, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you promised, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and clinging onto him as tightly as possible, afraid to ever let him go, “you’ve gone and made me a weeping, but very happy mess. I couldn’t ask, or wish for a better future husband.”

“I...I wasn’t going to do this until after dinner,” he admitted, “but I couldn’t wait, not with you getting all worried. Nothing I said was ever going to calm you down. I’m just afraid that dinner’s probably cold by now.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you insisted, “you’re the only thing that matters. This, us, our lives together, that’s everything. All other things come second.”

“I had this whole thing planned out perfectly,” he sighed, grabbing the glasses of champagne and handing one to you, “I was a wreck the whole day and I’ve been so nervous to do this.”

“Is that why you’ve been ignoring my calls and texts?” you giggled at the crimson blush that rose into his chest as he hung his head and he nodded. You put your hand under his chin and turned his face so he was forced to look at you, “I was worried something had happened. But this? This is much better. And it’s perfect, with you being a nervous Nelly and all.”

“Really?” he asked shyly, and you nodded, lifting your glass in a small salute, “you’re so perfect, do you know that?”

“Far from it,” you insisted, “but thank you. You’ve single-handedly gone and made this the best day ever.”

“I’ve got one more important question for you,” he said quietly, and you gave him a puzzled look, “Chinese takeaway or pizza?”

And that’s how you knew you had made the correct decision. Maybe you didn’t exchange a slew of I Love Yous every day, but this was so much better. There were a million ways to say those three words that didn’t include those specific words, and Gwil demonstrated that to you every day.

Oh, how lucky you were to have everything.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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