#the only recent exception was i did still like that cheating fic

[autumnrory]

cannot relate to people liking things in fic that they wouldn't actually like in canon like most of what i like in fic is to FIX things from canon or sometimes to explore different things between AUs and canon divergence but like. no i don't want to see my favorite character die. no i don't want to see a healthy relationship turned into abuse. do you i guess but like sure i love angst in fic but i want it to work out in the end and i do want the angst to be like. believable and make sense instead of nonsense that doesn't fit with the characters/dynamics

[wannabehockeygf]

Feels Like - Quinn Hughes

“We almost got away, we cut it close,

The city’s getting loud, if I choke,

It’s only ‘cause I’m scared to be alone,

Been trying to work it out you should know,

I would do whatever you wanted.”

***

part 2 // quinn hughes x gracie abrams albums fic trilogy

part 1 part 3

***

Summary: Quinn’s been up to no good, and it’s about time you find out.

Word count: 6.8k

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

Warnings: cheating, alcohol

Notes:

- me saying I’m so busy and won’t have time then I crank this out in a day !!

- this was so heart wrenching to write …

- not proof read as always

***

Quinn Hughes had a good head on his shoulders. At least, that’s what everyone always told him. Coaches, family, even the media—they all saw Quinn as the level-headed one, the smart one, the kid who knew what he wanted and went after it.

Except when it came to you. When it came to you, Quinn's head was anything but good. It was a mess—confused, conflicted, weighed down by the guilt that had been gnawing at him since last night.

Quinn ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. He sat on the edge of his hotel bed in Boston, staring at his phone like it was some kind of bomb he had to defuse. Your name was still at the top of his recent calls, your last text a blue bubble of worry and reassurance.

“Heading your way, Q. On a train. Didn’t book a flight because it was too much, but I’ll be there in the morning. I love you.”

He swiped out of the messages and into Instagram, his thumb hovering over the search bar. His heart pounded against his ribs, each thud a reminder of just how much he had screwed up. He was still in last night’s clothes, a blue Hawaiian shirt that Jack had bought him as a joke and black slacks that clung to him uncomfortably. He hadn’t slept; instead, he’d gone out, did so much more than emotionally cheat on you, and then spent the night pacing his room, trying to figure out how to make this right—how to fix something that might be beyond fixing.

His phone buzzed in his hand, a new message from you: “Quinn, are you awake? Call me when you see this.”

Quinn's stomach twisted. He could picture you right now, curled up on that train seat with your eyes heavy from lack of sleep, your hair mussed from running your hands through it too many times. You were coming all this way for him, despite everything. You were coming to see him even after he’d hung up on you. He felt a pang of guilt so sharp it made his chest ache. You deserved so much better.

He knew that. God, did he know it. But knowing it didn’t make things any easier. If anything, it made things worse, because he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop thinking about you, couldn’t stop needing you. And yet, he was too weak to stop what he was doing—the other thing he couldn’t seem to stop needing.

His fingers hesitated over the search bar for just a moment longer before he typed in the name, quick and almost subconscious, like he was on autopilot. The profile came up instantly: smiling photos of her on some beach, her hair wild in the wind, sunglasses perched on her nose. She looked carefree, happy. The last photo was from a week ago, captioned with a simple heart emoji.

Quinn’s heart clenched. God, she was beautiful. And she made him feel things—things he didn’t feel when he was with you, his girlfriend, things that scared him as much as they thrilled him. She was everything you weren't: spontaneous, wild, a bit reckless. She didn’t make him feel like he had to be perfect all the time.

Which was probably why he’d ended up here in the first place.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to quell the guilt that surged up his throat like bile. He thought back to last night—the way she’d looked at him across the bar, her eyes dark and knowing, the way she’d smiled like she knew every secret he was trying so hard to hide. The way her lips felt against his, the heat of her breath, the sound of her voice when she whispered in his ear.

And then he thought about you. About your laugh, your smile, the way you looked at him like he was the most important person in the world. How you never hesitated to drop everything for him, even when it meant putting your own life on hold. Like right now. Like this very moment, when you were probably sitting on some cold, uncomfortable train seat to get to him because you thought he needed you.

He was such an asshole.

Quinn tossed his phone onto the bed, burying his face in his hands. He felt like he was being torn in two—one part of him screaming at him to get his shit together, to be the guy everyone thought he was, the good guy, the guy who didn’t screw over the people he cared about. And then there was the other part—the part that was scared, insecure, the part that wanted so desperately to feel something real that he didn’t care if it meant hurting the one person who had always been there for him.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, the word barely more than a sigh. What was he supposed to do? He didn’t know. He was in too deep, caught between two worlds that couldn’t coexist, caught between two versions of himself that he couldn’t reconcile.

He stood up, pacing the small hotel room, the carpet rough under his bare feet. His mind raced, thoughts bouncing around like ping-pong balls in his head. He couldn’t keep doing this. He had to make a choice. He had to choose.

But how do you choose between the girl who makes you feel safe and the one who makes you feel alive?

His phone buzzed again, and this time he couldn’t ignore it. He snatched it up, expecting another message from you, another plea for him to call, but instead, it was from the other girl. A simple text: “Had fun last night. When can I see you again?”

Quinn stared at the message, his heart hammering against his ribs. What was he doing? What the hell was he doing? He wanted to smash the phone against the wall, to shatter it into a million pieces, to shatter himself along with it. But instead, he just stood there, staring at the screen, torn between guilt and desire, between what he wanted and what he knew he should do.

“Quinn?” A voice called from outside his door, sharp and insistent. It was Petey, knocking lightly. “You in there, man? We gotta head out to practice soon.”

Quinn stood frozen in the middle of his hotel room, his phone buzzing persistently in his hand. The screen glowed with the picture of you he had made his lockscreen, and every time he looked at it his heart dropped. His stomach churned, a sickening mix of guilt and anxiety that had been gnawing at him for the good part of twelve hours. He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tangling in the mess of curls that he hadn’t bothered to tame since last night.

Last night. God, what a disaster.

He could still taste the remnants of whiskey on his tongue, still feel the phantom touch of her lips against his. She had been all over him, pulling him in with that damn magnetic smile of hers. And Quinn, the idiot that he was, hadn’t done a damn thing to stop it. Now, standing here, he felt like he was drowning in the aftermath.

“Huggy?” Elias’ voice came through the door again, more insistent this time. “You good?”

Quinn glanced at the clock—barely enough time to get his shit together before practice. Not that it mattered. His head was so scrambled, he doubted he’d be of any use on the ice today.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to move. One foot in front of the other, like he was on autopilot. He tossed his phone on the bed and headed for the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face in a vain attempt to shock some sense into himself. The water dripped down his cheeks, and he stared at his reflection in the mirror, searching for some sign of the guy everyone thought he was. The guy who had it all together.

But all he saw was a mess. A guy who couldn’t make up his mind, who was screwing over the one person who had always been there for him. The guy who, deep down, was terrified that he was going to lose everything if he didn’t get his shit together.

He grabbed a towel and dried his face, then ran a hand through his hair again, trying to make himself look halfway presentable. But no amount of water or towels could wash away the guilt that clung to him like a second skin. He was stuck with it, like a tattoo he couldn’t scrub off no matter how hard he tried.

“Fuck,” he muttered, the word slipping out before he could stop it. He shook his head, running his hands through his hair once again, feeling the strands tug against his fingers. He needed to get it together. He needed to get out of this room before he went completely insane.

He grabbed his practice gear from the chair by the window, where he’d tossed it last night when he’d stumbled in. The memory made his stomach twist: the way he’d pressed the button to hang up on you, the way his thumb had hovered over it like it weighed a hundred pounds. And then the other girl’s laugh, soft and sweet in his ear, her fingers trailing down his arm as she whispered something he couldn’t quite remember anymore but knew had made him feel like he was floating.

Quinn pulled off his clothes, replacing them with a questionable smelling sweatshirt and gym shorts, his movements jerky and stiff like his body was protesting every step. He glanced at the mirror on his way to the door, catching sight of himself—his face pale and drawn, his eyes shadowed with fatigue. He looked like hell. He felt like it, too.

With a sigh, he opened the door to find Elias leaning against the wall, one brow raised. “Dude, you look like you got hit by a truck.”

“Feel like it too,” Quinn muttered, stepping out into the hallway. The bright lights made his eyes sting, and he squinted, wishing he’d grabbed his sunglasses. Or maybe he just wanted to hide behind them.

Elias clapped a hand on his shoulder, giving him a once-over. “Rough night?”

Quinn forced a smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “Something like that.”

“Yeah, well, better shake it off. Coach is on one today, and he’s not in the mood for anyone dragging ass.” Elias started down the hall, and Quinn followed, trying to push everything to the back of his mind. Practice. Focus on practice.

But his thoughts wouldn’t settle. They kept bouncing back and forth like a damn tennis match: his girlfriend’s face, her worried messages, the way she always seemed to know when he needed her without him even having to say it. And then the other girl—the way she made him feel like he could breathe, like he could forget everything for just a little while.

He clenched his fists as they reached the elevator, trying to steady his breathing. Elias was rambling about something, but Quinn couldn’t focus on the words. His mind was a blur, a mess of emotions that he couldn’t untangle.

The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside, the metal walls reflecting their distorted images. Quinn caught sight of himself again and grimaced. “I look like shit, don’t I?”

Elias snorted. “You said it, not me.” He glanced at Quinn, his expression shifting to something more serious. “But seriously, man, you okay? You’ve been off for a while now.”

Quinn swallowed hard, his throat dry. How could he even begin to explain what he was feeling? How could he tell Elias that he was standing on the edge of a cliff, teetering between falling and flying, and he didn’t know which one he wanted more?

“I’m fine,” he lied, the words heavy on his tongue. “Just tired.”

Elias didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press. Instead, he just nodded, letting the subject drop as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open to the lobby.

They walked out into the warm Boston morning, the humid air biting at Quinn’s skin through his clothes. He shivered, shoving his hands into his pockets as they made their way to the team bus. He tried to lose himself in the routine, in the familiar motions of getting on the bus, finding his seat, putting in his headphones. But even the music couldn’t drown out his thoughts, couldn’t silence the nagging voice in his head that kept telling him he was screwing up.

He leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes, willing himself to focus on the day ahead. Practice. Game plan. Not on the texts waiting on his phone, not on the girl he was supposed to love and the girl he couldn’t stop thinking about.

But his mind wouldn’t cooperate. It kept circling back, like a dog chasing its tail, never quite catching it but never stopping either. He thought about you, about the way she made him feel grounded, like he had a purpose. And then he thought about the other girl, about the way she made him feel alive, like he was on fire.

God, he was an idiot. A selfish, stupid idiot who didn’t deserve either of them.

He opened his eyes, staring blankly at the seat in front of him. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to choose between two things that felt like they were pulling him in opposite directions, like they were tearing him apart?

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out without thinking, his heart lurching in his chest. It was a text from you, and his stomach twisted as he read it:

“I’m here. Just got to the station. Can’t wait to see you.”

Quinn closed his eyes, a wave of guilt washing over him. You were here. You were here for him, because you thought he needed you. And maybe he did. Maybe he needed you more than he’d ever realized.

Quinn’s mind was spinning as the team bus rumbled through the streets of Boston, the city waking up around them in a blur of brick buildings and early morning light. He stared out the window, his reflection a pale, drawn ghost in the glass, looking back at him with tired eyes. The weight of his phone in his pocket felt like a lead ball, dragging him down deeper into the mess he’d made for himself.

He glanced around the bus, his teammates absorbed in their own routines—some with headphones on, nodding along to whatever music was blasting in their ears, others chatting quietly, their voices low and relaxed. Elias was beside him, scrolling through his phone, occasionally chuckling at something he saw. Quinn tried to mimic that ease, but his stomach was tied in knots, and every breath felt like it caught in his throat.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to find a position that didn’t make him feel like he was about to crawl out of his own skin. But no matter how he twisted or turned, the guilt was there, gnawing at him, a constant reminder that he’d messed up in a way that couldn’t be easily fixed.

His phone buzzed again, and he bit down hard on his bottom lip, his hand twitching towards his pocket before he stopped himself. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—look at it. Not yet. The last thing he needed was to see another text from you, filled with love and concern, when all he could think about was how he didn’t deserve any of it.

But of course, his brain wouldn’t let him rest. As much as he wanted to ignore it, your last message played on a loop in his mind: “I’m here. Just got to the station. Can’t wait to see you.” He could picture you standing there, suitcase in hand, maybe looking around for him, your eyes bright with anticipation. The thought made his chest tighten, a painful squeeze that sent a ripple of nausea through his gut.

He thought about how you’d always been there for him, how you never hesitated to drop everything and come running when he needed you. And now, here you were, doing it again, without knowing that he’d spent the night with someone else, that he’d betrayed the trust you’d placed in him so completely.

God, he was a piece of work.

Quinn shifted again, his knee bouncing nervously as he tried to focus on anything else—the pattern of the bus seat, the way the sunlight filtered through the trees, the hum of the engine beneath his feet. But everything came back to you, and the way he was going to have to face you in a few hours, knowing what he’d done.

A part of him—the rational, level-headed part that everyone always said he had—knew that he should come clean, that he should tell you everything and deal with the consequences. But the other part, the part that was scared and ashamed and desperate to keep you in his life, was louder, drowning out the voice of reason with a hundred excuses and justifications.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to look you in the eye and pretend that everything was okay, when he knew it wasn’t? But then again, how could he tell you the truth and risk losing you forever?

He pressed his head against the cool glass of the bus window, staring out at the passing streets of Boston. The city looked bright and sunny, a stark contrast to the storm brewing in his mind. It was the kind of day that would normally have him in good spirits, maybe even cracking jokes with the guys. But not today. Today, he felt like he was carrying a mountain on his back.

The bus jolted as it hit a pothole, and Quinn’s head banged against the glass. “Ow, fuck,” he muttered, rubbing the sore spot. Elias glanced over from the seat next to him, eyebrows raised.

“You good, man?” he asked again, his tone a mix of concern and exasperation. Quinn knew Elias was just trying to help, but right now, all he wanted was to be left alone with his own stupidity.

“Yeah, just...headache,” Quinn lied, forcing a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. He didn’t know how to explain the real problem without sounding like the world’s biggest jerk. He wasn’t ready for the questions that would follow, the judgment, the inevitable “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Elias nodded, turning back to his phone, but Quinn could feel his eyes lingering, like he was trying to solve some kind of puzzle. Quinn wished he could give him the answer, wished he knew it himself. But all he had were a bunch of jumbled pieces that didn’t seem to fit together.

As the bus pulled up to the arena, Quinn grabbed his gear and followed the rest of the team inside. The familiar smell of a rink—ice, rubber, sweat—usually calmed his nerves, but today it just made him feel queasy. He trudged to the locker room, his legs feeling like lead, and sat down on the bench, staring at his skates like they might somehow offer him some guidance.

“Hey, Huggy,” Brock called from across the room, already halfway into his gear. “You gonna put those on, or are you just gonna stare at them all day?”

Quinn blinked, realizing he’d been sitting there for way too long. “Right, yeah,” he mumbled, pulling off his shoes and shoving his feet into his skates. The process felt mechanical, like he was going through the motions without really being there. He tied the laces tight, almost too tight, like he was trying to squeeze out the guilt that sat heavy in his chest.

As he laced up, his mind wandered back to last night. He remembered the way her fingers had grazed his wrist, the light touch sending sparks through his skin. He remembered the look in her eyes, that dangerous mix of desire and something else—something that made him feel like he was balancing on a razor’s edge. And then he remembered your text, the way your voice had sounded over the phone, so soft, so worried. The contrast made him feel like he was being split down the middle, two halves of a person who didn’t know how to be whole anymore.

Quinn dragged his skates across the locker room floor, the sharp blades scraping against the concrete as he walked to the bench. His hands moved on autopilot, grabbing pads, buckling straps, all while his mind replayed the same scene over and over again: your smile, your eyes, the sound of your voice. The guilt gnawed at him, relentless, like a dog with a bone it refused to let go.

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice Brock sidling up next to him until the guy was practically in his lap.

“You look like someone ran over your puppy,” Brock quipped, pulling on his jersey with a grunt. “What’s up with you today?”

Quinn forced a laugh, but it came out more like a wheeze. “Just didn’t sleep well, I guess,” he lied, his stomach twisting into another knot. Brock, bless his soul, nodded, accepting the excuse without question.

“Yeah, well, try to pull it together, man. You’ve got that ‘I just accidentally liked my ex’s Instagram post from 2017’ face.”

Quinn blinked, momentarily pulled out of his spiraling thoughts. “Is that...a thing?”

“Definitely. Don’t ask me how I know.”

Quinn couldn’t help but chuckle, a real one this time, and for a moment, he felt a little bit lighter. But the moment passed quickly, like a cloud drifting over the sun, and the heaviness settled back in.

He needed to tell someone. He really did, and he thought about telling Brock, someone a little older, with a little more experience, but he knew it wouldn’t go well. The man had a wife and kid, and admitting to him that he’s a cheater couldn’t go any way but sideways.

He finished gearing up, the ritual of it providing some small comfort, like if he could just get everything on right, he’d be okay. But as he stepped onto the ice, the cool air hitting his face, he knew it was only a temporary reprieve.

The practice rink the Bruins had given them was buzzing with activity, the sound of skates cutting into the ice, pucks clattering against the boards, the low hum of voices. Normally, this was his sanctuary, the place where he could clear his mind and focus on nothing but the game. But today, the rink felt like a prison, every noise amplified, every movement too sharp.

Quinn skated a few laps, trying to shake the feeling, but it clung to him like a second skin. He saw you in every reflection, heard your voice in the echoes of the arena. And every time, it was like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of him.

“Quinn! Heads up!”

He barely had time to react before the puck came flying toward him, and he fumbled to catch it, the black rubber slipping off the tip of his stick and skidding across the ice. A chorus of laughter erupted from the other guys, and Quinn forced a grin, trying to play it off.

“Nice hands, Huggy,” one of them called out, and Quinn gave a mock salute, his heart pounding in his chest.

As practice dragged on, Quinn found it harder and harder to focus. His mind kept wandering, and every time it did, it went straight back to you. He thought about the last time you’d visited him, how you’d spent the weekend curled up together on the couch, watching movies and talking about everything and nothing. He thought about the way you’d looked at him, like he was the only person in the world, and how he’d felt like the biggest fraud alive.

He thought about a few mornings ago, when he’d kissed you goodbye before heading to the rink, your sleepy smile still lingering in his mind. He hadn’t known then what he was going to do later, hadn’t known how everything would spiral out of control. But now, he couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop replaying the night in his head, wondering how he’d let it happen.

The worst part was, he knew he didn’t deserve you. Not after what he’d done. But he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, couldn’t imagine his life without you in it. And so, he found himself trapped, caught between his guilt and his fear, unable to move in either direction.

When practice finally ended, Quinn was the first off the ice, practically sprinting to the locker room. He needed a moment to breathe, to think, to figure out what the hell he was going to do. But as soon as he sat down on the bench, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he knew without looking that it was you.

He stared at it, his heart in his throat, his fingers trembling as he reached for it. The screen lit up with your name, and for a split second, he considered ignoring it. But he couldn’t do that, couldn’t just pretend you weren’t there, waiting for him, loving him, trusting him.

With a deep breath, Quinn swiped his thumb across the screen and brought the phone to his ear. “Hey,” he said, his voice low, barely above a whisper.

Quinn swallowed hard, his heart racing as he heard your voice on the other end of the line. It was like a balm and a burn at the same time, soothing yet searing into him with the heat of his own guilt.

“Hey! I’m here at the station,” you said, sounding bright and cheery, completely unaware of the emotional storm that was tearing him apart. “I was just wondering if you’re on your way or if I should grab a coffee or something?”

Your words were so casual, so normal, that they felt almost surreal to him. He closed his eyes, the images of last night flashing like a movie reel against the backs of his eyelids—her laughter, the way she’d leaned in close, her lips brushing his neck in a way that had sent shivers down his spine. And then he’d see your face, smiling up at him with that same soft look you always gave him, the one that made him feel like he was exactly where he needed to be.

He forced a laugh, trying to keep his voice steady. “Yeah, I’m, uh, just finishing up at practice. I’ll be there soon.” The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, but he didn’t know what else to say. How could he tell you the truth? How could he explain that he’d been weak, that he’d betrayed you, that he didn’t deserve to have you waiting for him?

“Great! I can’t wait to see you.” Your voice was so full of warmth and excitement that it made his stomach twist. He could picture you standing there, probably wearing that old Canucks jacket of his that you loved, the one that was two sizes too big but somehow looked perfect on you. The thought made his chest tighten with an ache that he couldn’t shake.

“Yeah, me too,” he managed to say, his voice cracking just a little. “See you soon.”

As he hung up, Quinn let out a long breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. The guilt felt like a heavy stone lodged in his gut, pressing down with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. He dropped his head into his hands, fingers tangling in his hair as he tried to make sense of his own stupidity.

He should have never gone out last night. He should have stayed in, watched TV, gone to bed early—anything other than what he did. But instead, he’d let himself get swept up in the moment, let himself be led astray by a smile and a soft touch, and now he was paying the price for it.

Why couldn’t he just have said no? Why couldn’t he have just kept his distance, like a rational human being?

But no, Quinn Hughes had to be an idiot. A complete, utter, monumental idiot.

He glanced around the locker room, hoping for some kind of distraction. Most of the guys were still milling around, showering, changing, talking about the upcoming game, like it was just another day. Like his whole world wasn’t collapsing around him.

Quinn stared at the locker room ceiling, the fluorescent lights casting harsh, white beams that felt like an interrogation spotlight. The thought of meeting you at the station had his stomach in knots, guilt gnawing at him like a relentless beast. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to find some semblance of calm, but the images of last night wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Why did I do that? Why am I like this?” Quinn muttered to himself, rubbing his temples as if he could erase the memory with enough pressure. The smell of sweat and damp gear filled his nostrils, a stark contrast to the sweet perfume that had lingered on his skin just hours ago. He grimaced, suddenly aware of how sick it made him feel.

His phone buzzed again. Without even looking, he knew it was another message from you, probably asking how long he’d be. He couldn’t ignore you forever, but he also wasn’t ready to face you. He needed more time—time to figure out what the hell he was going to say, time to gather the pieces of his shattered conscience.

With a groan, Quinn grabbed his phone and quickly ordered an Uber. The bus to the station was out of the question; the last thing he needed was more time to wallow in his guilt with nothing but his own thoughts for company. As soon as the confirmation buzzed through, he grabbed his gear, barely acknowledging his teammates as he rushed out of the locker room.

Within minutes, a car pulled up, and Quinn slid into the backseat, barely managing a greeting to the driver. He stared out the window as the city blurred by, the buildings and people blending into a haze of colors and motion. His reflection in the glass looked haunted, a man on the brink of losing everything.

His mind kept replaying the events of last night, a relentless loop of regret and self-loathing. He thought about the way he’d let himself be drawn in, the way he’d ignored that little voice in his head telling him to stop, to walk away. But he hadn’t listened. He’d let his guard down, let himself be led by his desires instead of his brain, and now he was stuck in a mess of his own making.

Quinn squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the images, but they kept coming—her smile, her touch, the way she’d looked at him like he was the only man in the room. It had been intoxicating, a rush he hadn’t felt in a long time. But now, it felt like poison, spreading through him with every thought, every memory.

He opened his eyes, staring down at his hands, noticing the way they shook. He felt sick, his stomach churning with a mix of fear and guilt. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have thrown away everything he had with you for a moment of weakness?

The driver made a comment about the weather, but Quinn barely heard him, his thoughts too loud, too chaotic. He just nodded absently, his mind a million miles away. He couldn’t focus on anything but you, waiting for him at the station, completely unaware of the storm raging inside his head.

The car finally pulled up to the station, and Quinn could see the throngs of people milling about, all of them blissfully unaware of the inner turmoil raging inside him. He thanked the driver and stepped out, his legs feeling like they might give out beneath him. With every step towards the entrance, his resolve weakened, the weight of his guilt dragging him down like an anchor.

There you were, standing near the entrance with your suitcase by your side, your face lighting up as soon as you spotted him. Quinn’s heart lurched painfully in his chest at the sight of your smile—so warm, so genuine, so undeserved. He forced a smile in return, even though it felt like a mask, a flimsy attempt to cover up the disaster he’d become.

“Hey, you,” you greeted him, your voice as bright and cheerful as ever. “I missed you.”

Quinn swallowed hard, the lump in his throat nearly choking him. “Missed you too,” he replied, his voice cracking just slightly. He leaned in to hug you, his arms wrapping around you with a desperation that he hoped you wouldn’t notice. But even as he held you close, the guilt gnawed at him, a constant reminder of the mess he’d made.

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with those eyes that always seemed to see right through him. “You okay? You seem…off.”

“Yeah, just tired,” Quinn lied, his smile faltering for a moment. “It’s been a long morning.”

Quinn watched your expression as you searched his face, and he felt a pang of anxiety strike deep in his gut. He couldn’t remember a time when lying to you had felt so awful. You were the one stable thing in his chaotic life, the person who always knew him better than he knew himself. And now, all he could do was lie to you, feeding you half-truths like they were the easiest thing in the world. The guilt twisted in his stomach like a knife.

“I get it,” you said, giving him a small, understanding smile that made him feel even worse. “Traveling always wears you out.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” he said, trying to muster a laugh that sounded more like a cough. He reached for your suitcase, needing something to do with his hands. “Here, let me grab that for you.”

As he lifted the bag, he could feel your eyes on him, studying him. He turned his head slightly, avoiding your gaze, afraid that if he looked at you for too long, he might break down right there in the middle of the station.

The two of you walked toward the exit, and Quinn’s mind raced, trying to find a way to change the subject, to steer the conversation away from any topic that might reveal just how messed up he was feeling inside. He felt like he was standing on a tightrope, trying to balance between the truth and the lies, between who he was and who he pretended to be.

“So, how was your trip?” he asked, hoping to sound casual, but his voice came out a little too high-pitched, like a teenager caught sneaking in past curfew. “Everything go okay?”

“It was fine,” you replied, glancing at him sideways, deciding not to tell him about the woman with the accent who preached how much men sucked. “Kind of boring, actually. I kept thinking about you.”

Quinn’s heart sank. Of course, you were thinking about him. You always were. And here he was, thinking about someone else. His stomach twisted with a fresh wave of nausea.

“Yeah?” He forced a grin, trying to keep the mood light. “You didn’t have too much fun without me, did you?”

You laughed, the sound like a melody he didn’t deserve to hear. “Not a chance. You’re the fun one, remember?”

Quinn managed a weak chuckle. “Yeah, right. Me, fun. That’s a good one.”

As you two stepped outside, the warm air hit him, and he took a deep breath, hoping to clear his head. The sunlight was blinding, making him squint as he tried to navigate through the crowds. He was grateful for the distraction, for anything that would keep him from focusing on the dark cloud hanging over his head.

Quinn tried to focus on the city around him, on the way the skyscrapers loomed overhead, their glass windows reflecting the blazing sun. He tried to lose himself in the noise of the traffic, the blaring horns and the distant chatter of people passing by. Anything to distract him from the overwhelming guilt clawing at his chest. He wished he could just disappear, sink into the pavement, and let the earth swallow him whole.

As you reached the hotel, Quinn fumbled with his key card, his hands shaking so badly he could barely swipe it. You gave him a puzzled look, and he managed a weak smile, hoping you couldn’t see the panic in his eyes. The door finally clicked open, and he hurried inside, dropping your suitcase by the bed.

“Home sweet home,” he said, trying to sound cheerful, but his voice cracked, betraying him. He turned away, pretending to adjust the air conditioning, but really just needing a moment to collect himself. The room felt stifling, the walls closing in on him, each breath a struggle.

You wandered over to the window, gazing out at the city below. “It’s a nice view,” you said softly, and Quinn’s chest ached at the sound of your voice. You were always so kind, so thoughtful, and here he was, lying to you every step of the way. He hated himself for it.

“Yeah, it’s… something,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling the tension coil up his spine. He knew he needed to tell you, to come clean about everything, but the words felt like lead in his throat, heavy and impossible to get out. How could he explain something like this? How could he make you understand when he didn’t even understand it himself?

He took a step closer to you, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure you could hear it. He hesitated, his hand hovering over your shoulder, before finally giving in and wrapping his arms around you from behind. You leaned back into him, and for a moment, he closed his eyes, breathing in your scent, feeling the familiar warmth of your body against his. It was almost enough to make him forget, to pretend that everything was okay, that he hadn’t completely screwed up the best thing in his life.

Almost.

“Quinn, are you sure you’re okay?” you asked again, turning in his arms to face him, your brows furrowed in concern. Your eyes searched his face, and he felt like you could see right through him, like you knew every dirty secret he was trying to hide.

“I…” He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. “I need to tell you something.” His voice was barely a whisper, the words sticking to his throat like glue.

“What is it?” You tilted your head, looking up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, and he felt like the worst person in the world. How could he do this to you? How could he destroy everything you had together?

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he leaned down and kissed you, hard and desperate, like a drowning man grasping for air. You gasped in surprise, your hands coming up to cup his face, and for a moment, he lost himself in the kiss, in the feel of your lips against his, soft and familiar and everything he didn’t deserve.

When he finally pulled back, he was breathing heavily, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m so sorry,” he choked out, his voice breaking. “I’m so, so sorry.”

You blinked, confusion etched across your features. “Quinn, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.”

“I messed up,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I messed up so bad, and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t even know if I can.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and Quinn felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. He wanted to hold you, to comfort you, but he knew he had no right. Not after what he had done.

“I need you to know that I love you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I love you so much, and I never meant to hurt you. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“What did you do?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Quinn took a deep breath, his hands shaking as he tried to steady himself. He knew he couldn’t keep lying, couldn’t keep hiding the truth from you.

You deserved better than that.

You deserved so much more than he could ever give you.

[aphrodijin]

swing life away | min yoongi

pairing: min yoongi x fem!reader

synopsis: it's your first anniversary as a married couple but not only did you forget today's special occasion, you also didn't prepare a self-made gift for your husband -- except for the bundle of joy in your womb.

rating: 18+

word count: 5.2k

tags/content warning: married au, pregnancy, slight angst, miscommunication, mentions of infidelity (no one's cheating), mentions of food and being vegan (no one's vegan), usage of babe/baby as endearment, semi-public sex, SMUT in the forms of oral sex (m. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (don't do this unless you want kids or std), slight spanking, yoongi being a carpenter/loving husband/dumpling/etc.

this fic is inspired by the song "swing life away" by rise against and yoongi's woodcarving vlog :] enjoy!

Min Yoongi was many things.

He’s a skilled carpenter with his own woodshop business by day, and a rising songwriter/record producer by night. He’s a confident all-star basketball player back in his high school days and can still shoot perfectly whenever he plays with some of your shared friends in the backyard these days. He’s a great cook too, always indulging your cravings.

Min Yoongi was many things but most importantly, he’s your husband.

And a very observant one.

It’s been more than a month when he first noticed it. He wasn’t exactly sure what was “it,” but he knew it wasn’t good. He could tell there was something bothering in your mind one night you went home from work and claimed it’s nothing instead of ranting to him like the usual. Just a bad day at work.

A week after that was when you started to stay long hours at work, looking more pale and exhausted when you get home. It baffled Yoongi why you would spend more hours there if it’s stressing you and you’ve never actually worked overtime, but he knew he’s not one to talk about spending more time at work when he has two jobs and does one of those said jobs at home, so he shut his mouth. He didn’t say anything.

Not when you changed your perfume from an intoxicating fruity scent to a soft floral one. Not when he saw a receipt of you having your car interior cleaned and also changed the smell of it. Not when you didn’t want to have sex anymore, always pushing his hands away when they start to wander down there.

A lot of new small things bothered him, especially the last one but what made him almost lose it was when you had mistaken his dish, the one you claimed to be your favorite, for a different one.

x◇x◇x

“Do you like it?”

You nodded, despite still blowing the steam off of your spoon. When you finally tasted it though, he could tell on the look on your face that there’s something missing on his dish. “What is it? Did I not put enough fish sauce or tomato sauce?”

“You put fish sauce in this?” You asked, smiling adorably at your husband and reached across the table to hold his hand in assurance. “It tastes fine, babe, but there’s no need for fish sauce in this. You could’ve added more liver spread and cheese though. You know I love a lot of cheese in this.”

Yoongi closed his eyes for a moment to breathe. He understood the cheese part, you always add cheese to a lot of dishes that doesn’t even need cheese. “Y/N, I didn’t put liver spread because that dish doesn’t require liver spread. It needed fish sauce.”

“What are you talking about? Caldereta is all about the tender beef, tomato sauce, liver spread, and cheese!”

“That's afritada, Y/N. You’re favorite dish back home is afritada.”

Yoongi blinked and composed himself, trying not to look so wounded. He’s so damn sure you’re favorite was afritada, you’ve talked about it a lot. Hell, he’d already cooked it a couple of times before. He had the recipe that he searched online bookmarked on his browser, and he even went to the lengths of jotting them down on his journal just in case the link is taken down.

“Afritada… you mean this is chicken?” You scooped for some meat parts from the reddish soup dish, and there it was, your recent enemy: chicken. “I can’t eat chicken right now, Yoongi, I'm sorry.” You sat straight up, covering your mouth and nose with your hand.

“Of course, it’s chicken. It’s always been chicken, Y/N. It’s a chicken dish, that’s why you love it so much. Or loved, apparently, judging by your actions tonight.”

“I'm sorry,” your voice came out muffled as your hand was still covering your mouth.

“When did you start hating chicken?” he asked as he stood up to take your plate away and check the pantry to prepare something else for you.

“Um, my coworker, Seokhoon, he’s practicing to be a vegan lately so we thought we’d support him by also not eating meat…”

Yoongi’s ears perked up, hearing how your answer sounded uncertain and more like a question, so he pressed more, looking over his shoulder at you. “You were more than ready and excited to eat beef and cheese earlier but you wouldn’t eat chicken right now?”

You stared dumbfoundingly at him before shrugging. “I’m trying with small things like egg and chicken.”

“I made you an omelet for breakfast earlier.” He pointed out, holding your gaze.

“I… just started… to try being vegan earlier at lunch. And also meat are becoming pricey these days, our salary might not be enough. Sooner or later, we’re gonna have to cut back on our expenses. What would you rather give up—chicken or beef?”

Of course, Yoongi would rather eat tofu and bean sprouts for the rest of his life if it meant you get to eat properly and satisfy your cravings. But he didn’t bother to reply that as he cooked you a different dish that night. Fuck Seokhoon for influencing you to be vegan. Fuck the government for the rising prices and not handling the economy better.

x◇x◇x

Ever since that dinner night, Yoongi began to question your marriage. He wanted to talk to you because he didn’t know what to make of your actions anymore, but everytime you two were in the room together, he could you tell you were uncomfortable and couldn’t wait to get out of the situation. Besides, he’s afraid to ask because he knows he’s not prepared for any possible answers you'll give him.

You cheated? Yoongi knew it’s impossible. It had to be because he wouldn’t know what to do with that with that revelation. That would honestly break him.

You lost your job and was just actually driving around town to look for a new one and pass the time? It sounded stupid but not impossible. He would be disappointed and wish that you had told him sooner to prepare and possibly take on a third job.

You’re pregnant? He supposed this is a realistic scenario. You two had talked about this sincerely before getting married, of course, both wanting two kids. He just feels like it’s still early for babies and you two haven’t done all your goals as a married couple before becoming parents.

So he told himself to wait, that you would open up to him when you’re finally ready to unburden your problems. He’s a patient man after all.

But his patience seemed to be running thin today on the morning of your anniversary when he rolled over to your side as he woke up to cuddle you closer and hopefully start the day buried inside you.

He knew you’re awake, even with your eyes closed. You've been waking up earlier than him lately, one of your many changing habits. He took your hand that was hugging your stomach and pressed a soft kiss on your fingers, on your palm, on your wrist, trailing them across your arm up to your shoulder.

“Y/N,” he whispered your name, wishing for you to open your eyes when he nipped at your jaw. He called your name once again as his lips were ghosting over yours. Your eyelashes fluttered open just enough to look at him and when he finally saw your eyes, he leaned down to kiss you deeply.

You freed your hand from his to curl your fingers up into his long hair, urging him closer while the other slid up beneath his shirt, feeling the heat of his body that you’ve been missing for weeks now. You pulled your knees up as Yoongi settled himself in between your legs, grinding his hard cock against your core.

But just as his own hand started to drift down on your hips, you slowed down, giving his lips one last kiss before pressing your forehead to his. You both stayed there without any movements at all, just gasping for air and holding each other’s skin and flesh tightly every now and then.

When it sounded like you were about to apologize, he pressed a kiss on your forehead and whispered, “Happy anniversary, baby,” before bolting right out of the bed, before you could even say it back to him.

x◇x◇x

Despite your husband having his own woodshop and fulfilling his dreams in the music industry, you didn’t let go of your job when you and Yoongi got married.

You were on your way back to your desk from your third visit to the bathroom that morning when you saw the delivery man on the front door of the store carrying a gigantic bouquet of flowers he almost disappeared behind it.

“Min Y/N?” he asked, looking around the store.

Jia turned to the direction of the bathroom and pointed at you when she saw you. You stayed your feet at your place. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move. The flowers looked beautiful—a bouquet of pale and dark red carnations, along with sunflowers, wrapped meticulously in craft paper and tied with a golden ribbon—but there’s a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach that’s making it hard for you to appreciate this.

“This is for you!” The delivery man presented the bouquet to you with a proud smile. When you didn’t move, he gingerly took your arms to place the flowers in them and then took off.

A minute must have passed by yet none of you and your colleagues moved or talked. It wasn’t until a client came in and needed assistance. Jia wrapped her arm around you and walked you back to your desk. As you sat down, you caught sight of the red card sticking out of the flowers. HAPPY 1ST ANNIVERSARY, BABY.

Reading Yoongi's handwritten note, you recognized that bad feeling again that you knew all too well lately. Shame and guilt. You had to close your eyes and practice your breathing exercises before those bad feelings in your stomach turn into a pile of chunky vomit across the floor.

Jia, oblivious to your anxiety, swooned over the flowers. “Happy anniversary, Y/N!”

It’s the second greeting you’ve received today and you couldn’t help but wince when you remember how you froze when Yoongi greeted you.

You didn’t know how this special event slipped up your mind when staring at your calendar was all you’ve been doing lately. You were aware that your own anniversary was near and you even had a lot of ideas for DIY gifts to give to your husband.

You tried to make it up to Yoongi by going after him and showering together to have some hot shower sex even though the thought of sex was making you nervous lately. Yoongi turned down the offer though, saying you’re both gonna be late for work, which was a very pathetic excuse considering he’s his own boss and your own work doesn’t start in a couple of hours. So you showered together in silence.

Just as you’re about to calm down, you’re eyes widened in panic because not only you forgot your own anniversary day, of course you also forgot to actually make a gift despite tons of ideas in your journal and Pinterest board.

“Jia, I didn’t get him a gift!” It wasn’t even noon yet, and you’re already close to breaking down for the third time today.

“Well, the department store is just around the corner. I can come with you at lunch to buy something last minute.”

You shook your head and explained to her that buying some expensive stuff isn’t enough. Knowing your husband, he already made you a gift days ago. You’re not sure if it’s something from his woodshop or if he composed you a song, all you know is Yoongi probably made you a gift with love. No amount of money could compare to that.

“Well, there’s always sex?” At the sight of your face crumpling once again, Jia took back her suggestion. “Or not! Honestly, Y/N, this is why I’m all single and alone in life so I don’t have to give people gifts and you’re making me stress about your own anniversary gift.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“And really, you’re worrying about gifts when…” she paused to look down at your belly. “Have you told him yet?”

You shook your head.

“Well, there’s your anniversary gift, congratulations!”

“This is a stupid gift." Despite your harsh words, you wrapped arm protectively around your middle.

“Why? You said you want to give him something you made, well you made that. He even helped, too!”

You couldn’t possibly just announce you’re pregnant on your anniversary day? Right? Sure, it’s convenient and practical – two celebrations in one night!

But that’s not the actual thing that’s been bothering you. You’ve been hiding your condition to your husband for weeks now, when you should have told him that he’s a gonna be a dad the moment you saw the plus sign on a stick. But you didn’t because you’re scared and if you’re gonna be honest, also selfish. Selfish to have Yoongi the Husband™️ all to yourself just for a couple more days before he turns into Yoongi, your husband and the father of your unborn fetus. And then that selfishness turns into guilt for not telling him, for distancing yourself.

A part of you wished he’ll figure it out on his own, that’ll save you a speech.

x◇x◇x

Even before you started to spent late hours at work, Yoongi always comes home an hour or so before you. It usually gives him enough time to prepare for dinner.

However today, he asked his friend Seokjin to prepare a romantic dinner for you two as he would busy himself installing the porch swing he made as his anniversary gift for you.

With his long hair tied in a half bun, a few strands tucked behind his ears and locked into place with pins, and a safety googles on his face, Yoongi began by drilling two holes up into the ceiling joists where he would screw the hooks. When he’s done and swept away the dust, he took the chains that’s wrapped in rope for extra support and aesthetic purposes and attached them to swing before hoisting them up to the hooks.

Despite wanting his gift to be all handmade, Yoongi had no choice but to buy a small foam mattress and throw pillows to decorate the swing. He placed them all nicely and removed his googles before sitting down and testing the swing if it runs smoothly.

Swinging for a couple of minutes gave Yoongi enough time to relax from the stress of his jobs, from setting this swing up, from all his fears and worries.

It gave him enough peace from all the doubts and questions inside his head. He hoped that this would give you the same. He hoped that you seeing this swing – the one you dreamed for so long, the one that he promised you because how could he ever say no – will help you remember that the fact that you two get to celebrate this day was because of your love for each other and the trust you’ve built all these years even before marrying.

Yoongi had set up the swing in the right side of the house, facing a line of tall trees that secludes this house from the main road, and close enough to the backyard for some peace and privacy that if anyone walks or drives in to your lot, they wouldn’t see you right away as the beams would hinder their sight. But anyone who’s sitting here would see just fine if there’s someone coming in.

Just like Yoongi saw your car rolled in right away to park next to his pickup truck. He stood up and waved his arm to call your attention, excited to show you his gift. When you didn’t see him, he jogged up to the front and flashed a smile when you jumped up in surprise at the sight of him.

“What are you doing outside?”

“I have to show you something, come on!” He went to cover your eyes for surprise and guided you to the back.

You were expecting some surprise in the backyard, probably a dinner he cooked but your assumptions came into a halt as Yoongi stopped only after taking a few steps. When he removed his hands and told you to open your eyes, a cozy porch swing greeted your sight.

“That’s…” you trailed off, walking closer and wrapping your hand around the chain-rope. From the bulky design of the chain and rope to the uneven height of the wooden slabs of the back support, Yoongi made you the exact wooden swing that you drunkenly drew a long time ago when you two just started dating.

“Happy anniversary, Y/N.” You heard Yoongi say behind you, and you wish he had said it the way he greeted you this morning – with such coldness and hurt. You felt like you didn’t deserve this with the way you’ve been treating him this past month.

Not wanting to hurt him any longer and bring back normalcy in your relationship, you turned to look at him, your eyes teary and said, “I… I'm sorry, babe.”

“Why? What is it?”

“I…” You cleared your throat and wondered which should you say first: you didn’t get him any gift, or you’re pregnant. You figured you should go with the bad news first before softening the mood with the good news, you’re just not sure which is which. “I didn’t get you any gift. I actually forgot it’s our anniversary today, I’m sorry.”

Yoongi fell silent before chuckling nervously. Sure, forgetting your own anniversary was bad, but that’s little compared to what Yoongi was imagining these past few days. “That’s alright, I thought it was something serious.”

“Why? What did you think I was going to say?” you prodded before you drop your next bomb.

“I don’t know what I thought, honestly. Things haven’t been quite well with us lately, Y/N.” He shrugged, scratching his nape. “I thought of pregnancy. There’s one where you don’t actually have a job anymore and just didn’t want to say it. I also thought you’re cheating with fucking Seokhoon—”

“Seok-Seokhoon? Why the hell would you think that? I couldn’t stand that guy.”

“I don’t know Y/N, you tell me, you’re the one who suddenly didn’t want to eat chicken because fucking Seokhoon is trying to be vegan.”

You thought about the lamb chops Seokhoon devoured at lunch today. You also remembered the night Yoongi was referring to, when you almost spilled your guts literally and figuratively at the smell of the chicken.

“Seokhoon isn’t vegan. But one of your hunches is true.” You walked towards him, taking his hand in yours and placing it on your stomach. “I’m pregnant.”

Yoongi froze for a minute, staring at your eyes down to your stomach that he’s touching. His gummy smile slowly broke into his face, giggling as he asked to confirm, “Pregnant? With babies?”

You nodded, matching his smile. “Yeah, pregnant, but hopefully just a singular baby. Or fetus, I’m not sure, I haven’t been to a clinic yet. I was putting it off because I want you to be there at the first checkup since I left you in the dark when I took the test. I'm really sorry about that, Yoongi, I just didn’t know how to say it. I was scared and nervous myself about this baby and I kn—”

Yoongi cut off your ramblings by kissing you. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry I thought you were cheating when you were feeling this way all on your own. I should’ve asked you.”

You shook you head. “I'm sorry I let you think that, too. But there’s no way I would’ve betray you for Seokhoon or anyone else, really. I love you so much, Yoongi.”

You stood in your toes to kiss him again, muttering again and again how much you love him and how sorry you were. His hands stayed firmly on each side of you, and you didn’t pushed him away this time. You looped your arms around his neck and tugged him closer.

This one kiss – after all those weeks of just pecking and short kisses, after the frustrating mess that happened earlier morning – was so hungry and powerful and mind-numbing. You wouldn’t even wanna stop if a lightning strike near you two. You missed him so much, you would’ve take him right here, right now.

But Yoongi pulled away, breathing ruggedly as he said, “You haven’t tried it yet.”

“Tried the what yet?”

“The swing, don’t you wanna take a ride on it?”

Despite his innocent question referring to the swing, your eyes mischievously glinted and an idea popped into your mind. You took his hand and gestured for him to sit down. Trying to calm yourself down, you kissed your husband first before prying his legs open and kneeling down between them, instead of sitting beside him.

“What are you doing?” he smirked, enjoying the sight in front of him.

“I was thinking I could ride you on it instead, but first…”

With a coy smile, you unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down along with his underwear, freeing his hard cock. Licking your lips in anticipation, you wrapped your hand around him, thumb circling at the precum beading on his crown.

Yoongi hissed at sensation, bucking his hips up. “Fuck, baby, don’t tease me. It’s been a month.” His hands ran through your hair to keep them out of the way and prompted for you to start.

“Happy anniversary,” you greeted him before placing sloppy, wet mouth kisses on the head of his dick and moving them down while your hand was steadily stroking the base and the other was gently squeezing and rolling his balls.

When you made sure to coat every inch of his cock with your saliva, you kissed his crown one more time before taking him in your mouth, trying to fit whatever you can while your hand covered the rest.

“Ahh, that feels so good, babe. I’ve really missed you,” he rasped.

You moaned around him as you felt yourself getting wet even just at the sound of his voice and at the feeling of his heavy cock sliding in and out of your mouth. One of his hands weaved into your hair once again to carefully guide you at the pace he wanted. He bit his lip in concentration as he tried to restrain himself from just snapping his hips up to fuck your face but failing a couple of times, making you choke and teary-eyed.

Yoongi couldn’t help but groan at the sight of you, mouth wide open full of his cock, eyes in tears staring up at him. His other hand cupped your jaw, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“You’re doing so good, baby, taking my cock so well.”

His moans were getting louder and he started to lose control of his hips, a sign that Yoongi’s close to his orgasm. You released his cock to tease him a little bit, swirling your tongue over again at the sensitive spot of his crown as you pumped his length, making him all whiny as he repeated your name again and again like a mantra along with few curse words, before sucking him whole again with the intention of swallowing his hot cum. Which Yoongi delivered, a lot. And loudly.

You pulled yourself off of his cock, still semi-hard, and opened your mouth to show him that you’ve swallowed every drop of his cum. Still breathing heavily, Yoongi smiled proudly at you. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me, Y/N baby. Come here.”

“Not to doubt you, but are you sure this won’t give out on us?” You asked, looking up at the ceiling where the swing is hanging.

“Of course not, at least three people can sit here. We’ll be fine, even when we finally have our kid sitting down here with us,” he replied, helping you get up at your feet.

You stared down at him, grinning at the thought of your kid playing at this very porch swing their daddy made in the future. But first, it’s gonna mommy and daddy’s turn on the swing for a while.

Because of the disastrous shower session earlier, you tried to make it up to your husband by wearing his favorite black lace lingerie underneath one of your red dress that gave out the equal vibe of classy and slutty to entice him on. You also figured, might as well wear them while you still can.

You unbuttoned the dress open from the top, revealing the lacy bra, causing Yoongi to raise his eyebrows.

“You wore lingerie to work?”

“Yeah, it turned out to be quite itchy and uncomfortable to wear for a long time actually,” you pouted. “Help me out of it, please.”

Yoongi leaned forward, one of his hands held you firmly by your waist while the other slipped beneath your dress, running his fingertips along the edge of your underwear before pulling them aside to sink a finger inside your cunt and moving it in a ‘come hither' motion. He added another finger while his thumb drew circles on your clit to send you over the edge.

You gasped, your hands paused from unclasping your bra to balance yourself on your husband’s shoulders as he stretched you out, spreading your slick all over your slit. When your juices had dripped down on his wrist, Yoongi took that as a cue that you’re wet enough and hooked his hands around your underwear to remove them before pulling you into his lap.

He gathered the skirt of your dress, bunching them up to your waist. You bit your lower lip as your pussy was pressing against his cock, feeling hard and thick against your wet core. Feeling impatient as Yoongi kissed your neck, you tried to move your hips, chasing that pleasure the friction gave you, in which you earned a gentle slap in the ass from him.

“Take this off,” he said, toying with the strap of your bra.

You nodded like a good girl, unclasping them from behind and took the straps of your shoulders. Yoongi pulled down your dress, revealing your tits. He stared at them for a second, both of his hands cupping each breast gently, thumbs grazing your soft skin and hardened nipple. You were about to make a joke when he leaned down to start licking and sucking one of your tits, while he massaged the other one.

While he was busy, you attempted to get yourself off by rocking your hips against him again, whether on his cock or his thigh, you didn’t care. A cry left your lips when he slapped your ass once again, a bit harder this time, before proceeding to grab your ass in his hands and dig his fingers in to help you move. You whimpered every time your sensitive clit rubbed pass his tip, making him almost poked your entrance.

Yoongi switched his attention on your other tit, but never faltering his movement to make you come on his cock. He could feel you’re close, your folds fluttering against his cock, your hips jerking more uncontrollably, your juices running down on his skin to the foam cushion he newly bought, making a mental note to buy a new one.

“Y—Yoongi…” you moaned, eyes scrunched close and head thrown back. “Oh, I'm gonna—oh fuck Yoongi—”

He looked up from your chest to stare at the fucked out expression on your face as you come, his hands on your hips controlling your move to help you ride out your orgasm. When he felt that you’re almost done coming down from your high, Yoongi lifted you up to line his tip against your entrance and helped you sink down on his cock. You moaned loudly at the feeling of your cunt being stretched out so deliciously after a month without an intercourse.

None of you spoke for a while, but you were thankful that Yoongi didn’t fuck you right away and instead let you adjust to the size as he sucked and nibbled every inch of your skin.

“If I’m pregnant right now, does that mean we don’t need a condom for a while? Or you can still get me pregnant while I’m pregnant?”

“It can happen, but it’s rare.” Yoongi saw your concerned expression, so he asked, “Do you want me to wear one?”

You smiled and shook your head immediately. “No. I want to feel you.” With that being said, you hooked your arms across his shoulders and started to bounce on his cock, grinding your clit on his pelvis everytime you come down.

Despite the frustrations and longing that Yoongi had built up for a month, he managed to calmly hold back and sit there as you ride him. At the back of his mind, he was also hesitant to pound his dick in and out of you without a care because he’s afraid he might hurt the baby. So he let you control the pace while his hands wander over your body, palming your tits and smacking your ass.

“Ahh Yoongi… please, fuck me.” You couldn’t keep your upper body straight anymore as your walls began on clenching around his dick, so you leaned your head on his shoulder. “I can’t—I feel so close again…”

“I know, baby, I got you now. You did great,” Yoongi whispered tenderly, placing a kiss on your head. He gripped your thighs in place, thrusting his hips upward into you and picked up the pace to bring you to your second orgasm.

You cried out in pleasure as Yoongi kept hitting that sweet spot inside you, your body beginning to tremble in his arms. You could feel him getting close too by the way his thrusts were being quick and sloppy so you curled your hand around the curly strands on his nape, your lips leaving wet kisses on his neck as you tried to give him hickeys.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, holy shit baby…”

You were lucky you live in a remote place and didn’t have any neighbors for miles as they would’ve surely heard Yoongi's loud groans and your high-pitched moans as you came together. Yoongi had thrust one more time inside you, bringing your hips down as he flushed your bodies together and filled your cunt with his thick cum.

None of you wanted to move at that moment, just catching up on your breaths and occasionally rocking your hips into each other for a potential round two when your stomach had a sudden craving — dumplings.

And dumplings reminded you of — “Oh my, god, we’re gonna have a baby dumpling in a few months.”

“I’m not a dumpling,” he groaned, burying his face on the crook of your neck as you laugh.

Min Yoongi was many things—a carpenter, a songwriter and producer, a basketball player, a dumpling (despite his denial), your loving husband, and in a few months, a proud father.

Hello! Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and please, reblogs and feedbacks are always welcome and appreciated :)

If you want to support me and help with my dental care funds, please consider tipping me at ko-fi.com/aphrodijin or commission me to write you a fic. I could really use some help.

Thank you so much once again, have a great day! x

©️ 2022 aphrodijin

[darlingpoppet]

Fave Fics of 2023!

A list of some of my favorite fics I read in 2023, though note not all of them are from this year. I feel like I didn’t get to do as much reading as I would’ve liked but I guess at least I was still able to put together a decent list! This isn’t a ranking, I listed everything in alphabetical order.

a bit of earth by @elemmacil (patrochilles)

Character study of Hadesgame Achilles & his time in the house of hades, pre-canon. Also, Zagreus takes care of a plant & it’s so wholesome. Lovely, atmospheric, and fueled by vibes, I adore the secret garden inspiration which slots into the hadesgame-verse sooo perfectly. This is great for the sad girlies like me who recently re-watched the movie from the 90s and thought “what if the whole movie was just us watching lord craven being a sad, pining dilf the whole time?” *clicks tongue* noice.

A Reasonable Explanation by stygius (pza)

I already read On The Ropes by red_smear last year so it doesn’t get to be on this list but I did go into 2023 continuing to seek out some of the “old classics” for this ship (yanno how reading fics that were published before joining the fandom sometimes feels like consuming media that existed before you were born? lol) this one is fun for the subversion on the “relaying messages” trope and taking god worshipping to literal (sexyy) extremes… I think if you wanted a good pza introductory fic this would be a good place to start!

Debased by youcouldbeagod (patrochilles)

Found this on a whim one day while clicking through the tags, as it is pretty much the only dedicated Troilus & Cressida Patrochilles fic on AO3 and it is ＢＲＩＬＬＩＡＮＴ！ The story is simply that Thersites stumbles upon Achilles & Patroclus having sex in their tent and he provides his usual witty and scathing commentary throughout. It truly reads like Shakespeare in prose form, I could easily imagine it being staged, it’s like a deleted scene from the play! The ending is also pitch perfect and still lives in my head rent-free. If you’re familiar with Shakespeare’s version of the characters definitely give it a read.

isn’t it romantic by infinitesle (dillydallybutterfly) (pza)

I was going to recommend a patrochilles fic by infinitesle that I love which is you are the currents that are pulling me onward but I’m pretty sure I read it in 2022 so it doesn’t count, sadge. So instead I’ll recommend another lovely morsel, a pza fic set in the jazz age au that a bunch of us in the pza channel of the hades lounge discord collectively came up with. Idk this might be a “you had to be there” kind of story but I think it still paints a pretty picture and if it inspires anyone else to contribute to the AU I wouldn’t complain. I’ll make my own proper contribution eventually, mark my words!

not the desperate type by @baejax-the-great (patrochilles, side hector/patroclus)

Baejax is well-known for their long fics which are all bangers ofc but personally my favorite piece of theirs this year was actually this oneshot in which Patroclus is engaged to Hector and then cheats on him with his ex, Achilles. They get caught in the act and the results are… predictable, lol. I love that it hews close to the tone of the Iliad where it’s no good/bad guys, just flawed humans making flawed choices and the AITA version of this story would totally be given an Everyone Sucks Here verdict, I’m sure. I’m STILL thinking about the ending even months & months later. Oh and of course, the sex is chef’s kiss!

One Night Of Chaos by Luddleston (pza)

This was technically a Dec 2022 read but I’m making an exception for it because I feel like it’s the flavor of pza I had been craving all along when I was reading through some of the older classics for this ship and it was key in helping fuel the inspiration for my own pza fics this year. There’s just something about Zag being invited into Patrochilles’ little world to watch their charming rapport with one another & being disgustingly in love that’s PEAK CONTENT for me and I loved this spin where he gets to meet them while they’re still alive, pre-heartbreak. Basically everything about it is my personal ur-pza text so if you’ve liked any of my own pza I’m sure you would like this one too. The sequel is also fun and was properly a 2023 read for me so I’ll mention it too haha.

Presentation by @sonderlivra (eruri)

Judging by the time stamp of my comment, I started my 2023 off right by reading this fic by one of my all-time favorite eruri authors! This is an omegaverse fic with a twist, it is well-written, hilarious, and had me guessing up until the very end. I would literally recommend anything this author writes (including the asscreed fics she & other beloved friend @zorthania have been writing this year… I don’t go here but these are my blorbo in-laws and I care them uwu)

sacramentum by fresco_k (eruri)

I didn’t take the time to read many other eruri fics this year unfortunately but I did get to beta some fics for this year’s eruri matchmaking event and this was one of them: a gladiator AU set in Ancient Rome and it was so serendipitous that I got to help with something so close to my current hyperfixation! The premise is very intriguing and it’s off to a lovely start… not to mention the author is a sweetie who knows & has a lot of passion for the time period… so check it out!

the slow mending by meikuree (pikuhan)

I finally got to dip my toes into some pikuhan fics this year and luckily my first one was a real banger! This was such a lovely little canon-compliant Hanji character study along with an exploration of their relationship with Pieck representing the two sides coming together and it was so beautifully written. It feels like the perfect introductory fic for the ship just in general because it really highlights everything that’s attractive about it! Love it!

tight fit by naxtique (zagchilles)

naxtique’s fics pretty much all scratch that itch for hadesgame dead dove of the dub/non-con variety, oftentimes laced with angst. Their particular flavor of Zagchilles with slave-to-his-passion, guilt-stricken Achilles is so compelling it always makes me stare at the wall thinking about it. And this is my favorite one, in which Achilles gets sex-pollen’d and ends up in a compromising position with Zagreus. Another one where the ending haunts my dreams (in a good way). Not for everyone obviously but if this sort of thing is up your alley, it’s great.

you’re a walking disaster, and yet— by @johaerys-writes (patrochilles)

Another patrochilles GOAT well-known for their serial longfics, and this year I’ve been enjoying their modern AU Patrochilles where the two of them grow up together in rural Greece. This one has probably my favorite ever synthesis of takes on Achilles’ character I’ve read so far—brilliant, autistic, and gender fluid. It’s definitely an extreme slow burn and gets pretty angsty & messy at times but it’s also devastatingly realistic & relatable and speaks to me a whole lot :> currently ongoing, definitely worth diving into!

[rey-jake-therapist]

I still don't get this very popular idea that if someone dates Morpheus they will probably die because of him and even go to Hell. It happened to Nada, alright. Nada and.... Oh wait, NO ONE.

Killala cheated on him and yet got her happy ending with the Sun, no less. Yes, she died but Morpheus had nothing to do with it. She was a mortal. Sad but true: mortals die. Morpheus didn't send her to Hell, as far as we know.

Alianora was neglected by Morpheus who didn't hold his promise to love her forever, but she died years, maybe centuries even after they broke up, also because she was a mortal and not because Morpheus caused her death. When they broke up he gave her one of his dream stones and a skerry where she would be free to do whatever she wanted. Her spirit remained in the skerry until Morpheus unmade it after Barbie smashed the dream stone... Clearly, she didn't go to Hell.

Calliope was still alive when Morpheus died and even fondly recalled how good he was in bed when they were still in love. He treated her horribly when he refused to let her go back to the Dreaming after she blamed him for Orpheus' fate, but it's not his fault she was later captured and abused for years. Not only that but he helped her to get free from her abuser. No sentence to Hell in sight here either.

Titania was still alive when Morpheus died and she seemed to be in good health. Whatever happened between them didn't turn so wrong that he sentenced her to Hell, apparently.

Oh and Thessaly? Unfortunately, she's still alive and not only she didn't go to Hell, but she managed to get more life from the Fates when she protected Lyta. When she left Morpheus he stood in the rain like a moron and whined. That's it. Hardly the horrible ex girlfriend's killer this fandom keeps bringing up....

Now I think it's very possible that Morpheus had other ex girlfriends we don't know about since he seems to, erm, fall in love quite easily and is literally ancient. It's possible that one of these ex girlfriends died because of him (not by his hands though, he's not a murderer lol), or at least suffered because of him (I wrote a fic that tells such a story uh uh); Desire's words in SOM could make us think that. That said, coming from him it's just as likely that when they asked him if he killed another girlfriend recently, they wanted to get under Morpheus' skin 😏 It's very fun to speculate about all this! However, in the CANON material we've got, there's nothing to suggest that Morpheus is an ex girlfriends' serial killer 🧐

And that's why it always puzzles me when some posts say things such as "I wouldn't want Dream to date x female character because he would do the same to her as he did to Nada"... It seems to me that Nada's case was an exception, and not the pattern, but what do I know? I'm just a woman who read the comics...

[arcplaysgames]

Do I have to say that i love Akechi because I do.

While the Thieves grab ahold of Adam Kadmon's hand to keep him in place, Joker swings up to Kadmon's face with as much drama as you have come to expect from him.

And so ends Maruki's dreams.

His shitty, shitty dreams.

Maruki admits outright that Reverie is right, he does that. But points out that the world itself is unfair. Someone can work and struggle and do everything in their power to overcome, only to be set back and crushed by a discompassionate, vicious system that they cann't escape. He just wanted to provide a better world.

Morgana, the best character in this game, points out that yeah, honestly, a lot of people would benefit from Maruki's reality. But having it forced on them is worse and takes away their own opportunity to determine the course of their own life and to grow.

MORGANA! /claps

forget all of my philosophizing and talk of ethics and shit. It all comes down to that!

Ah, Maruki. I adore you. It's been an honor beating the shit out of you.

Morgana finally achieves the impossible and turns into a Monacopter to save everyone.

And Akechi's final moments as a dude who exists and is alive is being crushed against the window and bitching loudly about it. Exquisite. /blows kiss

Everyone begins to soar off into the starry night, but oh ho!

MARUKI WANTS ONE MORE SHOT, BABY

Reverie jumps down to oblige him because like with Akechi, Maruki and Reverie have similar souls (sympathetic).

Stunning shot tbh.

I LOVE THIS MADMAN. I love the "I'm here for you."

brb beating up a fucking lab clinician with my fists while his voice finally at last cracks and he sobs out how angry he is to have lost, it's a whole-ass moment.

When he's had enough, he lays down, and the purposeful mirroring with Kasumi and Sumire is beautiful. THEIR SOULS ARE THE SAME SHAPE AND IT'S HORRIBLE.

Maruki reaches up just like Joker did as the world forgot about the existence of the Thieves and they fades away. So goes all of Maruki's beliefs and dreams.

Yeah I don't even know what to say.

This is not as bombastic and ridiculous and fun as the fight with Yaldaboath, no.

But this actually made me feel something and made me face the truth of the game. Maruki is the sun to Reverie's moon, he is the horrible absolutist nightmare of an idea that was reflected by the Thieves, softer and maybe safer but still rooted in the same wrongs.

There is a stupid thing I wrote in a stupid fic recently, where another messiah-figure talks explicitly about reforming society, and says "Utopia is a process." You can't cheat your way with magic, you can't force it on people. It is a lifelong work you will never see come to fruition, but you have to continue the work anyway.

It would be easy to drop Maruki and let him die. But what would that accomplish except another loss? You have to believe people can change, or there's no point to anything.

[nekoannie-chan]

Anymore

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Mutant!Reader.

Word count: 1119 words.

Summary: You were happily married to Steve, until you discovered his secret.

Warnings: Cheating, divorce, I promise a happy ending.

A/N: This is my entry to @mattmurdocksscars‘s Amanda 1.5K Writing Challenge with the angst prompt #8:

“I can’t do this anymore.”

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou  @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz  @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid​ @leyannrae  @harrysthiccthighss @marvelatthisone @hallecarey1​ @caplanbuckybarnes​

You were walking through the park, questioning what you should do. Lorna and Clarice, who were your best friends, had already told you their suspicions. But you just couldn't believe it. Steve has always shown you affection. You knew that many people were jealous of the relationship you two had. However, it seemed strange what your friends told you, coupled with the fact that in recent weeks, Steve had begun to behave differently and mysteriously. Before, he asked that almost all the missions be the two of you together, and now he preferred that you have separate missions.

You didn't want to continue living with doubt, so you decided to investigate on your own. Somehow or another, you will discover the truth. You were going to take advantage of the day Steve had a mission. He didn't even say goodbye to you when he left, but you didn't care about it. It was your chance. You went up to his office. The door was locked. You frowned in awe. You took the key and opened it. You walked in. The whole office seemed to be in order as always. Nothing looked different or suspicious. Even the photo of you that I used to have on the desk was still there. You still lacked a place to check.

You nervously opened the desk drawer where you knew he kept his most precious belongings. You took the compass, you opened it. There was nothing there, no photo or anything. You expelled the air slowly; it even seemed that you had forgotten how to breathe. Perhaps you were just being paranoid; perhaps you should abandon your plan to consult the cuckoos to read his mind; surely you will be laughing tomorrow at what you have been thinking in recent weeks...Or not?

A few minutes later, his mobile phone began to ring. You will recognize the tone. It seemed that he had forgotten it. He left quickly that morning, and you did not realize (and probably neither did he) that he left the mobile phone. You took it. It was a message from Sharon Carter, maybe about the mission. As long as it exists, you can freeze when reading it.

You continued to read her other conversations with her. In the end, you were right, and it definitely couldn't be a misunderstanding. There were pictures of them together. It all makes sense now.

Should you talk to him? Most likely, he would deny it.

What if nothing else was going for you? You knew I would seek you out and deny you.

"I can't do this anymore," you thought. You weren't going to stand there accepting what he was doing. You weren't happy that way. If he didn't care about your feelings, you didn't care about him either.

As soon as he returned from the mission, you would ask for a divorce. You could not forgive him, and no matter what he did, you no longer wanted to remain married to him. You knew where you could stay. After a while, you start to look at the clock. You were not sure if time was passing too fast or too slowly while you were trying to analyze what happened and find the moment when everything could have started.

A few hours later, Steve arrived and quietly entered the house, believing that you were asleep. During the day, he was thinking that he should finish what he had started with Sharon. Maybe it was a mistake he was making. He was startled when you turned on the lamp next to one of the armchairs.

"Steven."

"Doll, I thought you were sleeping."

"Don't tell me that, never again in your life. I know everything, Steven. I want a divorce. I can't do this anymore." You interrupted him.

"What are you talking about?" Steve asked, trying to sound confused.

"Your thing with Sharon?" you replied.

"I don't understand you," he said, trying to sound calm. He didn't understand how you had found out.

"Steve, stop pretending. I'm just telling you about the divorce. I'm leaving. makes you happy. " You said goodbye as you left the house with your belongings. He tried to stop you without success.

You arrive at the building where your friends live. You rang the bell of Lorna's apartment. When she opened the door, she was surprised to see you with your bags.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Lorna asked as she messaged Clarice to go.

"You were right, I asked for a divorce."

For the next few weeks, you stayed in the apartment with Lorna.

A week later,

 He entered the house. He no longer felt the warmth that always awaited him when he returned from some mission. Now he was alone. He regretted what he had done. He always believed that you would be together and that he would never lose you.

He would somehow try to recover you, but he should find you first. However, he didn't succeed.

He had even ended his relationship with Sharon, believing that you would find out and maybe then come back and forgive him.

About 7 years later,

 He was walking in the park. His life had become monotonous and lonely after the divorce, yet he knew exactly how many days had passed since their separation. He looked down when he felt something hit his leg. He took the ball, looked up, and saw a girl around four years old approaching the toy. He noticed that she had her eyes equal to yours.

"Take it," he said, giving her the ball while smiling at him. What's your name? "tried to sound kind.

"Princess!" You ran to the girl. When you approached and saw that Steve was there, you gave her a cold look. You took your daughter by the hand. " Come on, I saw ice cream in that place."

"Y/N," Steve called you when you were leaving. You ignored him. Forgive me, "he murmured.

He realized that you were happy with someone else and had started a family, just what he wanted. He sighed. He had lost the battle.

You bought your daughter's ice cream; you didn't expect to see him again. Even though your missions were completely different from his, which were exclusive to mutants, you subconsciously rubbed your marriage ring; now you were happy.

Yes, he looked different. He would probably be sorry, but it was late. It was late from the moment he decided to cheat on you. He had ruined everything you had. And you wouldn't give it another chance either; you wouldn't spoil your happiness. You were never going to feel that pain again. The only thing you cared about and loved was your family.

[pretendicanwrite]

hii! so I'm like rly insecure, and also have anxiety, so it's rly difficult for me to feel important/special. so I would absolutely love if u could make a fic of insecure Leo? maybe abt finnlo being bff and the fact that he wasn't before or !sth like that? also I just would rly like to see the dynamic of the logan-leo relationship, cus i feel like I don't rly know much how it would be. don't feel pressured to do anything u don't wanna, take as much liberty as u want 🫶🫶

Hi! I had a really good time writing this, and it kind of got off-point in a few places, but I hope you enjoy it.

CW: Anxiety, Verbal fights, Arguments

**********

Hearing laughter out in the hallway pulled Leo away from the endless scrolling he was doing on TikTok. His boys had gone out tonight to a high-end bar/ casino that required you to be 21 to enter with the team to make an appearance after the game they won against the Vegas Knights. It was supposed to be a rivalry game between Cap and Greyback after the fight at their last one, so sports reporters were looking for quotes all over the city.

Logan had asked if Leo wanted them to ditch the team to go somewhere that didn’t require you to be over 21 just to enter, but he had turned them down not wanting to spoil their fun.

The laughter continued to get closer, and Leo shut his phone off and walked to the door to look through the peephole.

Finn and Logan were standing in the hallway right outside of the door now and were laughing so hard Leo was minorly concerned that Finn was going to face plant with how unsteady he looked on his own two feet.

Slowly, Leo opened the door to his boyfriends, and they quieted down some when they saw him.

“Hey, Lovernut. I’m sorry if we were loud. We didn’t mean to wake you,” Logan said, moving to wrap his arms around the goalie. “Talkie challenged us to take a shot every time James lost a game.”

Leo smiled softly as his boys, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Leo’s smiles always reached his eyes. Finn and Logan, although very drunk took notice of this and Finn stepped up to hug Leo as well.

“I’m sorry Nutter Butter. We should have just gone out with you tonight instead. I don’t know about Logan, but I thought maybe after such a tough game you wouldn’t want to go out with us, so when you turned us down I just took that as confirmation.”

He forgave them, even though he figured the forgiveness was more for them than for him. He didn’t see what they did as anything that he needed to forgive. He had turned them down, right? He told them it was fine to go out without him, and that’s what they did. There was nothing wrong with it.

Except he found himself in the same position a week later. Logan was still living with Dumo and his family, so naturally, Leo felt like he had built a closer and stronger bond with Finn.

The dynamics between the threesome were hard to figure out sometimes. Finn and Logan had known each other since Logan’s first year of college, and Finn and Leo had lived together for 6 months before the thought of a relationship was even brought up. So naturally, Finn and Logan, and Finn and Leo had known each other more, and all three should have been aware of this, but recently, it felt as if Leo were the only one who noticed.

Over the next few weeks, he started noticing all of the time that Finn and Logan spent together without him. Leo knew he shouldn’t be jealous. It was an agreed-upon relationship between the three of them, and it wasn’t like they were cheating if they chose to hang out just the two of them.

But sometimes, Leo felt like an afterthought.

Finally, on like the seventh time something like this had happened since the Las Vegas game, he finally snapped.

They had gone out for lunch around 2 in the afternoon and had promised to bring something back for Leo when he turned down their offer to go with them because he wasn’t feeling great.

It was well after one in the morning when they finally appeared back at the apartment.

Leo was sitting alone in the guest room he hadn’t really used since he confessed his feelings to the boys. He had never gotten around to decorating it, and the plain white walls were grating on his nerves ever so gently.

The laughter carried through the walls to where he sat alone on the uncomfortable, dusty bed. The only thing this room was used for was storage and closet space, but Leo had the feeling that there would be many more nights of him sitting alone in there.

Finally, after hearing another loud burst of laughter, and the just as loud ‘shh Leo’s probably sleeping’ he stormed out of the room, only to find his boys on the couch cuddling without him.

He stalked around the corner of the hallway and sat down quietly on the coffee table in front of them. He stared at the two loves of his life, and he could feel the tears gathering on his lower lash line.

He pondered the words for a few minutes, and at last with a breaking voice, and tears rolling down his face, he asked the dreaded question that had been floating around in his head for days. “What am I to you?”

His lovers’ faces snapped up at him when they heard the first syllable leave his chewed-up lips. To be honest, neither Finn nor Logan had a response. They thought it was obvious that Leo was their soulmate, and the fact that he was questioning it left them speechless.

Leo, on the other hand, took their silence to mean something very different. They didn’t know. They had been dating for well over 9 months, and they didn’t know what Leo meant to them.

Logan opened his mouth to respond, but Leo cut him off with a strong sniffle. “I know that you guys have history, and I know that you guys were best friends, and were in love with each other well before I even arrived in Gryffindor, but that doesn’t give you guys the right to tell me I’m your boyfriend, then ignore me for each other. You guys were supposed to be back after lunch. You’ve been gone for at least 10 hours. I had planned a movie night for us and baked while you guys were gone, but you just left me here. For each other.”

“Leo, I’m s-”

“No, Logan. You don’t just get to apologize and expect me to just forgive you like I did the last few times. I’m sick and tired of feeling like an afterthought. You guys are the loves of my life, but if I’m not yours, I need to know. I can’t sit here and be happy with the minimal scraps you guys are throwing me, while I pour my heart out for you. You tell me you love me, but then you ditch me to hang out with each other.”

Logan stood up, his eyes brimming with tears. “That’s not fair. We ask you all the time if you want us to change our plans to include you, but you’re the one constantly turning us down. You don’t get to sit here and tell us we’re being shit boyfriends when you can’t even be bothered to join us. Why should we have to make plans that revolve around you, because you can’t just go along with us?”

Logan was never one to stand down in a fight. He was bullheaded and always had to prove that he was right. Leo knew this about him. He cared too much not to notice that Logan couldn’t turn down the adrenaline that came from confrontation.

“Exactly,” Leo whispered, looking down at his feet. “Change your plans. You never make plans with me. You make them with each other, and I’m an afterthought. Sometimes, when I’m around you two, I feel like a charity case, and you guys are only “dating” me because you feel sorry for me. And I know that’s terrible of me, but that’s how I feel. It’s how my shitty brain works.” Leo moved his hands up next to his face to make the air quotes when he said the word dating. “I don’t get it. I pour my heart out for you guys daily. I shower you with affection, and I make you breakfast because food and acts of service are my love languages. I’m always there for you, but you’re never there for me. You’re too busy being there for each other.”

Leo’s face had a dark flush on it, from crying, and from holding his breath for the majority of his explanation.

Finn moved to kneel in front of Leo, but Logan still stood there glaring down at the rookie. “So what? Because we don’t do everything the same way you do, you don’t think we love you? That’s bullshit, Leo.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. You’re not listening!”

Leo stood now as well, towering over Logan.

Despite having one of the highest fight counts in the NHL, Logan looked slightly scared as his boyfriend used his height to intimidate him.

Leo, upon noticing the subtle change in his boyfriend's attitude, shrunk in on himself and collapsed back on the coffee table.

“Do you see what this shit is doing to me? I just- Oh my god. I’m sorry.” Leo was full-on sobbing now, and Finn moved to gently pull the blonde into his arms.

“Leo. You have to know that this was never our intention. I personally thought that maybe you were just overwhelmed between hockey, moving to a new state, and being in a polyamorous relationship. And I know it’s been over a year, but you’ve barely had any downtime since joining the Lions. I thought that your turning us down meant that you wanted time alone and that you needed to process all of this. I never meant for you to feel like we didn’t want you as a part of this.”

“Finn? Are you seriously going to sit there and comfort him after he accused us of what? Using him?”

Finn glared at Logan, while simultaneously rubbing Leo’s back.

“Yes. I’m going to comfort our crying boyfriend, and you are going to leave the room so that everyone has some time to cool down. Got it? I’ll come to talk to you soon.”

Logan didn’t even bother with a response. He just threw his arms up, scoffed, and turned to walk down the hallway.

Leo picked his head up and stared at his red-headed boyfriend. “I just ruined everything. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you guys feel like this. I just- I… I’m tired of feeling like a burden.”

Finn shushed him, still rubbing circles on his back. “First off, you can’t make somebody feel someway. Their response is exactly that. Theirs. Second of all, saying that you would rather do something else, is not being a burden. Now, I’m not making excuses for Logan, and I’m not going to make excuses for you when I go talk to him, but I want you to know some things. Some of the outings we’ve taken have been Logan taking me to therapy.”

Leo sniffled again, and he tried to speak, but Finn cut him off with a gentle ‘shh.’

“It’s not that I didn’t want you to know, but I didn’t want to unload all of my problems on you while you were still adjusting, and while you seemed uncomfortable. One of the reasons that Logan knows is that sometimes the sessions leave me emotionally and physically drained, and I need someone to drive me. I promise, I have not been trying to exclude you, and I’m sure that Logan hasn’t been either, but a lot of my sessions are about the things that happened at Harvard, and Logan understands that. He knows what I went through there, and one day, when we all feel ready, I want you to know about it too, but that’s not right now. Now, is there anything else you want to ask, or discuss before I go talk to Logan?”

Leo shook his head, and stood up, pulling his boyfriend with him. Leo wrapped his long arms around Finn and settled his chin on the bright red hair. “I’m sorry again. I do love you guys, but I guess I just kind of lost sight of the fact that you love me too.”

Finn merely nodded and gave Leo’s jaw a soft kiss, then pulled out of his arms heading towards his room, where Logan would be waiting.

When Leo heard the door close, he walked down the hall to stand outside of the room. He knew he shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but he realized he had hurt Logan.

“Why did I say all of that shit to him?”

“I don’t know, but he’s hurt and the things that happened out there did not help. But I told him about the therapy, and he understood a little where we were coming from.”

Leo heard a sharp exhale, probably from Logan.

“I don’t even know why I said that. I didn’t mean any of it, and I sure as hell never think things like that. I love him, I do, but it was so easy to just say that shit to him. He just sat there and said all this crap about us not caring for him, and I guess I thought it would be easier to make him hate us if he decided to leave. I think I thought it would hurt less or something, but I hurt him, and I never wanted to do that. I just didn’t want to relive the pain of when you left me at Harvard. God, I’m so sorry!”

There were a few sniffles before Leo heard the sound of feet scuffling across the floor.

“I’m not the one you need to say that too.”

“What if he never forgives me? I didn’t want to say that. I didn’t mean any of it!”

Leo chose this moment to open the bedroom door, and walked right up to Logan. “I know that you didn’t mean it. I can’t say that you’re forgiven, because it hurt, but I do know that you’re sorry. You never answered my question though. What am I to you?”

Logan let out a watery laugh and turned to fully face the blond in the doorway. “I just told Finn that I loved you when I didn’t even know you were there. Do you honestly think I feel anything less than love?”

“You can love me and not want to be in a relationship with me. Finn, can you just let us work this out between ourselves, sweetheart? I want you to stay here, but I think it’s really important that we don’t have you act as a buffer between us. We need to say the things that we mean, and we need to be able to have these things out in the open.”

Finn, albeit a bit hesitant nodded and sent a small, soft smile toward his boys before walking towards the dresser, and leaning on it.

Logan plopped on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to him. “I think that I said those things so that the pain of you leaving would be less because I would know that you were angry, not heartbroken. I never want you to be heartbroken because that would break my heart.”

Leo, nodded, taking the seat offered next to his shorter boyfriend. “We could have just talked.”

“It was kind of hard when you were telling us that we were purposefully leaving you out.”

Leo took the subtle dig, dropping his head.

“Shit, I’m sorry. That didn’t come out how I wanted it to.”

“No, I deserved that.”

Logan turned on the bed, pulled one leg up next to him, and gently grabbed the rookie's hands. “You don’t deserve it, Le. I was angry, you were angry, and I think deep down, we both still are.”

Silence fell over the room for a minute as both boys took time to think. They were still connected at the hands, and neither of them made a move to change their positions, but Logan could tell that Leo was trying not to fidget his way right out of his seat.

“Look, we both know that I don’t handle my emotions in the most healthy way, but I’m trying here. I know that I just made a mistake out there, but I’m acknowledging it, and I’m trying to talk about it. I guess… I guess I didn’t want to believe that I could be making you feel like that. Harzy hadn’t told anyone, including you, that he was going to therapy, and I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t tell you where we had spent some of our time, and I couldn’t lie to you, so I guess it was just easier to ignore the fact that we spent so much time out. I-I love you, and I don’t ever want you to question that. I’m sorry that my actions have broken our trust, and I’m sorry that I made you feel unworthy.”

Leo dove onto his boyfriend, his cheeks wet with silent tears.

With Logan’s previous issues handling his emotions, his heartfelt speech meant everything to Leo. Even if he couldn’t forgive him at this exact moment, he knew that Logan meant every word of what he said.

“It wasn’t my place to tell you, but I could have told you some of the truth and I didn’t, so that’s on me. I’m sorry babe. I am truly so so sorry.”

There was work to be done, and so many things that the cubs had to learn to navigate, that a majority of couples didn’t, but after this threat of heartbreak, they knew that they had to work on it. They meant everything to each other, now they just had to learn to show it.

**********

I hope you enjoyed it!

[kimium]

Hey friend! For the writing ask: 1, 7, 8, and 25!

(From this ask HERE)

Thanks for the ask, @m34gs! I am excited to talk about my fics for 2022! I hope you enjoy my answers, friend!!!

1.What's something new that you tried in a fic this year? How did it turn out? Would you do it again?

Recently I've been writing snippets, experimenting with ideas that don't quite have a full story, but want to try writing anyways. In my first series of Warming Up (in Snippets) Chapter Ten, The Blue Bottle I experimented and wrote in present tense.

I think it turned out well. I liked the tone and narration Shouichi provided. Somehow, writing in present tense makes me feel more involved in the action as the narrator. I'd absolutely try writing in present tense again!

7. What fic meant the most to you to write?

There are two answers here and I hope no one minds me cheating a little.

The first fic that meant the most for me was my Serial Killer AU SDR2 fic Working Relationship. This fic was a soft redo of an older fic Steal Your Tongue. Any time I revisit ideas I feel a sense of nostalgia in my heart. I remember writing Steal Your Tongue. I remember where I was when I wrote it. To revisit the idea feels like I'm paying homage to an idea. It's a little silly, but in a way it allowed me to see how far I've come as a fanfiction writer.

The second fic that meant the most to me was my first Twisted Wonderland fic, The Small Things that Don't Align. It is always scary to write and post for a new fandom. What are the fans like? What sort of fics do people write about the fandom? Will my ideas stand out? Those thoughts always plague me despite years of writing fanfiction. Of course, I enjoy writing the fic, but my enjoyment is only a percentage of the reason why I write fanfiction. Posting it is a huge part too and I always want that to go over well!

8. What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

Without a doubt the fic that made me the happiest was my second Twisted Wonderland fic, Comfortable Bed(s). I was so excited to write that fic I wrote majority of it one Saturday afternoon/evening. All the while I was internally Panicking because here I was in my second Twisted Wonderland fic and I was writing Every Main Dorm Member. Still, the sheer joy of writing all the scenarios and ordering which dorm went next was such a delight. I'm very happy with the fic!

25. What's something you want to write in 2023?

In 2023 I want to write:

-More Twisted Wonderland. Yeah, I'm deep into the fandom now and I really enjoy writing for it. In particular I hope to write a Vil/Rook fic, but I always enjoy writing Yuu ft. The dorms.

-A Bleach fic. I've been a fan of Bleach since the first episode dropped all those years ago. I actually attempted to write a Bleach fic in 2015-2016, but I never posted what I wrote. However, now with TYBW arc animated, I might find the right Bleach fic idea.

-A multi-chaptered FE Fates fic. Honestly, the last time was in 2021 with Searching (and Falling) Through Dimensions. I have to do something else. Not sure what yet, but I'd like to try another long term project.

-Speaking of FE Fates, I want to write more Anankos/Trio fics. I want to do this because I'm deep in this silly ship and I need to drag more people down with me.

-Another post SDR2 multi chaptered fic. Listen. The last time I took a deep dive into the cast's psyches over multiple chapters was in 2016. I have different ideas and interpretations. I have a better grasp of the characters. I think 2023 might be the year I write this multi-chaptered fic.

-Lastly, maybe, just maybe if I get permission I can write at least one (1) idea from the vast list of Bar AU ideas. Because we call the AU "our AU" but I've done nothing except bounce ideas and add to that secret USB drive.

[a-little-bit-of-ravioli]

Rav, please answer the following, no exceptions

3, 5 for Hues of Magic (anything about the series is fair game), 11, 17, 30, and 42, I have no regrets

holy hylia you really aren't granting me any mercy jfkdjdjf FINE.

These got way too long to not put under a read more though, so here it is.

3. What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics?

Hmmm. Introspection, definitely, but idk if it counts as a trope per se. I have recently been told that my very intentional efforts to always give all the boys at least one moment in the spotlight, no matter how small, are noticeable, though! So that, probably. I'm also very partial to likening a traumatic event to the present happenings.

5. What do you wish someone would ask you about [insert fic]? Answer it now!

You chose Hues of Magic! And hmm. I guess I'm always itching to elaborate on which specific glows mean what from Hyrule's pov, where they are from, and what the distinctive qualities between different types of auras and enchantments are, because I do think about those a lot! In Something Focused I basically went on a long diatribe over how I perceive Wars' magic to work, and if asked I could probably do that for most of them! But not every oneshot is meant to become a lecture like that one, so I won't lol

11. Are you partial to a certain character/pairing or are you more equal-opportunity? If you are partial to any character/pairing, why do you think that is?

This is unfair and you know it. I'm absolutely partial. Are you kidding? I grew up playing OoT/MM and TP -the Hero of Time might be my favourite character in all of fiction. I still play OoT on an almost weekly basis, in randomizer. And I have singlehandedly dragged people down into Warriors hell with me.

That said, like I mentioned earlier. I always, always make sure to involve the rest of the boys in the background (when it makes sense), instead of letting them fade into it. I'm really big on knowing what every present character does, so I lead by example!

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

I will cheat and put SSAU (Swapped Species AU, an AU where none of the boys are Hylian, but rather another race in accordance with their games) in here. Because while I'm not the only person enjoying it by a long shot, it was a huge team effort to create as much content for it as there is now. But I did put a ton of focus on everything around Guardian of Time!Wars and his relationship with Mask/Time and First. And I still get that giddy self-indlugant feeling whenever I think about or reread parts of it. So I'd say it counts!

30. Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter?

I have! It was Whistle, actually, haha. When I started to write it the style was the complete opposite of what my default was. It was an amazing exercise and influenced how my style evolved into what it is now.

If we're talking more about topical comfort zones - I definitely find it harder to write pure fluff, just because the string of narrative is different compared to angsty stories - there is no big climactic event, no comfort at the end to resolve it. But I chose to write some rather fluffy fics for LUAAP 2021, and while I couldn't resist putting in a little angst in the middle parts, I think I succeeded! And enjoyed myself, too.

42. Have you ever received a comment that particularly stood out to you for whatever reason?

I'm gonna cheat here, because this isn't a single comment, but a theme that went through a comment section. I made up an old mage with his own shop for Something Darker, to fill a role I needed for the plot to kick off. I gave him a couple quirks, little mage things I thought were fitting, as you do with a side character, and didn't think much of it compared to the rest of the fic.

Imagine my surprise when almost every single comment latched onto this guy! People were thinking about his biases and reaction, there were interested in his backstory, someone wrote an epilogue from his perspective in a comment (yes this is a link to that). Safe to say that is gonna stay with me. It was such an amazing thing for people to take this small detail in my writing and latch onto it more than I ever could've expected!

Phew. you better know I'm gonna flood you the same next time fhdkhejdjf

[leonawriter]

I think I prefer Toichi becoming this crazy talented magician with a gentleman thief themeing turned actual gentleman thief not because of his parents but because he’s interested in both so much. Not to say he didn’t inherit skills/characteristics that would have been helpful to those professions. Just that I prefer he built them from scratch.

Same reason I don’t like him or Kaito having actual magic. (The only real exception for Kaito is being a bird whisperer.) It’s not as bad as not having Akako being a witch but still think it does them a bit of a disservice. I feel more strong about Kaito and Toichi actually using magic for their shows than one or more of Kudo twin’s parents were also (a) magician(s). Like it makes sense and I’m not really going to complain if that take is proved to be canon.

I mean, both of those things are purely down to taste and preference?

I've said a few times that I'd personally find it fun if they did have a magician/thief ancestor, though it'd also create fun narrative "foils/parallels" if it wasn't something passed on like that. Free will, nurture, and choice vs nature, bloodlines, and a certain amount of fate or predestination.

As for the idea of Kaito having actual magic, I've read and enjoyed a few fics that have that premise in the past. I'd recently thought of the idea that he's a bird whisperer too, which is fun, but I know of AUs that have him as some kind of youkai (a fox, a wolf), as well as having magic that comes in a form that he doesn't even recognise, that he's maybe been using all along.

What I think goes well with your views, though, is- I have a vague recollection of at least one story where on finding out that he himself has some form of "actual" magic, he potentially hadn't known up until then, and is unhappy to find out. Because he thinks that everything he's been doing is sleight of hand, and he puts stock in his own hard work and efforts - so he sees "actual" magic as a form of cheating, if non-magical magicians can achieve the same effect.

That said, I strongly believe that in terms of what Gosho sees as canon, Kaito is purely mundane. He accomplishes things that a normal human of his age shouldn't be able to do, but this is because he's from a manga/anime setting, and that changes things. It's even outright stated in his first real face-off with Akako, where he says that she uses Black (aka, "real") Magic, and he's a Magician, stating that they're going to be at odds because of that.

I've said before that in terms of stuff like magic and adding in fantasy etc, DCMK is great for it because there's just enough leeway that even in DC, we've got things like "the amazing shrinking teens and adults" and "Hattori's weird dreams" and "Haibara's sixth sense" so it opens up the possibility of going "there's been another world right under their noses all along, and they just keep missing it" or "sure everyone knows Kaito has magic, but he'll use it for the stupid or serious stuff, and he feels smug at how all his best tricks are mundane."

[wander-wren]

ao3 wrapped: 2023

it’s january 5th but it’s still the first week of the new year so it counts! [it is now january 16th because i got distracted and forgot, oops]. some of you might remember when i did this last year; for some reason i didn’t just screenshot the “all years” tab, even though i should have because ao3’s year stats are wonky (if you update a fic, regardless of how much of it was posted in previous years, all the stats get dumped in the most recent year).

regardless, adding these together gets our starting stats for 2023!!

142 user subscriptions

6,213 kudos

439 comment threads

1,505 bookmarks

514 subscriptions

464,453 words

60,289 hits

so the stats breakdown for this year, across 36 completed works and…like 3 wips that were being updated in other years as well.

131 user subscriptions

16,490 kudos (excuse???)

810 comment threads

4,480 bookmarks

1,156 subscriptions (that’s a lot of emails)

438,885 words

200,866 hits

and i forgot to order those fics by kudos, so it’s kind of biased toward my longfics in that chart there. my top kudos’d fics are:

wrong place, right time- quirkless!izuku, all might bashy au where aizawa finds him on the roof in episode 2

what’s a god to a non-believer?- direct continuation of the first, lol

hear my name in your silence- fic in the same series except it’s examining hitoshi’s (adopted by erasermic) backstory. of note, these were all posted within a week, so the series spent a lot of time on front pages, filtering wise, and a lot of people were reading the whole series at once, hence similar stats

all systems red- todoroki & dadzawa sickfic and adoption combo meal. this was my first fic to really shoot up there in numbers, really interesting time for me

for you i would cross the line (i would lose my mind)- long bkdk bdsm au, they’re pro heroes dealing with trauma and a scandal. part of my larger FLFverse series

i dont think you can extrapolate much from such a small selection of stats except that getting into a big, active fandom did very big things to my numbers even if most individual fics didn’t get super popular. i think part if it is also just me being more prolific (doubled my works count from the previous two [three] years) and, potentially, Better At Writing.

also the top three are part of the same series and the 5th is a longfic, so they wouldve had more chances to come up on the front page. also, they’re all popular tropes/characters/relationships. go figure!

so what are MY favorite fics from this year, or the ones i think deserve more recognition? well! in no particular order:

march (little!hawks)- is it cheating to list a whole series? a late entry, but i’m having a lot of fun with it. hawks + dabi + age regression, starting out with a secret relationship and quickly taking a hard right into angst through the war arc. i also am just a big fan of all my agere fics but i cant say only those ones! so i’ll leave it at this

and we’ll be alright (revolution lover)- first in a series about trans!izuku and katsuki helping him heal from a shitty ex. one of my first real attempts at smut but also just a really fun cool fic to write.

taxidermy fingerprints, taxonomize your differences- T4T bodyswap ronan/adam fic, like the only non-BNHA this i wrote this year. one track mind, hello. but it’s kind if experimental and very, very weird and i love it a lot. definitely an ode to being trans.

burning through the sky- it’s come to my attention that i write a lot of series, and i’m trying not to just rec my same series over and over. i also do like this one! shinbaku a/b/o au, torturing them by playing with heats and consent. maybe i should write more omegaverse sometime 😳

take off your fragile armor- little 5+1 vashwood thing about vash being clingy and self-sacrificial. i had fun with it and i totally need to write more trigun stuff.

so hopefully at least some people find those stats interesting! feel free to shoot me questions about fics or stats, as per always!

[sheetsonfire]

Team Severide

Fandom: Chicago Fire

Characters: Severide!Sister x Kelly Severide, Firehouse 51

Genre: drama, fluff

Warnings: fire, head injury, confined space, anxiety

Word Count: 8854

Requested by Anon: Hi 😊 as i love your imagines, i also dare to send one in. Maybe a Kelly Severide one where he and his sister had a great relationship earlier but meanwhile they barely talk or just fight. One day there's a huge fire at an office building and CFD gets called. Kelly then finds out his sis is in there and immediately searches her. She's unconscious and took some damage but at the Med he stays with her an later he promises her no more fights and that he'll be there for her like he was before. Hope that does not sound too weird 😅

A/N: I realised about halfway through this fic that Peter Mills would have been on Squad around this time, but I love Joe too much to take him out, so sorry Pete, but Joe's on Squad for this fic.

-

You glanced at your phone for the 10th time in an hour, sighing when the screen had nothing to offer except a two-for-one offer on pizza, a weather alert and a reminder of an upcoming bill. You stayed looking at the wallpaper for a moment, it was a photo of you and your brother on your most recent camping trip with Matt Casey; a rare moment where the two firefighters could get the same furlough lined up. The three of you were bundled up beyond recognition in the cold snowy mountains of Colorado, but with the brightest smiles on your faces.

You sigh, putting your phone down, begrudgingly going back to what your computer screen was demanding of you. Being at work in the aftermath of an argument with Kelly was never fun, especially if he was on duty. It meant waiting almost two days before you could see him face to face and resolve whatever you’d fallen out over.

Falling out with him wasn’t at all usual, and when it did happen it happened in an explosive fashion, taking a while for the tension to dissipate. It was mostly about being too protective of each other, sometimes you found yourselves arguing over the family or decisions the other sibling was making - and though it was meant with love, it could sometimes be too much for the other.

Growing up in a household where your dad was either cheating, avoiding the family or drinking, and where your mom was trying her best to just stay afloat, often required you and Kelly to become your own two-person family unit. And you did, the both of you found comfort in that, always looking out for each other and encouraging each other.

This time around it had been you who had caused the problem, you had tried to tactfully suggest that Kelly be wary of his old flame, Renee. Renee had seemed okay enough until she didn’t. Suddenly returning to Chicago and bringing a pregnancy to Kelly’s doorstep was all a bit suspicious to you - the timing hadn’t added up at all, and after asking Shay a few questions about the logistics and whether it would be physically possible, you only grew more dubious. Feeling sure of your suspicion, you had broached the subject with your brother.

Objectively you knew Kelly would react exactly as he had, nobody likes to be told that they might be being made a fool of, but it still stung that Kelly got angry at you and seemingly protected Renee instead.

You then found yourself crying in your car in the parking lot outside his apartment, having left your brother standing in his kitchen simmering with anger, you were absolutely frustrated and hurt that he had so sharply dismissed your concerns.

Now you could only play the waiting game, using Shay as a feeler for whether things had cooled down or not. You were under no doubt that she probably gave Kelly a piece of her mind too, and probably could have handled whatever he threw back a lot better than you could sometimes.

Staring at an email for two minutes more before deciding you needed a quick coffee and fresh air break, you put your computer to its idling screen and stand, stretching in the process as you eye everybody else in their little units. Many were engrossed in whatever business they were attending to - or whatever leisurely activity they were secretly trying to get away with.

Making eye contact with one of your colleagues, your friend Maisie, you give her an exaggerated yawn and a mime of asking if she wanted another coffee - to which she nodded and put her hands together in prayer, silently thanking you. You held out your hand in a show of five, telling her you’d be five minutes as you headed towards the elevator to head to the cafeteria floor.

Blinking away the tiredness and rolling out the tension in your neck some more, you watch as the numbers tick down to the floor you had requested. Just as the elevator should have dinged on the cafeteria floor the car came to a sudden, groaning, halt. The motion wobbles you on your feet, forcing you to snatch out a hand to grab the handrail to steady yourself. Heart thundering wildly you tried to take a second, to process what had just happened.

In the quiet of your surprised panting breaths, the lights splutter on and off, you close your eyes willing the electrics to hold out as the elevator car still bounces slightly from the abrupt stopping of momentum. Then, it’s darkness. A red security light blinks on and leaves you in an ominous dark glow, barely able to make out the panel in front of you. Luckily, you had slipped on your coat before leaving your floor, which meant your phone was in one of the deep pockets. Fishing it out you illuminate the screen and then turn on the torch, shining it on the panel so you can make sure it is the emergency ‘call’ button you're pressing rapidly.

You press three, four, times and are met with a static-y silence, you groan in frustration. 

“Shouldn’t somebody be there to answer the damn thing?” You grumble to yourself, eyeing your phone and its “No signal” icon with disdain. That was your backup option out of the question.

Minutes go by and you don’t hear much of anything, only the ominous creaking groan of the metal box you were sealed in. Deciding to shed your jacket as you begin to feel quite warm in the confined space, wondering whether anybody knew of your predicament. How long would it be before Maisie questioned your absence?

As you gently fold your jacket over the handrail you jump out of your skin when you hear the blaring whine of the fire alarm, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Your heart pounds firmly against your chest, limbs tingling with anxiety.

Exhaling as your stomach flops wildly, “Shit.” 

You had discussed this kind of thing with your brother before, but it was one thing to hear about a scary scenario than actually find yourself in it. Alone. 

You take a second to gather your thoughts, gripping your phone tight as you try the call button again. And again. 

There’s static for a minute or so more, then someone speaks, it’s static-y still but a voice nevertheless. Even more surprising to you, there were literally 100s of firefighters that could have been on the other end, but the voice was someone you knew. 

“This is the Chicago Fire Department, do you know what floor you are on, is there anybody who needs medical attention?”

“Mouch? It’s Y/N Severide! I’m between the 9th and 6th floor, I’m not sure how far down I’ve got! I'm alone, uninjured, just ready to crap myself.”

“Y/N? Oh hell… Okay, it’s alright. We’re all here, you brother’s waiting for my info, I’ll tell him, alright? Just stay calm, I’ll be here the whole time. Just gimme a second.”

“O-okay, Mouch. I’m so glad it’s you.”

“Me too, kiddo. Me too.”

You could imagine poor Mouch's expression, perhaps even him making a panicked gesture of him telling you to hang tight as though you could see him. It gives you comfort to know that people who you considered to be family were there for you, the most reassuring thing however was knowing Kelly was literally the one coming to get you.

You stand pacing slightly back and forth, waiting to hear Mouch’s voice again. Or better yet the sound of Squad 3 trying to work through the opening and into the elevator itself. 

“Y/N, Mouch again. Squad 3 are on their way to you, don’t touch any of the elevator walls, the fire is coming up from the basement. I repeat, the heat is rising, keep away from any of the metal surfaces.”

“Okay, Mouch, copy that.” You try and even out your breathing, not wanting to psyche yourself up into a panic about the confined space or the evergrowing heat. You keep yourself dead centre standing on the rubberised floor, snatching your jacket back off of the handrail so you could use it for protection if needed.

[Outside the elevator shaft doors on the 8th Level] 

Kelly already knew there wasn’t anyone or anything stopping him from getting to you, the second he heard the address for the call his heart and stomach plummeted. On any given day he’d have had this reaction, but he felt the twinge in his gut even more considering how things had been left between you both.

Truck 81 and Engine 51 had remained further down to tackle the origin of the fire, some construction materials on the lower floors had been accidentally ignited. The older lining of the walls and the ceilings had acted as a tinder box, hurrying along the flames to some of the upper floors, with flames still attempting to rise.

Joe turned the drop key to open up the hoistway doors to reveal the shaft, all four men of Squad 3 winced at the blast of heat coming up from the shaft. Putting their SCBA’s on they suited up, Kelly was harnessed whilst Capp and Tony ensured he was securely held by the ram attached between the hoistway opening. Kelly starts with a preliminary look, immediately recognising that you had, in fact, got stuck between the 6th and 7th floor. He attaches a C-collar to his belt, a precaution he felt compelled to take as the fire continued to climb.

Joe radios Mouch, “Mouch, we got eyes on the car, we’re lowering down from the 8th to the 7th, Severide is on his way down to Y/N.”

“Copy that, Joe. I’ve got eyes on the others, the fire is coming up on the 5th, and the East stairwell is still free for you to exit.” 

“Got it, Mouch. We’ll let you know when we got her.”

“Copy.”

The radio crackles into silence, Kelly turns his back to the elevator shaft so he can begin repelling down to you, slow steady pushes of his boots against the walls as he eases himself down towards the top of the car.

With every push it gets darker, only the light on his helmet to guide his way, the smoke had begun to reach up past the elevator car now, shrouding the shaft in thick smoke. He knew he had to get to you fast, there was only a certain amount of ventilation and, therefore, oxygen available to you. Kelly would never let fear cloud his focus on his work, but the sense of urgency only thrummed stronger knowing it was his little sister in there.

[Back in the elevator]

"Y/N, Kelly can see you, he's coming, sweetheart. How you holding up?" Mouch is back, and you feel tears sting at your eyes, you had been doing your best to remain stoic in the face of danger, but hearing Mouch connected you back to your reality.

"I-I'm okay, just getting uh, it's getting smoky, Mouch. I'm... worried."

Scared.

You knew that by all standards your rescue was actually going quite quickly when the alternate option was being left to suffocate, yet that still didn’t stop the anxiety from seeping into your veins, the adrenaline pulsed wildly through you as the smoke began to push in thicker bursts through the vents of the elevator car.

"I know, it's gonna get tough in there, kiddo. But he's almost there, you just hang on, I'll be right here."

"Thanks, Mouch." You say it so quietly you're surprised when you even get a response.

"No need to thank me, Y/N. Just keep low, keep covered, let your brother do the work until he can instruct you."

"Will do." You coughed, the smoke was invading your breathing comfort now. At first, a few splutters, until it turns into a more steady rhythm of your body rejecting the foul air.

It had been drilled into your brain that you should never try and climb through the elevator hatch by yourself, and besides, it was unlikely you would be able to reach if you wanted to, but as the acrid smog continued to fill the confined space your brain was fighting against the urge to try and climb up and out anyway. 

You were staying low to the ground with your jacket shielding your head and face, but the more you tried to recover your breathing the worse it got. Each inhale seemed to add weight inside your rib cage, lungs starting to burn as you could actually hear the roar of the fire beginning to eat the materials below your elevator car. 

Loud, shuddering, clunks were coming from beneath and you started to feel the car vibrate, a high-pitched whipping sound could be heard and suddenly you were tilting violently to the right, the outer wall of the car hitting the inner wall of the shaft itself. 

The momentum catches you off guard, sending you sliding into the side of the hot metal head first, almost bouncing off as you fall back and to your side, unconscious. 

The sound of Mouch's frantic calls out to you and the sound of urgent radio chatter above your head are oblivious to you, blood drips from the gash in your head, your face covered in the blackness of the smoke.

You don't move.

[On top of the elevator car]

Kelly had been brought to a swift stop by Joe and Tony up above, the all-too-familiar sound of one of the elevator car’s support cables snapping had your brother’s team, rightly so, fearing for their lieutenant’s life. Once the commotion had died down Kelly was left gripping to a beam trying to recollect his thoughts, looking down at the car now listing to one side with you inside it.

“Severide!” Joe’s voice hollered across the radiowaves, concerned for your brother's wellbeing. 

Kelly exhales sharply, pushing his feet back up against the sides of the shaft, ready to keep repelling. “I’m fine, I’m still secure, no signs of further deterioration. Come on, we’re running out of time, keep me going!” 

Without resistance or protestation, Joe and Tony kept lowering Kelly to you, slowing down as his feet came into contact with the top, in the background Capp could be heard relaying information to Chief Boden.

Once he had got his bearings, Kelly gave the signal that he was securely on board the car. The rest of the Squad guys at the top waited with bated breath as Kelly set to work on opening the elevator hatch.

The sight that greeted your brother was hazy but still distinguishable, your prone form lay still in the layer of smoke that hung over you, his eyes change from worry to focus, keying his radio immediately. 

“Capp, how much longer have we got?”

“Chief says 7 minutes, Severide, no more no less.”

Kelly doesn’t acknowledge that particular information, simply using the time he has to order that a stokes basket be lowered and that Joe also come down to assist. 

“The car and the remaining cables can hold us both, Cruz, but we gotta move quick, she’s not conscious, possible head and spinal injury, we need to secure her and get the hell out of here.”

“Copy that, Severide. On my way with the stokes basket.” Kelly takes calming breaths inside his mask, focusing on the next task, instantly leaving Joe who's lowering from behind, as he climbs into the elevator to get to you.

Touching his boots to the elevator floor he feels the surface protest under his weight, which he promptly disregards as he moves down low to assess you. Taking a glove off he feels for your pulse, utterly relieved when he feels it there, sluggish but there.

Unhooking the C-collar from his belt he secures you in it, at least reassuring himself he was working towards your rescue as he waits for Joe and the basket.

With a firm rub of the heel of his hand against your sternum, he calls your name, imploring you to respond to the stimuli. He’s met with stillness, the gash is oozing slowly now, highlighting a swollen lump at the side of your head. It’s a sight that releases queasiness into his gut, another emotion to be ignored, knowing he had no room for familial concern right now.

There’s a thunk above Kelly’s head, moments later the front end of the stokes basket appears as Joe lowers it in. The elevator continues to growl at the added weight, Kelly could do nothing but pray the flames didn’t take any more of the cables until the three of you were free. 

Kelly slides the basket next to you, rolling you onto the basket as he instantly begins securing the various straps into their crisscrossed positions, he had to make absolutely certain you were secure before being lifted up and out of the confined space. 

“I got you, kiddo. I’m here, I love you and I’m sorry, so please hold on for me so you can chew me out for being a defensive asshole.” He murmurs as he works, hands moving on autopilot as Joe gives him a 3-minute warning.

The final knots are tired and your feet are secured, chest strapped and thighs banded across, neck and head fixed into place. Satisfied you wouldn’t be going anywhere Kelly starts to tilt the basket with you in it, leaning it up and vertical so that Joe can start to guide you to be lifted towards Capp and Tony.

Watching you disappear through the hatch, Kelly moves underneath it to grab onto Joe’s hands, the winch could have lifted Kelly alone but time was of the essence and it was faster for Joe to at least hoist him out of the dangerous metal box threatening to free fall at any moment.

Joe and Kelly stand in anticipation as they watch you in the basket rise up the two floors to Capp and Tony and witness the two men carefully pulling you into the open hoistway space and into the building. 

It’s Capp over the radio, “Severide, Cruz… 81 came to get Y/N, time for us to go, are you secure?”

“We’re secure, Capp. Bring us up!”

The winch seems to take forever, and Kelly mentally notes that he and Joe will have to move with a rocket up their ass lest they get themselves into a pickle. Hearing the raucous sounds of materials perishing to the ferociousness of the flames below. Kelly is itching to get onto solid ground and get outside to you as soon as possible.

In true Squad 3 fashion it's just about the time Tony and Capp pull your brother and Cruz into the main part of the building that they hear several ear-splitting whips and cracks of the other cables snapping under the pressure of the flames; the four men disconnect their harnasses and push each other forward and out of the way of any stray flying cables, stumbling forward as they head towards the exit stairwell.

-

Kelly can start to hear the Chief over his radio as he descends to freedom, he had already known they were working on borrowed time and if it weren’t for him worrying for his fellow Squad members, he wouldn’t have worried at all - knowing you were safe would have been enough.

Ensuring Tony, Capp and Joe were out Kelly follows suit, blinking into the sunlight as he practically rips off his mask, he eyes Chief with an apologetic look, the older man simply holds up a hand, as if to say “I know.”

Kelly’s eyes are frantically looking around for the Ambo that had you, and Boden whistles, nodding in the direction of Ambo 61 where Gabby and Shay were by your side, seeing to your injuries.

Your brother takes off, shedding his jacket and handing it to Casey who is standing in wait for him. Kelly looks from your sooty face beneath the oxygen mask where Gabby is squeezing the bag, to Shay, then to Casey and then back to you again.

It's Gabby who speaks up first, eyes focused on you but relaying the details, "She's stable, Kelly. Just took in too much smoke and got a pretty nasty knock to the head. We're gonna get her to Med, they'll probably keep her overnight, maybe more depending on the tests and scans."

"She'll be alright, Kel. She's a fighter like her annoying big brother." Shay wraps an arm around him, and Kelly lets out a choked laugh, his eyes filling with tears. He could have lost you in so many different ways today, and it would have all been left with you thinking he was mad at you.

"Case, you got her out?" Kelly asks,

Matt nods, "Of course, Sev. Couldn't let you Squad guys do all the work, you already complain enough as it is." Matt grins, brushing off the grateful look Kelly was giving him. It was nothing to come and get you, it was their job and you were like a sibling to all of them as well.

Kelly moves forward, wrapping Matt in a squeezing hug, feeling his fellow Lieutenant pat his back.

"Hey, go on, I got this-" Matt holds up Kelly's turnout coat. "You go with them to Med, we'll be there in a bit."

Kelly nods, "Thanks, man. Really." Matt simply shoos him away with a smile, leaning forward to give your leg a squeeze.

"Wake up for us, kiddo."

Gabby nods at Shay who helps get you into the back of the vehicle, Kelly climbs in after you and Gabby, being sure to stay out of the way. The doors slamming shut almost make him jump, the anxiety returning as he watches Gabby continue to supply your oxygen.

Shay starts the Ambo and with blaring sirens, they're carrying you to Med.

-

Kelly was made to wait in the family room for a good few hours whilst you had tests done both for your head injury and the smoke inhalation. Will Halstead had come back periodically to personally reassure your brother that what he had seen so far was promising, but they would be keeping you for a few days to make sure nothing more sinister developed.

In that time the rest of the firehouse had been and gone once they knew you were most likely out of the woods, with many of them promising to come back tomorrow to check in with the Severide siblings.

Now, Kelly sits by your bed, waiting for you to wake up again. You had regained consciousness not long into your arrival at Med, but you had already been whisked off for scans by that point. Your current sleeping state was just that, sleeping, given that your ordeal had been quite the draining afternoon.

Your big brother runs a hand through your hair, simply watching you like a hawk as if you’d disappear right in front of him.

Lost in thought and guilt about your argument he doesn’t even realise your eyes are now half-open, drowsy but coming back to reality.

“Are you staring at me, weirdo?” You croak, even half-awake you have the ability to tease your brother, and it makes him scoff with laughter immediately, relieved butterflies tumbling in his stomach. 

“I gotta make sure you don’t go off and get yourself stuck again.” He poked back, smiling brightly now. “God, I’m so glad you’re okay, sunshine.”

Your own heart hammered at the mention of being “stuck”, the darkness, the smoke, the closing in of metal walls, and the loud creaks, groans and clunks flashed across your mind. Kelly saw your expression darken and leaned forward, giving your hand a squeeze. 

“Hey, it’s alright, kiddo. You’re safe now, you’re gonna be alright.”

Your eyes close, taking a breath as you squeeze Kelly’s hand back in return, he had always been good at helping you with panic attacks and general anxiety. 

“Take it slow, okay? Deep breath in…1, 2, 3… deep breath out.” He encourages you, giving you a moment when the breathing invokes a few deep hacks of coughing from you. He keeps a steadying hand on you, gently offering you a cup of water to sip at after the hacking subsides. You lick your lips, smiling thankfully. 

“I’m so glad it was you, Kel. I’m glad it was 51.” You sigh, keeping your breathing as steady as possible, feeling a little better as Kelly rubs your back, just as he would when you’d had a nightmare as a kid.

“Me too, Y/N. I can’t even begin to think… the way I left things the other day…” Kelly’s face is pained, you can tell he feels supremely guilty about what happened. 

Your expression softens, given everything that had gone down, you were simply relieved to have a life and a brother still. “Kelly, it’s okay, I get it-”

“No, it isn’t. You were right, Y/N. I confronted Renee, and she spilt the truth. You and Shay were right, and I was an asshole to think you had anything other than my best interests at heart.” He cups your cheek, knocking his forehead with yours.

“We’re a team, you and me, kid. I trust you with anything, and I should have trusted you with that.”

Silent tears escape you now, feeling so relieved that he wasn’t mad and that you didn’t have this tension between each other anymore. 

“Team Severide, woo woo.” You whisper with a smile, wrapping your arms around your brother’s neck as you tuck your face into his shoulder. He holds you close, sighing, chuckling quietly too.

“Team Severide is right, kid.” You leaned back, grinning tiredly at your brother, you should have been annoyed that you were literally a grown adult and he still called you “kid” or “kiddo”, but really it never bothered you, it made you feel safe and connected to him like you always had been. 

“So, does this mean I can have a sibling servant for a few days whilst I recuperate?” You ask with a picture of innocence on your face. 

Kelly rolls his eyes but nods, still smiling, “Sure does, Chief has already cleared a few days for me, so make the most of this rare occurrence.” 

You snort, squeezing your brother’s arm with a mischievous look, patting his face in a playful slap. “Oh, I will, brother. I will.” 

-

Fin.

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

i have a mad thomas x reader request where reader is forced to marry thomas (idk how just-) and is disgusted about it but eventually ends up liking him.(? idk how to explain myself:’)

No one look at me,,,,,,,,,,also this is heavily inspired by the Scarlet Letter and was supposed to be a tad darker but I copped out (also someone asked for a pregnant reader recently so this + that = this fic)

A Lie They Would Believe (Mad Thomas x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: dark themes, 1600 standards, values, and laws, affairs/cheating, ex-relationship with the pastor is mentioned, Thomas is Thomas, mentions of drinking, webs of lies, public humiliation, AFAB and Fem reader, pregnant reader, pre-marital pregnancy solved a la shotgun marriage, twisted win-win situation turns into love?, slow burn(?),

Word Count: 3.7k

You could accept your punishment with a turned cheek, you told yourself over and over again.

You could stare out at the audience of towns people, even as the sun beat on your face. You could stare out into the angry faces of the elders, into the pitying faces of your friends. Into the ashamed faces of your parents. But, you could not look at Cyrus Miller.

You'd missed your blood two months ago. You'd begged, prayed, everyday that it would come. But, the only thing that came was the morning sickness. You'd tried to hide it, tried to think of what to do. But, when you placed your hand over your stomach, you couldn't bring yourself to find the hag in the forest. And, when your mother held your spotless, white sheets in your face, you'd crumbled. You confessed in the privacy of your room as if you were confessing in church. You told her everything.

Well, almost.

"Tell us his name!" Cyrus said, a voice that you couldn't force to fall into the background. "Tell us the name of your accomplice and you shall suffer no more." He said, and you wanted to believe him. You let your eyes close for a moment, but your lips did not move. Your mouth did not open. "Tell us the father's name, so that your baby will not be born a bastard!" He said, and his hand reached out to grab your arm. His grip was strong and tight, unlike the caresses you'd become so accustomed to with him. While his words begged you to say the name, his name, the action spoke differently. You peeled open your eyes and looked up at him, at his raven hair and kind face. His dark, soft eyes. Tears pricked the corners of your own eyes, hard and glassy as you looked up at him. But, you were silent. Even as some of the townspeople yelled for you to confess.

But, how could you tell them that it was your persecutor who was the father of your child? That your pastor, the leader of this town, had sinned so egregiously? He had a wife, a daughter. You'd known both of those things when you'd fallen for him, but it was harder to ignore in the harsh sunlight. When both of them stood in front of you.

You knew you'd have to face punishment. Sex before marriage was a crime after all, completely forbidden. To think they didn't know you were an adulterer also. You didn't know what it'd be, but you knew you'd have no option but to accept it when it came. You'd already made your peace with it, made your peace with whatever God could condemn you to. Perhaps, you'd have to live alone, wear a scarlet letter on your breast. Perhaps, they'd cast you out completely, and you'd be shunned. Perhaps, they'd hang you. You touched your stomach at that thought. Perhaps, there were certain punishments you couldn't bear.

Your lips only fell open when a voice yelled,

"It was I." And a gasp fell from your mouth. Your head turned, snapped towards the voice. Towards the sea of faces that was the crowd. But, you knew that voice. "It's my child." He said, and your eyes fell on a face you knew all too well. And, at that moment, you knew exactly what type of punishment God had set out for you.

Mad Thomas.

***

The day had gone by in a blur.

Over and over in your head, one question repeated itself. Why? It was almost loud enough to drown out the constant whispers, the stories being spun by every person who seemed to have a tongue.

Union couldn't seem to stop talking about it. Of when it started, how long it'd been going on, when the pair of you had even had time to sneak off. You'd even heard a young Constance Berman whisper about how she'd always known something was going on between the two of you, only to be shushed by her older sister as you passed. As you'd been let free of the top of the church steps.

You'd been left outside, left out in the sun. Inside the church went your father, the pastor, and Thomas. You had no idea what Thomas was going to say, what lies he was going to spin.

You couldn't bring yourself to leave, to speak. You felt as though a blanket of white noise had covered your ears, covered your mind. You were surprised, to say the least. You'd thought a wave of devastation had washed over you the first moment you'd realized you were with child, but this? It made it seem like ripples in a pond. The only thing you could do was stare at the church door and wait for them to come out. But, you felt a warm arm wrap around your waist and you turned to see the face of your mother.

"Come," She said, and you looked back at the door blankly. You didn't want to leave. You wanted to be there when they came out. But, you couldn't find the words to say or the strength to keep your feet firm. So, you let her guide you away from the crowd, and towards your house.

It was only later that you were told you and Thomas were to be married by the end of the month.

***

You and Thomas were never allowed a moment alone. You didn't know whether to be relieved or not, but Thomas, a man who you quickly found was far more confusing than you thought, was playing a charade. He brought you flowers, carried your water pail for you, and even took you on chaperoned walks. You, however, were stony and stiff, barely able to contain your disgust for him. It was on your first walk that you whispered,

"Why? Why are you doing this?" And, for a moment, the incorrigible man seemed to pretend not to hear you. He glanced over his shoulder, as if the wind was at his ear instead, and you saw him cast a sly glance to the man behind them. It was one of your father's friends, walking only about two yards behind you. Finally, when he decided he was far away enough, he responded,

"Would you rather I had let them cast you out? Let you and your child starve in the woods?" Thomas said back, the most sober you'd ever heard him. It seemed that apart of your father's deal with him was that he cut back on the drink. He didn't even stumble as he walked.

"Don't pretend you did this out of charity. Why, Thomas?" You asked, and you, for only a moment, reached out to touch his arm. You pulled it back just as quick, hoping that your chaperone hadn't seen. Thomas looked down at the action, before he smirked and shook his head.

"Aren't we a perfect match?" He asked, and you gave him a look of confusion. He continued with, "You think I don't know what people say about me? Don't you see, girl? It doesn't matter if your father is the best woodworker, or the richest in Union anymore. No one would have you, or your bastard child. Except me." He said, and you almost couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. He continued, his words a whisper now, "Besides, it's a lie they would believe." You stared at him, flabbergasted by his words. Flabbergasted by how right he was.

Thomas had, well, a reputation. It wasn't out of character for his wedding to be one out of necessity, and perhaps it earned you some pity from the townspeople. How many women had Thomas seduced? And how many of them could truly judge you? Not to mention, his words left one thing clear.

So, it was my dowry, you thought. It wasn't an unheard of reason, and it made sense given the man you were talking to. Your father had been avoiding selling you off, even as you reached far into your womanhood. And, surely, your father would never have considered him under any normal circumstance, but now...You didn't seem to have much of a choice.

Thomas paused, picking up one of the wildflowers and handing it to you. You took it, knowing now that you had to play along. That you had to act as if he truly was the father of your child, and not someone as foreign to you as the land outside of Union.

"Your father was going to start building us a house. I was thinking right here," Thomas said, his voice only slightly louder for the chaperone to hear, but you barely paid attention. You were staring down at the yellow flower in your hands, before you glanced up at the man in front of you.

He was tall, but his hair was lighter. His cheeks were stubbly and his eyes- They were a clear blue. Almost the same shade as the sky above you. You watched as he talked, as he laid out his plan. And, while the idea of being married to anyone that you didn't love sickened you, you tried to tell yourself that it wouldn't be as terrible as you felt it would be.

***

You and Thomas sat out in the sun, where you were making a flower crown and he was rambling about one thing or the other. You'd gotten very good at pretending to be in love, even in the span of only a couple of weeks.

You gave him smiles and laughter, and he gave you gifts or stole a caress. It was enough to stir the people of Union so no one would be the wiser. And, with your father at his station a short way across the field, the pair of you could be somewhat alone. But, still within viewing distance.

"You're not listening." Thomas said, and you smiled to yourself for a moment. You looked at the finished crown, before you looked up and reached over to where he was laying on the blanket. He was half-sitting up, and you placed the flower crown atop his head as you said,

"Yes, I was." You replied simply as you adjusted it, and Thomas stared at you and gave a small scoff. He caught your hand as you went to pull it away, his grip loose. He held it almost gently, and said,

"Then kiss me." And your brows drew together. A quick,

"What?" Fell from your lips, and you watched how Thomas smiled. He laughed, letting your hand go as he said,

"So, you weren't listening-" But you were quick to interrupt him.

"Why would- Why?" The idea- the simple idea was preposterous. Why would you kiss him? In broad daylight no less? The suggestion made you nervous, made a weird feeling start in your stomach. And, you ignored how this feeling wasn't entirely unfamiliar.

"They're going to expect us to kiss on our wedding day, girl. Shouldn't we have some practice?" He said, and you thought perhaps the first time he proposed it had been kinder. You stared at him, thinking over his words. Thomas waited, reaching out to touch your skirt. It was only to pick at it for a moment, before he drew his hand away.

You couldn't tell if that was the only reason Thomas wanted to kiss you, if there wasn't some ulterior motive somewhere. You wouldn't put it past him. But, really, he was right. Not to mention, while the pair of you had been affectionate, had you been affectionate enough?

That's what was so aggravating about Thomas. He was always right. He saw clear through whatever facade anyone put up, and saw the truth. Perhaps, that's why he was such a good liar.

Perhaps, that's why he was staring at you.

"Fine." You said, before you looked over your shoulder. You were in the field, but you were more or less a public spectacle. You could hear Thomas draw closer, feel the warmth of his hand reach for your arm.

"Let them look." He said as he gave a tug on your arm, and you turned back to face him. It was strange to hear him say that, such a stark difference from what you were used to. To have him so close was different than before, but Thomas didn't close the gap. You supposed he was waiting for you to do that. He whispered, "Well?" And, finally, you did. It was a short kiss, a quick stolen one. Still, it made Thomas smile. "So chaste." He let out a small laugh, and it was your turn to scoff. "Are you sure-" And you could guess what he was going to say. You kissed him again, if only to silence him. It was deeper, firmer than your last had been. And you hated to admit that you didn't hate it. Thomas was well-practiced, and the feeling of his thumb grazing your cheek was nearly as warm as the feeling of the sun on your back. It made another feeling start, one that you tried to stamp out that very second. You pulled away again, cutting it short. Thomas, for just a moment, tried to follow you before he pulled back. He had a small smile on his face, one he didn't try to hide as he pushed his hair back.

"You're practiced." You said quietly, the closest thing to a compliment you could give him. You'd heard rumors of him galavanting with the likes of Abbi Berman and some of the others. Perhaps, there was some truth to them. Thomas glanced over, and returned the words,

"Aye, so are you." When he smiled and glanced down at your belly, you knew the jab had been intended. And, unfortunately, he'd managed to make you laugh.

***

You knew it was coming. You had prepared yourself for it. Before the wedding, the pastor would counsel both of you. And, he was going to counsel you first.

You stood in a dress your mother had made, with your corset done loosely as not to press on your stomach. You'd been staring out the window, at the cloudless day and the happy faces of your town. Why shouldn't they be happy? It was the day for a celebration.

You'd even caught glimpses of Thomas. Your mother was fussing over him, and Issac had swiped his pouch. He looked- Well, you could tell he'd been scrubbed down. Most of his teeth were still black, but in clean clothes and with a clean face...Perhaps, he didn't look terrible. You tilted your head, and, almost as if he could feel you staring, Thomas' head turned. He caught your eyes, and reflected your posture with a tilt of his own head. It made you smile, something you found was less forced the more time you spent with him. Your head turned from him when you heard someone come in.

"Wonderful day for a wedding." Cyrus said as he closed the door to the chapel, and you tried to manage a smile. "Sit." He said, and gestured to one of the pews. You did, and you both kept your distance. The chapel was dim, only lit by the light outside. The pair of you were silent for a moment, before Cyrus said, "The magistrate is here. He seems eager to start. Do you," He paused for a moment. "Do you have any doubts?" And you felt that the question was not quite as empty as anyone else would think.

You'd been staring at your hands, and you finally lifted your gaze to him. To his deep, dark brown eyes. After a moment, you found your voice.

"None at all. Thomas is- He shall be the father to his child, and he shall be my husband. I shall do my duties, and, I- I love him." It was hard to say, at least when Cyrus sat in front of you. "What is there to doubt?" You asked, your question equally as heavy. While none of you would say it plainly, you knew from the way he looked over your face that he understood you perfectly. The pair of you would never confess your secret, and you'd let the hatchet be buried. Forgotten.

"Does he know?" Cyrus asked, and you knew what it sounded like. In case any of the others were listening. Like he was asking if your soon to be husband knew you loved him. The question couldn't be more disguised. Really, his eyes said, Does he know about us?

"Yes. Or, I think he does." You replied, and you watched how Cyrus reached to touch his clean-shaven face. His face was half hidden by his hand, but you could see his eyes were disturbed. A secret was harder to keep the more people knew, but you said, "And he loves me. He'd do anything to keep this union." You told him, and you hoped he got your meaning. When Cyrus glanced at you, you guessed he did. Silently, your eyes said, If he does, Thomas won't tell. And, after a pause, Cyrus let out a sigh.

"Then, there seems little I have to counsel you on."

***

"Have you thought of a name?" Thomas asked you, and you hummed.

You were picking at your sheet, looking towards the window. It had been months, five if not nearly six. Your baby was due in only a few weeks now, and you still hadn't decided. Your husband, a word to describe him that didn't seem so weird now, laid besides you facing up towards the roof.

Thomas, well, he was not what you thought. He had a good, if not sometimes strange, sense of humor, and did not bruise easily from even the harshest words. He could take care of himself, after years of doing so, and, subsequently, you as well. Your mother and the mid-wife still came by to make sure you were in good health, but Thomas had most of it handled. He was a little lazy when it came to work, especially the work your father tried to give him, but he seemed to find that the work that came with having his own house agreed with him. The pair of you had become- Well, familiar. That was the word you would use. You couldn't say, nearly six months later, that it was still just pretending.

Still, Thomas didn't touch you in any way you wouldn't want him to, and you had to lift your head to throw a glance back to him.

"I have some ideas. Perhaps, if it's a girl," You paused, a sly grin coming to your face, "We could name her Abigail." And you watched him scoff and roll his eyes, even lift his head off of his arm for a moment as he said,

"Absolutely not." And you snickered to yourself as you went back to facing away from him. It was just a jest, a reference to an old dalliance of his, but Thomas, if anything, was fun to tease. The only issue was that Thomas was just as sharp when it came to his wit. "Y'know- Fine. Then, if it's a boy, we shall name him Cyrus." And you let out a noise of protest. You tried to roll over, declaring,

"No!" And now it was Thomas' turn to laugh. He placed a hand on your shoulder, trying to ease you back down. You let him, and even reached to hold his arm. To pull him closer. He followed, and you guided his hand above your bulging stomach as the pair of you adjusted. "Fine- Neither of those names. But, we must think of something." You told him, feeling as he stretched his fingers over where your baby grew. He held you, his warmth against your back. His hand rubbing your stomach lightly.

It made a strange sense of warmth fill you, one you couldn't blame from body-heat. And, it wasn't so terrible that you tried to push it, or him, away.

***

"She cries like no other child in Union." Thomas said as he climbed into your bed. You were supposed to be resting, healing, even weeks, nearly two months, after your child's birth. You felt like you'd been confined to your bed for so long that you were starting to become a part of it. Thomas was only here for the break your father gave him half-way through the day. Still, you smiled to yourself from where you laid on your side, and said,

"Perhaps, it is your smell that disturbs her." You said, your voice thick with sleep but a cheeky grin working onto your face. You shouldn't have prompted him, because he took the opportunity to drape himself heavily over your back.

"Oh, should I sleep outside tonight then?" He asked, and you giggled when you felt his stubble tickling your cheek.

It was already long into the day, and you'd become lazy from bed-rest. It felt far too nice to have his warmth wrapped around you, to where you nearly wanted to fall asleep. You had grown too used to it now, and you could barely imagine a night without it.

"I never said that." You responded, and turned your face back towards the softness of your pillow. You felt Thomas' hand raise, his fingertips brush against your cheek. He was being brave, especially when you felt his lips brush against your neck. It made you bite your lip, a twinge of something not so unfamiliar swirling in your belly. You wondered if he would continue. Hell, you wanted him to. But, it was nothing more than that.

Thomas, to your surprise, had more restraint than you would've assumed. He kissed your cheek, went to stand, and excused himself with,

"Your father will begin to wonder where I am." And you lifted your head to watch him step away, before you settled back down. He was clean, cleaner than he had been when he'd been sleeping in the outhouse. His hair was softer and longer, tied away from his face. And his arms seemed stronger, perhaps from the days of working with your father. He was, if you dared to think so, a kind sight to your eyes now. "Sleep. I'll be back by the time you wake." He told you, and, as he left, you found yourself hoping he was right.

[slashbitch2]

Lying To Her Love

i noticed there were no fics for lorraine and felt i had to remedy that

also no hate to ed he's a dilf

Lorraine wasn't really sure what prompted her to stray from the group. Conjecture would be the only way to describe it: a sudden desire to distance herself from Ed, to explore the house alone. A new feeling had also arisen deep inside, in her chest if she had to place it, similar to a compass. Like there was an internal needle pointing in the direction she was supposed to go, and she chose to trust this instinct. Though thus far her inference skills had brought about nothing but terrifying situations.

And unfortunately, it seemed this time would be no different...

The needle slowly spun round to point out a set of stairs leading down toward the basement. A layer of dust had settled upon each step, indicating that no one had ventured down so far, which only served to intrigue her further. How, in a paranormal investigation, had no one thought to check the basement? As she drew closer, Lorraine realised there was a very faint set of footsteps. They were too imperceptible to have been made recently, yet the house had supposedly been uninhabited since the disturbances began over a week ago.

Had it not been for the very insistent compass directing her down, the footsteps would've been convincing enough. Careful not to unsettle the evidence, she began to descend down the staircase, one hand tracing along the brick wall as if to ground herself in reality. With each step she could feel a weight bearing down on her chest, a dizzy wave rushing over her. At one point the sensation grew so overwhelming that she had to pause and close her eyes. Whilst stood still, the strange pressure that had been building up in her ears reached its peak. Without opening her eyes, Lorraine knew she'd crossed over to one of her prescience visions.

However, when she eventually did open them, it was to find everything exactly as she'd left it. There were no indications that anything had changed, except for the familiar feeling that she was watching through someone else's eyes. Or rather, watching what someone else wanted her to. She'd been brought here for a reason, and by god she was going to get to the bottom of this. Reinvigorated by a new determination, she practically skipped past the last few steps and onto the cold basement floor.

Here Lorraine found the first confirmation that she was no longer in reality: natural light flooding in from no visible source. It was a welcomed change from the gloom of late evening she'd left behind, but only made her more weary of whatever she was about to encounter since it was clearly trying to lure her into a false sense of security. Nonetheless, she cautiously ambled further into the open space. In fact, it was eerie how empty the room was. Usually she'd be climbing over piles of abandoned objects, trying to give equal attention to each one which often invoked fabrications of the mind. However, here there was nothing for her brain to work with, save for the occasional movement out the corner of her eye that she knew was nothing more than fiction to fill the void and warrant her apprehension.

By the time she'd reached the opposite end of the room, nothing yet had occurred to explain why she'd been dragged into this particular vision. And then, an abrupt, horrifying possibility dawned on her. What if she was stuck here?  It had never happened before, but then again, in most cases 'the cause' would've revealed itself by now.

Although, with this realisation came another equally strange one. Lorraine could feel no fear, no panic, no negative emotions. All she was aware of was complete relaxation. Even her most horrific memories and upsetting images couldn't create any response. They were nothing but distant stories told by a different version of her. The positive aura filling the room started to shift into something else, into an almost crippling pleasure. It was both intense and insufficient. She found herself clutching at her stomach, as if she'd suddenly been made aware of an incapacitating emptiness. She longed for company, yet the idea of returning to reality appeared an incredibly unappealing one. Instead, Lorraine wanted to fall further into this dreamlike pleasure.

But that was what it wanted.

With great difficulty, and an exclamation of discomfort, Lorraine turned on her heels to begin her escape. Though she halted upon catching sight of a figure stood before her. She compelled herself to push past the profound ache lingering in her gut, standing up straight to face this mysterious being. Here she came across the second confirmation that this wasn't reality, not that she needed it anymore. You were indescribably beautiful, radiating a sort of divine light like an alluring beacon of possibility.

Most spectres or demons Lorraine met were the opposite. They enveloped the light around them, constructed a dark gap in which there was nothing but pain and regret. They represented everything that couldn't be. A screaming phantom that reminded her to appreciate life.

But you-

You represented all that could've been without any guilt or anguish. You emanated both warm nostalgia and burning desire, the effects of which were palpable for anyone who could tune into the energy, and Lorraine was being strongly subjected to it. Though first and foremost, she had a job to do.

She swallowed, refocused her attention to the task at hand. "Why-" Another wave of dizzying desire washed over her. She tried again. "Why are you-" The world around her was spinning. She blinked rapidly to try stave off vertigo, but stumbled anyway.

A cool reprieve from the searing pleasure caught hold of her. Using the embrace for support she stabilized herself only to come face to face with you.

Despite your overpowering influence on her, you appeared surprisingly human up close. Normal enough to blend in with reality, but sufficiently attractive to be memorable. Still there was something irresistible to your appearance that encouraged Lorraine to sink further into your hold, to move her hands to wrap around the back of your neck. She hadn't felt so loved since early on in her relationship with Ed...

Ed.

She shouldn't be doing this. Her marriage commitment ought to have her fighting against you- but that was practically inconceivable. Besides, how could something morally wrong feel so right? No, this wasn't infidelity. She wasn't exactly sure what it was, but not that. She would never cheat on Ed.

The temptation was intoxicating. Lorraine's hands started to trace patterns along any available skin, savouring the unfamiliar yet exhilarating sensation. You weren't a living breathing person so there was something different about the way you felt that she was eager to investigate. In response to her caress, you brought one hand up to cup her cheek, maintaining intimidating yet intimate eye contact. The touch emitted pure pleasure and Lorraine gasped as she leant into the contact. Time seemed to slow as neither moved, opting to stare at the other in silence instead.

She was vaguely aware that time moved differently in her visions. That the longer she spent in one, the more time had passed upon return. Though currently it was the least of her worries. All she could focus on right now was you and the close proximity that appeared to be narrowing still. Your gaze had dropped to the lower half of her face. Lorraine did the same, her eyes fixating on your lips. However, before you closed the gap she raised a hand, motivated by a new desire. She was shaking slightly, but ignored it to gently brush a finger along your lips. She wanted a taste of the upcoming kiss, and was pleasantly unsurprised. As expected, the touch only reasserted her conviction.

She'd never wanted anything- anyone- as much as she did now.

Suddenly your mouth was upon hers, bringing cooling bliss with it. Lorraine moaned. She felt again a rush of possibilities, the surging tide of everything that could be. The muted uncertainty at the back of her mind blurred into nothingness as she clung onto you. Your mouth was the only solid thing in a swaying world, and she planned on indulging herself in the addictiveness of it. She parted her lips, provoking insatiable tremors along her nerves and another rush of giddiness. She felt young, as if she were experiencing intimacy for the first time again.

Your hands were everywhere, carrying an influx pleasure. She'd never felt anything quite like it. Time became irrelevant, everything except you was meaningless. She was lost to an eternity of bliss, in a realm of endless fulfilment. It was incomprehensible, otherworldly.

And then it was over.

She hadn't noticed she was lightly crying, or trembling so much. Or that she was on the ground. You'd simply disappeared and she'd collapsed. But someone was holding her now, someone else.

"Lorraine!" Ed was crouching before her, gently shaking her out of the dreamlike state and back to consciousness. She'd never loathed him so much for saving her.

"What happened?" He asked, lowering to meet her eyes. "Are you okay?"

She scoffed, her mind trying to comprehend all that'd just happened. She was left reeling from the sudden weight of Ed's touch and separated from him. "I'm fine." Her voice barely breached a whisper.

"Did you see anything?"

Lorraine finally met his eyes, but she couldn't tell him.

"No." She answered. "There's nothing here." She lied.

[robininthelabyrinth]

LXC is the legal guardian and adopter for LSZ or LJY, and NMJ has questions.

part 2 of the LJY-adopted-by-LQR fic (now also on ao3)

-

“So, did I knock you up before I went to war or something?” Nie Mingjue asked. “Because I feel like you should’ve mentioned it if that was the case. Possibly in a letter.”

Lan Xichen was so tired that it took him a solid minute to parse what was wrong with that sentence and how to respond, and it was not by following his first instinct to apologize that he should’ve written better letters.

“Stop making fun of me,” he said instead, groping towards some measure of dignity.

Sadly, dignity was in very short supply when you were taking care of babies. Multiple babies. Well, one baby and one toddler, which was somehow worse?

Lan Xichen was pretty sure they’d figured out how to time their crying off each other.

“I would never,” Nie Mingjue said, like a liar, and then he picked up little Jingyi and – Lan Xichen simply cannot find another way to put it – shook him, in a manner not unlike testing a melon for freshness.

For some reason, this made Lan Jingyi stop crying and start making snuffling little giggles instead.

“How did you do that?” Lan Xichen asked, eyes wide.

“Do what?” Nie Mingjue tucked the baby into the crook of his arm and scooped up some food off the table, offering it to him, and Lan Jingy actually ate it. “Xichen, are you feeling all right?”

“Shhh!” Lan Xichen hissed, eyes fixed on the baby, which was neither spitting up everything nor wailing as if his heart was broken. “No unnecessary noise during meals.”

Nie Mingjue snorted in amusement. “Sure,” he said amiably, in the tone Lan Xichen had long ago learned meant ‘nice rules you’ve got there, it’d be an awful shame if someone found a loophole in them’. “This isn’t a meal, though; it’s just a snack.”

Lan Xichen eyed the still-not-crying Lan Jingyi and decided that now was not the time for a spirited debate on the virtues of discipline and fulfilling the merits rather than the word of a rule.

“Where’s monster number one gone?” Nie Mingjue asked abruptly. “He must be very good at hiding, because I looked away for a blink of an eye and he was gone.”

Lan Xichen’s eyes slowly dropped down to where a cloth-covered lump was not-so-sneakily edging towards Nie Mingjue’s foot.

Nie Mingjue was one of the foremost front line fighters of their generation, and possibly the previous one as well. His physical ability was matched only by his incredibly keen senses.

There was no way he was not aware of the lump.

“It’s a real shame, too,” Nie Mingjue continued. “I was planning on doing a test of how far you can throw children, but I think monster two here’s a bit too small to make the test worthwhile. But I guess it just wasn’t meant to be –”

You can’t throw children, Lan Xichen was about to say, except Lan Sizhui was tearing off the tablecloth and jumping up in excitement, shouting, “Here! Here! I’m here! I’m big enough! You can throw me!”

“Why does he want to be thrown,” Lan Xichen murmured, bewildered. He’d never wanted to be thrown around as a child. Had he?

In fairness, he wasn’t sure. No one had ever offered.

Apparently, though, Lan Sizhui did very much want to be thrown around, and Lan Jingyi even condescended to allow Lan Xichen to hold him while he watched.

“Higher! Higher!” Lan Sizhui shouted.

“Really? Is this high enough?” Nie Mingjue held him up at eye level.

“Higher!”

“Like this?” Above his head.

“Higher!”

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

“All right. How about –” Baxia slithered out from her place by the door, zipping over until she was right in front of Nie Mingjue, allowing him to step onto her like a stair, and then zipping upwards to about hip-height, lifting Nie Mingjue and Lan Sizhui with her. They very nearly hit a tree branch with their heads. “– this?”

Lan Sizhui shrieked with laughter.  

“It’s too early to introduce them to flying,” Lan Xichen objected, because it was. “Mingjue-xiong…”

Nie Mingjue hopped down with a laugh. “All right, one last toss,” he told Lan Sizhui. “Then you nap. Okay?”

“Okay!” Lan Sizhui, who had never once willingly succumbed to naptime in the entirety of the time that Lan Xichen had known him, promised earnestly.

Back into the pile of soft grass he went, giggling the entire time, and amazingly enough he really did fall asleep afterwards. Lan Jingyi, too, had fallen asleep at some point.

“I’ve decided that your brother needs more experience running a sect,” Lan Xichen told Nie Mingjue, who raised his eyebrows. “Starting immediately. I promise to allow you to leave when Jingyi is, oh, shall we say five years old..?”

You could reason with a five year old. 

Nie Mingjue laughed.

It was a type of laugh that suggested that he thought Lan Xichen was making a joke. This was incorrect.

“You’d be amazed at how serious I am,” Lan Xichen told him threateningly, “I’m sect leader here, this is my territory, I can have you arrested any time –” but by that point Nie Mingjue was already bundling him off to bed, too, combing out his hair and plying him with snacks and –

This was not helping his argument that Lan Xichen should be allowing him to leave rather than keep him trapped in the Cloud Recesses as a babysitter-slash-love-slave. 

Well, he wouldn’t really do that, of course. He’d let him go. Eventually.

It’d probably be good for Nie Mingjue’s stress levels, honestly.

“Seriously, though, how did you do that?” he asked, his head on Nie Mingjue’s lap. “They didn’t cry once.”

“I’m good with kids,” Nie Mingjue said, his fingers digging into Lan Xichen’s scalp in just the right way. “Now can you explain to me how exactly you ended up with them? Two, no less?”

Lan Xichen groaned and covered his eyes with a hand. “Sizhui’s Wangji’s,” he explained. “Not biologically, but he’s put his name down in the family register under his own. But, you know…”

“I know.”

Lan Xichen appreciated that he didn’t need to go into it. The doctors had estimated that Lan Wangji would regain full mobility within three years, so that was the period the elders had mandated for his so-called ‘seclusion’, but with Lan Wangji being locked away like that – even with visitors, even though he was trying his hardest to care for the child from where he was – meant that someone had to care for the child’s day-to-day life until his brother was ready to resume the role.

“Jingyi is a cousin, I think,” he continued. “His parents are dead, and uncle accepted guardianship for him…I think he’s going to adopt him, actually.”

“Then why is he with you?”

“I volunteered.”

“Xichen, I say this with a full heart of affection and tremendous respect for your capabilities,” Nie Mingjue said. “But why in the world would you go and do a stupid thing like that?”

Lan Xichen sighed. The worst part was, he couldn’t even argue that it wasn’t stupid – he was, quite obviously, terrible with children.

“Uncle’s still injured from the war,” he admitted. In fact, his injury was probably even older than the war, dating as far back as the burning of the Cloud Recesses – his uncle had never been much of a fighter, his impressive cultivation strength stemming almost entirely from gentler arts like music and learning and meditation, but when his home and his family and his students were at risk, he’d fought, while Lan Xichen ran. Not just fought; he’d kept fighting long past the point that his body allowed. It only made sense for the bill to need to be paid. “He had a recurrence of an old complaint, not long ago; he started coughing up blood. The doctors insisted that he try to avoid anything that might cause him  stress.”

“Stress. Like, say, a rowdy infant?”

“Exactly like a rowdy infant,” Lan Xichen agreed, glad that Nie Mingjue did not mention that what had happened with Lan Wangji was also likely a source of stress. At least the two of them had slowly started to repair their relationship recently – the heartbreak would kill their uncle sooner than anything else, and Lan Xichen might be weak, but he really couldn’t tolerate the idea of suffering any more loss.

And also, if Lan Wangji could see his way to forgiving their uncle, he might one day agree to forgive Lan Xichen, too.

“I see. So you ended up with the little one, too.”

“Yes. And they hate me.” Nie Mingjue coughed a little. “No, don’t deny it. They clearly hate me. They always cry and spit and yell -”

“They’re children, Xichen,” Nie Mingjue said. “Traumatized children. They do that.”

Lan Xichen didn’t need to open his eyes to know that Nie Mingjue was frowning in memory of pain long past. Lan Xichen remembered, with painful clarity, how young Nie Huaisang had been when Lao Nie had died, how badly he had taken it.

There’d been a lot of crying and vomiting and yelling there as well.

“You’re good with kids,” Lan Xichen said instead of commenting, trading delicacy for delicacy; he would not touch Nie Mingjue’s still-bleeding wounds just as Nie Mingjue avoided his own. “Very good.”

“Well, I like to think so, anyway.”

They remained in blissful, comfortable silence for a while.

“How would it have even worked?” Lan Xichen finally asked. His eyes were still closed, Nie Mingjue’s fingers running through his hair; he never wanted to move again.

“Hmm?”

“If you knocked me up before you went to war. I mean, they’re not even the same age.”

“Well, one of them’s from the affair, obviously.”

“I’m sorry, am I cheating on you now?” Lan Xichen opened an eye and pinned Nie Mingjue with a fierce look that instructed his lover to reconsider.

“Of course not,” Nie Mingjue said, mock-solemnly. His eyes were dancing. “You were so distraught after receiving incorrect news of my untimely demise that you conducted a ghost marriage with my spirit, and then went and had a child to continue my name.”

“…they’re both surnamed Lan.”

“So what? Are you saying I’m not good enough to marry into your sect, is that it?”

Lan Xichen’s cheeks were hurting from trying not to laugh. “I wouldn’t dream of implying such a thing.”

“There you go, then.”

“Can I ask why I felt the need to have a child to continue your name if I had one already?”

“…well, fuck,” Nie Mingjue said. “I’ve got nothing.”

Lan Xichen burst out laughing.