#my boys deserve a good happy life with minimal angst

[starkstruck27]

TW: very brief mentions of suicide, and of course mentions of child abuse. Enjoy but please read with caution my friends.

Billy didn’t know if the urge to cry was coming from the fact that his dad had pulled him back in again, like a moth to a flame, or the fact that the man himself was lying in front of him dying. 

Either way, the urge was there, and Billy took a little bit of satisfaction from the fact that he was able to take deep breaths to steady himself and his dad couldn’t. He was dying of lung cancer, and didn’t have long, maybe a month left, at most. Most of the doctors estimated that he’d be gone within a week or two, though, so Billy finally made himself build up the courage to book himself a flight from Ocean City to Indianapolis and actually get on the plane. It’d been 15 years, and it still didn’t feel like nearly enough time had passed since he last saw his father. The bruises that’d been throbbing that day in 1988 were long gone, but as Billy stepped into the hospital room, his footsteps keeping time with the heart monitor and breathing machine, he could still feel them all over his body.

“I’ll let you have some privacy,” the nurse who’d escorted him back told him, smiling nicely and shutting the door as she left. Billy didn’t even thank her, because he wasn’t sure if he should. Even with his father confined to a hospital bed and too weak to move even if he wanted to, he couldn’t help but feel a little unsafe in a room alone with him. Still, he twisted the ring on his left hand, took a few deep breaths like his therapist had taught him, and approached his father.

“Hey, dad,” he said, still fiddling with his ring. He remembered the inscription inside of it and the man who wore the matching one, and that helped him relax a little.

“Billy?” His dad wheezed, his voice only coming out on a whisper. It was another thing that Billy took satisfaction in, the fact that, no matter how hard he tried, his dad would never be able to yell at him anymore.

“Yeah, it’s me. Not used to seeing me without a red mark on my face, huh?” Billy said, a sharp edge to his voice. He knew the man was dying and he knew that the comment was backhanded, but he didn’t care. He didn’t owe his dad anything, and especially not respect. Still, it made the knife in his heart twist a little when a look of guilty recognition came over his father’s face.

“I know it doesn’t mean much now,” his dad said, “But I’m sorry for everything I ever did to you.”

Billy couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous that statement was.

“No you’re not,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “And anyway, it wouldn’t even matter if you were, because I didn’t come here for that. I didn’t come here to forgive you or for your half-assed apologies so you could die with a clean conscience. I came here for me, because I deserve to be able to live knowing that at least if my father died thinking I was a disappointment, he was going to have all the facts straight, so shut the fuck up and listen.”

Billy’s heart was racing as he stood up a little straighter, squaring his shoulders to give off the illusion of confidence even if he wasn’t entirely sure he was feeling it.

“First of all, I’ve been doing great for the past 15 years, so thanks for asking,” he said, flexing his fingers. “As soon as I got out of Hawkins, I went to college. I applied to UCLA, Penn State, West Virginia and the University of Phoenix. I ended up getting into all of them, so I went to UCLA and got a degree in Marine Biology. I graduated with a Masters degree at 26, and I started working on my doctorate a year or so ago. I got a great job with amazing colleagues, and I’m making more money in a month than you would make in a year. 

“I got therapy as soon as I started making enough to afford it, and I’m not completely healed yet, no one ever is, but I’m a lot better off than I used to be. I was able to figure out why I was so angry all the time and why I couldn’t ever let anyone else in even if I wanted to, and eventually I learned how to stop being that way. Which, I’m glad I did, because if I hadn’t, I would’ve ruined one of the best things that ever happened to me before it even truly got started. 

“When I left Hawkins, I didn’t leave alone. My best friend in the entire world came with me, because he also wanted to get out from under his father’s thumb. Steve and I moved to California and lived out of a motel for a few weeks until he could get a job and save enough for us to afford a place. I had just started college and things were rough at first, but I was able to start therapy when Steve and I started fighting more and more. I was so afraid he was going to leave me behind and go off on his own, but he saw that I was putting forth an effort, so he stuck by my side. And every day I’m more grateful that he did, because once I was able to see my therapist for about a year, I had improved enough to finally be honest with myself and with him, and I came clean when he took me out to celebrate one year of being on our own. 

“He asked how therapy was going over dinner and I told him that I was doing good, and that I was finally gonna stop lying, and I told him that I was gay. And he just looked at me with these big soft eyes and a sympathetic little smile and told me that he was glad I told him, but he had already kind of figured that out. Then he told me that he didn’t care at all and that it didn’t change the way he viewed me at all, because he cared about me no matter what. And I knew he would probably react like that, because his best friend Robin is gay, and he’s known since the summer of ‘85, and they’re still practically attached at the hip to this day, but I was still worried. Then I told him that there was more, and I said that I had been falling in love with him from the first moment I met him, and it took me a while to be able to admit that to even myself, but now I had, and I wanted him to know, too. 

“And when he told me he felt the same way, I nearly fell out of my chair. I could’ve sworn he was straight and I told him as much, but he just shrugged and said that he didn’t love me for what kind of body I had, he loved me for the person I was and was continuing to become. And I cried right there in front of the entire restaurant, because I never thought that anyone could love me just because I’m me.”

Billy paused and took a breath. He was still close to crying, and his voice was getting wavery and thick, but he cleared it and took a deep breath, getting ready to continue on. He looked at his father for a moment before he did, and was met with a face of stone. He had no expression on whatsoever, so Billy just let out the breath he was holding and kept going.

“It was another year and a half of just being together before he finally asked me to marry him. It was on Halloween, because that was the first time we met 6 years prior, at a stupid Halloween party my junior year. I remembered that party, because the first time I met him, he was with his girlfriend at the time, and this asshole we had both been friends with at one point wanted me to go over and brag to him about being the new keg king, but as soon as I saw his face, I stopped dead in my tracks and I could barely speak. It was kind of awkward, because I couldn’t think of anything to say to him and when I was silent for a few seconds, he ran off after his girlfriend who had slipped away and that was that. And then later that evening, his girlfriend broke up with him, and he was sulking outside, so I finally got up the nerve to go talk to him. It wasn’t right away, but we became friends, and we’ve stuck together ever since. He told me that that’s why he picked that night to propose to me, and before he could even finish asking the question, I was already crying and saying yes. 

“I kissed him and he put the ring on my finger, but not before he showed me the inscription he had gotten on the inside of it. It said ‘Yeah I wanna marry you, don’t cream your pants’, because that’d been one of our inside jokes from the beginning, and he thought it would make me laugh. And it did, but not before I cried over it, because even though it was a stupid line, just the fact that he thought that much about it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for me. We got married a few months later in a discreet little church somewhere in LA, and it was one of the best days of my life. My friends from college were there, Robin was Steve’s best man, and she’d even managed to get the word out to a few people back in Hawkins that we were getting married and surprised us by having them in the audience when we walked into the church. 

“Remember that road trip Max went on with her best friend El in 1990? Well, that’s where she was, a little hole-in-the-wall church in Southern California, watching her former babysitter and her older brother tie the knot. When I saw her in the front row in her light blue pant-suit, her hair up in a perfect ballerina bun on her head and smiling like the sun, I burst into tears. She looked so grown up, and I couldn’t even believe she was there. We hadn’t done a huge reception afterwards, but we did have a little something, and Steve and I were only really going to do the couple’s dance at first because his mom wasn’t going to make it and I didn’t have anyone to dance with either, but we did end up doing them. He danced with Robin and I danced with Max, and then we danced together, and neither one of us could keep it together. I can still remember the way Steve bawled when Max and all her friends made him take a picture with them, because he hadn’t seen them in a few years and when they were all gathered around him, he said he felt like no time had passed, even though it clearly had. Then Max and El pulled me into the picture, and Steve kissed me, and the kids all made faces like they were grossed out about it. That picture is still framed in our living room.”

Billy could hear his own voice getting more squeaky and uneven as he began to cry, but he made himself hold it together. He had to get through this, because goddammit, after everything his father had put him through, he was going to know damn well that it didn’t defeat Billy. He was going to have to listen to every good thing that’d happened to him and he was going to have to face up to the fact that no matter how hard he’d tried, he couldn’t break Billy down, at least not permanently.

“We were married for two years before Steve started to bring up the topic of starting a family. I had just gotten my Bachelor’s degree and was getting ready to start my Masters, but we had decided to get a little drunk as a celebration and he asked me if I ever thought about maybe having kids. I knew he always wanted kids, but I wasn’t so sure. I told him I used to want kids more than anything when I was little and Mom was still around, but once she left, I wasn’t so sure, so we decided to table the discussion for now and talk again when we were sober. He brought it up again at dinner two nights later, and told me he’d always dreamed of having six kids, three girls, three boys, and that he still wanted that, but only if I did, too. And I could never say no to him, especially not when he was giving me that look, so I said that maybe we could just start with one and see how it went. He lit up like a firefly when I said that, and immediately started looking into the different options. 

“It was hard, though. Most adoption agencies didn’t want to deal with us because we were both men, and finding a good surrogate took a lot of money that we just didn’t have at that point. It was killing me, both because Steve was so disappointed and because now that we’d finally talked and figured things out, I wanted a kid as much as he did. But then, just when all hope seemed lost, Robin paid us a visit and said that she might be able to help us. She was going to college at that point, too, and she knew a girl from one of her classes that was pregnant, but was thinking about terminating the pregnancy because she just didn’t want kids, she never had. She just wanted a career and to marry her boyfriend, and he felt the same, so she was weighing her options and thought aborting was the best way to go. 

“But then Robin stepped in and asked if she would consider having the baby and putting it up for adoption, and the girl, her name was Lindsay, said that if she were sure her baby would go to a good home she might consider it, but the foster care and adoption systems weren’t great and she didn’t want her baby to go through that. Robin told her about us and how we wanted to start a family, and Lindsay and her boyfriend agreed to meet us and see what they thought. They ended up liking us, and Lindsay said that she’d help us out. Steve and I were both over the moon about it, and over the next few months, we did everything we could to get ready for it. And finally, on a warm April afternoon, I got out of class to find Steve waiting for me, telling me that Lindsay had checked into the hospital a half hour before and that she was waiting for us. 

“It didn’t take too terribly long, only maybe five hours, but it felt like years had passed as we sat holding hands in the waiting room chairs. Neither of us moved from the moment they shooed us out of the delivery room until a nurse came out and told us that Lindsay was resting and our baby was being cleaned up and weighed. She told us on the way back to Lindsay’s room that the baby was perfectly healthy so far, and that they’d need to run some tests and give her her vaccines, but that she was okay so far. Steve was just relieved that she was okay, but then I turned to him and smiled and said, ‘did you hear what she said?’ And he didn’t get it at first, but then I said ‘she said she. We have a daughter,’ and Steve just stared at me. Then he started crying, and I had to hold him before we could go in and see Lindsay because he was crying so hard. 

“When he finally calmed down, we went inside and Lindsay hugged us both and we shook hands with her boyfriend and we talked for a little until a nurse came in wheeling a little bassinette. She asked who wanted to hold her first and Lindsay looked at us, and I let Steve hold her first because he’d wanted this for a lot longer than I had. He held her and he looked at her and he kissed her head and I swear I’ve never before felt anything like I had in that moment, because a minute ago I was a new father, but it was like an abstract concept, and then when I looked at Steve holding our daughter, looking at her like she’d hung the sun, the moon and every one of the stars, it was like a switch was flipped, and suddenly I was willing to jump in front of a train or off a cliff or get eaten by a shark if it meant the two of them, but especially my little girl, would be safe and happy. 

“And then, after a few minutes, Steve looked at me, and he asked if I wanted to hold her. And suddenly, I was stiff as a board and spacing out, because all that love and devotion I’d been feeling a second before were overshadowed and drowned out by this crippling, paralyzing fear. From what Steve’s told me, I went white as a sheet and started shaking like a leaf in the wind, and he said that all the life drained out of my eyes as I clenched my fists. He had to hand our baby to Lindsay for a minute, because he was worried about me, and he said he had to practically carry me to the little bathroom attached to the room so we could talk privately. He said in all that time, he didn’t even see me blink. I don’t remember much of this, I only remember him flicking water from the sink in my face to get me to come back to him, and he asked what’d happened.

“And then I remember I collapsed to the floor, and I didn’t cry, but I still shook like I’d gotten electrocuted. And when he sat down next to me and held my hand, I finally told him that it hadn’t quite felt real until that moment. But then he had tried to hand me the baby, and when I saw her tiny, fragile body and remembered that I was the one who was going to have to take care of her and keep her safe from then on, I just froze. I told him that I was afraid of her, which was stupid, right? Because she can’t do anything to me, she can barely even open her eyes yet, but yet she terrified me more than anything else in the world, because if she ends up fucked up, that’s our fault, and while I didn’t think Steve would be able to fuck her up, I definitely could. And he said that he didn’t believe that, and he said ‘you’re not going to turn out like your father’. And I swear to God, I almost socked him right in the face for that.

“But I didn’t, because somehow, without me saying a single word, he knew exactly why I was so fucking scared of someone who only weighed five and a half pounds. And once he said it, I was able to realize that that was what I was so scared of. I didn’t want to hold her because I was afraid I would get the urge to hit her for no reason. I was afraid I would start getting itchy because I couldn’t scream at her with other people in the room. I was afraid she would start to cry, and when I couldn’t get her under control, I’d just leave her for someone else to deal with, or even just to her own devices. I was afraid that if I would hold her and know that she’s mine, I would stop loving her and instead of seeing her as a blessing, I’d see her as a burden, and I wouldn’t want to take care of her. And I was horrified with myself for thinking that I would turn into you, but was even more horrified at the thought that I wouldn’t be able to control if I was or not. It scared me shitless that one day I might be sending my daughter to school with a black eye and fractured ribs because she forgot to put the dishes away before going to bed, or that she might not be able to take as much as I did and I might come home to find her limp body on the floor with a note telling me to go fuck myself, and I might not even care about it other than the fact that now I’d have to deal with what to do next.

“But for as scared as all those thoughts made me, I knew they were just that: intrusive thoughts. Because Steve had never lied to me once, never, in all the years I’d known him, and I knew that if he had a hunch about something, he was almost always right about it. And if he believed that I could be different, that I could be the dad I had always hoped for and wanted to be, then he was probably right about that, too. He told me that he knew from the look I got when I reiterated that we had a daughter out in the hall that I already loved her more than anything, and that I would never hurt her for anything in the whole wide world. Then he stood up, and he helped me up, too, and after helping me breathe more normally, he led me out of the bathroom.

“Lindsay smiled as we walked out and asked if everything was alright, and Steve told her it was just last minute anxiety, but that I was fine. And you know what, dad? I was. Because I knew that I was nothing like you, and that alone is what made me reach out and take our daughter from Lindsay’s arms, because I wanted to prove to myself that I was right.”

Billy was fully crying now, tears running down his cheeks in rivers, a constant flow that dripped from his chin and fell onto his jeans, his shoes, the floor. His nose was running a little bit and his throat was scratchy and his head was beginning to ache a little bit, but he didn’t care. He had come this far, and he was going to keep going until he’d said everything, aired every grievance he’d had to deal with and told him how he’d overcome them.

“Right after I picked her up, a nurse came in, holding a clipboard. She said that it was the birth certificate, and that everything was filled out except for our baby’s name. She looked at me, I guess because I was holding her, but I was too busy being happy that none of those terrible thoughts I’d had earlier were coming true and watching my daughter watch me to notice, so Steve said it. It’d taken us months to decide on what name we would go with depending on if it was a boy or a girl, but once we had them, we knew. I remember, in the early stages, when we would just toss names around, Steve had suggested something like ‘Lassie’ for a girl, and I almost smacked him upside the head. But then I was reading my textbook for class one night and saw one of the editor’s names, and I said to him, ‘what about Talia?’ And that was it. we decided that her middle name was going to be Ruth, after Steve’s grandmother, and it just had a nice ring to it.

“I remember when we got the official certificate a few days later, and I saw Talia Ruth Harrington written on paper for the first time. The way Steve tells it, I almost fainted, but I don’t remember that. All I remember is how the paper trembled, because when I held it, my hands were shaking. They did that every single time I held one of my kids’ birth certificates for the first time, and they’re going to do it again in a few months when our next baby is born. She’ll be number six, because Steve and I are both crazy, but me even more so, because I finally gave in and told him nothing would make me happier than to give him his dream family. And so far, I have.

“After Talia was born, I finished up my degree and started looking around for good jobs. I was open to anything, no matter where it was, and because our apartment was too small now that Talia was starting to grow more, we had to move anyway. We saved up as much as we could, and by the time Talia had turned one, we had a plan. I found a job at a small marine institute just outside of Ocean City, Maryland, and we decided to move there. We found a nice, three bedroom house about a ten minute walk from the beach for a reasonable price, and we bought it. We had only been moved in for about a month when Steve started teasing me about what we should do with the extra bedroom, and I knew what he was getting at, but I wanted to wait until we saved up a little bit more and until Talia was a little older. He agreed with me on that, and for another year, we did our best to raise our daughter and earn enough money to start thinking about another kid. Steve even got a job at a local daycare to help make ends meet and to make sure Talia was well cared for during the day while I was at work.

“And then, as luck would have it, just as we became financially stable and as Talia started to become more independent, we got our wish. Steve was opening up the daycare one day, and as he approached the door, he heard something from behind one of the fences. His coworker had just shown up, so he asked her to take Talia inside and he went to investigate, and the first thing he did when he found out what it was was open his cell phone and call me. He said he’d found a baby, no older than a month, wrapped in a blanket and just left there behind the fence with a note. It said ‘I can’t give my baby a good home, and I don’t know what to do. I figured someone here might. She’s healthy and has all her shots. Her birthday is August 5th, 1995.’ And that was it.

“Steve said that he was going to call the proper authorities, but he suggested that maybe we could take in the baby. He said we were thinking about it anyway and it couldn’t be a coincidence that another baby had just fallen into our laps like that, and I said that as long as it was a legal adoption, I’d be on board with it. It took a few months, a lot of money and entirely too much paperwork, but finally, we were given our second daughter. Because the mother had never named her, she had been dubbed Baby Doe by the court system up until that point, but once we were legally her parents, we got to name her. We went with Violet Frances Harrington, and then we were settled again for another few years.

“But Steve always wanted an even number of kids, and an even ratio of boys to girls, so once we got Violet settled and we were able to find a bigger house, we decided to go for baby number 3. It was 1997 at this point, and even though we were thinking about selling the old house before we had more kids, once again, fate stepped in. We hadn’t found a new place just yet, and we were toying around with the idea of either converting the attic or basement to a room or splitting the bigger of the girl’s bedrooms in half to make another when the adoption agency we went through called us. They said that they might have something for us, and asked if we wanted to come down and speak with them in person. We said we would, and the next day, we were sitting in an office when the lady who called us  walked in and handed us two pictures.

“She said that a few days ago, a mother came in and gave her two sons up for adoption. She was young, probably in college or even high school, but she said she just wasn’t ready to be a mother and she wanted her babies to have a good home. The lady said that she’d called the list of potential parents, but none of them really wanted twins, so she eventually got to us. She said we could take some time to talk about it if we wanted, and then she left the room, and as soon as she did, I looked at Steve. 

“I could tell from the smile on his face that he was already sold, and he told me that we should totally do it, because then it would even things up and we wouldn’t even need to get a new place or renovate ours, because then the girls could room together and the boys could take the other room. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was already in love with the boys, and I was too, so instead of answering him, I just went to the door and told the lady we’d be happy to take them in. She smiled and helped us fill out the necessary paperwork, and even though the boys already had names, she said we could change them if we wanted. We’d already had our hearts set on either Nathan or Gavin for our first boy, so we made those their first names, but we hadn’t decided on middle names yet, so we just gave them the names their mother had. And just like that, Nathan Jay Harrington and Gavin Anthony Harrington were joining our not-so-little-anymore family.

“After that, we were content for a while. I started thinking about getting my doctorate, Steve had moved up the ranks until he was practically running the daycare, and our kids continued to grow faster than we could keep up with. Before we knew it, Talia was starting school, Violet was learning to ride a bike, and the boys were curious about any and everything under the sun. Our house began to feel a little small, though, so we started looking around for a bigger place. We finally found one, a seaside mansion that was almost too much, but we made it work. I remember we told the kids Santa might not bring as many presents that year because he couldn’t make them fast enough. Really, Steve and I just couldn’t afford as many presents as we usually got them, but come Christmas morning, we had found a way to spoil them even though we barely had a dollar to our names. Anyway, the house was huge, and even though it only had four real bedrooms, the twins still wanted to share and there were a few extra rooms in the basement and main floor, so we figured if we had any more kids or the twins decided they wanted to separate, we could just use one of them. 

“And after we’d been in the house for about a year, Steve started getting baby fever again. This was the first time we’d ever tried looking into the foster care system instead of adoption agencies or surrogates. We were just looking around at that point, not really deciding anything, Steve was just antsy and looking for the hell of it, but then he asked me one night as we were going to bed if I would want to foster this little boy he’d found when he was just looking around for fun. He said that he was about a year old, could already walk, and was able to say simple words. He knew I was a little baby-d out at that point, so he said this time we wouldn’t have to start from scratch, we would just be picking up at an easier point. The twins were 4 by then, Violet was 6 and Talia was 8, so he said they could all start helping out around the house a little more and they would be able to help with the boy if we needed them to. And because I can’t say no to him and he did make a good point, I said I’d think about it. He obviously knew I meant yes, so a couple weeks later, we brought him home. We had only had him for about two days when Steve and the kids all practically begged me to adopt him.

“He already had a name, which was fine by us, because we didn’t really have anything in mind when Steve had started looking around, but I still got that same shaky, fluttery feeling when I first saw Leo Matthew Harrington printed on the birth certificate in my hands. All the kids had been with us that day when we went to the courthouse, and as soon as we showed them the piece of paper and told them that it meant Leo was officially their brother, they all started cheering at the top of their lungs. We got a dirty look from the receptionist, but Steve and I couldn’t help but laugh. Even Leo started squealing and shrieking with joy, and since it was a sunny Saturday in May, we took the kids to the boardwalk to get ice cream.”

Billy was still crying, but now he wiped his eyes and walked around the side of the bed, and sat in the chair at his father’s bedside after taking out his wallet. He opened it and thumbed through it, eventually finding what he was looking for and holding it up in front of his father’s face. It was a picture, taken just a few months ago, on the beach right outside their house. He couldn’t remember who had taken it, probably some couple or kid walking by, but he remembered how happy he was in that moment.

“This is my family,” he said, the tears coming back with twice as much force and his voice beginning to wobble even more. “The man sitting next to me is my husband. The little girl behind us with the black hair and beige colored skin and almond eyes is Talia. The little black girl sitting next to me with the heart shaped sunglasses is Violet. They’re my daughters.” He paused again, wiping his nose as his voice broke and he took a breath to steady himself. “The little boy next to Steve with the blue glasses and red hair is Leo, and the two blond boys on our laps are the twins. Nathan is on my lap and Gavin is on Steve’s, and I can tell them apart because Gavin only smiles with his teeth and Nathan only smiles with his lips. They’re my sons.”

His father lifted a shaky hand to try and take the picture, but Billy held it out of his reach. It was too precious to him to even think about letting his dad hold it, especially since he couldn’t really respond this whole time and he didn’t know if he would, like, rip it up or something. He didn’t want to risk it. It was too important to him. 

“In a few weeks, I’m going to get to hold my third baby girl. Her name is going to be Samantha Christie Harrington. From what we can guess, we assume she’s going to have pale skin and brown hair. We don’t know if her eyes are going to be blue or brown, or even hazel. We don’t know if she’s going to be born healthy, although we’re praying that she will, and we don’t know when her birthday is going to be or at what time she’ll be born. But we do know that the girls are ecstatic about getting a little sister, and the boys are excited for Aunt Max and Uncle Lucas to stay over with them while we’re at the hospital. We know that no matter what this child looks, acts, or is like, we’re going to love her just as much as we love all the rest of them. And we know that we’re ready and able to do that, because we’ve already done it five times before, no matter how scared we were or how tired or how uncertain we were.”

“Billy, I-” his father tried to get a word in, but Billy wasn’t having it. 

“No, you shut the fuck up, I’m not finished!” He bordered on yelling, but he made himself regain control. He slipped the picture back into his wallet and put it back into his pocket, just trying to busy himself until he could be sure he wasn’t going to lash out again. His father was silent the entire time.

“Listen, dad, I didn’t come here to yell. I didn’t come here to get angry or to get an apology or even an explanation, I’m past all that shit. I came here because I heard you were dying, and despite how much shit you put me through, I couldn’t make myself hate you enough to just ignore that. I also can’t make myself love you enough not to come and forgive you and let you meet your grandchildren and your son-in-law. And as much as it kills me, I can’t make myself stop loving you no matter how hard I try, and I fucking try. But you were the only one who stayed. When Mom split, when Grandma died, when Uncle Jerry went to prison. You could’ve tossed me out like yesterday’s garbage since there was no one else around to give a damn, but you stayed. You put food in my stomach and you kept clothes on my back and, I don’t know, maybe deep down inside you, you really were just trying to make me become a better person, and I can’t hate you for that. But somewhere along the way, your wires got crossed, and you took it too far. You had this... this rage inside you and for some reason, you thought the best person to take it out on was your pre-teen son. And then I guess something broke inside you, because it seemed like you started to actively look for things to justify one more punch, one more insult, one more punishment. First it was because I wasn’t into sports like you were and I couldn’t hit a baseball to save my life. Then it was because I was queer, and having a faggot for a son wasn’t “right”. Then it was because of the music I liked, or the jewelry, or the people I hung out with or the grades I had. Nothing was ever good enough for you, I was never good enough for you.”

Billy paused again. He needed to wrap this up. He hadn’t even packed an overnight bag, just a few things to keep him occupied on the plane rides there and back. So he sucked in another breath and he sat up straight, and for the first time since he’d gotten the phone call that his dad was dying, he felt the weight lifting off of his chest.

“But I don’t need to be good enough for you anymore, and I know that now. It took a long time and a lot of therapy, but I know it. Now I know that I’m good enough to be another person’s entire world, so much so that they put a ring on my finger to make sure I’d be with them until we’re old and gray. We have bad days, we’re not perfect, we fight, but at the end of the day I’m good enough to man up and tell him I’m sorry and I want to make things right because I love him. I’m good enough to sit on the boardwalk with my Violet and throw bread at seagulls, and I’m good enough to walk around looking for seashells with my Talia while she tells me about the really cute boy that smiled at her in class. I’m good enough to play dinosaurs with Nathan with one hand and color with Gavin in one of his coloring books with the other, and I’m good enough to sing Leo to sleep when nothing else will even make him doze. I’m good enough to make amends with the people I’ve hurt because I actually want to, and not just because I’m on my deathbed and I want a better chance at getting into Heaven. And I’m good enough to hold my Samantha for the first time and tell her how much I love her and mean it. And I did all that by myself, because I wanted to prove that I was better than you, and that I would always be better than you, because you made my life hell and I’m still dealing with the aftermath. Every day it’s a struggle, but I know that I’m going to come out on top, because the hard part is over. I’m already out of your clutches. And I’m not going to take that or anything that’s resulted from me getting away for granted, because it’s too important to me.”

Billy stood up, wiped away the last of his tears with his jacket, and cleared his throat again as he headed for the door. He opened it and was planning on just walking right out and not stopping until he was in a car and headed for the airport, but something made him stop. He stared out into the blinding white hallway of the hospital for a second, and finally turned one more time to face the man on the bed. He didn’t owe him anything. But he had already bared his heart and soul to him, what was two more words?

“Goodbye, Neil,” he said. 

And with that, he was gone.

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

Billy had gotten home the same night he left, albeit very late at night. He was more tired than he had ever been before, and he wanted nothing more than a nice hot shower and to curl up beside Steve in bed. But after the day he’d had, he couldn’t just do that. Something was still tugging in his guts, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the way he’d left things with Neil or if it was because he hadn’t eaten anything that day except for the little snack packets the flight attendants had given him and a snickers bar from the hospital vending machine that was probably as old as some of the patients. Either way, he was too tired to deal with it, so he just went inside, got his hot shower, and put on his pajamas before crawling under the covers with Steve. He was lying on his side with his back to Billy, so he shifted until their bodies were perfectly in line and he wrapped his arms around him, nuzzling his face into Steve’s neck. He only sat up a little bit when he felt a smaller body on the other side of Steve, only to find Leo curled up against Steve’s chest.

“You gotta make me a recording of you singing for the next time you’re out of town,” Steve mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. “This was the only way I could get him to even close his eyes.”

Billy’s heart melted in his chest as he said it, and it only turned further into goop when Steve turned his head and craned his neck to give him a kiss before snuggling back into the covers. And as Billy settled in with him, his arms around both his husband and his son, the tugging feeling in his gut finally stopped.

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

Three days later, he got the phone call from the hospital that Neil was dead.

It’d been a busy Thursday morning in July, and while he and Steve were running around trying to get the kids up, dressed, fed and out the door for daycare, the phone rang. Billy was using one hand to wipe the maple syrup from Gavin’s face the the other to help Violet with her hair, and he couldn’t tell you what Steve was doing for a million dollars, so he didn’t even know the phone had been ringing until Talia walked over and handed it to him.

“It’s for you, daddy,” she said, then walked away to do whatever she’d been doing before. Billy had finally gotten the syrup of Gavin’s face and Violet was satisfied with her hair, so Billy stood up and took the cordless phone into a different room so he could hear better.

It was the nurses at the hospital. They said that they were sorry for his loss and that Neil had passed away that morning. They told him that he was the only one Neil had listed as next of kin, and that they would hold the body until arrangements could be made for his funeral. Then they offered their condolences and told him that he could call back at the number they gave whenever the arrangements had been made. Billy had gone on auto-pilot when he thanked them, and when he hung up, his chest felt hollow. He wasn’t happy or sad or angry or even relieved, no, he just felt numb.

He didn’t want to make the damn funeral arrangements. He didn’t want to have to explain to his kids that the man who’s body they were seeing being lowered into the ground was their grandfather, but they never met him because he hurt their daddy and would’ve probably hurt them, too if he’d ever been given the chance. He didn’t want his father to be dead, but he didn’t know if he was upset about it either. He was too confused and he didn’t know what to feel, but he still felt like he was about to burst with something, so he did the only thing he could think to do.

He took the handheld phone and hurled it at the wall as he let out a deep, animalistic howl of a yell, and crumbled to the floor with his head down and his shoulders hunched to try and keep it all under control. His ears were ringing, so he didn’t hear the six sets of footsteps running towards him from the kitchen until he felt one pair of arms wrap around him gently.

“Hey, Billy, what’s wrong? What happened?” Steve asked, tapping a beat on Billy’s shoulder to help him regulate his breathing, a trick he’d learned years ago and still remembered even though he rarely had to use it anymore.

“That was the hospital,” he said, choking out the words. “He’s dead, Stevie.”

“Who’s dead?” Nathan asked, his blue eyes big and round with questioning.

“Just... somebody that daddy used to know,” Steve said, hoping that that was the right answer. Billy would’ve told him if it wasn’t, but he didn’t say anything now, and neither Nathan nor any of their other kids questioned any further. Instead, they gathered around their father, all piling on top of him to give him kisses and hugs and tell him they loved him. Billy felt like a volcano, but only after the eruption, like his little outburst had been the hard part and now, with the help of his family, the magma was settling and the lava was cooling down into solid rock. He wrapped his arms around all of his kids in the most awkward group hug in the history of group hugs, but not one of them cared. It helped Billy to calm down, and that’s what was important.

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

A week after the call from the hospital, the phone rang again, and again, Talia was the one to answer. The handheld had been pieced back together with Steve’s nimble hands and half a roll of masking tape, but it would do for now. Billy still felt bad for breaking the phone, but he’d stopped apologizing for it when Steve told him that if he did it again, he’d break it worse so that he would stop. It was a joke, obviously, but it worked, and Billy had stopped apologizing for it.

They hadn’t had a funeral. Not a real one, at least. Steve had taken the kids again and Billy headed out to Indianapolis again, having to stay overnight this time, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t felt much of anything since the call, and was kind of distant for a few days, but he hoped that once his dad’s body was in the ground and he was back home, he would be okay. He just needed time to process.

Steve and the kids were giving him all the time he needed, the kids making sure they were on their best behavior and Steve doing anything he could to make sure Billy was alright. He’d talked to his therapist and was able to work through it a little bit, but the things Steve and the kids were doing were helping, and he was grateful for it. 

He’d only stayed in Indianapolis for two days, one to pick out the casket and set things into motion, and the other to make sure they actually got him in the ground. He didn’t even wait for the headstone to be carved, instead just told them to make sure he got one and that would be that before heading for home once again. Steve and the kids had all run up to him to hug him as soon as he stepped in the door, and, per his request, they all sat on the beach that night and fed the seagulls as they watched the sunset. None of them spoke much, they just sat, but they were all perfectly okay with that. And the next day, Billy started to act like himself again, a little at a time.

Now, he was almost completely back to normal. His head still felt a little heavy, but it was mostly gone, and he didn’t even think twice when Talia handed him the phone and said, “It’s for you, daddy.”

It was the hospital again, but this time, it was much closer to home. Georgia, the lady who was carrying their baby, had just gone into labor and had  checked into the hospital. Billy nearly threw the phone again in his rush to get to Steve and tell him the news.

Samantha had decided that she was going to come out a week early, so Billy and Steve had to wrangle five children into their mini-van by themselves as Billy called Max. She and Lucas lived in Pennsylvania, so they were going to be a little while, but Max said she was already leaving work and that they’d be there as soon as they could to get the kids. Billy thanked her and told her which hospital they were going to, then hung up as Steve drove through the town. 

When they got there, Steve went to check on Georgia, and Billy stayed in the waiting room with the kids. It was just beginning to get dark out, Leo should’ve already been in bed, but Billy was too jittery to worry about that now. An hour and a half later, Max and Lucas showed up, both hugging him and Steve and saying congratulations before swapping keys with Steve and taking the kids back to the van to head back home. Steve walked them to the elevator and then returned to Billy’s side, holding his hand like he always did and pretending he wasn’t just as nervous until a few hours later, when the nurse finally came out and told them to follow her. 

Georgia was asleep by the time they got into the room, but her husband was awake, still holding her hand. He used his other one to shake with Billy and Steve and congratulate them, and finally, the nurse came in with Samantha. 

At this point, it was tradition to let Steve hold her first. She was asleep, or at least she looked it, as Steve picked her up, but as soon as he put his hand underneath her head, her eyes opened up and she began to cry. Steve tried to soothe her, but nothing seemed to work, and her little face got red as she continued to scream. It woke Georgia up and she tried to calm her down, but even she couldn’t do anything to quiet the baby. 

But this girl had a set of pipes on her, and finally, she had screamed so loud and so long that it was almost excruciating to listen to. Steve took her back from Georgia and tried again, but it was useless, and he sighed.

“Here, Bill, you try and calm her down. Nothing we’re doing seems to be working,” he said, and handed Samantha off to Billy. 

As soon as he had her tiny body cradled in his arms, the baby stopped crying. It was almost instantaneous, and even though her face was still a little red and blotchy, she blinked her big eyes up at him and smiled. 

“Well I’ll be damned,” Steve smiled, wrapping his arm around Billy’s waist. “Glad to know she’s already chosen her favorite parent.”

Billy wanted to laugh at that, but he couldn’t think about much of anything else at the moment except his daughter’s big, dark eyes boring into his. He smiled at her and rubbed her belly with his finger, making her gurgle and coo in response. She took her own tiny hand and raised it just enough to grab onto Billy’s finger, holding it with an iron grip. Or, at least the newborn equivalent of an iron grip. 

She continued to stare into his eyes and hold onto him for a long time, but after a while, her grip weakened and her eyes slipped closed. As she fell asleep in Billy’s arms, Steve came back over from making small talk with Georgia and her husband. Georgia was exhausted, and frankly, so was her husband, and they had begun to fall asleep again as well, leaving Billy and Steve as the only ones awake. Billy was still just staring at Samantha, though, and only noticed Steve by his side when he nudged him lightly with his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, wrapping his arm around him and playing with the hair on the back of his neck. “You doing okay?”

And when Billy thought about it, he found that he really, really was.

“Yeah,” he replied, “I’ve never been more okay in my entire life.”

[starglow-xx]

star's blue lock fic recs!

below the links are my own personal notes with a short plot blurb! a heart means it’s one of my personal faves! (but actually i just love all these fics so, so much)

im a heavy isagi simp so rn it's basically all him oops but i'll eventually add my fave fics for other characters too hehe

want more fic recs? see fic rec master list post here! all fic masterlists will be updated randomly!

✧.* Challenge Accepted : ̗̀➛ ao3 link

ᰔᩚ isagi yoichi you are a star

ᰔᩚ in which isagi is used as a chess piece for the jfa for more money and views by placing him in an exhibition match against ichinan high school with a certain someone taking his old spot as forward.

OR in which isagi yoichi proves he isn't just a lucky shot

ᰔᩚ status: complete! 3 chapters & 17,021 words

💗 More Than A Memory : ̗̀➛ ao3 link

ᰔᩚ sobbing over little isagi he's the cutest thing i just wanna pinch his little cheeks :(

ᰔᩚ isagi gets to meet his idol noel noa on his birthday and everything comes full circle 10 years later

ᰔᩚ bonus! the blue lock boys find out it's isagi birthday and chaos breaks loose as isagi and noel noa have a heart to heart

ᰔᩚ status: complete! one shot with 7,107 words

✧.* A Reason to Celebrate : ̗̀➛ ao3 link

ᰔᩚ isagi yoichi you are so, so loved & deserve nothing but the best

ᰔᩚ in which ego lets everyone know it's their favorite striker's birthday

ᰔᩚ status: complete! one shot with 6,371 words

💗 That's My Ego : ̗̀➛ ao3 link

ᰔᩚ AKSSVNSL i adore this fic sm, they're so cute i cannot

ᰔᩚ blue lock with a fem! isagi! some others are gender bent too but see fic for more hehe

ᰔᩚ sports with shoujo! follows the blue lock plot but has hints of romance as a side (?) plot mwah mwah

ᰔᩚ status: incomplete ; last updated april 19, 2023 ; 16 chapters & 85,024 words

💗💗💗 Butterfly Flutterby : ̗̀➛ ao3 link (but can also be found on quotev!)

ᰔᩚ this fic has my heart 10/10, i always reread ; i will never not recommend this fic, it’s honestly one of my faves of all time ; still patiently waiting for the next update :((

ᰔᩚ fem reader insert! the interactions with the blue lock boys are always so cute and so is mc i wanna squish her (our??) cheeks (author refers to her as rea-chan in the notes so sometimes i read it as an oc fic teehee)

ᰔᩚ mc gets chosen to be a manager for the blue lock program, competing alongside other managers facing risk of elimination like the boys

ᰔᩚ slight hints of romance/possible pairings but very minimal ; focus for now is being friends/a good manager

ᰔᩚ status: incomplete ; last updated march 19, 2023 ; 12 chapters & 64,042 words

ISAGI YOICHI

✧.* Hometown Hero : ̗̀➛ ao3 link

ᰔᩚ need more fics abt reuniting with isagi post blue lock bc man the angst potential is great :(

ᰔᩚ fem! reader where mc and isagi, her childhood friend, reunite but he's a bit different than how she remembered him

ᰔᩚ some angst but has a happy ending!

ᰔᩚ status: complete! one shot with 2,862 words

✧.* Fake It 'til We Make It : ̗̀➛ ao3 link

ᰔᩚ fake dating! do i need to say more

ᰔᩚ no pronouns! gender neutral reader!

ᰔᩚ a bit of angst but happy ending! :D

ᰔᩚ status: complete! one shot with 3,270 words

💗💗 if i had a choice : ̗̀➛ tumblr link

ᰔᩚ crying bc i want isagi to want me too :((

ᰔᩚ post u-20 match! fem! reader reuniting with isagi having already accepted soccer takes priority in his life right now

ᰔᩚ angst with a happy ending!

ᰔᩚ status: complete! one shot

💗 happily always after : ̗̀➛ tumblr link

ᰔᩚ ASDSVN i wanna marry isagi :(

ᰔᩚ a misunderstanding regarding a proposal causes you to distance yourself a little

ᰔᩚ hurt/comfort with a happy ending!

ᰔᩚ status: complete! one shot

💗💗 home visits : ̗̀➛ tumblr link

ᰔᩚ he's literally so sweet im going to die, isagi marry me pls :((

ᰔᩚ where you visit isagi's parents at his house and seeing some baby photos make you think of the future

ᰔᩚ fluffy fluff fluff, you'll get a tooth ache

ᰔᩚ status: complete! one shot

💗💗 as close as strangers : ̗̀➛ tumblr link

ᰔᩚ ASNVLS oh to have a meet cute with isagi yoichi :(

ᰔᩚ you go with you sister to a bar to meet her newest boy toy but end up getting rescued by a stranger when you get some unwanted attention

ᰔᩚ fluff fluff isagi yoichi pls marry me

ᰔᩚ status: complete! one shot with 1.4k words

[ionfusionpunk]

A Series of One Shots and Short Stories

@cloneshippingbigbang

Written by: Trillium_Orchid Art by: IonFusion [me]

Summary: A series of one shots, short stories and snippets off the cutting room floor of the other clone shipping big bang fics. Some are NSFW, some are Gen, angst, fluff, sex, love, death, life, and all sorts of other osik.

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Reconditioning, Reconditioned Dogma, Tup/Dogma, Domesticity, Brain Surgery, Order 66, Suicidal Thoughts, De-aging, Force Nonsense, Bad Batch Cuddle Pile, Crossdressing,Tooka Kittens, Songfic,  Waxer/Boil, Wrecker/Echo, Clone Trooper Reconditioning, Clone Trooper Discrimination, Clone Troopers Deserve Better, Sheev Palpatine is His Own Warning, Cloneshipping 2022, Cloneshipping, Clonecest, NSFW, Male Lactation, Hanahaki Disease, Angst, Illness, Star Wars au, angst, hurt/comfort, pinning, Tup, Dogma, Fives, Echo, Hardcase, Jesse, Kix, Rex, Flower Meanings, poly 501st boys, Tup Suffers, Sorry, Clone Troopers Deserve Better, Tup Lives AU, Dogma Lives AU, Fives Lives AU, flower language usage very minimal though, Wooley, Comet, drinking, mentions of alcohol, dancing, club scene, mentions of jealousy, Boss, Jiang, Null Arc Trooper Jiang, Wooley/Tup/Comet, Hardcase/Dogma, Fives/Echo, Fives/Tup, Jesse/Kix, mentions of Cody/Rex/Baccara, mentions of Delta Squad, #CSBB22 #CloneShipping Big Bang 2022 #cloneshippingbigbang #CSBB

Snippets:

Tup had been so thrilled to have been given a gift of fruit- a form of space cherries from the locals- after the 501st had helped the planet fight off the Seppies and clankers. He had helped one of the local farms with clean up of the battle- and they had given him a basketful of cherries.

They are a warm orange pink colors with stems being a purple-blue color. He had gone to Kix and had them tested for edibility for near-humans and vod'e alike. He had been told that they were safe to eat, and Kix had only taken a small handful of cherries in recompense for the use of his time and equipment.

Tup is smiling and has an almost bounce in his step as he heads to one of the rec rooms and takes a seat at in one of the comfy couches and settles in. He has a bowlful of cherries- and a data pad with a good book to read.

Tup pops the cherry in his mouth- stem and all as he chews on the cherry and happily reads the book- it's a fictional work, with romance, fighting, and all sorts of other things in it. He's quite enjoying the book.

_____

Kix and Dogma had agreed to get their karking chips out of their head- and Tup was scanned, he did not have his chip, that had been removed, thank the ka'ra and the force. It did not take long for them to recover from the minor brain surgery.

The three of them meet with the rest of the bad batch, and the former members of the 501st have a tearfully happy reunion with Echo who holds them all with a gentle sort of desperation. Having a fully trained medic helped with certain missions that went up osik shape.

Also- with Tup and Dogma at the helm of the Ship, Tech could go on missions with the rest of them more as they rotate who is flying and guarding the ship verses who is on mission. They are more able to have Omega stay with the ship, as they have more than one other vod'e and crewmate on the ship.

Which is in general, a much safer location for Omega to be, she is still trained, and by a wider variety of vod'e. Kix, she shadows in the medbay, learning more medical skills, and he calls her, "my excellent medic cadet assistant."

They had their arguments of course, but on the whole they tended to get along better than be too argumentative. They are dodging the collective efforts of The Marshall Commander Cody and Crosshair- and their group of likely a blend of Storm Troopers and vod'e.

Rex was trying to coordinate with some of the local rebel cells - if they can manage capture Crosshair or Cody, he is not laboring under a false delusion that they could capture both of them, that was likely not going to happen.

[rosyadventure]

Fics by Theme || Valentine's Day

Masterlist of Lists | Holy Grail Fics

You know how you coo at kitties and puppies that are just too cute? That's how I feel about these stories – my favorite fanfic couples in celebration of Valentine's Day. Most are fluff with good humor, a pinch of angst, and a happy ending. You might actually burst into fireworks of cotton candy-scented confetti.

🍰 denotes particularly feel-good, fluff stories with minimal angst

♥️ denotes absolute must-read stories

P.S. I made this list off the top of my head and realized at the end that there's a huge overlap with my Holy Grail Fics. Hey, at least I'm consistent 🤷🏻‍♀️. For that reason, I want to underscore that all of these stories are deserving of "favorite" status – I just had to draw a line somewhere.

A Holiday Snowdown (m) 🍰 by @kpopfanfictrash | JJK | holiday, inn manager reader, snowboarder JK, f2e2l

JK is more pure than the snow he snowboards on, sweeter than the cookies he bakes, and fluffier than his dog, Bam.

You'd do anything to help save your ski resort, including begrudgingly babysitting the man who broke your best friend's heart.

All I Want for Christmas Is You (m) 🍰 by @ladyartemesia | KTH | holiday, rich au, e2l, super cute, fluff

A fluffy Tae is caught between following his heart and making sure his best friend doesn't castrate him for going after his sister, feat. the snarkiest banter you've ever read.

“When Park Jimin is unable to escort his precious sister through the gauntlet of corporate holiday galas, he blackmails his best friend Taehyung into being her chaperone. After all, who better to safeguard his headstrong sibling than a man who would never want her for himself?”

After Midnight Series (m) ♥️ by @gyukult | JJK | doctor reader, bad boy JK, fwb

I love this series because JK might not start off as the boyfriend you want, but he tries so hard to show you that he's the only guy you need.

“Jeon Jungkook only likes seeing you after midnight.”

Bad Influence Series (m) ♥️ by @noteguk | JJK | college au, fwb, good girl reader, bad boy JK

These characters are so realistic and flawed, and come together to tell an amazing story about shedding others' expectations and preconceived notions to live the life that you want.

“In which you know Jungkook is a bad influence on you, but you can’t avoid falling for him every time.”

Be Mine, Princess Series (m) by AzureFangirl (AO3) | JJK | college au, rich reader, transfer student JK, jock JK (football, basketball, track), feat. the rest of BTS as your brothers, very funny

This series is completely unrealistic in how perfect OC's life seems to be (even for a fanfic 🤣), but it is nevertheless very funny how JK gets jealous over a fundamental misunderstanding. The dynamic of the rest of BTS as your chaotic older brothers is also 💯

The one where Jungkook thinks that you're somehow dating your six brothers.

Calculated Series (m) by @whatifyoulivelikethat | college au, TA reader, d/s themes

My favorite PWP couple by my favorite PWP writer, don't @ me.

You don't need a calculator for the calculus class you TA for, but Jungkook learns how to push all of your buttons anyway.

Devil in A New Suit Series (m) 🍰 by @yeojaa | JJK | reader works at a department store, rich JK, s2l

One of the most pure and fluffy JKs out there, who's intimidated by every girl except you.

In your line of work, you don't offer your opinion unless you're asked. That is, until you meet the poor sap who is being swindled out of his money and affection.

Do You Want Me (Dead?) by @gukyi | JJK | Hogwarts au, 🐍 column writer reader, 🦅 seeker JK, e2l, fluff

The classic e2l trope but make it Hogwarts and magical.

“Jeon Jungkook, quidditch extraordinaire and overall pain in your ass, is the one problem you can’t seem to solve, even with years of being the school’s advice columnist under your belt.”

Ego Series (m) ♥️ by @suga-kookiemonster | JJK ft. PJM | college au, fb JK, jock JK, very funny

Seriously one of the funniest stories I've ever read! A classic series featuring a confident and funny OC who only wants to pass her chemistry class but ends up in a situation way over her head.

“What’s a girl to do when her sweet, innocent baby lab partner isn’t quite so sweet and innocent?”

Endgame by @minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong 🍰 | JJK ft. KNJ | college au, cheerleader reader, football player JK, e2l, super cute

The set up for this story sounds stereotypical, but all of the characters are so sweet!

“What if your best friend’s handsome brother happened to be at the right place at the right time?”

I'd Love You to Stay but That's Simply Insane Series (m) ♥️ by @taexual | JJK | college au, good girl reader, JK is in a band, childhood f2l

The best way I can describe this couple is that they were always meant to be together – it was true then and it's still true now. Of course, life is more complicated now, but love always finds a way.

"He was the one who decided it'd be better if the two of you stopped being friends... it couldn't have taken him seven years to change his mind."

Love to Hate Series (m) by @kpopfanfictrash | JJK | ongoing, rich au, CEO reader & JK, e2l, fwb

It may look like your standard e2l story, but like the characters, there's a lot more than meets the eye.

Just as you think you’ve escaped your parents’ world of the rich and famous, a blind date with billionaire playboy Jungkook threatens to rope you back in.

Love to Hate You Series (m) 🍰 by @latetaektalk | JJK | ongoing, college au, fake dating, rich JK

A classic fake dating set up but make it fluffy. I mean, I still can't get over how cute this couple is, how gentle this JK is, and how comforting this story is? Here's to hoping that they continue walking on the flower road to happiness.

Why does your (fake) boyfriend insist on telling you that he loves you? It's not like you've really talked before.

Maybe I Do Series (m) by @chateautae | KTH | LONG, CEO au, arranged marriage

Pretty much required reading for any Taehyung and arranged marriage trope fans. A slow burn where you're rooting for the couple the entire time. (It does contain a significant amount of angst in the later chapters so be warned.)

"Maybe you love each other, maybe you don’t. You’re prepared for a loveless marriage of eternal regret and unhappiness, but maybe it doesn’t turn out that way after all."

Mind of Mine Series (m) by @yslkook | JJK | data scientist reader, tattoo artist JK, f2l

Yet another story where appearances are deceiving and there's more than meets the eye. OC and JK's friendship dynamics are super cute.

For years, Jungkook has been in your friend group, but just out of reach. What happens when you finally take a leap of faith?

Netflix and Chill Series (m) by @1kook | JJK | ongoing, college au, rich but wholesome JK, super cute

This JK gives Devil in a New Suit JK a run for his money in fluffiness. He also owns the pun game.

Your blind date invites you over to Netflix and chill… but does he know what that means?

No Sweetness by @rosaetae | JJK | college au, bobarista reader, lacrosse player JK, e2l

The fact that this JK isn't nearly as smooth as he thinks he is makes him even more endearing. A cute, fluffy, angstless story.

"Sweetness level?" "You."

Once Upon a Bracelet (m) by @ladyartemesia | JJK ft. KSJ | fantasy, sorceress reader, prince SJ/JK, e2l

A compelling story about how opposites attract, set in a rich fantasy world in which your bracelet will close around your soul mate's wrist.

“Jeon Jungkook is (probably) a former necromancer and (definitely) the wrong prince… but the bracelets tell a different story.”

One Thing Right Series ♥️ by hobios (AO3) | JJK | sheriff JK, reader is a (slight) degenerate, reader has a sick mom, f2e2l

A beautiful story about former friends who broke apart and mend each other back together. You will probably cry but it's worth it.

“I’ve been wrong about a million times, but I’ve got one thing right.”

Oreos and Electroshock Couples Therapy (m) 🍰 by @ladyartemesia | JJK | Brooklyn 99 au, thriller/mystery, detective reader/JK, fake dating, e2l, very funny

The characterization of OC as Santiago, JK as Peralta, Jimin as Boyle, and Namjoon as Captain Holt is on point, as is the humor throughout the story.

“You and infuriating precinct playboy Jeon Jungkook go undercover to lure out a killer targeting engaged couples. Literally nothing goes according to plan…”

re: untitled Series (m) ♥️ by @to-star-lake | JJK ft. KTH | arranged marriage, CEO JK and reader, CFO TH, e2l

This story begins angsty and will make you cry, but it's a classic for a reason. If only we were all so loved.

You think your hate is mutual, but Jungkook has only ever wanted you.

Some Way, Some How (m) ♥️ by @1kook | JJK | buisnesswoman reader, mechanic JK, bf2l, i2l

Despite the overall light nature and humor in this story, there's just something so raw about the mutual yearning and desperation in this story that's hard to forget.

A classic bf2l story featuring a boss bitch reader, mechanic Jungkook, and ex-bf for 62 hours Taehyung.

Stay Series by @lolabangtan | JJK | ongoing, college au, fake dating, former popular girl reader, swimmer JK, e2l

It's not easy to stop following others' expectations for you and start living your life for yourself. Sometimes being hurt means you also inadvertently hurt others – watch as OC begins on the path of healing and acceptance and drags JK along on the way.

You know how sometimes you've disliked someone for so long that you can't remember the reason in the first place? Maybe you should give Jungkook another chance – if not out of the kindness of your heart, then for $250.

Super Series (m) by @littlemisskookie | JJK | superhero au, supervillian reader, superhero JK, e2l, very cute

When you think about it, this is basically a coworkers to lovers story. You just happen to wreak havoc while your arch nemesis is there to stop you.

“Ironically, some of your best moments are with your archnemesis, the man who you literally fight every other day. But the two of you might be closer than you originally thought.”

The Art of the Rom Com by @gukyi | JJK | college au, film major reader/JK, e2l, all of the rom com cliches

In which Jungkook always has an argument at hand about why he's right – about his interpretations of films for class discussions, about his views on love, and about how your love story will be different from your past.

When you are paired up for your final film class project, Jungkook is determined to show you what love truly is.

The Cul-de-Sac Cons Series (m) by @bonvoyagenoona | JHS, JJK | covert au, a bit of a mystery/thriller, criminal OC & JK, CEO HS

I usually avoid stories with infidelity because it really bothers me. I think the reason I was okay with it here is that to some extent it feels like her new life is a temporary identity (like all of her past ones), and everyone has a happy ending. The world- and character building in this series is very imaginative.

You thought that everyone from your old life either was dead or hunting you down. What happens when your past finally catches up with you?

[words-for-holland]

Always Yours

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Sometimes dating a celebrity is hard...but Tom & Y/N have always said no matter what happens they could get through anything. Some angst but a lot of fluff.

A/N: So sorry for leaving yall hanging! Life is just crazy right now and this blog needs a lot of TLC tbh!! Also ehh I def dont think this was my best work but enjoy?

“Oof” Y/N lets out as she plops on to her boyfriend who was lying comfortable on the couch. Tom groaned at the impact with a cheeky smile on his face, his arms instantly wrapping around Y/N’s frame.

“Y’know..there are empty seats right there.” The soft brown-eyed boy gestured with the flick of his thick head as Y/N raises her eyes looking down at him, pretending to be slightly offended.

“Oh I see how it is then. It’s cool...Ill just cuddle with Tessa instead. I know she would welcome me with open arms instead of—” As she slowly starts getting off his chest, Tom is quick to pull her back in, securing her with his strong arms. “No baby, I was just kidding. I want you right here, and Im never letting you go.” he pleas.

The only thing Y/N could manage was letting out a fit of giggles into his chest, a sound that Tom adored and would do absolutely anything to hear every minute of every day. They stay like this for a while enjoying the feeling of each other as they both run their hands into each others hair, the feeling of their chests moving up and down, the subtle thumps of their heartbeats, and the little slips of adoration that came out of their mouths. It was peaceful. A moment that nobody could really take a way because it was theirs.

Y/N casually pulls up her phone, and scrolls through Twitter when she noticed a particular tweet on her timeline. Her eyebrows furrow, as she read the 160 character message.

Why Tom Holland Should Be With Aaliyah Cole and Dump Y/N: A Thread.

She knew it wasnt a good idea to open up the thread. She knew very well that everything within the shallow string of tweets would be a complete waste of her time because it was made up by fans who just wanted to satisfy their fantasy of shipping Tom with his co-star. Who can blame them? They always had great chemistry, but it was part of the job and thats all it would ever be.

“You’re awfully quiet.” Tom murmurs, as he places soft kisses at the crown of her head. “Whats going on?” She was lucky her phone was facing away from Tom, quickly closing the app and pretending to be on one of her many tabs in Safari.

“Mmm..nothing.” Y/N lies softly, a tight-lipped smiled plastered on her face.

“Absolute bullocks. Youre not a very good liar.” He chuckles. “Tell me darling. Whats on your mind?”

Y/N rolls her eyes in response. She’s heard that comment one too many times in her life from everyone shes known. After not giving it much thought, she gives in, sighing heavily. “Dont judge me for what Im about to say.”

“Mmm...I think it might depend on wha— Ow” Tom reacts as he playfully rubs the side of his chest that Y/N hit. “Okay too soon for jokes. Go on.”

Again, Y/N sighs as she props herself up. “Its just ... well a lot of your fans keeps talking about wanting you to get with Aaliyah.” She looks down trying not to make eye contact with Tom, who she’d imagine was looking at her with annoyance.

Tom rolls his eyes at the ridiculousness. Not so much at Y/N but the fact that some of his fans just didnt want to accept the fact that he was happy with Y/N. If it had to come from his mouth to stop the stupid rumors and give his girlfriend peace, then hed gladly yell it from the rooftops for everyone to hear. “Thats it Im making a statement about it.”

Y/N’s eyes widen in fear, scrambling to prevent him from grabbing his phone on the table next him. “No no no no.” She repeatedly declines. “You’ll only make it worse.”

“Darling, Im not going to stand here and watch you get all insecure because of their delusional ship.”

“Yeah well Im not gonna be the reason your fans hate me because Im getting in the way of your friendship with Aaliyah Cole.” She fires back.

Tom was ready to open his mouth only to be cut off once again. “And you know better. That is how your fans will always see it.”

“Okay, are you done?” He calmly asked, cautiously observing her. Rarely did Y/N ever get worked up about anything, but when she had her tangents, Tom always made sure she got off everything she needed to say before he becomes her voice of reason.

“Yeah, I guess.” she says feeling defeated. “Look its whatever and Im tired, can we just let this go and forget this whole conversation even happened?”

Tom was unconvinced, but didnt want to push her further. So reluctantly, he gave in and wrapped his arms around Y/N as they both tried to lull themselves to sleep.

***

Y/N wasnt sure how she ended up in the Tube. It was strange how the lights flickered off the rusted tile floor. The train was no where to be seen, but off to the side of the railroads was pitch black, she could hardly see beyond. To her right she noticed herself standing in the corner of the room, and to her surprise Aaliyah was there. Her milk chocolate kissed skin, and fashionably long frizzy hair dropped down past her shoulders. Her figure long and poised, as she wore a rain jacket and sweats. An outfit only she could pull off and make it look like she was a model for Vogue. Aasliyah smiles brightly at Y/N.

“Hey Y/N.” She says cheerfully as a genuine friend would.

To Y/N’s surprise she greeted her back in the same tone. “Hey Aaliyah...uhh whats going on?” Y/N wasnt sure if she wanted the answer of how they both ended up in the Tube or if she truly wanted to know how her day went.

“Well Im getting ready to present at the Oscars.” She replies, a smile plastered as if she was so excited about it, almost too excited like she was keeping a secret.

“Really? Oh my god, that’s amazing! Im so proud of you Aaliyah! Who are you taking?”

Aaliyah pauses for a few moment looking back and forth, making sure no one else was around. “Okay can you keep a secret?” She whispered.

Y/N nods her head slowly, not having the slightest clue of what was going on. “Im taking Tom. I think he really likes me, and well...I like him too! Do you think maybe I should ask him when we go?” Aaliyah asked genuinely. It was almost like she had no recollection of Y/N and Tom being a couple. “I think we would look good together. Everyone is already making rumors and ships about us.”

Y/N backs aways lowly only to bump into a broad figure. As she turns around she sees Tom, emotionless and almost sad. “Y/N.” He speaks out. “I dont think this is going to work out. Im leaving you.”

Y/N’s heart quickens, and her breaths become shorter as she tries to find a way to run. Running and running into the darkness, until all she could hear was Tom’s faint voice calling out her name.

***

“Y/N! Y/N! Baby wake up please.” Tom cries as he gently shakes his girlfriend from her disturbed sleep.

Quickly Y/N opens her eyes and clutches on to Toms hoodie firmly. Back home, and in Toms arms. It was a dream was all she thought. A sigh of relief escaping from her mouth.

“Darling...” he speaks softly, worried about his girlfriend. “Are you okay?”

Y/N looks up at him and nods frantically. “Mmm..bad dream.”

“Yeah it seemed like it. You were so frightened...I was scared. What happened?” He’s looking at her, trying to read her saddened eyes, wanting to desperately understand what scared her so he could make it all go away for her.

Y/N looks down at her fiddling hands, as she sits on the couch. “I uhh...” she lets out a chuckle, thinking of the ridiculousness of it all. “I uhh...dreamed about Aaliyah going to the oscars and saying how she loved you and how you two are perfect for each other. When I turned around I saw you but you werent happy and said you were leaving me.”

Tom doesnt say a word, all he could think about was how sorry he felt to put Y/N in this position. Though both of them knew, It wasnt Toms fault, or anyone’s for that matter. Feelings are feelings and that was okay. No human being was ever born perfect and without insecurities.

Y/N always tried to be a good sport with situations like this knowing every shippers theory and evidence were hardly ever true, but at some point there was only so much she could take before it all came out like an oil spill. Maybe it was a sign that she wasnt good enough to be with Tom if half of his fanbase thought this way as well.

Tom cradled her into his arms again, holding her tightly and kissing the top of her head. “Darling, I know youre still doubting yourself about all of this, but please believe me when I tell you that I love you so so much and no matter what happens...Im always yours.” He whispers gently in her ear. “It was only a dream and these ridiculous rumors and theories are just that. No one woman in the world could ever make me feel the way I feel for you.”

Y/N blinks softly, as she stares into space. Afraid and in a weird way ashamed, its funny how something so small and so minimal could affect her self-esteem so greatly. Tom gently brings her head up, so her eyes can meet his. He rolls his thumb on the bottom of her soft lips. “Hey, I love you.” Tom smiles.

Time stopped for the both of them the moment Y/N looked into his eyes, she felt safe. All the bad words and thoughts slowly disappear. Tom was right, none of the things that anyone said about their relationship mattered. She knew Tom loved her, and how much she truly loved him. Isnt that enough? Of course not. It was more than enough. A smile slowly forming on Y/N’s face. “Theres that smile I love so much.” He comments.

“Im sorry, for being such a —”

“No. Its okay. You have a right to feel the way you did.” He picks up her hand and leaves a gentle kiss.

“I love you so much Tom.” She says pressing her lips to his. “I dont deserve you.”

“Darling, its me that doesnt deserve you. Im always yours.” Tom proclaims as he kisses her back.

[bangtanfancamp]

∴ summary: After spending a gloomy afternoon  trying to get out of your own head alone , you finally seek out your boyfriend for help

∴ masterlist

∴ one shot

∴ pairing: Kim Namjoon x reader

∴ word count: 2k

∴ rating: pg-13

∴ genre: soft angst, comfort, established relationship

∴ warnings: oc is struggling with something akin to depression, it’s alluded to but not explicitly stated

∴ author’s note: this is incredibly self indulgent and was written in one go. I’ll edit later. I’d rather have it here to share sooner in case anyone needs it as much as me.

─────────────────────

“Joonie, what are you doing? Are you busy?” Your voice comes out small as you peak around the corner into his office, sweater pawed knuckles sneaking around the edge of the door frame.

He doesn’t look up at first. Perhaps you really were too quiet. Or maybe he’s just that immersed in his book. It’s not a cover you’ve seen before so it very well may be the latter. You know how he is when he has a new thing to get lost in. Ever your astronaut adrift, exploring the moons just beyond whatever new world he’s found.

He looks so at home now. Cozy in his den of words and letters. Perfectly domestic amidst lofty thoughts and paragraphs. His skin is mostly bare today, his coordinated tank top and shorts exposing a golden expanse of toned arms, long legs . They’re folded up and crossed, a little boy lost in wonder as he sits on his futon.

His hair is a warm chestnut this week, fringe too long around the lashes but too short to pull back. The way it refuses to cooperate when he brushes it out of his eyes, trickling silkily, stubbornly back into place, exactly where it wants to be, makes you want to chuckle.

He still hasn’t noticed you’re there. Too far gone in whatever his newest philosophy is to notice the way you study the dip of his furrowed brow, how it juxtaposes against the relief of his shadowed dimples, smiling even as he frowns. He finds so much pleasure in being studious— just for fun. No matter how much concentration it takes. You’ve always admired that about him. Admired everything about him really.

Clearing your throat, though you hate to interrupt him, you try again. 

“Joonie?”

 Somehow it’s even quieter than before, and as he turns another reverent page, you know you’ll have to physically intervene to interrupt him. You sigh. You hate to break the spell. He loves days like this—with the rain trickling down the window’s glass casting shadows on his focused face— he’s so happy to read when it rains.

He leans forward then without looking up to take a sip of his Earl grey, bumbling when the steam unexpectedly fogs his glasses. He laughs at himself, folding his book so it splays across the seat to mark his place and removing his glasses. It’s the first time he’s looked up. He spots you then, his face splitting into the smoothest “there’s my girl” smile you’ve ever seen.

“Hey… how long have you been standing there?” His voices comes low, warm, soothes something in you that desperately needs rest.

“Long enough to see you blind yourself with tea, it seems.” You try to smile back, but it’s a weak, floppy thing. Your cheeks can’t seem to commit so it falls a bit too flat. His brows pinch when he sees it. Something’s amiss.

“Hey… are you okay?” His inscrutable eyes analyze you, and you let him. Too tired to resist or put up a fight.

“It’s not my day, joonie.” Your voice is pitiful, even to your own ears. You’d normally wince at sounding like this in front of anyone else. But honestly, it’s okay. It’s Namjoon you’re with. You don’t have to play games or hide things. Not here. Not with him.

“Yeah?” His eyes catch yours as his palms rub the tops of his thighs. It’s an invitation. You know the gesture by now.

“Yeah… again. There have been so many of these lately,” you say, crossing the room to him, his arms unfolding to welcome you into them. “They come too often and stay too long. They’re terrible house guests. I’m tired of them, joon. I can’t seem to get rid of them.”

You’re scooped against him now, head on the space between his neck and his chest, fingers twisted into his tank top, bum in his lap, knees tucked up til you’re as small as you can get. There’s a broad palm of his on your back, fingertips on his other hand traveling the length of your arm in tender caresses as his cheek rests atop your head.

“Maybe we should start charging them rent. I bet even they can’t afford to pay that in this economy.” He offers the idea solemnly, fully committed to carrying out the metaphor that your mental health really is just an unfortunate airbnb plagued with hideously mannered squatters.

“You know, I love that about you, Joon.”

“My inability to pay rent?”

You nuzzle a sappy no into the heat of his neck,” dummy, your very real ability to never minimize things that are hard to me.”

The dip of his chest as he exhales is oddly soothing. It makes you feel like you’re being rocked and god if you don’t need to be cradled right now. “Things  have been really hard lately, haven’t they?” He wonders aloud.

“It isn’t just my perception?” You look up, eyes entirely too pitiful, too round to belong to a functioning adult. No, Namjoon’s heart goes soft as he realizes he’s looking at the eyes of a very scared four year old you. The haunted gaze of an innocent girl who never got told everything would be alright. Even without knowing any more than that, it makes him want to cry.

“No, my sweet girl, it’s not.” Closing his eyes, he presses somber lips to your forehead, scooping you close to shield you— from the world, from yourself, from all the insidious things that took root in you so long ago you’re not even sure how they got in. His wide hands grip you tighter, a feeble attempt to help hold you altogether.

It’s silent then. A few beats of quiet, only disrupted by the clumsy clatter of irreverent raindrops on glass. His caress stays steady against your soft sleeves, his languid fingers perpetually in motion as he attempts to soothe the wounds that sit just beneath your skin.

You look up at him again, unsure what you’ll find. 

You almost cry when you see the gentleness in his eyes. No judgment anywhere within them. Just something kind that stretches into the lines his eyes carve as he smiles. How you itch to gently peel his horn rimmed glasses off the tip of his button nose and kiss it. Bless him.

God, you don’t know why he’s so nice to you, but you’re so glad that he is. The smile you give back to him is wobbly, trembly, poorly constructed— but so so sincere that it makes your sad eyes shine. He bumps your nose with his, burying himself against your forehead as you cocoon into him.

You want to ask him what he’s reading, listen intently to him as he tells you all about it, but you know you can’t. You can’t decipher anything today. It all feels too heavy. You can’t carry the weight of anything new with hands already full. At this point, you’ve lived in this soft hoodie of his , the one you stole after his tour two years back because it smelled like him, for the past 3 days. You don’t even have the energy to change. With that kind of retention rate, seems there’s no point in asking your brilliant professor to explain anything.

Still, it’s always so nice to hear his voice. Especially with your ear to his chest like this. 

So you ask anyway.

“Will you read to me, Joonie? Life always feels better when you’re reading.” You press your face deep into the copper of his neck, an open mouthed kiss placed against his pulse.

“It’s all kind of theoretical,” he chuckles. He’s bashful. If holding you weren’t occupying his hands, you know they’d be nervously fiddling with the back of his neck. A nerdy boy with a too big brain hesitant to share his discoveries.

“Is it good though? You’ve already read Jung to me, and I stayed awake through that. I think I deserve more credit.” You poke his throat with your nose. You’re not genuinely affronted, it’s just nice to remind him you're competent too. Sometimes.

His sweet chuckle then is earthy and rich, all dark molasses. “True. You actually gave pretty good feedback for that too. Fine. Didn’t mean to underestimate you. Just… bear with me if it feels odd? I haven't read it before. I can’t vouch for it all yet.”

“Fine by me. I’m just here for the cuddles and my Kim Namjoon audiobook.”

He can feel your smile against his skin. It makes him press you just that extra little bit tighter against him, exhaling soft through his nose when he feels you return the gesture.

Scooping up his paperback, he adjusts his glasses where they’ve slipped down his nose, clearing his throat to project like the narrator he claims he’s not but loves to be. He’s quiet for a few more beats. You can hear pages rustling as you sink against his skin. You imagine he must be trying to find where he was when you interrupted, or perhaps searching for a passage that seems apropos. Which he chooses, you don’t know, but you can feel when he settles, just before his caramel voice sweetens the thin air of the room.

“It's the same with the wound in our hearts,” he begins. “ We need to give them our attention so that they can heal. Otherwise the wounds continue to cause us pain. Sometimes for a very long time. We're all going to get hurt. But here's the trick - they also serve an amazing purpose. 

When our hearts are wounded that's when they open. We grow through pain. We grow through difficult situations. That's why you have to embrace each and every difficult thing in your life.”

You aren’t sure when your eyes opened, not sure when they began to glaze over or when you started to cry. But you did. And you are. The salty things dripping down against Namjoon’s silken skin. Your sweatered knuckles try to knock them away, but to no avail. Your cheeks are still a wet mess and now his collarbone is too.

“Joon, what is this? What are you reading?”

“Oh… um, it’s— terribly long title but— Into the Magic Shop: A Neurosurgeon's Quest to Discover the Mysteries of the Brain and the Secrets of the Heart. Isn't that a mouthful?” his laugh is self deprecating, small, but still the most beautiful sound.

God, you hate how sensitive and soft you are right now. You don’t want to be sitting here at 4pm in your boyfriend’s lap crying over a paragraph in a book you've never even heard of before, but here you are.

“ is that… what the whole book is about ?”

“You know, I don’t know. I haven’t read it all yet. Jackson recommended it, I’m just now getting to it. Why - do you not like it? I can put this down. Read you something else if this is too heavy. You always like the poetry. I can grab that one anthology you like.”

You can feel as he starts to shuffle beneath you, eager to track down new reading material for you, afraid he’s scared you off, when the fluttering weight of your palm tethers him to his spot.

“No, stay. Keep reading. I want to hear the rest.”

You can practically hear him smile. Relieved. Can feel his dimples manifest without even trying. He kisses your hair, tilts your chin up to kiss you too. The complexity of bergamot and black tea making his supple lips even more bewitching than normal. The window in the corner is cracked open, the humidity it leaks in making your skin sticky as you lean against him.

He’s lovely like this. The rain soaked air mixing with his natural scent, a broad hand on your chin, warm thumb beneath your lip as you mold pliant into his kiss. He ends it with a peck to your lips, a tap of his nose to your nose, before hoisting you so close against him you just may fuse together.

And he reads. He reads until he’s exhausted. Til the rain has stopped, and you’ve drifted to rest pressed against the skin of his chest.

He folds the book shut once your breathing has stilled, his thumb marking the page as he tips you both to lay down sideways. As he extends his pinprick tingling legs for the first time in ages, you hoist yourself around him in your sleep like a koala, and he chuckles. That’s usually his move.

He kisses your hair then, traipsing fingers tenderly through the escaped bits of it that brush across your cheeks. He wonders if you know how madly in love with you he is. How often he’s wondered what he’d do without you. Today, like most days lately, your light was dim, but still kelvins brighter than anyone else’s.

He sends a silent thank you to whatever deity arranged things in such a way that he can hold you to his chest like this as the daylight saving’s darkness floods his studio office. You seemed so sad today, but he knows it won’t last forever. It’ll pass. It always does. He’ll just hold you until it does. And then some.

[delu-jean]

𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧

Oikawa x (fem!/reader) -> Angst -> 3.8k 

“She told me that she loved me by the water fountain. She told me that she loved me and she didn’t love him. And that was really lovely cause it was innocent, but now she has a cup with something else in it…”

Notes: This was for my 100 follower event! I will be closing it soon, but until then, if you’d like to request for an HQ boy, or any from the fandoms I write for, please feel free to request! 

-> Also, this one was a sad one. I recommend listening to the song, that way, you get the references made! 

-> Enjoy the Oikawa angst! ^^ 

“The water fountain…” he whispered. His lips were slightly ajar, parched, yearning for your presence. He was also frail, frail from the lack of composure, along with the crackling of his heart. 

“She told me that she loved me...by...by the water fountain,” he stammered, still not able to face the reality he was met with. 

“And she told me that she loved me...and she didn’t love him,” where did it all go wrong, when did it all go wrong, and why did it all go wrong? You told him that you loved him by that water fountain, but the only thing that seemed to flow...were the tears from him. 

---

You both were fairly young when getting together. Middle school, eventually led to highschool, and highschool...well...led to college. Oikawa and you were optimistic. Though he would be practicing (lots and lots), you wouldn’t be too far from him. Just a few dorms away. Not only that, but you both would see each other...every now and then You both were ecstatic. A new scenery, a new year, and a new chance for the both of you to experience the life of freshmen. Nothless, together. You both would be doing it together, closer than ever. 

Tooru was more than happy that you would get to cheer him on in college. It was always his dream to have a pretty girl praise him from the crowd, especially at the college of his dreams. The prime of his time, the best of his years, or...so he thought. 

When he brought you to his first practice, he didn’t like the sight as much as he thought he would. One of the middle blockers, Haru Tamagashi, was too...too friendly. He winked at you maybe three times during the practice. Making small flirtatious gestures, such as: smiling, waving, and indicating that all he wanted was your number. Of course, Oikawa was pissed, beyond that actually. But he decided to focus instead of fusing on his first day. 

That is...he tried to focus. At first, his attention was directed towards Tamagashi, and him alone. He had trusted you enough to know that you wouldn’t have responded...right? Even so, mid way...he couldn’t have helped but think of the thought: “what if?” What if you actually hadn’t deflected him, but were instead...enjoying his attention? He felt horrible for looking back, knowing that if he was wrong...he’d be the asshole for thinking twice. But unfortunately for him, he wasn’t...he was right during the time he wished he hadn’t been. 

The setter watched as your eyes followed the gentlemen. No hesitation whatsoever. It seemed as if you were interested in the game set before you. Not the match of course, but instead, the show Tamagashi had entertained you with. You yourself had waved back to him, smiling while also grabbing your phone. You were taking a video of the game, but Oikawa knew that it wasn’t of the court. No. It was of...him. The way your fingers pinched the screen, to the way your phone had moved to match his directions. It was obvious to say the least. Occasionally, you would’ve pointed the camera to Oikawa, smiling as he’d give you a frown. Only for you to return to recording the star of the show...dragging his morale as he’d eventually get hit in the face. Something that would never happen...especially if Iwaizumi was off court. 

“Oikawa, get your head out of the gutter!” 

“...” 

“Oikawa, did you hear me!?-” 

“Hey, pops, let him off the hook would ya?” Tamagashi said, while placing a hand on Oikawa’s shoulder. 

“I, how dare you-” 

“It’s the first day back, we could all use less of the hollering.” 

“Tch, five laps for you.” 

“Damn, alright. Welp, at least I got you off the hook,” the boy smirked, as Oikawa’s expression...wouldn’t change.  

“Well, see you soon. Also, I hope I can see you too!” he shouted while looking at you. Only for you to nod shyly. Oikawa could’ve sworn he saw a tint in your cheeks, but regardless, he was too upset to confront it. Even then, maybe he was over analyzing it. The dude didn’t know that you were his girlfriend, and after all, maybe he was just being self conscious. 

He was upset that he hadn’t trusted you at all during the game, and felt bad that he instead made you seem...villainy. Even though it might’ve just been his head all along. You see, Oikawa was the type of person who enjoyed praise. It fueled his ego alright, but in all truth, he had never felt like he embodied those expectations. 

Constantly pushing himself to be better, believing that he never was really that good. In this situation, he had thought that maybe those feelings...had come into play. Maybe the reason why he was thinking so much...was because Tamagashi seemed like everything he wasn’t. An outgoing, down to earth, charismatic person. He also might've been an even better player than he himself was. Not only that, but did he mention his hair? It looked amazing on him, along with the uniform. The creases folded on his body, each making his figure look...well, great. You could see his toned structure from a mile away, along with his sharp smile. One which struck confidence, and intimidation. 

And you...you looked like you could get with a guy like that. He seemed like a genuine person, and you were a genuine lady. One of which deserved a catch like him. He wouldn’t have denied that he pictured the image in his head. It felt sickening that he even brung up the vision, but even so...Oikawa tried pushing the thought away, thinking: 

‘Tch..whatever. He’s not that good looking anyways, Plus, he doesn’t know we’re dating...so I should tell him afterwards. But...that was nice of him to do. Yeah, you know what...maybe we could all be friends? Me, Y/n, and him?’ 

Maybe you all could’ve been, if only things had flowed a little different. If only the stream hadn’t gone off course, but instead, moved along to the water fountain. One with a secure, and sturdy future. One which wouldn’t have rusted, and collapsed in the moments to follow. 

“I’m back!” 

“Oh...you seemed tired,” he’d say, watching as Haru nodded. 

“Yeah, the old geezer isn’t fun sometimes...but he’s a nice person, I can guarantee that-” 

“Hey~” you’d smile, looking in Tooru's direction. He then lifted his hand, a soft, but saddened grin engraved onto his face. Only for it to turn into a sudden frown, as he then watched Tamagashi wave instead. 

“Well hello, doll~” you then chuckled, moving a strand to the back of your ear. Oikawa had only seen that on days where he’d made your heart sway, and yet there he was, watching as another man had done so instead. 

“Hey babe,” he’d say casually, catching your attention as you approached him. 

“Hi...Oikawa.” 

‘Oikawa?...not sweetie, or?-’ 

“Ahh, do you two know each other?” 

‘Now’s my chance.’ 

“Yeah, she’s my girlf-” 

“Haru, am I correct!? Thanks for doing that, I thought it was really nice for you to stand up for him like that.”

“Honestly, don’t please. It’s just something that I would do for anyone. Besides, I bet that you would’ve done the same for me, right Oikawa?” 

“Hm?...ah, I guess,” Tooru was now staring at you. He gave a stern look. One fueled with anger, and confusion. Yet it also had hints of remorse, and grief. Why had you cut him off, why hadn’t you called him by the name you usually did, and why were you putting the effort to talk with him?...Tamagashi? Just what exactly was running through that head of yours. One of which he thought he knew both in...and out. 

“Well...we have to go. So let’s leave Y/n,” he then grabbed your wrist, practically dragging you out of the arena. 

“Ah, see you two later then...I guess?” 

“B-bye Haru!” 

“Byee~” 

---

“What was that!?”

“What was what-”

“Why didn’t you call him kawa-kun, or baby like you usually do?”

“Tooru...you’re thinking a little much, don’t you think?-”

“Why did you cut me off when I was going to tell him that you’re my girlfriend?” 

“Love, I didn’t mean to-”

“But why did you!?” 

“Look, I was just trying to thank him. Plus, we needed to get going. So I thought to make it quick so that we could,” he’d then frown even more, not able to tell if you had told the truth, or, if you had made up excuses to get yourself out of this. He thought he knew what went on in that pretty head of yours, but at that moment, he wasn’t sure of what roamed around in that foreign land. The land, or rather...place he had called his home. 

He thought that your mind would’ve at least had a crevasse. One especially built, and reserved for him. One of which would’ve considered how he felt, or how the situation might’ve been interpreted. After all, not only did his thoughts roam endlessly for you, but so did the space in his heart. Regardless, it seemed as if it didn’t as you proceeded to tell him reason, after reason. 

“He was being friendly, and so was I.” 

“He’s your teammate, and I think it’s nice for me to get to know them.” 

“I love you regardless, so don’t worry.” 

“Regardless?...” What was that supposed to mean? Even though he would’ve wanted to question, his mouth just...wouldn’t allow it. So because of that, he dismissed the matter. Something he wished he didn’t do. 

---

Time passed and though he hated to admit it, he didn’t see both you, and haru, interacting as much as he did the first time. Though, it should’ve relieved him, it most definitely did not. Two things had him tied behind his back. One of them made him feel like a complete jerk for over-thinking, and the second was...that his thoughts had still made him over-think. For some reason, he still suspected the both of you. You both had minimal contact, making it seem like you never talked...but that was the thing, why would you have both stopped your talks? Just what exactly would have sparked such a thing? Still, maybe he was just over thinking. 

Regardless, he wanted to get the thought out of his head. He despised that it still lingered there, and that it wouldn’t be on it’s way. He hated the thought of confronting you. After all of that time, that trust should have been established. And even so, he still wanted to assure himself that it was there. So, he sat you down one day. Sometime during the winter where the snowflakes had fallen, along with his heart attached to many strings. Ones which you had placed, and ones which you would remove. 

“Hey babe-...Y/n.” 

“Hey Kawa...it’s been a while since we last met up…”

“Hm?...really?” the both of you hadn’t talked during the time period. Yes, you attended his matches, practices, etc...but then once he had finished you both made your separate ways. On the days where you both had expected to meet, one was busy, and the other was left on their own. Not making your situation any better. 

“Yeah...a month or two I think?” 

“Oh..I’m sorry about that,” he said, with a gruffed tone in his voice. He didn’t sound like he was doing too well, whereas you seemed just fine. “Why was that?” he wondered, well...it wouldn’t take him too long to find out “why” soon. 

“Hey baby…” a name which he hadn’t called you in so long, felt foreign to his mouth. Even though it should’ve felt...natural...along with your response. 

“Mhm?” you responded, reluctantly. That reaction was one he had never seen, not only that, but it was also one he wished he’d never witnessed. 

“I’ve had this thought lingering in my mind. I know it’s a little messed up...and I might be overreacting…” 

“Yes, what is it?” you immediately said, seeming anxious at the moment. 

“Well...it’s just that...there’s nothing between you and Tamagashi, is there? Aww see, I knew it would be dumb to ask,” he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. Only your reaction...had made it plummet. 

Your eyes had widened at the statement. A cough escaped your mouth, along with a scare. One of which, also gave him a fright. There was no way he was right...especially about that out of all things. Why?...Why would you give him such a stare? Maybe it was out of surprise?...maybe even distraught that he would ever bring up such a question. One about your loyalty nonetheless. He wished he could’ve kept on making excuses, but couldn’t any longer as he then heard you say:

“N-no...where would you have heard such a thing? Did he say anything?...oh, he was probably joking. Joking is all, haha. No, I only love you silly, and you alone,” you said, to then grab his hand. 

For some reason, it felt off. The way your thumb caressed his skin, it was as if he could feel the guilt which had stroked against him. Why...why was that? He could obviously tell that you were guilty of something, but he wouldn’t confront it. Why...why was that? He obviously wasn’t up in his head, but still convinced himself he was. Why...why was that?...well...even if he didn’t have the answer, he would soon enough. In the way that he would’ve, yet wouldn’t have wanted it to be relayed. 

---

“YOU BASTARD! SO YOU HAVE BEEN GOING OUT WITH HER!?” 

“It was just a couple of kisses, besides, you have so many girls on your plate. I just took one off your hands, no biggie-” Oikawa then struck him across the cheek, furious about what he said. You weren’t just a snack anyone could take a bite out of. And heck, if you were a piece of food, you’d be a piece he’d preserve for as long as he could. One he would never touch because of the beautiful, intricate designs that were placed. 

“YOU SHIT HEAD! SHE’S MY GIRLFRIEND FOR FUCKS SAKE! EVEN IF YOU DIDN’T KNOW-” 

“Who said I didn’t?” he cocked a brow, making Oikawa widen his eyes. 

“What?...”

“The girl told me herself before coming in to kiss me.” 

“You’re lying, take it back. She would never-”

“Oh but she did. But don’t worry, she did feel bad at some point...but we were in too deep for her to back out-” 

“SHUT UP!” Oikawa then tried to punch his gut, but Haru stopped him midway. He grabbed his wrist, and held onto it firmly. 

“If anything, you should be thanking me.” 

“Thanking you!? Are you out of your mind!-” 

“Well, I am telling you the truth about your cheater of a girlfriend. Plus, I took her off your hands, so you're free to go to find someone new. I’ll let her go soon, so we both won’t have to deal with her-” 

“Shut it...shut it…” Oikawa repeated, unable to comprehend the news he had heard. 

“Please...be quiet.” 

---

“Tooru, I can explain!” 

“EXPLAIN WHAT Y/N!? THAT YOU MADE OUT WITH HIM MORE THAN ONCE!? THAT YOU DENIED MY THOUGHTS, MAKING ME FEEL AS IF I WAS WRONG!? OR THAT YOU ACTUALLY CHEATED ON ME!? I DON’T THINK YOU CAN EXPLAIN ANYTHING Y/N!” 

“You know what, MAYBE I CAN’T! AND I WAS SORRY FOR THAT!” 

“IF YOU WERE SO SORRY, THEN WHY...why did you do it?...” you then leaned against the door, not sure how to convey your thoughts. You hated the sight of Oikawa being so hurt, but you had your reasons for what you did. Though you yourself knew that conflict could’ve been avoided, you decided to plumit yourself right in it. Maybe it was because you wanted to catch his attention, or that Yamagashi had really attracted you. Regardless, what was done, was done. And you wouldn’t be one to deny such accusations aymore. 

“Look...you weren’t giving me the attention I needed...besides...Tamagashi had caught my eye.” 

“Caught your eye?...” 

“Yeah...even so...it felt wrong the first time I kissed him.” 

‘She kissed him?...so he wasn’t lying...she started things…’ 

“I told him that we were dating, and you know...I did stop myself before going any further. I truly felt lonely during the days that you were gone...and him being there, gave me comfort. In all truth, I had met him even before you introduced us. We were in the same English class...and things built up from there. 

He was just...so enticing, something I hadn’t seen for a while. But Oikawa, I still had strings attached to you, and didn’t want to throw them away recklessly. I’m sorry, I loved you, I truly did. But...that connection just...disappeared, along with the spark we used to have. I hesitated out of my affection for you, but I proceeded out of the tiredness that built up from this, us...again, I’m sorry Oikawa. I hope that,” a tear had struck down your cheek. He wanted to reach out and wipe it. Just why...why were you crying. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one tearing up? So...why were you?.... Even though that question should’ve been asked out of rage, it was instead asked out of remorse. Oikawa didn’t know how to feel at that point. He didn’t even know who he was, or...who he had been during that time given. 

All that he knew was that if you were willing to fix things, so would he. That if you ever came back to the water fountain, the one you tried so hard to build, even if the handle had rusted, he would do his best to fix it. You know, he thought to himself how he should’ve built a home for the both of you, but alas, your naive natures would’ve never sustained. He questioned if he truly was at fault, not sure as to what was what, and why exactly that was. 

“I hope that...you’ll be happy. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but yeah,” you then wiped your own tears yourself. Not wanting to add anymore emphasis to the drama at hand. You lied though. Of course you wanted him to forgive you. He was your first love after all. The only one you had grown up with. The only one you stood by. And the only one, you would truly be grateful for. But then again, you knew you didn’t deserve it (it being his forgiveness). 

Although you didn’t regret your choices, you most definitely did regret hurting him. If only talking had been an option, would you have taken it? Well...you would’ve assumed no. Being that it was one of the few options given. Still, watching him stand limply, tore your heart ever so slightly. Reminding you that he was both the sweet, and innocent boy you had hopelessly fell in love with. Not only that, but he was also the distant, and maturing man you had fallen out of love with. 

“You...have you forgotten what you told me by that water fountain?” 

“What do you mean-” 

“The one we built together...have you forgotten?...” In all truth, you didn’t have any recollection because all that you had remembered...was the empty home the both of you shared. One with no running water, nonetheless a water fountain. One built out of your young, and blinded dreams. One which was full of loneliness, and miscommunication. One which was full of “love,” and loads of wishful dreaming. One which you would always remember. 

“No Tooru...all I remember...is that empty place we called a home. One made when we were both naive, and one I had left when I matured. I hope you can do the same, and that...you have a great day,” you then started to walk away as he stood there, stunned. 

Instead of asking him to fix things, you instead deflected things. Running away as he spoke. Even so, even if it was only a wish, one of which he’d pray for, he would do his best to make it come true. He tried one last time. He jolted your direction, grabbed your wrist, and started pulling you in. Whispering in your ear: 

“I know that it’s only a wish, and that we’re not standing by the water fountain...but you told me that you loved me by that water fountain. It’s a shame that your cup...now has something else in it,” you then pushed him off you, but he wouldn’t let you go as he held your for the last time. 

Had Tamagashi held you the same way he did? He wouldn’t know, and in all honesty, wouldn’t have cared. He was too lost in his head to even think of the guy, and only thought of you. If only things had been different, would you have come back to him? To the place you both called a home? Sure, it might’ve started when you both were young, but it would’ve stood stronger with the years to come. 

Well...he would’ve never got to know, because things...would’ve never been different. He should’ve built a home with a fountain for you both, but he was too young to think such a thought. Just like how you were so young, too young to feel as lonely as you did. The moment that you told him you were in love, he was…: 

“Too young...I was too young,” eventually, he did let go. Not just of you, but the thought that you both could return to what you both had. There was no returning. If the handle was broken, what could he have done? Fixing one would need all parts, and if you were one of the essential keys, well...even with the right bolts, and screws, ones that could have replaced you, still wouldn’t have mattered. You missing, would never fix a thing. It could never make that fountain whole, regardless of the patches which tried to stitch up the flood. One of which would eternally flow...never ending...just like his love for you. 

He glanced at you one time. Just one last time would he stare at his sweet Y/n. The girl who had stuck through with him, through thick and thin. The only person who knew, and loved him for him. And the only woman, who had truly broken his heart. Not caring for him one bit while she tore it all apart. 

“You’re right...we were too young,” he said, glancing at the floor beneath him. 

“Yes we were, and I was right indeed.” 

---

“She couldn’t be at home at the night time because, it made her feel alone-” he choked on his sentence. Though he should’ve been fine, he wasn’t really. He had tried to shield himself with his pride, but it wasn’t working the way he had intended. Regardless, Oikawa realized how the distance between your hearts...was more distant than the distance between your dorms. He thought that moving colleges would’ve made you drift, but in reality, it was the blameless nature, and the naive mindsets you both had. Those innocent gestures...had turned into a guilty, and corrupted bondage. The bond you had both shared was one he would always remember. The only one which had reminded him: 

“That we’re not standing by the water fountain.” 

@glorii-chan @iworshipyelena @tsukkisaurousrex​

[shimmershae]

So.  I have some more thoughts.  Shocking?  Yeah, I know, lol.

Let’s see if I can figure out how to purge what’s inside of my overactive brain and have it make some semblance of sense, shall we?  

Hmm.  

Where to start, where to start?  

Okay.  So I think it’s safe to say that the flashbacks pretty quickly establish that Daryl has essentially been set adrift.  He’s been cast back, in some ways by his own choosing, into a solitary searching life that speaks to his past.  He has no anchor anymore, no touching stone--whether that be Rick, who’s presumed dead, or Carol, who’s chosen by default to leave him behind and try to make a new family in Ezekiel and Henry.  

That’s important.  Because until this season?  Until he really matured and assumed, grudgingly or otherwise, the mantle of leadership of the communities?  

Daryl was a follower.  He took his cues from other stronger personalities.  Other people more quick to voice and own their opinions, right or wrong.  Like Rick.  And Merle before him.  

That’s not to say Daryl hasn’t had anything of value to say or add to the communities or to his relationships.  He has and he did.  Remember back at the Prison how Carol told him he was going to have to live with the love?  Daryl was just beginning to find his voice, so to speak.  He was emerging, even if they were only baby steps at first, from other seemingly more formidable shadows, and learning even then how to be more of a leader that people looked up to even if he was still content to be a follower.  

Being a follower was what he was comfortable with and I’m making some assumptions here, but I’d wager that in his abusive past with his old man, in that household first with Merle then on his own, being a follower and sticking to the safety of the periphery is probably what kept him alive.  Being a follower minimized conflict then, I’m sure.  Being a follower when he met up with and eventually connected with Rick and the rest of Team Family was probably the safest way for him to make emotional connections.  

I’m rambling.  I know it and I’m sorry.  It’s what I do.  Ramble, lol.  

Here.  I’m going to place the rest of this underneath a cut because I got more winding words than I have wind and most of ya’ll have patience.  

With Rick gone, with Carol off trying her damndest to live a fairy tale, Daryl floundered.  For all intents and purposes, he was left without any direction, nobody to take his cues from emotionally or otherwise.  

I mean, he literally made ever-widening circles searching for Rick, didn’t he?  Circles have no end point.  They have no real destination.  Not really.  Daryl essentially lived in a spin cycle of pain and regret and inability to really and truly connect with anybody during those years spent searching for Rick--especially since the person he arguably felt closest to and most comfortable with, Carol, basically decided those past connections Daryl was so desperate to find again were too painful for her and attempted to move on.  

He wasn’t emotionally equipped to or stable enough (perhaps still internally dealing with his anger and angst over his torture and imprisonment by Negan at that point in time) to put in the hard work to reestablish those fraying bonds on his own and the man basically lost the plot.  His world narrowed down to this latest search.  This search for a body.  For closure.  For a new purpose perhaps?  

And you know, the man had to be tired.  In some way or another?  He’s probably been searching his entire life.  It’s kind of what followers do.  They look for meaning outside themselves because they don’t feel like they’re enough.  

So then Dog, in the form of this happy, accepting, affectionate puppy appears out of nowhere.  He’s a welcome distraction and knowing Daryl’s propensity to try to reunite the lost with those they love, he started a new little search.  

That led him to Leah. 

Leah, who was alone.  Like him.  Leah, who knew how to survive.  Like him.  Leah, who was stuck in a place of grief.  Like him.  

Leah, who--and I don’t really feel like I’m going out on too far or precarious limb here considering how many parallels they literally slapped us in the face with during this episode--reminded him of someone he felt he couldn’t have, not even her friendship anymore because by her choosing to ‘be there’ for Ezekiel and Henry and the Kingdom she was always leaving Daryl behind and that’s a pattern we’ve all long suspected has really caused hurt for Daryl even if he’s long ‘accepted’ and dealt with it with stoicism.  

Boy, they really blew the lid off that issue didn’t they?  Oh, it was done rather quietly and in a surprisingly controlled manner, but the hurt it caused?  The tears and emotion it elicited was brought about with an almost surgical precision that stunned Carol, but I digress.  

My point is?  Daryl?  Innate follower that he is?  Daryl had grown accustomed to the human connection he found with Team Family.  He was never 100% comfortable with it but he missed it.  He craved it.  And Rick?  Well, deep down Daryl knew the likelihood of finding his ‘brother’ was minimal.  And with Carol pulling away and putting more and more distance between them--how deep and wide was that river, ya’ll, before the episode was done? when it started off looking like a small trickle of a stream?  how wide was that chasm these two idiots in painfully unspoken love allowed to be formed between them?--essentially the two closest people to him were lost to him, leaving him lost.  

So he stumbles upon this woman who is very reminiscent of people that he’s known.  He’s figured out, even though he keeps trying to buck the trend, that you really can’t make it alone in the world anymore.  And when she shows him some small measure of trust by letting him go?  That part of him that didn’t want to be alone kept drifting back into her sphere.  

Now I’m not going to go so far as saying Daryl fell in love with this Leah.  Because, shipping biases aside?  I really don’t feel like he did.  

Daryl found solace with Leah.  

Companionship.  

Remember another time when Daryl was lost?  When he felt he had failed another member of his family? Lost what he thought was the last of his family?  How alone he was at a crossroads when Joe’s group of Claimers came along?  

I’m not equating Leah with the Claimers in any other way except saying Daryl was in a similar headspace when he met her, okay?  Before anybody goes off on me.  I’m just saying that Leah?  She represented what Daryl felt was his one chance NOT TO BE ALONE.  

Daryl’s emotionally stunted, ya’ll. He’s made great strides, but trauma always seems to regress him.  Thankfully, it seems to regress him less and less as he really and truly matures, but it still has a habit of reverting him back to the Daryl we first met.  The Daryl we can easily see growing up in Merle’s shadow. 

When he threw that damn fish at her door, I literally laughed for ten straight minutes because that was funny as hell.  But honestly?  The more I thought about it, the more it dwelled in my mind?  The sadder it actually made me because here’s a grown man essentially trying to connect with another human being on an adolescent level.  

So much of what we were shown in this episode really just reinforced what I’d already suspected to be true--Daryl Dixon just doesn’t ‘get’ the basics of interpersonal relationships.  At least those that could be perceived as romantic.  For all that Carol mused it was like he had become a man back in Atlanta, during Consumed and their search for Beth?  That man is still very much trying to fumble his way out of the starting gate so far as pursuing a woman in any form or fashion.

This is just my opinion and we all know what they say about those, lol, but Daryl has longed for an even deeper connection with Carol since the Prison.  Maybe even before that. I think at the Farm his eyes were opened to her and he started trying to be a better person to match what he perceived as her goodness.  Before he even knew she wanted one, he was trying to be a man of honor.  Then stuff and thangs happened and shit, like Daryl once told Abe, just never settled.  Carol drifted out of Daryl’s reach because he wasn’t equipped with the emotional tools to really go after what he wanted--her in a deeper, different capacity than he’d ever wanted or asked for before--and shit, ya’ll.  If loneliness is a choice then Daryl Dixon was sick and damn tired of it.  

Do I think there’s even really a choice between Leah and Carol in Daryl’s mind though?  A true choice were he to absolutely, 100% realize and know that Carol’s heart was earmarked for him from the very beginning and that she’s suffering from the same delusions that she’s not good enough or deserving of him?  

Absolutely not.  

Leah knew that even if Daryl never divulged any specifics about Carol.  She knew the answer to her ultimatum before she even made it.  

And that ultimatum, ya’ll. 

Maybe it’s weird, but it put me in mind of when Merle pressed Daryl to make a choice between him and Team Family.  

Merle was blood family but like Carol and others said, he wasn’t good for Daryl.  

Leah might have offered Daryl some solace from his loneliness but ultimately staying isolated with her and not reconnecting with those he identifies as family is just as damaging as Daryl choosing to follow in Merle’s wake again.  Similarly to that situation, Daryl was clearly torn as soon as the words were out of her mouth.  

Between loyalty to family and unspoken love.  

In case there’s any confusion here, the unspoken love I’m talking about is his love for Carol.  He felt something for her back at that Prison.  Fight me.  He knew she’d be hurt by him going back with Merle, but obligation and family loyalty led him to make the decision all the same.  

Still. He knew she’d understand.  And she did, even if his choice hurt her.  

My thought is that this time?  At least initially?  Daryl didn’t completely separate his loyalty to family (searching for Rick) and his unspoken love (for Carol) when he made his decision.  They’re hopelessly entwined because Carol is a little bit of everything to Daryl--friend, family, the woman he loves and has been halfway in love with for so many years.  Initially, he chose the hope that both would come back to him if he just kept searching.  Because searching’s what he does.  From Sophia to Connie, he’s always searched in the hope of bringing the lost back to those that love them.  He’s always searched because nobody searched for him.  

Daryl is the ultimate lost boy who grew to be a man and still feels like he hasn’t been found.  

But how can he be found if the one person he wants to find him keeps running away?  

Daryl didn’t choose Leah.  

Not from his heart.  

Daryl turned back to Leah because he felt Carol slipping away to where he couldn’t follow her.  

If it can even be argued that Daryl chose Leah, it was by default.  Of course, he feels guilty.  Daryl wouldn’t be Daryl without guilt.  He wouldn’t be Carol’s man of honor.  

And he is Carol’s man.  

She may not be in the place to see it--YET--but she’s getting there.  She’s fighting hard against her natural inclination to run.  She’s trying.  She knows what she wants, even if she doesn’t believe she has the hope of getting it.  

Daryl knows what he wants, too.  He knows, once and for all, where he belongs.  He’s stopped searching.  He knows she’s right there.  There’s no more circles.  There’s just a final destination if he can convince the love of his fucking life to stop running from what they both want.  

He may have left that note for Leah, but you can’t convince this viewer that he didn’t write those words for Carol.  

And that’s all I got to say about that.  

For now anyway.  

Omigosh, lovelies.  

So sorry for the emotional word vomit but thank you so much for indulging me even if I did lose my original point somewhere up there, lol.    

[det-loki]

poison & wine part four

And you will destroy anyone who would try to harm her

But what happens when karma turns right around to bite you?  

warnings: angst, cursing

pairing: detective loki x fem reader

word count: 3,000

A/N: I don't know why I struggled with this chapter so much but I did. I finally got it to a place that makes me happy though. Again, feedback is welcomed. Enjoy! 💕

1  2  3   ⌽  5  6 

You woke up feeling like death. Your brain was pounding against your skull, eyes sore, body aching, screaming for you to rest. You had no time to rest though. You sprawl your arm, reaching to the opposite side of the bed to hopefully find Loki but to no surprise, it was already vacant and cold. You rolled over to the bedside table, glancing at the clock, 5:46 A.M. You've got to be fucking kidding me. 

You stumbled blindly into the kitchen, your feet still heavy with sleep. Every step you took, your body screamed at you to lay back down, stars floating across your vision. You found David sitting at the kitchen table in his work clothes, sitting in silence, rigid. As you walked closer, you took notice of what was in his hands. A photo album. 

You almost collapsed on the spot, knees wanting to give out on you, your breath catching on your throat as you inhale sharply. Tears prick your eyes and your lip quivers as you step closer to David and the photo album. 

Reaching David, you lay a shaking hand on his shoulder, not daring to peer at whatever photo he was looking at. You knew which photo album it was, the bright pink making your brain foggy, the album stood out like a sore thumb in the minimal gray of the kitchen. You knew if you saw any of the pictures you wouldn't be able to get out of bed for a month. David jumps slightly at your touch, snapping the album closed, a hand coming up to wipe away tears that had fallen down his face. 

You moved from standing behind him to sit next to him, your hands finding each other as you sat down in the wooden chair, your body sighing in relief at the position.

"What are you doing, Loke?" Your voice came out as a rasp, crackling and chipping, sounding like sandpaper, disturbing the silence in the kitchen. Your voice sounded as broken as you felt.

"I needed to see her. Remember what we're fighting for. I-I was starting to lose her, her- I was starting to forget what she looked like. What kind of father is that, huh? What kind of father does that make me?" Loki's voice was rough with emotion, each word was a knife through your heart. He was the best father to your little girl, she had him wrapped around her finger since the day she was born. He was soft and tender with her, terrified of breaking her. After finding out you were pregnant, Loki went on a spiral of how he couldn't be a father, he didn’t know how. His childhood was nowhere near ideal, in and out of foster homes and juvenile detentions, his parents a figment of his imagination. He said he couldn’t be good and decent, claiming he was broken and corrupt. The first ultrasound appointment snapped him out of it, tears welled up in his eyes as the sound of your baby's heartbeat filled the room, his hand intertwined tightly with yours.  There wasn’t a thing in the world  he wouldn’t do for her, the line didn’t exist. You knew somewhere in that photo album there was a picture of him with a pink crown on his head as your little girl was in his arms laughing. The memory caused a fresh wave of pain to hit you. 

"That makes you a grieving father who is in pain, Loki. Don't- please don't do this to yourself. She wouldn't want that for you. Or for either of us." The last thing you wanted was for David to fall down the spiraling hole of self-hatred. You could barely keep your head above water and you didn’t want him to drown with you. He deserved better.

"I know. I know. I just miss her. So fucking much, Y/N." David’s voice broke, crackling like static on a radio. 

"I know." There was nothing else to say, your brain was a jumbled mess, thoughts not making sense. You knew. 

"I went to her grave last week. I wasn't planning on it, I just ended up there. I'm sorry for not telling you, but it felt like something I needed to do alone. And then this fucking case, it doesn't feel real, it can't be a coincidence. It's like the universe knew." His words didn’t upset you, if anything it made you happy, he hadn’t visited her in a long time, he just wasn’t ready and you didn’t want to force him. You visited her regularly, in hopes to apologize or make things right, you didn’t know. The fact that he went made your heart warm temporarily, the cold would creep back in again eventually. 

"David, I'm not mad at you for visiting our daughter. I think that's good. I just- this case is eating us alive. We have to make it out of this alive, promise me we will." You needed to hear it, your ears, and heart desperate for a lifeline. Desperate for a life to come back to after this case ended. If it ever did.

“We will. I promise you we will.” David brought your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it, brushing over the small black ink of a snake on your middle finger. You hoped he was right.

Hours later, you sat at your desk reading over the autopsy report of the man found in the priest’s basement. Nothing. Your phone rang loudly in front of you. It was David. You pick it up, nestling it between your ear and shoulder as you reread the report.

“Hey, I’m out here at a house on Fairmount Circle, the house the RV was parked in front of. It’s only been on the market a couple of months. I’m gonna track the owners down, see if they know anything. You got any new info on that corpse we found in the priest’s basement?”

You sighed into the phone, “No DNA, dental or fingerprint matches.”

“Nothing.” David replied in a monotonous tone, sounding fine, a stark difference than he was this morning. He was compartmentalizing, a little too well. You hated it when he did that.

“Priest is sticking to the story, too.” You had gotten report from a fellow detective who took the case, informing you about the priest’s questioning. 

Loki scoffed into the phone, frustrated, “All right.” 

You look up from your computer to see David walk into the station, walking to his desk opposite from yours. He sat down and immediately started typing. A few minutes pass before he looks over, eyes finding your hunched form, “Come here.”

You rose from your desk, your vision exploding with stars as you made your way over, leaving over his shoulder to read whatever he had been looking at. 

The headline read: “Conyers Boy Disappears” dated August 31st, 1987. Barry Milland, age seven when he went missing from his family home.

David spoke below you, “ Let’s go.” You already knew where you were going, to contact the mother of still missing Barry. 

You stood in the living room of Mrs. Milland’s home, Loki next to you as she sat in a recliner in front of a TV playing an old home video of Barry. Your fingers dug into your thigh and Loki’s hand was clamped over his mouth, the universe was playing with you, the tape that was playing was mocking the both of you, teasing you for the fact that you have done the very same thing as she was doing now, clutching onto the last good memories. 

“Same person who took him took those girls. I’m sure of it.” Mrs. Milland’s voice shook with age as she spoke, eyes never leaving the screen.

The tape temporarily faltered, screen going static before returning to normal, “Wearing out the tape, I guess. I watch it every day after breakfast. It’s the only video I have of him.” She sighs before continuing, “It was before your time. 26 years ago, August 19th. I took a nap in the afternoon, and when I woke up Barry was gone. No one could ever tell me what happened to him. He was playing in the front yard, just a few feet from where they sat that RV was parked.”

God, you wanted to scream. Playing in the front yard and then gone. You were familiar with the pain and shame in her voice, you felt the very same thing every single day. 

She speaks again, ripping you away from your thoughts, “What do you think that means?” 

Loki raised his eyebrows, shaking his head as he looked at the carpeted ground, “I’m more interested in what you think that means.” 

She shook her head, eyes still trained on the screen, “I don’t think we’ll ever know. It’s just like Barry. No one took them. Nothing happened. They’re just gone.” 

You bit your lip so hard you tasted blood, fingers digging harder into the jean covered flesh of your thigh. Gone.

You and Loki sat in the car silently, digesting what you had been told by Mrs. Milland. 

"Why are we doing this, David?" You weren’t referring to where you were, rather than what you were. How you got to this point in your life, why?

"What? Here?” David looked at you, confused.

"No. This. This job. This case. Is it to avenge her? Justice? Bring peace to other families like we couldn't have? I love my job, don't get me wrong, but I can't but help but question why is it this case? Why us?” You looked out the car window as you spoke, not catching David’s gaze.

"I don't know. I don't know, but we will get through this. I'm here, Y/N.” There was never a moment David wasn’t there for you, and vice-versa. You both knew each other better than you knew yourselves, able to take care of each other better than you could take care of yourself.

Loki’s phone buzzing in the cup holder made you jump, the bubble that had formed popping, David grabbing for the phone, reading whatever text he had been sent, “We might have something with the priest.”

You stood in the hallway, awaiting Detective Chemelinski to escort you to the priest’s interrogation room as David shifted his weight nervously. The fellow detective showed up, motioning for David to follow. Loki looked at you with mild panic in his eyes, silently pleading for you to follow. He didn’t want to face the priest alone. The memories would be too toxic for him to face without you. You nodded your head reassuringly, following David and Detective Chemelinski into the interrogation room Father Patrick Dunn was being held in. 

Loki walked in first, you next, and Chemelinski last. You leaned against the wall as Loki greeted Dunn, “How you doin’, Father?” 

“I’m...I’m- getting better.” Father Dunn avoided eye contact with everyone, eyes set on the table in front of him.

Loki sat across from him, “So Detective Chemelinski tells me that you have some specifics about the crime you claim that guy committed. The abductor.”

The priest nodded, “He was...waging a war against God.”

Loki chuckled, looking over at Chemelinski in disbelief and shaking his head, “Great. That’s great. I thought you said he had something specific.” Loki continued to shake his head, stammering at the other detective and gesturing in disbelief in front of him with his hands. 

Detective Chemelinski looked at Father Dunn, “Tell him how he took the kids.” If it wasn’t for David wanting you in the room, you would have avoided the conversation, rather having the information relayed than point-blank. This was too raw, images of Loki in the boy’s home feeling like a white hot poker in your brain.

“He said...he took them in the daylight.” You swore you were going to pass out, your hands beginning to tremble at your sides. You wished you were stronger, able to do your job without feeling like you were going to die from the constant resurfacing of horrific memories of your little girl. Broad daylight. Screaming.  

Why were you doing this?

The priest continued, “Sometimes...more than one child at a time.”

Loki rolled his eyes, “He said that?” The priest nodded. “-Did he say he was with anybody? He did it alone?”

“He...he said he had a family.” 

Loki sighed, “That’s it?” The priest nodded again. Loki stood from the chair, shaking his head at Detective Chemelinski, “All right.” He walked to the door, tattooed hand on the handle, glaring at the detective, “Informative.” He walked out, leaving you to briefly apologize to Chemelinski before you ran to find David. 

You found him in the locker room, sitting on the bench with his head in his hands.

You approached him slowly, “Hey, you okay?” It was a stupid question, of course he wasn’t okay. Neither of you were okay. 

He looked up at you with tired eyes, “Yeah, I’m fine. I just needed a minute. The candlelight vigil is tonight if you wanna go.”

“I do. It’d be nice.” He nodded along with your words, you turned around and walked out of the room to give Loki sometime to himself. Sometimes silence could be healing, yet you didn’t think all of the silence in the world could heal these wounds. 

You stood in front of the microwave watching your mug of coffee spin in circles. Coffee was now the main staple of your diet. It was late at the station, you and Loki being the only few still left. The temperature had dropped outside rapidly, leaving a chill in the air. Loki was outside turning the car on so it would be heating up as you poured coffee in a thermos. 

You walked outside with thermos in hand, pulling your coat tighter as the wind bit through your coat. Loki was already inside the vehicle, waiting for you. You opened the passenger door, plopping down as the thermos sat at your feet. 

“You sure you wanna go to this thing?” Loki asked gingerly.

“Yeah. Do you not?” 

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to. If you’re not up for it we can go home. I don’t want you to push yourself.” Loki spoke softly as not to disturb the ambiance inside the vehicle. 

“I’m okay, David. I promise. It’ll be nice, show our respect, it’s not like we have to stay long.”

David nodded as he put the car in gear, pulling out of the police station parking lot. 

Loki pulled up to the vigil, outside of the Dover’s home. A group of people had already gathered, lighting candles, placing flowers, and teddy bears. 

You and David leaned against the car, watching in sorrow. You saw Franklin Birch double over, sobbing as his family held him. Your heart broke at the sight, you wished nothing more than to bring his daughter back unharmed. Each passing day caused unease to spread further and further in your body, day four setting a new record of turmoil.  

Time passed as people started to leave, the group diminishing slightly. Beside you,  Loki put on a stocking cap and rubbed his hands together for warmth. He still refused to wear gloves.  He abruptly pushed himself off the car, walking closer to the vigil, obviously taking notice of something you didn’t. You walked next to him slowly, unsure of what exactly he was doing. Then you saw it, a man crouched down with his coat hood up, stroking a teddy bear that had been placed, his gloved hand gliding over it in a manner that made you uncomfortable. He looked up, locking eyes with Loki, and then stood up stiffly, Loki’s eyes following every move. The man glanced at you and then turned away. Loki walked closer, trying to trail him as the man continued walking away. You had an inkling that he was going to run, so you turned around towards the car as Loki made his way through the crowd. 

Looking over your shoulder, you saw David take off in a dead sprint. Fuck.

You opened the driver’s side door of the car and sat down, grabbing the radio from the console. 

“Dispatch, this is 13-43, we have a police pursuit on foot, 13-40 is responding.  ”

The radio crackled to life, “10-4 detective, we have patrol rolling your way.”

“10-4” You sat the radio down, now all you had to do was wait for Loki to either come back or for him to call you to come get him.

30 minutes later, Loki came into view, slightly limping. He walked up to the car as you got out of the driver’s seat, “You should have stretched.”

Loki shrugged past you, “Yeah, fuck off. Now get out of my spot.”

You chuckled slightly as you walked around the car and pulled the door open and sat in your designated spot. Loki grabbed for the radio with his non-dominant hand, “Dispatch, this is 13-40. Pursuit has ended, the offender fled. Put a BOLO out, description will be given by an officer.”

Loki sighed heavily as he put the radio down, hand coming up to rub his right shoulder, “What happened, David?”

“The fucker jumped on me from a tree. I’m fine.” You rolled your eyes, Loki could be mauled by a bear and thrown into the ocean and he would still say he was fine. He was even more stubborn than you. 

You got home that night at 2 A.M., going to the station after the vigil for David to write up a media release on the guy that ran and to give a description. You tried to get David to let you look at his shoulder but he refused, claiming he was fine, even when moving it he winced slightly. 

That night you slept restlessly, dreams of hospitals and antiseptic haunting you. Making you question everything.

tag list: @lexie-wayland @whew-oh-em-gee @winterlavenderskysworld @buck-this-nasty @heeyirenee @pinkpunkdynamite

[threadofdestiny]

Magnolia (Bakugou x F!Reader)

Feudal Japan AU

Shogun!Bakugou x Midoriya’s sister!reader

Summery: Her mother, lady Midoriya Inko, had once told her that the gods had predestined a path for every single person. All she had to do was follow the path and trust that it would lead her to happiness. But how could (Y/N) find happiness in a political formed marriage with her brother’s rival, a man known for being brutal and cold hearted?

Warnings: sexual content in later chapters / period-typical-sexism / strong language / violence / Drama / Angst / Fluff / Slow Burn/ political marriage / Reader is Izuku's sister / period-typical-discriptions like vague mentions of longer hair to form typical hairstyles or specific wardrobe / Bakugou is not good at feelings / Bakugou is a mean, explosive boi / third-person perspektive

Wattpad

AO3

If someone wants to be tagged, just let me know :)

Taglist: @bakugous-mamas​, @bnhastories​, @brittkimm​, @ ellieitstimetosleep, @belladonna-the-aphrodisiac​

Chapter 1, Chapter 4, Chapter 6

Chapter 5

Crumbling down

"You can't be serious, Kacchan...This is going way to fast! I am sure that we could make him keep quiet until we are past the traditional engagement period! If not, I could send her to some of my relatives until the rumors had died down. Away from the capital. Away from society."

"Damn Deku! Are you really that fucking starry-eyed to take a chance like that? Your sister was attacked a mere few hours after you were publicly declared as the heir to the throne! As if she would be safe anywhere else than with you or me."

"P-Perhaps no one realized what happened on the festival. Even if, such a swift action will only make people more suspicious, maybe even casting you in a bad light! In the worst case they'll think you've laid hands on her before your wedding."

"What do I care about that? Let them think that I couldn't keep my hands off of her long enough. In their eyes, I'm already the bad guy anyway. It's better than having followers of Shindo trying to spread lies and people to start questioning the hell out of you in response. When they are going to question her reputation, they are going to question yours as well!"

"Like that's even remotely better, when they are going to question yours!"

"Are you deaf, you dumbass? It does not fucking matter! They should fear me anyway!", the shogun interrupted his interlocutor in a sharp voice before continuing his explanation a bit more quietly but just as urgently after he paused for a second to take a breath:"He could lay a claim on her, forcing you to concede, if you want to prevent a scandal. You'd be forced to break off the engagement between her and me to give her to Shindo at worst. Do you really want to give that slimy liar the power he would automatically receive as the brother-in-law of the next emperor?", Bakugou growled dangerously agitated behind the closed doors of Izuku's study.

All the servants of the household had to retire earlier that night by Lady Midoriya's instructions in order to put the illusion of privacy to their noble masters minds. The now dead silence in the halls of the mansion was only broken by the dull sounds of the quarreling men which sounds penetrated through the thin walls, giving the lonely almost creepy mood a dramatic atmosphere. The banging of shattering porcelain and the vigorous shouts of the men, startled the two lady's who were standing in the hallway all alone by themselves. Sobbing, (Y/N) pressed her head against her quivering mother's shoulder, flinching every single time when either one of the men exchanged too harsh words with one another. Both ladies listened to the heated argument between the furious shogun and the equal upset head of their family, not daring to interrupt them in any way. With trembling fingers, the young girl clawed at the fabric of Lady Midoriya's kimono, hiccuping every few seconds due to the endless tears that streamed down her face. Her mother tried to calm her down by gently stroking over her now loose hair, but the resounding sounds of the quarrel, made her flinch over and over again.

"I'm so sorry... I-I'm so so sorry!", (Y/N) repeated desperately against her mother's neck, who tried to soothe her daughter, by rocking her back and forth like a child that cried out of the loss of its most precious toy. "Shh, you're not to blame. Everything will be fine!", she whispered into (Y/N)'s hair as she hugged her tighter against her soft, motherly chest, hoping to shoo her daughters inner fears away. Clanking and rumbling sounds came from the study as Bakugou began to shout again:"Do you think I feel like tying a damn, troublesome woman to my leg right now? I've got more important things to do than to deal with your family's shit, but we don't have a fucking choice, because all the other ways this could turn out are even shittier!", Bakugou's aggressive voice echoed through the walls, like the roaring of thousand thunderstorms as he loudly stomped around the closed room like a rampant bull. Wincing, (Y/N) dug her face deeper into her mother's shoulder as she heard him talking about her like she was a nuisance. The young girl clutched at Lady Midoriya, like she was the only thing that prevented her from drowning in her own sorrows. As if the woman was the only one that could save her from the path she would have to take after that life changing night.

How could she have been so careless? What had she done to deserve that fate? By a single moment of not thinking straight, her entire world had turned upside down once again. Only to boost her unstoppable fate to the immeasurable. With each passing second her control over the situation had slipped away, like grains of sand incessantly trickling between her fingers. She had conjured up a disaster that had fueled his dislike against her and her family and had managed to become a burden for her brother and her fiancé in a mere few hours. How should she survive such a start to her predetermined future and turn it around for the better?

"Kacchan, please! It was not my sister's fault that she was attacked. If anything, it was my fault. I should have taken better care of her. I should have anticipated that people would try to use her to get to me.", Izuku replied in anguish. Even through the barrier, (Y/N) could hear her brother's voice breaking as he blamed himself. He, too, was on the verge of tears. She heard it loud and clear. Her compassionate brother blamed himself, though he could do even less about Shindo's act than she could. If she had just stayed with him, or asked him to accompany her, none of this would have had to happen.

.

.

.

It had taken an eternity until both men had calmed down enough that their voices could no longer be heard through the thin walls. Another eternity had passed until, all at once, heavy footsteps sounded near the door before it was pushed open with a loud thud, revealing the illuminated study. Wincing, mother and daughter pulled apart as the looming shogun appeared in the doorway. His vermilion eyes scanned the hallway until they finally landed on his quivering fiance. When he caught sight of her teary eyes, his grim expression softened minimally, while he beckoned her over with a gesture of his right hand:"Come here, girl. There are some things we need to discuss!"

Nodding obediently, (Y/N) followed her future husband into the room where her brother was standing by the window, looking dejectedly through the cold glass. The darkness swallowed up the details of the garden behind and plunged everything into barely discernible shadows. The dimmed light of the individual candles, gleaned on the glassy surface and reflected Izuku's lamenting face. Without hesitation, the young girl knelt down on the soft tatami mats before stretching out her hands in front of her in a pleading pose, asking for forgiveness. Her forehead almost touched the ground as she quietly raised her thin voice: "My actions has brought grave repercussions upon our family. No matter what the consequences will be, I will endure them without hesitation!", the youngest Midoriya announced with a trembling voice, before she heard her brother draw in his breath sharply. "By the gods, (Y/N)! You can't help what happened tonight! I should kneel before you and beg for forgiveness!", exclaimed Izuku after turning to his sister, trembling resentfully. With brisk steps, he had run up to the youngest Midoriya to hastily pull her up by her upper arm, pressing her against him in a firm hug. Bakugou was silent as he watched the spectacle for a few moments with an unmoved face, before shortly after he cleared his throat to draw the sibling's attention:"We don't have time for this sentimental nonsense!", the blond shogun growled softly as he turned his gaze exclusively on his fiance's quivering frame, to address her directly:"It doesn't matter at all who is to blame for this fuss. As you had said, we're in a predicament now. So either way, you're not going to avoid having to endure the consequences.", he added as he busily began pacing the room with long strides. Izuku broke away from his sister, nodding sadly, as he placed his hands on her shoulders to calm her down. "Bakugou is right.", the newly appointed heir confirmed as he briefly pressed his fingers against his sister's collarbone, looking her straight in the eyes. Nodding, the young girl bit her lower lip as she waited for the consequences to be revealed.

An uneasy feeling spread through the area of her stomach as she gazed with teary eyes from her brother to her grimly looking betrothed, just to look back to Izuku, when he spoke up again: "I am sorry, sister, but we do not have time to wait for the proper engagement period to be over. To counteract certain rumors we will have to hold the wedding at the end of this week. That means you'll be leaving together with Bakugou in a few days to accompany him to his lands!", Izuku explained softly as he sadly averted his eyes.

A shiver ran down (Y/N)'s spine as her brother uttered the words she had secretly feared to hear. She hadn't even noticed that she had been holding her breath with pent-up tension, but she couldn't explain otherwise where the slight dizziness came from after she finally exhaled thin air out of her aching lungs. Nodding dejectedly, the youngest Midoriya clutched the thin fabric of her robe before letting her gaze drift to the side to look ultimately at her future husband's face. When her glassy eyes collided with Bakugou's vermilion ones, her breath caught within her throat for a brief moment. All of a sudden, it felt as if the youngest Midoriya's heart had burst out of her chest with all its might. It raced in unison with her thoughts as she slowly became aware of the full extent of her situation, clenching achingly, as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

Gone was the time to prepare herself for her inevitable future. Gone were the future opportunities to get to know Bakugou before their wedding. Gone was the vast amount of time she previously had left with her family, suddenly vanishing into thin air. All at once the memories she could have collected with them before her departure were torn away from her because of one single moment. One single mistake. One single power hungry man. In a mere few days she would belong to Bakugou Katsuki. She would have to ultimately leave her home to go with a man she had met only twice. Never in her life had she left her family for more than a few hours at once.

Forcing herself to come to her senses, (Y/N) ripped herself out of her depressing thoughts, shaking her head absently, before she averted her gaze away from the Shogun's captivating expression. She nodded again, accepting her fate, as she swallowed hard. "I-I see!", she murmured relentingly, as she turned her saddened gaze back to her older brother, who's eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

"Good, then we can now move on to the short term planning. We don't have much time to prepare, since I can't postpone the journey.", declared Bakugou bluntly, without trying to sugarcoat the situation as he sat down at the table and picked up a quill and some sheets of paper. With a faltering breath, (Y/N) listened to her future husband's words, after she and her brother had joined him at the table. Izuku sighed heavily as he briefly reached for his sister's hand to give it a firm squeeze before responding to his guest's statement: "...That would mean we barely have time to organize a proper ceremony!", he remarked gloomily as he briefly glanced in (Y/N)'s direction. Bakugou, however, just shrugged disinterested, before replying nonchalantly: "I don't mind. I'm not interested in throwing a huge celebration and having my feet kissed by some lickspittles, anyway.", the shogun grumbled, before he suddenly paused, turning his eyes towards his fiance. (Y/N) took a moment to realize that Bakugou was looking at her questioningly. He hadn't said it, but it seemed surprisingly like he was waiting for her opinion. The young girl blinked a few times before she dared to speak up: "A-ah.. a small ceremony sounds pleasant, I guess. P-Perhaps only with our closest confidants. It would be quite... private.", she breathed uncertainly, though truthfully, while she tilted her head to the side in thanks. When Bakugou nodded in satisfaction, the youngest Midoriya relaxed a tiny bit, watching how her betrothed began to write down some notes on the blank paper. The scratching of the quill on the paper echoed unnaturally loud in the otherwise silent room, before Izuku cleared his throat to share his own thoughts as well.

"We already handled most of the details in the previous contract. However, I have decided that I would like to send my sisters personal maid with her, so that she has someone around her who is not a stranger to her...", Izuku began slowly, before hesitating for a moment. He watched as the blond man included his request in the supplemental contract before the heir began again: "A-As for the dowry..." "I'm still not interested in the dowry, Deku. Save it for your sister, or do something else with it.", the Shogun interrupted brusquely, surprising (Y/N) who listened in astonishment. Her dowry was extremely high. She had never thought anyone would let that much money slip away, but Bakugou brushed it aside as if they were talking about some pocket money. Izuku caught himself, clearing his throat before nodding in defeat:"Very well, then, as it is customary from the bride's family, we will at least cover the cost of the wedding ceremony. I'm sure we can get the temple master to organize a mass in short notice when we offer a larger donation.", he murmured as he also reached for his own quill to write down a few sentences in the process. It took some time for Bakugou and her brother to finally agree on all the last minute changes, but in the end they both signed the amended contracts, finalizing the youngest Midoriya's short-term change of fortune.

Finally, Bakugou clicked his tongue as he rolled up his copy of the contract. Rain pattered against the pitch-black window, which successfully warded off the cold of the looming night. Red eyes gazed scrutinizingly in the flickering candlelight over the masses of scrolls and books which rested on the shelves against the walls, while the shogun let his rolled-up document disappear into the inside of his traditional robe.

"We are getting married this Saturday and will leave early the next morning. Use the rest of your time to prepare yourself.", the Shogun spoke as he turned his attention to his fiance. After receiving a sad nod from (Y/N), he slowly rose from his seated position. Izuku did the same to escort his future brother-in-law out of their home, but before Bakugou started to move, the blond man silently bent down once more to place a small box on the tabletop in front of the young girl.

"I would have actually given it to you before I left, but now that you're coming along, you get your second engagement gift now!", the blond shogun grumbled dismissively as he turned his face away with the corners of his mouth pulled down. Astonished, (Y/N) glanced up at Bakugou, before she accepted the gift as she slowly reached for the small box.

When she opened it, she caught sight of an ornately designed fan. The intricate woodwork of the dark handle was set with gleaming auspicious-looking copper-colored gems, while the silken fabric shone in a velvety black. Gulping, the young girl carefully lifted the gift out of its box so that she could open the fan with equal care. On the dark background, forest green and blazing orange lines formed a carefully drawn stylized dragon, which was surrounded by its own brightly burning fire. In its sharp claws it clasped a white flower, protected from the flames that surrounded the majestic beast. The motif seemed almost bizarre to her. As if the monster would want to crush the fragile flower in its paws, while at the same time it almost seemed as if it wanted to guard it. Its sharp eyes flashed dangerously up at her and reminded her in a strange way of the man who had given her this gift. A shiver ran down (Y/N)'s spine, but she tried to pull herself together in front of her fiance. Never in her entire life had she seen anything so fierce looking on such a delicate object. Holding her breath for a short moment, (Y/N) gazed at the precious craftsmanship before looking up again to try to smile gratefully at the Shogun. "It is beautiful, your grace. Thank you!", she breathed truthfully. Bakugou nodded briefly in response before turning away from her. (Y/N) could hear the two men moving away from her as she looked back down at her engagement gift. Her fingers carefully traced the fine lines of the sublime dragon as she took a shaky breath, asking herself if her fiance associated her with the delicate flower just as she had associated him with the mythical creature which gloomily looked up to her.

.

.

.

"Knock, knock!", sounded the gentle voice of Lady Midoriya, who cautiously entered her daughters chambers some time after the shogun had left their estate. Startled, (Y/N) spun around from her position at her small table, but smiled sadly as she caught her mother heading towards her with a tea tray in her arms. Her young daughter had been sitting alone for what felt like an eternity, unable to fall asleep after that dreadful night. "I thought a soothing tea would be just the right thing right now.", she murmured in a put-upon cheerful tone as she carefully set down her favorite tea set.

"Thank you, mother!", murmured (Y/N) as she rose slightly from her kneeling position to reach for the warm pot in trained expert fashion, to pour her mother and herself a soothing cup of warm herbal tea. Silence enveloped them as they both let their gaze drift aimlessly around the room after (Y/N) had leaned back again. Sighing, the older lady ran her fingers through her green hair, untied from it's usually elegant knot, before finally turning to her daughter and smiling lovingly at her. Seeing her grown-up girl dejectedly trying to suppress the quivering of her lips, Lady Inko raised her hand to place it reassuringly on (Y/N)'s shoulder. "Don't worry, my little one! It'll be alright!", she whispered comfortingly as she patted her daughter's arm.

Hoping to take away some of her mother's worries, (Y/N) tried again to put on a small smile, but she failed miserably. Taking a deep shaky breath, the young girl tried to sort out her thoughts, before she dared to speak her mind: "What do you think about the Shogun?", she finally asked uncertainly, reaching for her cup of tea to occupy her fidgeting fingers. Rain pattered against the cool window, which was covered by velvet curtains to block out the darkness of the night. A few candles illuminated the comfortably furnished room in dim light, wrapping it in a soft blanket of warm shades. Humming silently to herself, Lady Inko lifted her gaze toward the ceiling as she pondered over her daughter's question.

"Well... The Shogun is an excellent match.", her mother replied after a moment. "Despite his reputation?", (Y/N) quietly probed further after taking a sip of the warm liquid. Lady Inko nodded after a moment's consideration before looking at her daughter again. "You know, your father and I are old acquaintances of Lord and Lady Bakugou. The young Shogun's father, worked side by side with your father in the Emperor's court. And Lady Bakugou is from the same province as me. I have known Mitsuki since childhood. We lost touch after she moved to the countryside with her husband, but I know that she is a good person just like her husband. They wouldn't be able to raise a cruel man. It's a pity that the two of them can't attend the ceremony, but by the time they would have arrived in the capital, you would have left long ago.", her mother began, smiling bittersweetly. Seeing that she had (Y/N)'s full attention, Lady Inko continued her descriptions with mild amusement:"Probably the shogun got his brusque trait from his mother. You should know that Mitsuki was incredibly fierce even back when we both were still unmarried. I remember that she never minced her words, no matter who was in front of her."

The youngest Midoriya's eyes widened in surprise as she looked at her mother in disbelief:"But it's not looked upon favorably when a woman simply speaks out what she thinks." Giggling, Lady Midoriya nodded in agreement. "You're right, but just because the noble society determines what's proper and what's not, doesn't mean there aren't people out there who think differently. Besides, not every man prefers a silent woman, you know? And hardly anyone shows his true face in public. I think there's more to the Shogun than the cold-blooded warrior everyone thinks he is, and I know you feel the same way."

Thoughtfully, (Y/N) let her mother's words sink in while she fixed her gaze on the liquid contents of her cup. On the moving surface, she could see a distorted vision of her own face, but instead of looking at it, she tried to imagine the man she and her mother were talking about.

In less than a week she would have to leave her entire life behind to follow Bakugou. The thought frightened her, no matter how much she tried to give herself courage throughout, but her mother was right. She truly believed that there was more to the Shogun than what met the eye. He was temperamental and aloof, and yet he had proven that he intended to protect her in spite of it all. He had told her in the gardens that he would not agree to marry a woman who let herself be trampled upon and had encouraged her to speak for herself.

But... Was it perhaps naive of her to interpret more into a person she only met twice?

[generallynerdy]

One life, I thought—a thousand deaths (Jon Antilles & Fay)

Summary: On Queyta, Obi-Wan Kenobi is not the only one to escape Durge and Ventress. One of the four legendary Masters, Jon Antilles, emerges from a lava stream despite knowing he’s going to die. He’s so sure of it that he crawls his way to Fay’s side, wanting to spend his last moments with the woman who he considers his Master. But she has other plans. Plans to make certain that Jon Antilles lives past today.

Warnings: Angst, Character Death, On-Screen Character Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, there’s both sorry, Self-Sacrifice, The Curse of Immortality, holy shit i made myself sad dude Word Count: 2,191

Prompt: Angstpril Day 2 - Sole Survivor

Author’s Note: listen I know nobody knows about these characters that are in literally one comic but I have FEELINGS about them okay?? Jon is meant to be a badass mysterious enigma but he screams sad boi and Fay is like...the greatest cryptid Jedi ever, I love her. So, of course, I decided to make them and Knol and Nico suffer. (Also I know Obi-Wan survived the mission but the Sole Survivor still applies because Jon is the sole survivor of the four legendary Masters, just in case that wasn’t clear.) I just finished this today, so the editing is minimal.

Read on AO3

*

Using the Force as a shield is, in theory, one of the easier skills a Jedi utilizes. That is assuming, of course, that the Jedi in question is in good health, a decent mental state, and isn’t under a severe amount of stress. If said Jedi is, say, three feet into a pool of lava, already bearing grievous injuries and the weight of the deaths of two close companions, and feeling the fading life of another, the simple task, understandably, becomes something of a problem.

Jon has finally managed to pull the Force around him like a blanket. It protects him from the bubbling lake around him now, but the first few seconds he couldn’t pull it off were torture.

As it turns out, lava burns. It burns like shame, like failure, like the nightmares Jon used to have about his Master abandoning him on a planet in Hutt space for getting just a little too mouthy. And it hurts nearly as much.

“Fuck,” he hisses. He makes a rule of not cursing, but right now feels like an appropriate time to break it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He claws at the charred remains of his robes. Contrary to popular belief, lava doesn’t melt initially, as Jon now knows. Instead of melting, he burst into flames for the few seconds it took to pull himself together, though they felt like an eternity. Red, throbbing burns litter his entire body, his hair singed but miraculously intact thanks to his hood, which is entirely ashes now. The pain consumes his thoughts, making his shielding start to flicker in and out.

And then, through the debilitating agony, a touch of something familiar.

Jon’s eyes fly open. “Fay,” he whispers.

Her light is dimmer than it should be, not flickering in and out mischievously like it usually does. But still, she makes an effort to reach out, to check on him. It sends a sob up his throat.

“Hold on, Fay, hold on.”

Clenching his fists, he opens himself up to the Force. His actions are ones of faith, not of desperation, and he lets it flow through him as he takes a deep breath. The idea of using one of his Master’s abilities would normally make him nauseous, but the disgust doesn’t even cross his mind this time as he prepares to teleport. He thinks of that open, flat space of rock that Obi-Wan and Fay ran to, their enemies close behind. Focusing fiercely on that distant image, he pulls on the Force and folds the two points—

Jon collapses on solid ground with a heaving gasp.

Every inch of his body protests the change, especially his knees, which burn when they make contact with the ground, but somehow he manages to ignore his own complaints.

Fay isn’t far, or she shouldn’t be, at least. The distance between them seems gaping when he tries to move.

Still, her light is fading fast. And he wants to be by her side.

So, Jon Antilles crawls on hands and knees, dragging his body across sharp stones and past bubbling streams of lava. He aches with each movement and cries out when it becomes too much, but he persists regardless. Something in him knows it may be the last thing he ever does.

Finally, he sees her.

She’s sprawled out, her chest hardly moving as her breathing becomes shallow. Her near-golden hair is filthy with ash and her eyes are dim. She’s hardly herself, Jon thinks, and feels his stomach sink.

Hundreds of years the great Master Fay has lived and breathed. Hundreds of years and he’s going to watch her die today.

“Jon,” she calls out weakly.

He pulls himself to her side, grabbing her hand with his own shaky ones. “I’m here, Master.”

They only met when he was a teenager, but he feels as if he’s known her all his life. They’ve travelled the Outer Rim together, following the Force, for decades now and he’s never regretted a second of it. In all but title, Fay is his Master. She was always better than Dark Woman, even when the bar was six feet under. The only record with both their names will be at the Temple, where the dead are listed, a handful of mission reports with other Jedi, and the stories the younglings share of the 4 legendary, nomadic Masters.

“Knol and Nico,” Fay breathes out, “they’re one with the Force.”

Jon grimaces. “Yes. And the Force is with us.”

She laughs, breathy and half-choked. It’s an old lesson, familiar and grounding. “And so too are they,” she adds.

“Where’s Obi-Wan?”

“Gone, with the cure.” She smiles just a little. “The Republic fights another day.”

Suddenly grim, he squeezes her hand. “But not us.”

A pause.

“But not us.”

The silence overwhelms them. The wind whistles in the distance, carrying with it nothing but smoke and ashes. Queyta isn’t the best place to die, Jon thinks absently. He would rather it have been someplace with flowers.

“I wish it could’ve been Jedha.”

He almost jumps at her voice, but her words jarr a surprised laugh from his sore lungs. “Jedha? I thought you hated cold planets.”

“Oh, yes, but not that one. Force, I should have taken you. The Force there is so...so strong, so pure, you can feel the kyber from the surface,” she explains, staring straight up at him. If anyone else were to gaze so intensely at his scars, he’d be uncomfortable, but she’s safe. She’s family. “And the Guardians of the Whills are so kind. I met a young one of theirs some decades ago. You two would’ve gotten along.”

Jon laughs a little. “You’re always looking to find me friends, Fay.”

Her smile turns sad and she lifts a hand to his face, letting it rest on his cheek. “You’re so young,” she whispers. “Too young to be so lonely, Jon.”

He shuts his eyes, lets himself be comforted by her touch. When he opens them again, she still has that gut-wrenching look on her face. He places his hand on top of hers, unsurprised at how cold they are despite the blistering heat.

“I’m not lonely,” he promises.

Jon doesn’t say that it’s because of her, Knol, and Nico, but Fay picks up the thought anyway. Her eyes fill with tears.

“I have watched so many I love die.” Fay’s voice wavers as she says it. He realises that it’s the first time he’s ever heard it do that. To be honest, he’d thought it was impossible. “Taken by age, by Darkness, by foolishness. Never have I met a soul as good as yours, Jon. And never a Jedi so worthy of love.”

“Fay…”

She shakes her head. “Your Master did not deserve you. The galaxy did not deserve you.”

Pulling her hand away from him, Jon squeezes it. “You did,” he says firmly, though his voice cracks.

“I hope so,” she admits with a rueful laugh. “I hope so.”

He smiles weakly. “I wish you’d found me first. But I thin-I think the Force knew when I needed you to save me. Because you did save me, Master. I could never thank you enough.”

She takes his word silently, holding his hand even tighter. “You never needed to.”

“Thank you,” he says now, even though it’s useless.

Fay’s grey eyes meet his pale ones and suddenly, she’s distressed. “You’re so young,” she repeats.

But Jon can see that she means something else this time.

“Not too young to do my duty.”

“Too young to die doing it.”

Jon thinks of Tan Yuster, one of four Padawans to die on Geonosis. The Jedi have experienced great loss these past months since the beginning of the war and so many so much younger than Jon have died in battle, the clones included. Of course, to Fay, they all may as well be children.

“I will go proudly into the Force,” he promises her. At your side.

Fay’s expression twists. “No.”

He scoffs. “I don’t think we have a say in it.”

“The Force let me live this long,” she says suddenly, as if it’s a realisation, “longer than I should have. Obi-Wan is gone, I’ve done what good I can, except...you’re here. Why are we here?”

“To say goodbye,” Jon offers.

She shakes her head, then tries to sit up, struggling until her would-be Padawan helps pull her up. “I’m done with goodbyes.”

“What are you—?”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his question. Fay presses their foreheads together and grabs his hands with a newfound energy that terrifies him. Chills go up his spine when her presence in the Force covers him like a blanket. Warmth climbs up his hands, then his arms, and with a glance down he finds that his skin is healing.

“Fay, no!” he cries, trying to shove her away.

She only tightens her grip. “Stay still, Jon.”

She sounds more like herself, certain and unwavering. Jon would be happy-crying if he weren’t horrified. He tries to drag himself out of her grip, but she’s impossibly strong. Her healing creeps up his entire body, soothing his burns, though scars remain behind.

“No, no, no—FAY! Fay, stop it!” His screams turn to sobs. “You’ll die, stop—!”

“I already am,” she says, just as certain in her abilities as her fate. “But you don’t have to.”

Trembling, his attempts are weaker now but still there. “Please, please,” he begs. “Not without you!”

Tears stream down her cheeks. She allows herself a moment of weakness; she opens her eyes and meets his tearful gaze, remembering the teenager she first met. He was so scared and so brave. And for a moment, she’d thought he must be a ghost. But no, he was just a boy. For the first time in a long time, she had let herself build a bridge between them, like Knol and Nico before him, even knowing she would have to watch him die one day.

Now, she thinks with fierce stubbornness, she won’t have to.

It feels like her life is leaving her for him, though she knows it’s just fading into the Force. It’s to it that she speaks, the cosmic energy she’s dedicated her long, long life to.

“If anyone is deserving of the time you’ve given me,” she gasps out, “it is Jon Antilles.”

She doesn’t see the horror in Jon’s face, but she can feel it in his quiet Force-presence, so subdued. He hides himself on purpose and it truly breaks her heart. His light is so strong. The galaxy is all the better for his existence.

“I don’t want this! Fay, I don’t—let me die, please—”

Fay only lifts her head and kisses his forehead, the sort of gentle gesture a mother might give her son. “One day,” she promises. It rings with truth, with the strength of the Force behind it. “But not today.”

Jon cries out and tries to rip himself away, but freezes when pure light washes over him. The warmth he’s always associated with Fay soaks into him, healing all his wounds in an instant and rejuvenating his fading energy. Stars burst before his eyes, like he’s seeing into the very universe beyond Queyta, beyond what he’s meant to see with his petty Human eyes. In another instant, it’s gone and Fay is slumping over.

She falls to the ground with a thump, a noise that jolts Jon back into focus.

“Master!” he sobs.

He pulls her up from the ground with the sickening realisation that she’s a complete deadweight. She’s limp in his arms, already paling. Desperate, Jon pushes her hair out of her face and finds...nothing. Her eyes are dull. With his fingers on her wrist, he can’t feel a pulse.

“Fay?”

The steady beat of her Force-presence is gone, a gaping hole in his universe. Their bond, one strong enough to resemble a training bond, is shattered, a physical pain that throbs in his skull.

Jon begins to hyperventilate, his sudden gasps for breath burning his now-perfect lungs.

“Come back,” he begs Fay’s corpse. “Fuck, please. Please, come back.”

He pulls her into his lap, clutching her robes like a child being left behind for the first time. It doesn’t hurt to move anymore and, thank the Force for it because his entire body shakes with the force of his cries.

Overwhelmed with grief he’s never experienced, Jon wails into Fay’s shoulder, rocking back and forth. The agonizing sound rings across the valley, a noise like torture.

It’s only now that he feels the frayed edges of his bonds with Knol and Nico.

He screams again, his vocal cords protesting it sharply.

The last time Jon was this alone, he was a child. And now, he’s right back where he was before he met his three closest companions. Except now, now, he knows what it means to love and to lose. It aches. It aches like nothing he’s ever felt.

“Please,” he whispers hoarsely. “I can’t—I need you. What do I do? What am I supposed to do?”

He never gets an answer.

*

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Masterlist

[xfandomwritingsx]

Hold Your Breath - Chapter One: A Blank Page - Draco Malfoy

-gif source unknown-

Description: After decisions put you on opposite side of the war, returning to Hogwarts to finish your education proves to be challenging. Maybe closure isn’t the only thing you need from Draco.

Warnings/Labels: Angst. Hints of depression. Unhappy reunions.

Approx. Word Count: 3,000

A/N: I’m trying to keep the reader’s house open for interpretation, but I think it’s pretty plain to see that in my head, she’s a Ravenclaw. I’m also not a fan of this chapter. This is the chapter in which I converted what I had written of the oneshot into a longer piece so there are bits that to me still have a different feel than the rest. Makes it a little choppy when I read it, but hopefully it’s not bad for you!

Story Masterpost

-

September 1998

The world looks the same as it always has outside of the train window, but it all feels different. Colors still feel muted and even though there’s less chaos raging behind the trees, they still give you an ominous feeling deep in your gut. There are familiar faces on the train, but not enough to make you feel at home. Eyes either avoid yours or stare uncomfortably long. You feel out of place. You’re not supposed to be here.

But, yet, here you are. Your classmates have affectionately dubbed it “The 8th Year” at Hogwarts and even that makes you feel ill-fitting since you didn’t actually attend any of your 7th year so how could it possibly be considered your 8th? You had spent all of last year in hiding, most of which at The Burrow working to gain trust and prove your worth. You’d spent the end of it fighting on the winning side and risking your life for people you once hated.

You don’t belong.

And right now, if you could, you might just get off the train and call it quits on the whole 8th year idea. But you’re already committed now and you refuse to be labeled a quitter. It’s time to move on and build a life for yourself and you know that starts with finishing your education as best you can. So you swallowed the nausea and stayed.

You are one of the last ones off the train partly because you don’t like being in the crowd and partly because you hope it might lessen the stares. Armed with a bag filled almost entirely of long sleeved shirts, you take a deep breath and step onto the platform.

The air is warm, though the threat of colder weather ahead lingers in the air. You yearn for it, having taken a liking to the cold in the last year or so. Trees still hold their color so you suspect you have to wait just a little while for it yet. At least it gives you something to look forward to.

You begin your walk down the platform, feet padding gently along the wood. One step at a time, you tell yourself. One foot in front of the other until they suddenly stop when the sight of Draco exiting the train a few doors down causes your lungs to seize. You’d heard he would be attending so it shouldn’t have stunned you to see him, but it did. You had chosen to ignore the fact that you’d likely run into him, instead choosing to blindly hope you could somehow avoid him all year.

The thinning crowd of people allows you to see him fairly clearly. He’s looks good, well and healthy even. The little boy who broke your heart had grown into a man somehow. Perhaps in the four short months since the end of the war, he had healed. Maybe he was atoning for his wrongs. A softness in your heart grows as you watch him, letting yourself briefly daydream about a happy reunion filled with apologies and hope for the future.

His eyes scan the platform and when they fall on you, your heart speeds up anxiously. His look is not warm or friendly and when you recognize the façade painted on his face, your girlish fantasies are wiped away. He’s nothing more than the same boy he’s always been, playing pretend in a black dress jacket and trousers with a coward’s fear hidden behind his steely eyes.

He doesn’t even acknowledge you, just keeps scanning the platform before adjusting his jacket and continuing on his way. Pushing back the anger you feel starting to bubble, you tighten your grip on your bag and make your way to the carriages by yourself.

~~~

Your memories of him have always come in waves and the last two weeks have been no different as you settled into your new, old routine at school. You can go hours, even days without thinking about him and then out of nowhere, a memory will hit you so strongly that you feel like you’ve entered a pensieve.

Even now, looking at him across the great hall, you can still remember his touch. You can still practically feel his breath on your skin, your nails in his back. It was pain and comfort all in one. You remember how he’d laid his head in your lap afterwards. You still can’t be sure if the wetness left on your thighs was sweat or if he’d cried while he laid with you.

You cringe at how you had so naively thought that was the end of it. You were his salvation and he’d wake up the next morning and run away with you to the other side, to the right side of the war. But those had been foolish, little girl dreams. And you promised yourself after seeing him exit the train that you wouldn’t get involved with Draco Malfoy again.

So why can’t you stop staring at him?

Maybe because he hasn’t so much as acknowledged your existence yet and that, more than anything, pisses you off even if it shouldn’t. Despite your vow to yourself, you crave him talking to you, looking at you, noticing you’re alive for Merlin’s sake! Instead, you feel like you’ve been completely invisible to him. While this clearly made it easier to not get involved, it bothers you. He’s taking away your choice to be rid of him which is just rude.

Fingers snap in front of your face.

“Do you just want to hex him and be done with it?” Ginny asks next to you, a ghost of a smile on her lips. One positive of this year; the voluntary segregation of sitting with your house had been all but completely abandoned, allowing you to sit with the very few friends you have. “You could probably do it with minimal punishment.”

“I don’t want to hex him,” you argue softly, forcing your eyes back down to the plate in front of you. Ginny raises an eyebrow at you.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes!” You let out a huff and poke the food with your fork. “No. Maybe a little bit,” you admit. She nudges your shoulder with her own and sighs sympathetically. Ginny was never someone you thought you’d end up close with, but after staying with her family during the war, she’d become practically like your sister. She’s a better friend than you’d ever had before. Probably better than you deserve too.

“Have you spoken to him?” She keeps her voice quiet amongst the chatter in the hall. You look at her, full of irrational guilt, and shake your head in the smallest fashion you can. “Maybe you should.” You look back to him and remember the way he felt on top of you, whispering your name and the way your legs wrapped around his waist. But then, just as suddenly, you’re hit with the memory of him walking away from you in the middle of the night with a hollowness in your chest.

“I think that’s the last thing I need to do.” You force yourself to stop looking at him throughout the rest of your meal and attempt to join into jovial conversation at the table.

Fate, however, seemed to have heard your words and thusly thrust her middle finger out to you, because Draco is suddenly everywhere. It was inevitable that you run into each other, after all, you had classes together, but he still seems to be within your eyesight an excessive amount; sitting right in front of you during lessons, resting under your favorite tree, always managing to be where you can see his face during meals. Your only reprieve is your common room which you’ve taken to staying in during most of your free time.

Going strictly to and from classes and meals has become tiresome though. You’re starting to feel like you’re back in hiding and can feel a darkness creeping in. You don’t have an abundance of friends at Hogwarts. Or anywhere really. The loneliness threatens to eat away at you sometimes, but you keep it at bay by keeping your nose in your books; a coping skill you’ve become entirely too proficient at executing.

But today you venture out, book in hand, hoping to find a quiet place with a little background noise to read. A change of scenery and a breath of air may help the frayed nerves you haven’t been able to shake these last weeks. Your feet carry you to the library almost without any thought. It had been among one of the first areas rebuilt and reconstructed after the war and though they built it much the same as it had been, it had a distinctively new feel to it.

It’s a bit of a bustle with people, mostly first and second years who think studying is still the most important thing they can do. Idiots, you think. You walk around for a little bit, admiring the fresh wooden tables and shelves, before gravitating towards a back corner. There used to be a couple of chairs in a back row of books by the muggle section that no one ever frequented. With any luck, it might still exist.

Fate smiles down on you, but it’s a wicked smile because yes, your little nook is still there, but so is Draco. He sits in the armchair in plain clothes, an elbow on the armrest, and his face propped up on his fist as he stares down at the book in his lap. His platinum hair falls into his eyes, yet he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. He looks so ordinary, like he could be any man in the world and it irks you in a way you can’t put into words. He’s not ordinary. He’s not any man. He’s Draco Malfoy.

You stare long enough for him to sense it and look up from his book. And for what feels like for the first time all year, he looks at you. He freezes for just a moment, as though he’s shocked or perhaps scared at the sight of you. Then in a blink it’s gone, replaced by a softer tone in his eyes.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, his voice a rush of warm nostalgia. He closes his book. “I can leave.” Even though you’re negatively shaking your head, he gathers the bag at his feet and stands.

“It’s alright,” you try to tell him. “I’ll just go somewhere else.” He’s already standing up in front of you, ready to slink past. There’s an urge to reach out and grab his arm. You repress it.

“No, it’s fine. You like this spot.” He says it so quickly and his eyes flitter to anything but your face as he passes. Before you can try to say anything else, he’s disappeared beyond more shelves of books, completely out of view.

You’re left standing there looking after him feeling entirely unsatisfied and empty with the interaction. You can’t put your finger on or voice what you wanted to happen, but that certainly wasn’t it.

Sighing, you concede to do what you had come for. Even that proves to be too difficult because when you settle into the chair, it’s still soft with his imprint and warm with his body heat. It gives you the barest sensation of having him wrapped around you. It reminisces more than it should of that too-long-hug you shared before he’d kissed you for the first time. The memories washing over you make it too difficult to focus on the words in your book. You snap it shut and leave. The common room is clearly the better place to stay.

~~~

All of your interactions after that are all short and insignificant. He’s always there, but never looks your way. If he does have to speak to you, it’s always in a minimal way. It never fails to leave you frustrated and angry. Even your books aren’t easing your tension like they used to.

It's been nearly a full month now and throwing yourself into your studies hasn’t helped you any either. You’ve practically finished the coursework for half of your classes. Your homework is done well before you wish to go to sleep for the evening. You haven’t set foot outside the castle walls. You have so few friends, no family, and no one who can relate to your troubles. And the one person you’d counted on your whole life, your best friend and the boy you would have done almost anything for, barely even looks at you.

The suffocation of it all comes in the darkness of night. It crushes down on your chest and burns on your arm. Your fucking arm. You’ve scrubbed it. You’ve concealed it. You even went so far as to try to cut the skin off. Nothing works. That skull and snake are with you forever. And everyone knows it.

Some nights you can’t take it. You can’t merely lay in your bed and pretend sleep will come peacefully. So you leave your room. You wander the castle, trying to find those places that bring warmth to your heart and avoid those were people died.

Tonight, you go to the courtyard just to look at the stars. There’s something soulful about the sky. It’s where muggles look to when they pray to a higher power. It holds a universe more expansive than you could ever imagine. It could swallow you whole if you let it or maybe, just maybe one day it will show you how to be happy.

You forcibly don’t recognize that laying in grass and looking up at the sky had been something you and Draco used to do together. It works well enough to let you enjoy the activity again by yourself, but it blinds you to the idea that Draco might be doing the same thing.

You shouldn’t have been so surprised when you reach the courtyard and he’s there, leaning back on the fountain and staring upwards, but you are. When your shoe crunches on the gravel, his head snaps to you and with his own surprise, stands up.

Another short apology. Another move for a quick exit in the opposite direction of you. Your fists clench at your sides, unable to bottle in your anger any longer.

“Oh would you shove off with that?” you snap before he can slip back into the shadows. He turns and raises an eyebrow at you. “I was ready,” you tell him angrily. “I was ready to come back this year and hate you. I was ready to avoid you and shoot you pissed off glares from across the room. Then I get here and you avoid me!” His face puzzles for a moment.

“So you want me to try to talk to you so that you can tell me off?” A little bit of his old self, of the Draco you once knew and loved, comes through in an irritated eye roll. “Sorry to disappoint.” You let out a huff of air and cross your arms.

“Why are you avoiding me?” The puzzled look on his face returns.

“The way you’re reacting right now doesn’t answer that question for you?” He tilts his head and hums mockingly. “Not as smart as I thought you were.”

“Smarter than you are, clearly.” He grinds his jaw at your condescension and then he’s walking up to you, getting closer than he’s been all year and your bravery falters for a moment as your feet step you back and your arms uncross to hang useless by your sides.

“That’s why I haven’t approached you. I don’t need another lecture. I’ve been to trial. I’m on probation. I’ve had everything I’ve ever done wrong put out in front of me in excruciating detail. I don’t need you to give me another run through.” His eyes and his tone are cold, hard. You recognize it all too well and while he’s gotten better at hiding it, you can still see the pain underneath. It tries to soften you, but ultimately fails.

“They shouldn’t have let you come back,” you spit at him, instantly regretting the words when he pulls away. You don’t mean it. Of course you don’t mean it, but you say it with enough venom and hate that he believes it.

“We all made mistakes,” he hisses at you before glancing down to your arm. The heat of his stare practically stings and you have to resist that instinctive pull to hide it away. “I hear you’re the shining example everyone uses to demonstrate that not all bad guys hail from Slytherin, even despite the fact that you changed sides in the end.” The only reason you don’t crack your palm over his cheek is because you give in to the need to hold onto your left forearm tightly, your palm now busy cradling the skull of the Dark Mark underneath your shirt sleeve. “How’s that feel?”

“You’re horrid,” you tell him weakly. He tilts his head again.

“That is what everyone says.” He gives a shrug that tries too hard to be casual and finally steps out of your personal space. With a small shake of his head, he turns to leave again, but you refuse to let him get the last word.

“At least I tried to atone!” you call after him. He pauses, but doesn’t look back. “I did the right thing when it mattered!”

“And where did that get you?” he asks bitterly. “Where did it get your family?” You suck in a harsh breath and try desperately to hold back the tears that are abruptly burning behind your eyes. Dead, you think. It got them killed.

“They made their own choices.” It sounds rehearsed because it is. You told yourself those same words over and over again every night for months. Your parents weren’t good people. You knew that. They were still your parents though and when you heard He’d killed them, it hurt more than you want to admit. And Draco knew that. Draco knows your weaknesses and your soft spots and just how to twist a knife into you. Perhaps that’s why you hated him so much.

“You don’t bother me and I won’t bother you.” He still hasn’t even so much as looked over his shoulder back at you.

“Fine,” you answer curtly, your hand still wringing around your forearm. When he leaves, you allow yourself to crumple onto the ground and cry. You feel so much hollower than the last time he’d left you in tears. Back then, the air had practically crackled with tension and death and war. Now the air is silent, calm and that makes it all the more unsettling. All the more finite.

~~~

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[wherevermyway]

step out! do what you want (chapter six)

pairings: reader/bang chan, reader/han jisung side pairings: 
established changbin/minho, reader/bang chan/han jisung rating: explicit | 18+ warnings: someone dies this chapter so fucking big ass warning here! angst, violence, graphic descriptions of violence, minor drug use, use of firearms, description of graphic injuries, profanity, drug dealer!au, organized crime!au. word count: about 3,750 also can be found on my AO3 here! chapter/series navigation

chapter six: counting all the minutes and the days have been counting me

recommended tracks: another life by motionless in white, palette by iu and g-dragon, chanel by frank ocean, boy with luv (disco-funk mashup) by bts/seokjinnie, I’m upset by drake, love song by lana del rey, levanter (english version) by stray kids, voodoo people (pendulum remix) by the prodigy, straight to video (kmfdm remix) by mindless self indulgence, break me shake me by savage garden, ride it by regard; rush over me by seven lions/illenium/said the sky. playlist can be found here!

note: I am so sorry for this chapter. damn you, toastie. this is also a lot shorter than most chapters, so apologies in advance. took a lot out of me this time lol.

disclaimer: any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

side note: for the love of minho’s cats, don’t mix party drugs or drugs with alcohol.

“We need to go,” Changbin presses, pushing himself off of the doorframe and fiddling with his phone. “I’ve got the arsenal in the car, so you just need to get your body armour on and we can go.”

“I don’t want her coming with,” Christopher says, ruffling a hand through his hair, “it’s going to be too dangerous.”

“We don’t have a fucking choice,” Changbin grumbles, focusing on something on his phone. “Besides, I need her with so we can coax Minji out. Get her distracted enough to give us the upper hand.”

Christopher grumbles, ready to argue with Changbin, but decides against it at the last minute. He turns, kneeling down next to the bed. He pulls a hefty chest out from under the bed, unlocking it and throwing it open. He digs around a bit, tossing up a vest to you. “I think this will fit you,” he says without looking up, continuing to dig through the chest. “Jisung, take this,” he says, tossing another vest at the lean man.

“Let’s go,” he says as you slip the vest on. “We’ll make this work, alright? I’ll keep you covered as best as I can.” Christopher steps to your left, placing a hand on the small of your back.

“I’ve got you, too,” Jisung says, popping up on your right from behind you. He puts his hand over Christopher’s and smiles at you.

The walk down to the car is quiet, the dry air filled with tension. Minho is leaning up against the car, picking at something under his fingernails. Seungmin is in the driver’s seat, fumbling around with something on his phone. You all pack yourselves into the car, squeezing yourself in between Jisung and Christopher at the very back of the van.

Changbin sits in the seat in front of you, rifling through a duffel bag on the floor. “Alright,” he says, checking the mechanisms on a semi-automatic he pulls out, “here’s how this is going to go. Minji and Hyunjin are caught up in one of the Triad’s properties in Songpa-gu. If we’re lucky, there will be minimal men there and we’ll get in and get out.”

“This mostly goes for you, Jisung,” Changbin says, trying not to roll his eyes as he looks at the silver-haired man, “but don’t kill Hyunjin. I need him alive to get information on the Triads. Minji, I don’t care about. I’ve all but confirmed that she is just a pawn in their game. Nothing more than a drug trafficker.”

Jisung scoffs, grabbing the duffel bag off the floor. “Yeah, whatever,” he says, grabbing a pistol out of the bag and handing it to Christopher, “Give me some credit, man, I’m not that trigger-happy.”

Felix laughs, possibly for the first time since you met him. “There was that one time in Busan,” he starts, but Jisung cuts him off.

“It was one time!” He shouts, throwing a stray cloth at the man in front of him. “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you! I totally should have shot you. Asshole.”

“Aish,” Changbin rolls his eyes, passing a pistol up to Minho in the seat ahead of him. “I don’t want you to have to fight, baby, but I’d feel better if you had this on you.”

“Aw, come on,” Minho winks at Changbin. “Remember that one time we were in Daegu and I had to cover your ass because your pistol got jammed? I very distinctly remember you thanking me over and over again in the back of that sports car and a couple times in the hotel.”

Changbin grits his teeth in embarrassment, blushing as he looks down. “Whatever, just take the fucking pistol.” Minho laughs at the man as he turns around.

The drive couldn’t have taken more than an hour; it felt like Seungmin had a habit for speeding. The city skyline zoomed past you, and you started to recognize the neighbourhoods of Seoul as you drove past. You got to an industrial area of Songpa-gu, somewhere you weren’t familiar with, when you stop.

Seungmin turns the car off, turning to look at Changbin, then the other men in the car. “They’re here. Are you ready?” Changbin takes in a shallow inhale, turning to Christopher. Christopher nods in response, pulling the semi-automatic rifle in his hands closer to his chest.

Felix and Jeongin lead the group of you up to large bay door of an abandoned warehouse. The vest around your chest started to feel as if it was smothering you. You could have sworn you had seen this place in some bad drama; it seemed stereotypical and expected. Group gets ambushed at the warehouse, someone gets shot, end scene. Roll credits.

The pit in your stomach grew as you realized Minji wasn’t going to make it out of here alive. The woman you knew and had gotten close to over the past year was a facade. This Minji was a lie, and she used you to get some sort of personal gain. Felix, Jeongin, and Changbin walk in front of the bay doors, their fingers on the triggers of their rifles, ready to aim if someone got in their way.

The air is tense, and a moment of silence passes before Changbin waves the rest of you over. “I’ve got your friend here, Moon,” he says as you walk towards him, looking at Minji. She and Hyunjin are standing in the middle of the floor, in front of a table with suitcases lined around it, surprised to see all of you. It looked as if they were packing the suitcases with packets of drugs.

“I know you’re alone here,” Changbin continues, “so don’t try to act tough. The Triads can’t be too far away, but they were dumb enough to leave you alone. Tells me you’re not worth their time.”

“Moon Minji,” Changbin says, quickly correcting himself, “or should I address you as Tian Xiaoli, the name you're more comfortable with?”

Minji grits her teeth as she pulls the pistol off of her hip, aiming it haphazardly at Changbin. He manages to stay in one position, completely unfazed by her threat. “Joined the Triads four years ago,” he continues, “they’ve used you as a decoy to push drugs in and out of Seoul since nobody ever expects a good, rich Korean girl to traffic drugs. Maybe I should say Korean-presenting? Fake passport, fake birth certificates. Several drivers licenses in different countries. You’re a busy woman.”

The pistol in Minji’s hand quivers, “What do you know about me? I didn’t just need the money, if you grew up in the same house I did, you’d have done anything to get out. All that pressure to succeed and getting nowhere?”

“Honestly,” Changbin chuckles, waving his hands in the air, “if I had gotten to you sooner, I’m sure we could have worked something out. Probably gotten you a better deal. Way better than whatever Hwang could get you.”

Hyunjin places his hand up against Minji’s back, positioning his free hand above the pistol on his hip. “You’re too drunk with power,” he sighs, “there’s no way for me to move up. You think you’re so good because you know everything, but you ain’t shit. You know the Triads are taking over Seoul, and it’s killing your business.”

Changbin scoffs, folding his arms. “You never put in the fucking effort.”

“What do you know?” Hyunjin growls, his eyes turning dark with anger. “You were practically handed this position, and we all know you didn’t deserve it.”

“Whatever,” Changbin says with a scoff, rolling his eyes at his junior. “You know you would never make it anywhere close to the top, and you can’t handle it. You never would have gotten as far as you did if it wasn’t for me and Christopher pulling you along the way. You’re barely useful enough to sell guns out of our group.” Hyunjin scowls, taking his pistol and aiming it directly at you. You’re frozen in place, your legs refusing to move. It feels almost as if you’ve sprouted roots from your feet, attaching you into the ground.  “You know I’m a good shot, though.”

The threat causes a panic to light up inside you. You want to move, but the roots taking hold of your feet don’t allow it to happen. Changbin takes a hasty step in front of you, his hands bringing his rifle in front of him, and Christopher moves to shove you out of the way.

Hyunjin hesitates for a second, but the ripping of gunshots fills your ears. You feel a searing pain in your left leg as the root keeping you in the ground dissolves. In a split second, you’re looking up at the ceiling, the scaffolding reaching up to the sky like tree branches. There’s something about the scenery that reminds you of being a child, laying on the ground at the playground absorbing the sunshine. It feels like there’s a ray of sunshine boring into your leg, searing you in two.

“Changbin!” You hear someone screaming, pulling you out of your daydream and back to reality.

“You good-for-nothing backstabber,” you hear Changbin spit out. You gently lift your head up, taking in the moment. There’s blood everywhere, spilling from your leg, and also coming from Changbin’s back in front of you. You’re convinced that you can see through him.

Changbin aims his semi-automatic towards Minji and Hyunjin, carefully aiming the gun as best as he can at them. He’s able to sink a couple shots in Minji, then he turns his attention to Hyunjin when she hits the ground with a thud. “I can’t believe you,” he groans, directing his rage at Hyunjin, “you fucking coward.” He unloads a couple more shots into Hyunjin’s leg, then groans as he hits the floor.

“Changbin!” The voice screams again, louder this time. Minho shouts at the top of his lungs, rushing to Changbin as he falls. Christopher reaches out to grab him, but the smaller man just slips out of his grip. He mutters something under his breath, swapping out the magazine of his pistol.

Jisung comes bolting around the corner, aiming directly at Minji with his semi-automatic. You see him take in a quick breath before he unloads the magazine in his rifle directly into her. She reaches her pistol up towards you, but it falls from her hand as she completely collapses into the ground.

Hyunjin falls against the wall, staring down at the literal bloodbath at his feet. “Holy shit,” he breathes out shakily, his hands trembling as he grips his hair, “Changbin, Minho, Chan, I…”

“Shut the fuck up, you traitor,” Jisung spits out, pulling the pistol holstered at his hip. He cocks it, aiming it at Hyunjin’s head. “I should unload this into your fucking skull, but you’re of more use alive to me than dead. So, you’d best pray to God that I’ll show you mercy as long as I need to keep you around.”

Changbin grips Minho’s collar, pulling him close. “Baby,” he groans out, “I’m sorry I never got to finish that song for you.”

“Binnie, baby,” Minho cries out, grabbing Changbin’s face, “don’t apologize. You’ll finish the song. You’ll finish an entire album for me.”

Changbin weakly smiles, dragging his fingertips across Minho’s face. “If I had the chance to do this all again,” he says, coughing up thick, viscous blood, “I would have asked you to marry me the minute you got out of the hospital. You were always my person. Fuck,” he says, with a deep, heavy cough, “you were always my person, Minho. I’m so glad I got to know you, that I got to love you. So glad I got to be your person.”

Minho’s face contorts into a strange shape, reflecting an expression you can’t quite comprehend. “Baby,” he whines, “you will still have the chance. I will marry you a thousand times over as long as you’re here, I promise, Binnie. I love you so much. Just stay with me.”

But the pleading he tries has no effect. Changbin slips from Minho’s grasp, his body going limp. The two of them sit there, Minho gripping Changbin as tightly as he can. Minho pulls Changbin to his chest, keeping him there for as long as humanly possible.

When he realizes that Changbin can’t, and won’t, respond, Minho screams. He screams from the bottom of his soul, for as long as he can possibly manage. Hearing him scream in such a raw, primal way makes your stomach turn.

Christopher is the first to move, working his way towards Changbin and Minho. “Min,” he whispers, “let me help you get-”

However, Minho has none of it. He looks up at Christopher, his eyes burning red, “No, I won’t let you,” he whimpers. “I am not leaving Changbin; I’m not going to let him go.”

Christopher runs his hands through his hair, tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes. Felix and Seungmin make their way to Hyunjin, picking him up and carrying him out of the room. Jeongin slowly paces his way to where Minji lies, kicking her shoulder with the tip of his boot.

“Unbelievable,” he mutters under his breath, “I can’t believe any of this.” Jeongin turns, slowly pacing his way to you. He kneels down and offers you a hand. “Are you okay?”

You don’t really know how to answer him, so you simply shake your head. “Changbin,” falls from your lips, as you look at the way Minho grips Changbin in his arms. Jeongin shakes his head twice, reaching his hand up to wipe a tear off of your face.

“It’s what we do,” he says at a near-whisper. “We protect civilians, and if one of us is out of line, we take care of it. Any one of us would have taken a bullet for you, it just happened to be Changbin this time.”

“But, I didn’t-“ you try to say, but he cuts you off, putting his finger over your lips.

“I know.” Jeongin nods. “But this is how it happened. Nothing we can do now.”

You’re not really sure how much time slips forward as you sit in the quiet, cold warehouse. Felix tied a tourniquet to your leg at some point, mentioning that it probably wasn’t going to be too serious, but he would take a look at it when you all got back to the safehouse. At some point, Seungmin and Jisung take Changbin from Minho, where he completely collapses.

Minho’s face is void of expression; you stare at him as he gazes beyond you, far off in the distance. There’s a large amount of drying blood covering him from his shoulders down to his ankles. Felix says something to him, saying he needed to check Minho for any additional wounds, but the older man doesn’t respond.

“Minho,” Christopher says, leaning down to him, grabbing his shoulder and trying to get him upright. “We can’t stay here forever. The longer we’re out here, the more likely we’ll run into the Triads.” The brunette ignores Christopher’s request, continuing to stare off somewhere far behind you.

“February sixteenth,” he manages to whisper out, his voice cracking as he says it.

“What?” Christopher lets go of Minho’s arm, cocking his head to the side.

“He said ‘I love you’ on February sixteenth last year.” Minho whispers, closing his eyes, “it was the first time he told me that he loved me. We were in Shibuya. He just finished signing Jeongin, and he had finished recording a demo album and he was so excited. Everything was finally going well.”

Minho slowly sits up, keeping his eyes closed. “He wanted to go to Canada or Australia this winter, get married. Actually, legally married. He even jokingly said something about a romantic wedding somewhere in Europe. Of course,” he sighed, letting his head fall into his hands, “that wouldn’t have meant shit here. He wanted to get away from all of this, go move somewhere far away from this shit and start a family somewhere. Never see any of this again. We were so close. Almost there.”

Minho sits on the ground for another few minutes, silently letting himself cry into his hands. Christopher gets down on his knees, pulling the younger man to his chest, letting him completely fall apart. “I’ve got you, Min,” Christopher whispers, stroking Minho’s hair. “It’s going to hurt for a while, I know. We’ve got you, though. You’re not going to go through this alone, you’ve got your brothers.”

It had to have been another hour before you all finally made your way back to Incheon. The drive was completely silent, absent the ambient noise from the highway. Felix spent plenty of time looking over both you and Minho for residual wounds, cleaning up minor lacerations and patching up other scrapes. Jisung gave Minho a couple of tablets of what you assumed was Xanax, which helped him sleep the entire way home.

Christopher and Jisung help carry Minho into the apartment, setting him down on the couch. Seungmin and Jeongin take the van back to another safehouse, presumably to keep Hyunjin in one place and to handle Changbin’s body. Felix pulls you aside to take a look at the bullet in your leg, able to clean the wound out with some careful attention, and he tells you that he’ll bring you in to their clinic tomorrow to take care of the bullet removal.

Felix unpacks a backpack he brought upstairs with him, hooking up an IV to Minho. “Don’t worry,” he says, noticing the concern on your face as you watch him. “He’s always had problems with anxiety, so I’m just going to keep him out overnight and try to get some fluids back into him.”

“Felix is our resident medic, in case you haven’t noticed,” Jisung says, gently squeezing your shoulder. “Whenever something like this happens, he’s always on top of the medical care. We’re pretty lucky to have him around.”

The bleach-blond man scoffs, measuring out a liquid from a vial, injecting it into a port in the IV. “Yeah, you are,” he laughs, “I remember trying to teach you some basic medical stuff and you almost killed Seungmin because you forgot to expel the air from the syringe.”

“Yeah,” Jisung rolls his eyes with a sigh, “there’s a reason I don’t do this shit. Anyway,” he grabs your waist, pulling you to the bedroom. “Why don’t we let Felix take care of Minho, and we can get some sleep?”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Christopher says, flatly, as he opens the door to the bedroom. You and Jisung follow him through the door. Christopher collapses on the floor as soon as he steps through the door. Jisung comes up behind him, his hands coming up to his sides. “Chan,” he says, bringing his hands up to Christopher’s face. “It’s okay, it’ll be okay.”

“No,” Christopher says, weakly, “It won’t be okay. Changbin is gone. My best friend is gone.” He looks like he wants to cry, but his face is completely void of emotions. He just lets himself melt into the floor, staring down the patterns in the wood. “Changbin is gone,” he whispers as he closes his eyes.

Jisung looks up at you, words escaping him.

“Christopher,” you say, but you’re not really sure what to tell him. You know there’s nothing that can help fill the hole he feels in heart. You bend down, reaching your hands out to him. “Come on, why don’t we get up on the bed and get some sleep? We can talk about this tomorrow.”

“Hell,” Jisung sighs, “at least let me grab you a pillow if you’re gonna try and sleep here. Alright?”

“No,” Christopher says, slowly working his way upright. “She’s right, I should sleep on the bed. You never know when someone you care about will be taken from you, so I might as well sleep with both of you.”

Jisung flings his arms around Christopher and looks up at you. “Yeah,” he says, nuzzling his head up against his superior’s. “Come on,” he pulls at Christopher”s shoulder, “nobody can see you cry on the bed, anyways.”

The three of you manage to make your way up to the top of the bed. Tonight, however, is different, compared to the way you’ve usually fallen asleep. You and Jisung take the edges of the bed, wrapping yourselves up around Christopher in a protective cocoon. You’re not sure what time it is when you fall asleep, just that the sun had started to come up when your eyes finally shut.

You also can swear you hear Christopher whisper something as you fall asleep, but you’re not sure if it’s just your mind playing tricks on you. It almost sounds like he’s saying your name and that he loves you.

[vespertineflora]

okay y’all it’s time for a sad one (though it ends happy, promise). decided to write up my take on what might have happened after lwj whisked wwx away the night after the massacre at Nightless City

Rating: Teen for some violent descriptions/heavy emotions Summary:  Wei Wuxian hadn’t been lying the night he’d told Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji that he didn’t remember the days after the massacre at Nightless City, but his memory had always been awful, so he hadn't given much thought to just how many pieces of his memory were missing. Since his reincarnation, memories from his past life have been coming back to him bit by bit, and he doesn't seem to have much control over it--but if he did, he would have chosen to never remember what happened those days in that cave in Yiling.  (6.5k, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-canon with recovered memories from Yiling)

~~~

Wei Wuxian hadn’t been lying the night he’d told Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji that he didn’t remember the days after the massacre at Nightless City.

He remembered the killing, at least in bits and pieces. He remembered the rage he’d felt, the despair, he remembered not caring if he made it away from that place alive--he remembered not caring if anyone else made it away from that place alive either, because a world cruel enough to allow his gentle, loving sister to be killed so swiftly, so brutally wasn’t a world that deserved to exist anymore. Afterwards, his... memories were mostly blank for hours or... days, he hadn’t been sure. The only other thing he could remember from that time was coming to in the Burial Mounds and knowing that it was all over, that it would just be a matter of time before they came for him. The last thought he could distinctly remember was knowing he had to destroy the Stygian Tiger Amulet. He’d known there was no hope for him, no miraculous escape, no talking his way out of a desperate situation as he’d done in the past. He was going to die, and the least he could do to minimize the suffering of the world before he left it was to destroy the amulet so that no one else could ever use its powers the way he had.

He died from the force it took to destroy just half of it, the blowback of resentful energy ripping his body and his soul to shreds in mere seconds.

Whether it was the grief of losing his sister, the madness brought on by the overwhelming resentful energy, some retroactive effect of dying, psychic trauma from having his soul torn asunder, or some combination of two or more of the above, he couldn’t say for sure, but he knew with utter certainty on the night Lan Xichen had revealed the source of Lan Wangji’s scars that those days of Lan Wangji coming to his rescue and staying by his side in that cave weren’t memories he had access to. Whether or not the memories existed in his head at all was another matter, but he knew for sure he’d had no idea of what Lan Wangji had done for him, what he’d sacrificed for him, not until Lan Xichen had revealed the truth to him.

In the weeks and months after that trying night of intrigue and confessions, the night that somehow, against all odds, managed to have a happy ending, Wei Wuxian remained just as blissfully unaware of it. 

Of course, it was more than just those last few days he hadn’t remembered upon his return to the mortal plane, but... Wei Wuxian’s memory had always been awful, even before his soul had been shattered and reconstructed in a new body, so he hadn’t given much thought to all the things missing, the things that came back to him as the days and weeks passed. Remembering the soft lullaby Lan Wangji had sung for him that feverish day in the cave, for instance; memories of the sweet young face of the boy who’d been as good as his own child in Yiling, of having his first kiss breathlessly stolen while pinned up against a tree, of sneaking lotus seeds with his Jiang Sect classmates and being beat by angry lake owners, of arranging a ghoulish welcoming committee to toss flowers at Lan Wangji upon his first trip to Lotus Pier... They were all memories that had returned to him, bit by bit over those first few months, and it wasn’t as if solving the mystery of Nie Mingjue’s murder had suddenly put a stop to it.

Sometimes eating a certain food, or having a certain conversation brought a memory back, sometimes there seemed to be no trigger at all. Some memories he welcomed, while others he wished had just stayed gone... He didn’t seem to have any control over it, either way, and despite the dark cloud that had loomed over him for more of his life than he’d cared to think about, there was surprisingly more good than bad.

Given the choice, he would have let the days after Nightless City remain a blur for the rest of his life, but apparently fate had different plans for him.

He’d fallen asleep that night, much as he did most nights any more, curled up against Lan Wangji’s chest on the single bed in the small inn room they shared in any one of any number of cities and towns their travels brought them to, but the dream that welcomed him into slumber that night was anything but typical.

It started with the smell of blood.

Some of it was stale, years old, dry and rotted, adorning the skin and the clothes of the men buried beneath the dirt of Nightless City. It wasn’t a smell that bothered Wei Wuxian, but it was one he was sensitive to, a smell that his life as the Yiling Patriarch had been permanently tainted with ever since the night he’d been dumped carelessly into the Yiling Burial Mounds and left for dead. 

It didn’t take long at all though for the smell of fresh blood, bright and sharp and coppery, to overtake it, to splatter the grounds they stood on as the corpses in his control overtook the living, maiming and murdering as many as they could in their efforts, and in Wei Wuxian’s madness.

He didn’t get through it unharmed, couldn’t avoid every attack aimed at him, couldn't stop every sword thrust in his direction, on top of which the effort drained him, the resentful energy and trauma taking hold of him and ripping him apart bit by bit until he could barely stand on his own, until nearly every cultivator there was dead or dying or at least fallen, and Wei Wuxian’s bloodlust had been satisfied. He’d let the corpses in his control resume their slumber, and he’d staggered down the stairs of Nightless City, not altogether sure where he was planning to go.

That was the extent of what he’d held in his mind before, but tonight... tonight, as he barely held himself up on his two feet, as he walked away from the bloodshed in a daze... tonight, his mind stayed conscious.

When a pair of strong arms suddenly grabbed him, his heart lept into his throat, and his first thought was I’m dead. I turned my back too soon, and this person is going to take their revenge on me.

His second thought was, I’m so tired. I’m too tired to keep fighting.

And his third thought was, I deserve it anyway.

He gave in. He didn’t fight the arms that came around him, and he accepted the death that was surely swift approaching. He closed his eyes, not even caring who it was that would take his life, so long as it was over quickly.

But there was no violent blow. He heard a sword being drawn from its sheath, and he prepared for the blade to strike him, hack away at him, pierce him, gut him, anything, until he was sick with the anticipation of it. Nothing came. Nothing touched him but a pair of strong arms, that... that suddenly pulled him onto a broad back, before they were off the ground, the sword taking off with only a slight wobble before mostly steadying itself in the air.

When he opened his eyes, he couldn’t see who it was holding him, beyond the long, dark hair in his face and the white of the GusuLan sect robes, all Wei Wuxian could see was the passage of the lands far beneath their feet as they moved through the air.

He didn’t know what was happening. The edges of his brain were going dark and he was too exhausted and too distraught to keep awake any longer. He let his eyes close, accepting whatever fate befell him.

Before he passed out, the last thing he became aware of was the faint smell of sandalwood.

When he next awoke, Wei Wuxian was being cradled gently in another’s arms. He could tell just by the pervasive smell of death on the air that they were in the Burial Mounds somewhere, but as his eyes opened and adjusted to the light, he couldn’t tell where. They were in a shallow cave, maybe ten meters back from the opening of it, the greyish light of the mountain’s sky filtering inside. His head was pounding, his whole body ached, and his brain protested the idea of being awake, of being alive. 

He should be dead. He wanted to be dead.

His beloved shijie was dead because of him. He deserved to be dead.

But the strong arms of whoever was holding him seemed to disagree. A faint light caught Wei Wuxian’s eyes after just a second and he noticed the hand that was cupped over his own, noticed the faint glow of blue-white light that radiated from this hand to his own, the sign of spiritual energy being bestowed to him.

Overcome with distress, he tugged his hand away, twisting in the careful grip of the person holding him, to see who would do such a thing, to see who the fuck would care so much, to see who could possibly want to save someone like him, when he was already so far beyond saving.

His heart stopped as his eyes took in the disheveled and dirty robes that should have been pristine and perfect, flecked with blood that could have been anyone’s and the tired, but determined face of Lan Wangji.

“Lan Zhan,” he rasped, his throat burning to say the name, to say anything as his heart clawed its way up into his throat. What was he doing here? He’d... he’d been at Nightless City, Wei Wuxian remembered that much, but after watching Yanli get stabbed, all his thoughts had gone dark and blurry and he didn’t know what had happened to Lan Wangji after that, until...

Until now. 

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji replied, his own voice just as rough. The look in his pale eyes was dark, dismal, desperate and made Wei Wuxian’s heart ache all the more.

What the fuck was he doing here? Why had he... why had he taken Wei Wuxian away? Why was he trying to save him when... when there just wasn’t a point any more?

Lan Wangji tried to reach for his hand again, clearly wanting to resume the transfer of spiritual energy, but Wei Wuxian twisted further, trying to get out of his grip, because he didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve anything from Lan Wangji, didn’t deserve to be saved--but his rising heart rate made his vision darken around the edges, and before he could move than a few inches away, he passed out again.

On his next return to consciousness, he was no longer in Lan Wangji’s arms, no longer propped against his chest. Lan Wangji must have settled him against the rock wall of the cave, because Wei Wuxian only felt cold hard stone against his back--and that alone almost relieved him until he realized that his hand was still being held, was being kept warm as Lan Wangji continued to feed him spiritual energy through it.

He tried to tug his hand away, but Lan Wangji reflexively held on tighter, and Wei Wuxian didn’t have the energy to resist his strong grip. 

“Wei Ying.”

Lan Wangji said his name like a prayer to any god who might hear it, like an oath, and if Wei Wuxian’s heart hadn’t already been shattered into a thousand tiny shards back on the grounds of Nightless City, it might have shattered all over again. Lan Wangji shouldn’t be saying his name like that. No one should, but especially not Lan Wangji.

“You shouldn't be here,” Wei Wuxian croaked, making another weak attempt to tug his hand away.

The words darkened the anguish in Lan Wangji’s eyes, and that hurt Wei Wuxian as much as anything. Lan Wangji shouldn’t be looking at him like that. The last time they’d parted... It was after they shared a meal together with A-Yuan (oh little A-Yuan what would happen to him now?), after Wen Ning’s consciousness returned (though Wen Ning was nothing more than scattered ashes now), he and Lan Wangji had parted on friendly terms, as friendly as they had ever parted ways, but what was that supposed to mean? Why the fuck was Lan Wangji here right now, and not back with the rest of his clan, with his brother, at Nightless City?

Lan Wangji’s hand just held his own tighter, as if it was all he was capable of, as if it was all he knew how to do. “Your wounds aren’t too serious,” he said, his voice trembling in a way Wei Wuxian had never heard before. Not even in that cave in Qishan, with his home burned to ashes and his family all injured, missing, or dead had Wei Wuxian ever heard Lan Wangji in such clear distress. “I should be able to heal them in just a few days.”

“Don’t,” Wei Wuxian replied, sure of his answer, but perplexed as to why he had to say it. He felt so weak he could barely speak above a whisper, but he had to say it, “Don’t waste your energy on me. Just go.”

Lan Wangji was clearly injured himself, he was discernibly exhausted, so exhausted that Wei Wuxian could remember how Bichen had wavered in the air on the way here, and for all the times he’d seen Lan Wangji fly, he’d never wavered like that before. Lan Wangji needed every bit of energy he had left for himself.

“You’ll be alright,” Lan Wangji said, as if he was reassuring himself as much as he was reassuring Wei Wuxian. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“Don’t,” Wei Wuxian repeated, uselessly tugging at his hand again, and trying again, harsher, “Let me go!” 

His eyes stung, and as his heart started to throb, his vision started to dim again.

“I’m here. Just rest,” was the last soft thing he heard before slipping beneath the surface once more.

His consciousness faded in and out a few more times after that, each time Lan Wangji hovering over or beside him in a different position, but each time just as steadfast in his stubborn delivery of spiritual energy, no matter how little he could spare at a time, even if all he could manage was the tiniest trickle, he wouldn’t stop, and Wei Wuxian wasn’t strong enough to make him.

At some points, hours or days later, Wei Wuxian managed to croak, tormented by the question, “Why?”

And Lan Wangji went silent for a long moment, his head hanging so that Wei Wuxian couldn’t see his face, his body so tightly wound that Wei Wuxian could feel the shaking in the hand that clung so desperately to his own, the flow of spiritual energy tapering off for the moment.

“I can’t lose you.”

The words were so small, so soft that Wei Wuxian wasn’t quite sure he’d heard them at all, was sure he’d heard wrong.

Then suddenly Lan Wangji... lurched forward, seeming as if he were going to collapse--but what he did instead was lean into Wei Wuxian, his forehead resting against Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. It was hardly any contact at all, but from Lan Wangji, who had touched him so rarely, and whose touch had only ever been for practical purposes, it was enough to make Wei Wuxian’s heart clench painfully in his chest. 

“I can’t lose you,” Lan Wangji repeated, his voice no more steady, but louder now, so that Wei Wuxian couldn’t doubt what he’d said. “I can’t let you die, I...”

Wei Wuxian could hardly swallow, could hardly breathe. He’d never heard Lan Wangji like this, never, had never heard him so desperate and pleading, so beaten down by whatever emotions were waging a war inside of him, and Wei Wuxian regretted the question, regretted needing to know, because whatever answer Lan Wangji had for him wasn’t going to be anything he could handle hearing.

“I... love you.”

The words dripped from Lan Wangji’s lips and Wei Wuxian’s insides twisted, somehow feeling both like a solid lump of iron and churning molten rock all at once. He was going to be sick.

“I love you, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said again, voice low and tense, his hand trembling harder against Wei Wuxian’s. “I’ll heal you,” he continued so softly that Wei Wuxian had to strain to listen, “I’ll take you back to Gusu. You can hide there and we’ll.... We’ll figure something out, we--”

“No!” Wei Wuxian snapped. What was Lan Wangji saying? What was he saying? He loved him? He shouldn’t love him, no one should love him--his sister loved him, and look what happened to her! Look at the tragedy he’d left behind for Jiang Cheng, and for his orphaned infant nephew! The dregs of the Wen clan he saved, they loved him, cared for him, and they were as good as dead now, Jiang Fengmian had loved him, his parents had loved him, and they were all gone, gone, gone, GONE.

Lan Wangji couldn’t love him. He shouldn’t love him. Wei Wuxian couldn’t let Lan Wangji love him. 

Wei Wuxian was a dead man. Lan Wangji was in love with a dead man.

It was pointless. It was all pointless. Wei Wuxian knew what he did, he knew what crimes he’d committed. Perhaps he was safe for now, for this moment, but Wei Wuxian knew in his heart he was living on borrowed time--no, no, he’d been living on borrowed time for years now, he was out of that, he’d run out of that the moment Wen Ning’s hand had pierced Jin Zixuan’s chest and ripped out his beating heart. This was worse, this... this was stolen time. Every minute he continued to live now was a minute he was stealing from Lan Wangji, a minute he was ripping right away from whatever life Lan Wangji should go on living without him.

The clan leaders would regroup. They would come for him. It didn’t matter where he was, it didn’t matter if he tried to run or hide. His crimes were unforgivable. They wouldn’t forgive him, they wouldn’t forget, they’d hunt him down to the ends of the earth, and if Lan Wangji were by his side when they found him...

If Lan Wangji were by his side, they’d hunt him down too.

Wei Wuxian didn’t... he didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t know how he felt to give Lan Wangji any answer in return, but he wasn’t going to bother to think about it, because it didn’t fucking matter. Nothing mattered, he was dead. There wasn’t a single fucking outcome of this where Wei Wuxian would get through it alive, he’d never been more sure of anything in his entire fucking life, he was dead, dead dead dead dead.

But Lan Wangji wasn’t dead. Lan Wangji wasn’t condemned to die with him just yet. And if Wei Wuxian could do anything, could accomplish any goal with the last miserable dregs of his life, he had to at least do this. Lan Wangji couldn’t die with him, shouldn’t die with him. Even if he couldn’t understand how Lan Wangji could be saying this, how he could feel this way about him, it didn’t matter. Wei Wuxian didn’t need to understand. 

He just needed to make Lan Wangji leave, before they were discovered, before Lan Wangji was in harm’s way.

Wei Wuxian had already hurt so many, taken so many lives with him. How could he possibly let this happen to Lan Wangji too? Lan Wangji was the only person left, the only person he cared about who had a chance to make it out of this alive, and Wei Wuxian couldn’t be the reason he didn’t.

At his outburst, Lan Wangji had gone rigid, frozen against him, and Wei Wuxian had to harden his heart, or whatever was left of it. He couldn’t think about what was going through Lan Wangji’s mind. If he thought telling Lan Wangji whatever he wanted to hear would save his life, Wei Wuxian would do it in a heartbeat, whether or not it was true, he wished he could soothe Lan Wangji’s heart, wished he could give him what he wanted, what someone as good as Lan Wangji deserved, but it wasn’t an option. 

“Leave,” Wei Wuxian said sharply, sounding as resolved as he could. 

If he gave Lan Wangji whatever he wanted, maybe it would soothe him for now... but he would die.

Wei Wuxian would much rather see Lan Wangji live with a broken heart. A broken heart could mend, could love again, but there was no repair if Lan Wangji died with him, and Wei Wuxian couldn’t do that, couldn’t have that weighing on his soul alongside everything else.

Lan Wangji raised his head, and Wei Wuxian didn’t want to look, but he forced himself to. For all the pain on Lan Wangji’s face, Wei Wuxian might as well have taken a knife and stabbed Lan Wangji right through the heart, and his resolve nearly gave out to put so much pain there, to hurt his dear friend so deeply.

Hurt was better than dead, Wei Wuxian told himself, as he tried to harden his expression, repeating, louder, “Get lost!”

Lan Wangji flinched, the knife twisting in his chest, but he didn’t get up, he didn’t go. His pale gaze stared Wei Wuxian down for a long moment, and Wei Wuxian could barely stand the look in his eyes, the moisture there, the redness that clearly meant he’d already shed tears. 

“Go away,” Wei Wuxian said again, his voice faltering, even though he was trying to stay firm. “Get the fuck away from me.”

Lan Wangji seemed frozen for another minute--and when he moved, Wei Wuxian almost felt relief, was almost sure it had worked, almost sure he was about to leave...

But all Lan Wangji did was adjust his sitting position slightly, and with trembling hands, he reached for Wei Wuxian’s again... and started to pass him spiritual energy once more.

“Stop!” Wei Wuxian said, wishing he had more energy to fight, wishing he had the strength to get up, kick Lan Wangji away from him, run from him, separate them however he needed to. Even if he could knock Lan Wangji unconscious and run back to Nightless City, turn himself in, let Jiang Cheng run him through with his sword for all the world to see, he would, he’d do anything as long as it would save Lan Wangji from the same fate.

He’d do anything.

But he couldn’t do anything.

He couldn’t pull his hand from Lan Wangji’s grip. He couldn’t stop the frustrated tears bubbling up in his eyes. All he could do was sit here in this fucking cave and watch Lan Wangji condemn himself to death.

“Get out of here,” he said again, his expression twisting, his heart aching, “Lan Wangji, GO!”

Lan Wangji didn’t even flinch this time, his own expression hardening into something more neutral, as the spiritual energy kept flowing, kept flowing.

And before Wei Wuxian could say anything else, he’d passed out again.

The rest of the time was still a blur. Lan Wangji was by his side each time he woke up, diligently healing him, and every time Wei Wuxian’s heart wrenched, and he tried, tried so hard to push Lan Wangji away, to say anything he could to get him to safety--delirious with grief and guilt the minutes and hours truly did blend together, in his deep haze he was left to just softly curse, “get lost,” over and over, his exhausted mind stuck on the words Lan Wangji had once shouted at him that afternoon in the library, just wishing, wishing, wishing, he would go.

He didn’t.

Instead, he sat steadfastly beside him, occasionally offering sweetly whispered platitudes and reassurances. He spoke of Gusu, of safety, of keeping Wei Wuxian alive, of a life that Wei Wuxian would have given anything for, but knew he’d never see, and each word weighed more heavily on Wei Wuxian’s heart than the last. Each one rang in his ears as a painful lie, but he had the impression that the lie was the only thing keeping Lan Wangji’s heart in one piece.

When Wei Wuxian heard the clamor at the entrance of the cave, his heart sunk so deep into the pit of his stomach that he let out an involuntary sob. He was mostly sprawled on the floor of the cave by that point, Lan Wangji between him and the entrance, and he couldn’t see who it was that had come--he closed his eyes tight, held back tears, because he couldn’t stand to watch a sword pierce through the chest of another person whose only crime was loving him.

But that moment never came. 

Wei Wuxian heard Lan Xichen’s voice and felt some sort of relief for Lan Wangji’s safety, because he knew in his heart how deeply Xichen loved his brother. He knew Xichen wouldn’t just let Lan Wangji be killed no matter what had happened or what Lan Wangji had done. Wei Wuxian was conscious just long enough then to hear an exchange of voices and the clash of swords, before he was out again.

The next time he woke up, he was alone, and there was only one thing left he needed to do before he died: destroy the Stygian Tiger Amulet.

But just as he was using every ounce of strength he had left to force himself up, to find the separated halves of the amulet, he was distracted by the soft call of his name.

“Wei Ying.” The voice was gentle, worried, and the dream world shifted a bit as the warm whisper near his ear coaxed him back into true consciousness. “Wei Ying, wake up.”

A gentle, familiar, calloused hand was touching his face, stroking his cheek, then he felt a pair of soft warm lips press to his temple.

His eyes opened, and he wasn’t in a cave in Yiling, he wasn’t weak from committing a massacre, he wasn’t being hunted down or fearing for his life.

But Lan Wangji was there, which was one thing Wei Wuxian was glad hadn’t changed.

Silver moonlight poured in through the window near the bed, casting the concerned look on Lan Wangji’s face in a faint blue glow. He was... wiping tears from Wei Wuxian’s cheeks, Wei Wuxian suddenly noticing the wetness on his face and clinging heavily to his eyelashes. 

This wasn’t his first nightmare, or the first time Lan Wangji had woken him up with tears on his face, but Wei Wuxian wasn’t sure his heart had ever ached so much even after waking. Seeing Lan Wangji’s face now, soft and fretful over whatever had tormented his husband’s dreams, called back Lan Wangji’s face in the dream, the misery, the grief, the fruitless determination to save someone who was already dead...

Wei Wuxian’s eyes welled with tears again, and before he could help himself, he threw his arms around Lan Wangji, burying his tear stained face in the crook of Lan Wangji’s neck, holding him tight and trying to keep himself from trembling.

Lan Wangji’s arm slid easily behind his back, his hold on Wei Wuxian firm and grounding as he pressed his mouth to the side of Wei Wuxian’s head. “I’m here,” he reassured softly, though the words, the same comfort Lan Wangji had tried to give him in the dream, the memory just made him let out a choked sob.

“What is it?” Lan Wangji asked gently, his thumb rubbing gently over Wei Wuxian’s back, “Was it about your shijie?”

It wasn’t a bad guess. Those were the dreams that tormented Wei Wuxian most frequently, most suddenly. His memories of Yanli were so often twisted in dreams, haunted by the sight of the blade plunging through her chest, that even the normal, happy moments that played in his dreams could turn sour in a blink of the eye; one minute she was feeding him, dancing with him, teasing him, and the next there was a sword in her chest, and she was bleeding, collapsing, dead. Sometimes the sword came from behind, as it had been that day. Sometimes... the sword was in Wei Wuxian’s hand.

Those dreams were often the hardest.

But Wei Wuxian shook his head, and held onto Lan Wangji tighter. He... hated needing this, needing to be comforted. His burdens had always been his to bear, no one else’s, and even now that Lan Wangji was by his side and they lived their lives as one, it was hard to accept that Lan Wangji wanted to bear his burdens with him. He had stopped trying to fight that long ago, but some days he didn’t feel like he deserved it.

Lan Wangji was quiet and patient. He held Wei Wuxian close to him, comforting him with soft touches and gentle kisses, and waited until he could tell that Wei Wuxian’s trembling had settled, before he asked again, “What happened?”

Wei Wuxian felt... torn. The memory had been a painful one for him, but surely... oh, it had to have been even more painful for Lan Wangji. Just remembering the look on his face back then, remembering his own callous replies even though he’d been trying to do what he believed had been best...

But he wasn’t going to lie to Lan Wangji, and he didn’t want to hide it. He mumbled softly against Lan Wangji’s skin, “I remembered something.”

Lan Wangji nodded in understanding beside Wei Wuxian’s head. “Remembered what?” 

“The... days in Yiling, after what happened at Nightless City,” Wei Wuxian admitted quietly.

Lan Wangji’s body immediately tensed and Wei Wuxian felt a pang of guilt for having the nerve to say it. He held onto Lan Wangji even tighter, his eyes stinging again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He’d hurt Lan Wangji so deeply. He hadn’t wanted to, he’d wanted to save him by breaking his heart and making him leave, and it hadn’t worked anyway, and Lan Wangji had spent so much time loving him and having to hear what must have sounded only like a rejection back then.

“I’m so sorry, Lan Zhan,” he rasped against Lan Wangji’s skin. “I... back then, I... I didn’t want you to get hurt. I didn’t want to hurt you, I just... I was trying to make you leave because if anyone else had seen you helping me, they... they would have killed you and me both. I couldn’t let you die because of me and I thought I could... push you away, if I just pushed hard enough.”

Hearing the explanation, Wei Wuxian felt Lan Wangji’s body relaxing a bit again, and Wei Wuxian could only hope the explanation could provide some comfort, even if it was only a minuscule amount. 

His grip on Lan Wangji loosened and he let his head rest back against the pillow, creating enough distance between them so that he could meet Lan Wangji’s gaze, aiming a sorrowful look up at the equally heavy look in Lan Wangji’s eyes. “You were brave enough to reveal your feelings to me, and I... I was so cruel to you. Even if I was trying to save you, you didn’t deserve that.”

Perhaps worse than what he’d done was that... it hadn’t even worked. If pushing Lan Wangji away had made him leave and saved his life, then Wei Wuxian could have justified it, but he’d been cruel over and over and over... for nothing. Lan Wangji hadn’t left him no matter what he’d said, hadn’t left until his own clan members had intervened.

Lan Wangji’s gaze softened and Wei Wuxian reached up to touch his face, brush his thumb across his pale cheek. “If I’d...” he swallowed softly, before pressing through it, “if I’d known you wouldn’t have left no matter what, I never would have done that. Hurting you was the last thing I wanted to do. I... probably would have told you that I loved you.”

Lan Wangji was quiet for a moment, the heavy look still lingering in his eyes, though it had softened quite a bit to hear Wei Wuxian say that. He must have... sensed something about the way Wei Wuxian said it though, because he asked, “Did you?”

Wei Wuxian let out a soft sigh and shook his head a bit helplessly, replying, “I’m not sure.” He wouldn’t lie to Lan Wangji about that now, though he would have gladly said it back then if it had been the way to lessen Lan Wangji's pain. “I was so certain I was going to die back then that I didn’t even think about it. When you said that, I didn’t think it mattered how I felt because I was going to die."

Honestly, it had taken Wei Wuxian so long to understand and accept his feelings for Lan Wangji that... it was possible he had loved him back then, but that he hadn't been able to acknowledge it. There was no clear line in his head for when his feelings had been one thing or the other, and maybe if Lan had confessed at some other point, he might have been able to reflect on that. He did however, know that Lan Wangji was important to him, and he was confident in sharing that much. "I know I cared deeply about you. I don’t know if I was in love with you yet, but you were one of the most important people in the world to me. If I’d really known that I couldn’t get you to leave, I’d have told you anything to lessen your pain.”

Lan Wangji seemed to turn those statements over in his head a moment, before nodding, accepting it. Wei Wuxian pulled him down a little, enough to share a soft kiss, the ache in Wei Wuxian chest fading slowly now that he’d apologized, explained himself. He didn’t know if it helped temper Lan Wangji’s pain at all, but he could only hope.

After the kiss, Lan Wangji settled down, resting his own head in the crook of Wei Wuxian’s neck, and Wei Wuxian took a slow breath, realizing a bit more of the tension. His mind was troubled and his heart ached dully, reminded again of his awful, shameless behavior for all those weeks after his summoning, all at time that Lan Wangji couldn’t have known that Wei Wuxian hadn’t remembered those days in the cave.

After a few moments, Wei Wuxian asked, “If Zewu-Jun hadn’t come for you, would you have really stayed with me? Would you have taken me back to Gusu?” 

Wei Wuxian felt as though he already knew the answer, but part of him ached with wanting to hear it from Lan Wangji. 

He felt Lan Wangji nod against his chest, before he replied with an affirmative, “mn.”

“Did you... really think it would work? That you could have kept them from killing me?”

Lan Wangji was thoughtfully quiet for a bit, before responding, “I believed I needed to try.”

Hearing that tugged at Wei Wuxian’s heart and the hand still around Lan Wangji traced its fingers lightly across Lan Wangji’s back. Lan Wangji was smart, smarter than Wei Wuxian was. If Wei Wuxian had understood the desperation of his situation, then Lan Wangji must have been aware of it too. Even still, he’d pushed aside the logical part of his brain that must have known how hopeless it was, and had decided to help Wei Wuxian regardless.

Wei Wuxian opened his mouth again, almost asked if Lan Wangji would have really died by Wei Wuxian’s side to protect him, but... decided against it. He really didn’t need to ask that. He knew exactly how far Lan Wangji was willing to go to keep him safe, and he didn’t doubt that Lan Wangji would have done the same for him all those years ago as he would do now. If the people that had stumbled onto them in that cave in Yiling had been anyone other than Lan Xichen and a group of GusuLan sect senior disciples, Lan Wangji would have died defending him.

Wei Wuxian really didn’t know what he’d done to deserve having someone so deeply in love with him, but he didn’t want to question that either.

The visions from the nightmare, the memory, loitered in Wei Wuxian’s mind, as raw as a freshly picked scab, but... he didn’t want to drag out this moment any longer than he needed to. Wei Wuxian might have just remembered it, but... for Lan Wangji, this was an old wound, almost exactly as old as the scars that littered his back. For as much as it wounded him to remember, the greater agony was in forcing Lan Wangji to remember it as well. Wei Wuxian's only reprieve in knowing the truth now was that it gave him a chance to apologize sincerely and offer some explanation for a response that must have seemed so callous at the time... but he didn’t want to linger too long on something that had happened so long ago, something that Lan Wangji had probably tried in earnest to put out of his mind.

The past was far behind them. They were married now, they were happy. For whatever reason, Lan Wangji didn’t hold any of the awful things he’d done in the past against him, and Wei Wuxian wasn't fool enough to ask him to start. He was grateful, eternally so. 

Lan Wangji’s head moved down on his chest slightly, and without asking, Wei Wuxian knew he was listening for his heartbeat. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips and he turned his head to press his face to the top of Lan Wangji's head, taking a slow breath in and out and letting his body go a little looser.

“I love you, Lan Zhan,” he murmured softly into Lan Wangji’s hair, adjusting his arms to hold Lan Wangji a little more closely. “I love you so much.”

He felt Lan Wangji’s lips press to his chest briefly, before his head settled again, and he replied sweetly, “I love you, Wei Ying.”

With another slow exhale, Wei Wuxian let the rest of his tension dissipate, let sleep seep slowly back into the edges of his brain. In the morning they’d get breakfast, leave the inn, and continue on to their next night-hunt, their next adventure, and the rest of their lives together. For now, Wei Wuxian would hold Lan Wangji close as he drifted back to sleep, and wonder why destiny decided he deserved to be loved like this.

[ashrelfury]

Your Name

Brought to you by @minyardjostenrivalry‘s post about a Soulmate AU that i just....could not get out of my head people. So...here’s a short about it.

WARNING: Non-Con/Rape ahead, but nothing descriptive. And Angst with a happy ending. MOSTLY JUST ANGST though. Just... here. 

If enough people comment and like it, I might write more, like the add-on by @demisexualnjosten about their rivalry going into their professional Exy careers I just really had to get this out of my head. .  

Neil’s first experience with pain is at the age of six.

In the beginning, Nathan called him Junior with a small, proud smile on his face. His son, his heir, his pride and joy despite the loveless marriage he’d been forced into for the good of the family. Despite the name ‘Lola’ in bold scribble script on his inner hip. But it was all inconsequential. He had his son, and that would be enough. It was the only thing he and Mary could agree on.

And then the soulmate markings started to appear. A single letter every year, on the exact date and time Nathaniel Abram Wesninski was born.

Neil was three when he saw his father hit his mother for the first time. The letters A N D in careful freehand on his inner forearm, the A just below the crock of his elbow. The whole name would stretch the length of his whole forearm one day. But today wasn’t that day. Instead, he heard his parents screaming at each other, and watched from the stairs as they fought in the kitchen.

“It could be ‘Andrea’, or any other name! We don’t know that it’s a male!”

“We don’t know?! Look at the boy! He looks like a fucking fairy! This is your fault! Giving me a faggot son!”

Neil didn’t understand what ‘faggot’ meant, but he wouldn’t ask. It took only once to learn to be quite around his father. Only one hard slap to the back of his head to learn not to touch the man as well.

Everything started to fall apart that year. Neil doesn’t remember much, but the memory of Lola’s lessons were crystal clear.

Pain.

Blood.

Knives.

Neil thought he understood pain. After all, he constantly felt it. It became even worse when he started being home schooled by one of his father’s men. His mother standing at the door to watch, but never able to interfere. Neil sometimes wanted her to, but he saw the bruises on her skin too, and he thought that maybe it was better if they just did what they were told.

The next year, he got an R on his arm, right below the D.

He’d never felt so much fear before, but it was okay.

“Andrea. Nathaniel. Looks like your soulmates name is Andrea.” Nathan would say, his smile no longer proud, no longer small or warm. Instead, it felt like a predator baring his teeth and Neil wanted to recoil, but he stayed still. A big hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing it hard and Neil grit his teeth to keep from crying out. He’d already learned this lesson too.

The next year, when he E began to appear on his arm, his father no longer believed that ‘Andrea’ was his soulmates name.

Nathan had sent Lola to his bed at night.

Neil was five, and scared, and in pain, but it was okay. He had his mother. She still smiled at him in the morning, although it was sad and fleeting. She held him sometimes too, when both of their bruises allowed the contact with minimal pain.

He’d learned to close his eyes and disappear when Lola touched his body. To repeat some of the songs he’d picked up from the music his mother liked to tune out her words, hissed in his ear. He never responded to her touch, he was too young, but the violation… to be touched in such a way unable to say anything, to be punished when his body wouldn’t do what she wanted it to… Neil dealt with it as best he could.

And then his birthday came again.

There was no party this year. No celebration as Nathan sat him down on a stool in the basement, and the two men watched with identical eyes as the last letter faded into clarity on his inner wrist.

Before it even began to darken on his skin, his father roared. Sudden and startling and terrifying.

Neil jumped and looked up and away from the name of the person who would someday love him. Who wouldn’t ever hurt him. Who couldn’t, because they would be soulmates.

Before Neil could determine what his father’s next move was be, the man had a long piece of metal, the end of it red and burning.

Fear suddenly had new meaning.

And then… so did pain.

In the next four years, Neil would look down at his arm and try to remember the name there. He wouldn’t. But he would remember A N D.

--

Andrew was 6 when he stopped believing in soul mates.

By that point, the letters N A T H A N had marked his forearm and Andrew glared at it every chance he got. If asked, he told people that the reason people didn’t want him, was because he had a boy’s name on his arm.

Every one punished him for it. They made him go to bed without food, they yelled and hit, and raged at him because he was a fairy, he didn’t deserve to live.

Then he turned 7 and the name he’d thought complete gained new letters. An I.

N A T H A N… I. What kind of name did his soulmate have? What the fuck?

But he couldn’t really focus on that point of oddness.

Not when the big man held him down and hurt him. Not when he screamed and cried: “Please! Please don’t, Please stop! Please!”

Not when the man kept saying: “It’s okay, you’re gay. Your soulmate will be glad I’m teaching you this stuff early. Say it again, Andy, come on, one more time and I’ll stop.”

Not when the man didn’t stop.

After everything, Andrew dug his blunt nails into his own arm and scratched at the name on his arm.

Everything bad came from this name. Nathani… what?

Two years later, when the name was finally done etching itself into his skin, he decided to etch his own scars over it. He took a blade to his wrist for the first time.

He started with the L and just kept going up.

Every year, he would focus on a new letter. At ten, it was the L. At eleven, the E. At twelve the I. And at thirteen… he met Cas Spear. And he stopped… for a few months. Then he met Drake… and he started again.

Fourteen, N. Fifteen, A. Sixteen, H. Seventeen, T A N.

He met a twin brother he’d never wanted. Killed a mother he’d never asked for. Met a cousin he absolutely didn’t feel for. And finally finished deforming the cursed name on his arm.

Whoever Nathaniel was, Andrew would kill him if he ever found him.

Later in life, when Andrew met Neil, he would remember taking a racket to the stupid runaway’s stomach, and he’d tell himself that that had been vindication enough.

He’d look at Neil’s arm, and the long burn scar of a fire poker that covered up his name, and he would think about the countless cut scars that covered up Nathaniel on his own.

He would be 27, and Neil 25 when they would walk into a tattoo shop and asked for an artist willing to write soulmate marks.

On Neil’s right arm, they would both finally see what should have been on his left all along. A N D R E W.

And on Andrew’s left, they would both revel in the four letters that were finally more truth than the scars on his right would ever be.

“You sly dog. Stealing him away from his soulmate like this.” The tattoo artist smiled, joking and serious all at once. The name Vinc starting just under his ear and continuing down the collar of his loose black shirt. Neil could tell that this man had met and fallen in love with Vinc – whatever.

“Not sly. Just lucky.” Neil would reply, a smile on his own face as he looked over at Andrew, whose tattoo was already done and wrapped, back under the ever-present black armbands.

Andrew’s hazel eyes narrowed at him, a warning there that Neil winked at.

The tattoo artist would never know that Andrew and Neil really were soulmates. He wouldn’t know that despite everything in their lives pushing them apart, they still managed to not all find each other, but care about each other enough to finally acknowledge what ‘soulmate’ really meant to either one of them.

Andrew had scars he’d made himself covering up the name Nathaniel. Neil had a fire poker branding caused by his father covering up the name Andrew.

Yet Andrew and Neil were exactly where they belonged now.

Side by side, pressed together as two met held hands above the gear shift of a sleek black car, headed for a home they shared together. A home where ‘fear’ and ‘pain’ didn’t have the keys to enter anymore.

Yeah.

Neil was just lucky.

And Andrew was fucking tired of his shitty sappiness.

[fanficrexs]

Qian Kun, our lord and savior

Okay,,, listen,,, Kun deserves better, SM bring him out of the dungeon. I’m patiently waiting for NCT China’s debut,,,, 

It’s hard finding Kun fanfics, so here’s a list of some good ones! I hope you like them too. Kun is an angel, change my mind.

Piano forte by lunalius on ao3

Summary: Johnny and his friends are going to do all it takes for Jaehyun to build his courage and ask Sicheng out. And while doing that Johnny might discover someone who inspires him to pick himself up.

So, we’ve got a side dish of good ol’ JaeWin, but JohnKun is the main ship, I swear! It’s super cute, though the summary kinda made me skeptical, I thought it was really cute! There’s a minuscule amount of angst, but its backstory “when I was a young boy this crap happened” kind of angst. It’s adorable, though.

A October Breeze by Cherubpathy on ao3

Summary: Every one thinks Johnny is a bad boy, but Kun discovers that he's more than the rumours people say about him.

The title has a spelling mistake, I know, it’s how the author put it in, the story is amazing, though, I promise! It’s a really good one with a mostly realistic relationship development. There’s some angst, but no relationship angst. I thought it was really, really cute, and also Kun’s there, so that’s a box checked already :,,)

 and you’re a tease by sunnyjeno on ao3

Summary:  Kun is stressed about the coronation. Dongyoung is having none of it.

So this is a, as you can see, Kun and Doyoung pairing, but honestly, you could take their relationship either way. Also, there’s bits of Chenle and Johnny (not in a relationship, it’s okay) and they’re hilarious. 

Sweet Talk by VeeTheSheep on ao3

Summary: Fridays were "gush about Kun in english" date nights. or so they thought.

This is poly JohnTenKun, so if you’re not into that, this won’t be you’re thing. It’s a super cute, semi-short one shot that’s just complete fluff with a bit of Kun teasing JohnTen at the end. It’s really cute, honestly. 

I’ll call her Mina by tennisuhs on ao3

Summary: Kun is working on his thesis and Taeyong is on his way to become a very important chef. At the doors of proper adulthood, with questions no one prepared them for and situations that weren't on the books, the couple just go through life like two fish in a pond. 

Or where Taeyong makes food for everyone since it's mid-terms season, and Kun loves his boyfriend to bits.

Even though the title mentions a Mina, there’s no Mina in the story? Unless I’m forgetting something. But it’s a really good, cute one. Just TaeKun being domestic and adorable, and Taeyong making a ton of food. It’s really good, go give it a try!

Warm by criesmom on ao3

Summary:  Johnny didn't expect to meet the love of his life in Ten's bathroom

This one is hilarious? Or the part where they meet in the bathroom is. It’s really short, not much too it, but it’s cute and fluffy with no angst. 

a piece of (gluten free) cake by umiwomitai on ao3

Summary: Kun is the nicest neighbour Johnny and Yoonoh have ever had. He never complains about the noise, isn't noisy himself, and most of all, always gives them leftovers of whatever food he makes. Really, how could someone not fall for him?

This is exactly what Johnny wonders as he bites into a slice of (gluten free) chocolate pie, totally not falling for his Chinese neighbour.

This is an amazing one. Like, 10/10 love it, go be a confident gay Kun, I love this one a lot. It’s one of my favorites. I can’t really explain why, but you’ll like it too! hopefully... It’s, I’m pretty sure, angst free.

hannah montana by sunnyjeno on ao3

Summary: Kun and Doyoung used to be friends during their awkward preteen years. Everything changed when they entered high school, but the feelings they shared for each other just grew. Will they finally get it together in time for their last homecoming ball?

Another Doyoung Kun from sunnyjeno! It’s a cute one, but it’s open ended, so they don’t get together (though it’s implied they do) but it’s overall really cute.

Cardiac Arrest by lunalius on ao3

Summary: Kun is concerned about the regular that shows up at least five times a day to order a double strength large long black. Or he's attracted to him. Or both.

Oh boy, do I have a lot to say about this. I’ll start this speech off by saying that whoever lunalius is, they’re amazing and I would die for them. I’ll continue it by saying this is an emotional rollercoaster. It’s Angst with a Happy Ending in a nutshell with that perfect bit of humor. It’s beautiful, it should be printed and sold and I would buy it and read it every day, that’s how much I love it. It’s a lengthier one, almost 15,000 words (which isn’t the longest I’ve read, but it’s still lengthy for a one-shot). I should mention that it’s a JohnKun story, too. It’s beautiful. Like, 100/10 good. I really, really liked it.

my answer is you by gabilliam (vvhymack) on ao3

Summary: kuntober week i ; prompt ; I went to water my plants on the balcony and you’re on yours with a tinfoil hat, what the hell are you doing?

My God, here come all of the lengendary fanfictions. Two favorites in a row. This one is funny, with only a little bit of pining angst in it. It’s hilarious and also includes a gat, which is always amazing. It’s a rarer pair, JaeKun, but I enjoyed it, and, it’s honestly just amazing. It’s super cute.

wedding bells by _helios (neocitz) on ao3

Summary: Lucas gets roped into helping his boyfriends plan their wedding.

(He, unfortunately, never caught onto the fact that they proposed to him.)

It’s poly Jungwoo-Lucas-Kun, but anyway... So... Angst. Capital ‘A’ Angst. It’s mostly sad, but that’s what makes the ending so much happier. I don’t want to give it away so I won’t say anymore, but just be prepared for angst.

Brass by 11dishwashers on ao3

Summary: Kun has a hard time dealing with his new boss Sicheng, who's a literal model.

Winwin is a model and beautiful, Kun works for him and is also beautiful, the rest of the ‘96 liners show up, it’s beautiful. Also a bonus, pretty minimal angst.

Happenstance by lunalius on ao3

Summary: Johnny, single father of one, gets another parent to look after Donghyuck in the playground while he has to rush home on a work errand. And Donghyuck makes a new friend.

Guess whose back.... back again... lunalius is back.... tell your friends.... This one has minimal-ish angst. I say -ish because its between minimal and medium angst, so. Forewarning. It’s very cute, Kun’s son is Chenle, and it’s beautiful. There’s not much I can say without giving everything away, but it’s also a good one.

serendipity by cameldreams on ao3

Summary: johnny can't sleep

That’s it. That’s the fanfic. Johnny can’t sleep. Kun’s precious, what’s new. 

it beats for you so listen close by heartsighed on ao3

Summary:  In which Johnny moonlights as Y, one half of the mysterious duo that runs the most popular radio program on campus, and Kun moonlights as Twitter user zhoujielunshusband96, dedicated Jay Chou fanboy.

Medium angst. That’s all there is to this. Medium angst. It’s really good and cute, would definately reccomend (though ig that’s what I’ve been doing this whole time).

kun’s flirting 101 by timelessidyll on ao3

Summary: Sicheng, naturally, was a more introverted person. Part of that was because of his intense hatred of cute and silly things, and the other part was that he hated almost 90% of the people he met. He made sure to consistently remind Chittaphon and Kun that he, at most, tolerated them. The thing about Sicheng was that everything needed to align perfectly for him to really enjoy something. He had to have a good mood, be around Kun or Chittaphon, and be doing something not silly. That led to to the question: What was Kun trying to accomplish?

Length summary, lol. It’s a really cute, fairly short one full of terrible puns (that gives a little too much away, though). No angst, just Sicheng being tsundere. 

maybe I could hold you? by edgeplay on ao3

Summary: Yuta's always had bright ideas, this one takes the whole cake though.

Okay, listen. I ship YuWin pretty hard, but this got me into YuKun. Yuta and Kun? Not a pairing I’ve ever imagined, but god damn this is so good! It starts as your typical ‘fake dating’ story troupe, but I like the way it ends so much. I’m literally in love with this! Read it. Do it.

cut through the clouds by heartsighed on ao3

Summary: Qian Kun, microbiology major, vice-president of the ISA, part-time poster model and full-time mom friend, is perhaps more stressed than he would like everyone to think.

heartsighed on a roll man! This is a DoTenKun poly ship story, don’t like, don’t read. It’s very good, with a lower case ‘a’ angst. There’s a good amount of angst, but it’s not capital ‘A’ angst. So, I hope you understood that. 

What the Spring? by haknyeonsmrjoo on ao3

Summary: Winwin keeps a photo of Kun on his phone, and the next thing he knows, Kun has Winwin's phone in his hand.

This was actually one of my first NCT fanfics ever! I thought it was the cutest on Earth. I’m a bit biased though, and you’re only gonna hear me say this once, but I’m Chinese and I’m mostly biased toward Chinese kpop stars because, hey! How do I watch Chinese idols from America? Answer, I don’t. It’s easier to access kpop... :,,,) This a short oneshot, very cute and fluffy

That’s it! hope you enjoyed it, and stan our king Qian Kun!