#will this go up on ao3 someday? maybe who knows

[thetragicallynerdy]

poly au - summertime

Jim tilted their head back on the wall of the kiddie pool, hat resting over their eyes, and dozed. It was a billion degrees out, and they had the day off work. Only Frenchie and Wee John were home, working in their studio, so Jim had dragged out the kiddy pool that Ed had bought for Beacon at the end of last summer, filled it with water, and flopped inside. Shirt off and tits out, with a beer in one hand and the other flopped over the lip of the kiddie pool. They’d nicked a pair of Stede’s swim trunks that had little rubber ducks on them. Each of the ducks wore a different silly hat. Jim didn’t know where he’d found them, but they’d threatened to steal them all last summer.

Peace. Quiet. Cool water and the sun beating down on their skin. The dream, truly.

The screen door opened and slid shut behind them. They were just sleepy enough to ignore it, in the same way they were ignoring bird calls and the sound of someone playing music a few houses away.

At least, they could ignore it until someone stepped into the fucking kiddie pool. Water sloshed, and a foot shoved at their side. Jim flailed awake, tearing the hat off their face to glare up at the offending intruder.

“Shove over,” Lucius said, looking down his nose at them. He was wearing a black speedo and a bright pink Hawaiian shirt, and massive sunglasses.

“Lucius! What the fuck!”

Lucius shoved them half-way across the tiny pool, then sat down beside them. His legs went over Jim’s hips, his back against the hard plastic sides. It bowed with his weight, just like it had bowed with Jim’s.

“Oh god that’s better,” he sighed, sinking into the water a little. Jim shoved at his legs but he just let his weight rest on them heavier, slinging both feet over the opposite edge. At this rate the pool was going to collapse. “It’s so fucking hot.”

“Yes, which was why I was cooling off! Alone!”

Lucius blew them a kiss and took a sip out of the massive fancy glass they hadn’t noticed. A tornado glass maybe? Jim could neve remember. “And now you’re cooling off with company.”

They tipped their head back against the wall and signed, resigned. At least the water was a little higher now. Not that it was much of an improvement. If they filled the tub too full, one of the walls would collapse. “You’re the worst.”

“Mmm, just wait until Ed and Stede get out here.”

As if on cue, the porch door slid open again. Jim craned their neck back and watched as Stede, Edward, and the Swede came out onto the deck. They wanted to grumble, but Edward was here, so they just scowled. Edward’s face brightened when he saw them, which, fuck, then they couldn’t even scowl. They just liked him too much to be mad.

“Jimbo!” he trotted over and crouched down to kiss their upside down mouth. His mouth tasted like cherry chapstick, and Jim curled a wet hand around the back of his neck and held him there for a moment longer. His eyes crinkled around the edges when he pulled away and smiled down at them, before sweeping a glance appreciatively over their torso. “Oh, nice, it’s a tits out kinda day is it?”

“It’s too hot for a shirt,” they grumbled.

Stede wandered up beside them. He frowned down at Jim. “I hope you’re wearing sunscreen. The UV Index is very high today.”

“Nope,” they popped the word, then took a swig of lukewarm beer. “I don’t need it.”

Edward reached out and flicked one of their nipples. Jim yelped, hand clamping over their tit, twisting to try and get away. Lucius yelped too, jostling with their movement, bright blue liquid from his tornado glass spilling over his arm.

“Your nips are gonna burn,” Edward laughed. “And then you’ll be pissed next time you wear a binder.”

Jim gave him the finger. “I was doing fine keeping them under water until someone came and took up half the damn pool!”

“Not my fault you have poor planning skills,” Lucius pouted. “And you made me spill.”

They gave him the finger, too. “Get out of my pool!”

His smile was distinctly bitchy. “Make me.”

Before Jim could attempt to pick him up and toss him over the side, Stede tutted. “Alright, alright, that’s enough. Jim can share.”

“This isn’t kindergarten,” they muttered.

Stede ignored them. “And Jim, if you put sunscreen on, I’ll bring you out a popsicle. Or a freezie.”

That made them pause. “… do we have any of the mango ones left?”

“I think we’re all out,” Stede admitted. “But I saw fudge ones in there yesterday.”

“It’s a good deal,” Edward whispered. There was laughter in his eyes. “You should take it. Since you’re not in kindergarten and whatnot.”

“I hate you,” they told him. They drained the last of their lukewarm beer and held the can up to Stede. “Deal. I’m not getting out of the pool, though. Mind taking this in for me?”

He took the can, handing back a bottle of spray on sunscreen. Ugh. “Of course. For your chest, at least.”

Another foot nudged their leg. Jim looked away from Stede to see Edward step into the kiddie pool, a grin on his face. His outfit registered for the first time. No shirt. Black swim trunks with little pink flamingos all over them. Sunglasses. His beach outfit.

“No. There’s no fucking room –“

Edward plopped into the pool, somehow managing to make space between Jim and Lucius’ legs. One foot shoved into their ribs, the other leg laying on top of Lucius’, pinning it against Jim’s hips. Water sloshed, Jim squawked,  and Lucius shrieked a little as more of his slushy blue drink spilled.

“There’s so much room!” Edward crowed, wiggling to get comfortable. He grinned and splashed water at Jim. “Good thing I bought the big kiddie pool, eh?”

“This pool is not big enough for three people,” Lucius grumbled.

Jim made a noise of protest. “It’s not even big enough for two! It was perfect for one!”

“You love it.” Edward slouched against the distressingly low plastic side of the pool and nudged Jim’s ribs with his toes. “Now slather up those nips, punk!”

They gave him the finger, but still started spraying sunscreen onto their chest and shoulders.

“Swede, please don’t tell me you’re going to try and join too,” Lucius called.

“I’m tanning!” came the muffled reply. “I will come into the pool later!”

“Maybe we need a second pool,” Edward mused. He tapped Jim’s calf under the water. “Face too, or Stede will make you when he gets out here.”

They paused from putting the cap back on the sunscreen. “He wouldn’t.”

“He would!” Stede called, from somewhere behind them. The screen door slid shut. “Especially since he's being very kind and not commenting on the fact that you're wearing his swim trunks! UV radiation is a serious problem. And you know Oluwande would make you put it on your face if he were here!”

“I don’t burn!” Jim protested. They still sprayed sunscreen on their hand and started smearing over their cheeks. “Like, ever!”

Stede waited until they were done before trading them a fudgsicle for the bottle of sunscreen. He pressed a kiss to their hair, then went around the pool to kiss Edward proper. “Yes, well, you can still get skin cancer. So best be careful!”

The fudgesicle was sweet, and cold, and kind of made up for the smell of sunscreen and the way it clung to their skin. Stede dragged a chair off the deck and stuck his feet in the pool, and Edward started telling Jim and Lucius about his day. The pool was still crowded, and the water was getting too warm. But the press of bodies against them was nice, even if too hot. And the way their family laughed around them was even better.

Jim pressed their own feet against Edward’s hip and smiled when he tossed them a wink.

Yeah, they thought. This makes summer worth it.

AN: this is set in the poly house au, which is a modern au where everyone on the Revenge crew (+ Ed, Ivan, and Fang) live together and are one big happy poly family. Ed and Jim are together, as are Jim and Olu, and Stede and Ed, and many other pairings. Other ficlets in the series can be found on my ao3!

For @lovewithagirl and @nevershootamockingbird, thank u for the prompt!

[lighthouseshepard]

.

[prinvessdior]

Three times you ask Kinich for something and the one time he asks for something.

tags: first person soz, bff! Mualani, I forgot ab Ajaw lol, y/n has a vision, established relationship, first kiss, just cute as hell, ft. me trying to write romantic tension.

wc: 3.6k

a/n: idk,, i think he needs more fics but yes crossposted on ao3 still editing as well

feel free to leave me req or msgs for any charc <3!

◣──•~❉᯽❉~•──◢

I think this was the fifth time I had water up my nose this afternoon. Or maybe it was the sixth, definitely. My nose and throat burned as I gasped for air above the water. My surfboard flung up beside me with another slap of water to my face. I hoisted myself back up to sit over my borrowed board. Mualani let me borrow one of her old ones from childhood. Since I'd never been able to surf. I wrung out my hair over my shoulder. "This is so hard," I whined to Mualani who padded over on her own board over to me.

Mualani only laughed, laying down on her stomach, "You're doing fine for a beginner." I doubted it. "Keep practicing, maybe you could finally convince Kinich to come to swim." 

I snorted and rolled my eyes, "Yeah like that'll happen."  

Mualani giggled, "He's a lost cause. Maybe if you asked him nicely, he might change his mind," she teased, sending me a look with a knowing smile. 

"I don't think a simple 'please' will do the trick," I retorted, paddling my board backward in the shallows. "He'd probably just come up with some excuse like 'I don't want to get my clothes wet' or something, and then go back to what he was doing," I grumbled.

Mualani snickered. "He can be such a diva sometimes. It's like he's scared to have any fun. I don’t know how you can date a guy like that."

She was being dramatic. He wasn’t that bad. I’ve known practically everyone since I was a kid, I know the ins and outs. Kinich just.. more so liked to keep to himself. I didn’t mind it though it really seemed like we had just become really good friends now even after putting a relationship title on us. 

"Though I'm sure he'd do anything you asked," Mualani says with a nod

I quickly looked away.

"Don't be ridiculous," I mumbled, "Kinich doesn't listen to anyone, let alone me." I quickly looked away.

Mualani gave me a knowing smile. "Oh come on, don't pretend you haven't noticed the way he looks at you. That boy is absolutely smitten with you."

I tried to feign indifference, though my heart thumped in my chest. "He doesn't look at me any differently than he looks at everyone else."

Mualani raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious? He's practically drooling every time you're around. And he always insists on helping you with anything you need, no matter how menial."

I shifted uncomfortably in my waterlogged swimsuit. "That's just who he is. He's like that with everyone. He's just...a good guy." I don’t think I wanted to spill my guts with my best friend about my relationship just yet.

Mualani rolled her eyes. "You can be so clueless sometimes. Trust me on this."

I huffed, pushing my soaked hair out of my eyes. "Even if you're right, which you're not, I doubt he'd ever actually do anything about it. Kinich is too aloof to make a move."

Mualani smirked. "That's where I think you're wrong. I've seen the way he stares at you when you're not looking. That boy has it bad. If you ask me, he's just been waiting for the right moment.”

I narrowed my eyes with a laugh, "Sure, and dendro slimes will fly someday. Besides, I can't even imagine Kinich acting all romantic. He's too sarcastic and quippy for mushiness."

Mualani shrugged. "Maybe you should try giving him a hint then. See if he responds. I know he'd be all over you in a heartbeat if he thought he had a chance."

"I don't know, Mualani...he's always been so closed off. It wouldn’t feel natural."

Mualani grinned. "Well, you could always try being a bit more... flirtatious. Give him some nonverbal cues to let him know you're interested. A touch on the arm, a smile, a compliment, something like that. See how he responds."

"Yeah, nope," I said with a determined nod, I'd give up my pyro vision back to our archon before doing something as embarrassing as that.

“C'mon! What’s the harm in it?”

I gave Mualani a pointed look, “The harm is we’ve only been together three months.” 

Mualani groaned, “But you’ve been friends for years!” She emphasized by splashing me with water.

I splashed her back, “I don’t expect anything from Kinich, Lani, I’m fine with what we have now.” 

“Yeah, but, did you ask him that? Maybe he wants to be closer with you.” 

Okay, yeah maybe I hadn’t thought about that. I paused mid-splash attack. “Oh.” 

Another splash of water to my face, as I tipped sideways losing balance sitting on my surfboard. I tipped straight into the water making another splash for the seventh time. 

Mualani was laughing when I arose from the surface. “Just try it. It’s not like he’ll outright reject you.” 

I gave Mualani a glare, “I’m going to go change. I’m done learning today.” 

“Ouchie, you really know how to burn me.” Mualani sighs with a dramatic expression. 

“Insanity.” I mumbled padding back to the shore with my best friend trailing behind me. Still making dramatic plans about how to get my boyfriend to be more open. I was not listening as she rambled all the way back to my house. 

◣──•~❉᯽❉~•──◢

I liked living right beside the hot springs. Even the ones that weren’t heated were usually the ones I gravitated towards. Given that Natlan was already hot, I never remembered my normal body temperature being this hot before I received my Pyro vision. 

But right now, I think I was jealous of Cyro Vision users. Kachina had requested my help near her tribe. She wanted to collect flowers among herbs, and fruits for the traveler to help her gain enough confidence to enter into the night warden wars. 

But it was too hot, and I was craving a bath. Being drenched in sweat was horrible. I didn’t want to complain in front of Kachina so I continued to follow her, we’d strayed far from The Children of The Echo’s tribe. 

“Do you think this is enough?” I asked the smaller girl once we’d stopped near a stream. 

“Uh-! I-.. I think so!” Kachina reached her arms up to take the fruits nestled in my bag. I happily let her take it as I took a seat near the stream for a much-needed breather. 

“Great, I’m just gonna.. sit down for a while.” 

Kachina gave me a nod with a bright smile. Which in turn made me smile. I felt like a big sister whenever I was with Kachina. It made it better that she was so smart and easy to talk to. I closed my eyes as a gust of wind helped cool my sweltering face. 

Kachina sat down beside me, dipping her toes into the water. “Thank you for helping me today, I really appreciate it.”

I smiled, grateful for the respite. “Of course, Kachina. It’s the least I can do. The Traveler did so much for you.”

She nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah, they really did. I wouldn’t have had the courage to join the Night Warden Wars without their support.”

We sat by the stream, the cool water lapping at my feet, and my mind drifted back to what Mualani had said the day before. Could it really be that simple? Just say please? I found myself lost in a whirlwind of emotions as the cool water of the stream rippled around me. 

“Y/n? Y/n!” Kachina’s voice broke through my reverie, pulling me back to the present.

”Huh.” I blinked, realizing she was talking to someone. I turned to see Kinich standing there, looking a bit awkward but smiling warmly. 

“Hey, Y/n,” he greeted, his voice a little uncertain. “Are you okay?”

I forced a smile, trying to shake off my embarrassment. “Oh, hey, Kinich. Yeah, I’m fine. Just, you know, dying of the heat,” I joked, fanning myself dramatically.

He chuckled, his eyes softening. “Yeah, it’s pretty brutal today.” He turned to me and narrowed his eyes. “Should you really be out here for much longer? You don’t look so good.”

Before I could respond, Kachina’s face fell, and she quickly apologized. “Oh no, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you weren’t feeling well. I shouldn’t have taken you so far.”

I shook my head, giving her a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Kachina. I wanted to come out and help you. Really.”

She still looked worried, but I could see she was trying to believe me. I took a deep breath, deciding albeit hesitantly that if I were to test Mualani’s theory. Any time would be the best time “Kinich, could you please get me some water from the stream? I think it would help me cool down.”

To my surprise, he didn’t hesitate. Without a single sarcastic comment or playful tease, he nodded and walked over to the stream. The next thing I felt was the cool, wet rag on my forehead, and sighed in relief. Kinich's gentle touch was comforting as he helped me sit back down. My body was still cooling off from Natlan’s scorching heat.

"Thank you, Kinich," I said, looking up at him with a small smile.

He smiled back, though it was more a twitch of lips upwards, his eyes warm. "It was no problem at all. Just take it easy for a bit."

I nodded, leaning back into the grass. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kachina watching us. She seemed to be trying hard not to look awkward, and I couldn't help but find it endearing.

"Are you okay, Y/n?" Kachina asked, her voice filled with genuine concern.

"Yeah, I think so," I replied, giving her a reassuring smile. "Just a bit... overwhelmed, I guess."

Kachina nodded, her cheeks flushing slightly. "You two are really cute together," she blurted out, then immediately looked like she regretted it.

Kinich chuckled softly, and I felt my own cheeks flush. "Thanks, Kachina," I said, trying to ease her embarrassment. 

She smiled, looking a bit more relaxed. "Well, if you need anything, I'm here to help."

"Thanks," I said, appreciating her kindness. "I think I'll be okay now."

Kinich gave my hand a gentle squeeze. "Just rest for a bit. I'll be right here."

I nodded, feeling a little lightheaded. Not from the heat though. As I leaned back, feeling the coolness of the rag on my forehead, my mind wandered to Mualani’s words. Maybe she was right.

◣──•~❉᯽❉~•──◢

A couple of days later, I found myself in Xilonen’s shop, surrounded by shelves filled with various trinkets and artifacts. The air was filled with the scent of herbs and old parchment, a comforting reminder of the past. Xilonen and I were busy organizing her shop, a task that felt both familiar and soothing.

“Thanks for helping out, Y/n,” Xilonen said, her voice warm. “I’ve been meaning to get this place in order for ages.”

“No problem,” I replied, placing a stack of scrolls on a nearby shelf. “It’s nice to catch up. We haven’t had much time together since the war ended.”

She nodded a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Yeah, things have been so hectic. But it’s good to see you. How have you been holding up?”

I shrugged, trying to keep my tone light. “I’ve been okay. Just trying to figure things out, you know?”

Xilonen smiled knowingly. “I get it. It’s been a strange time for all of us. But I’m glad you’re here. It feels like old times.”

We continued to work in comfortable silence for a while, the rhythm of our movements almost meditative. As we sorted through a box of ancient artifacts, Xilonen suddenly looked up, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “So, I heard a little rumor that you and Kinich are dating now. Is it true?” Probably from Mualani...

I felt my face heat up slightly but nodded. “Yeah, it’s true.”

Xilonen grinned. “I knew it! How’s that going? I mean, considering how Kinich… is.”

I chuckled, understanding what she meant. “It’s going fine, actually. He’s been really sweet and supportive. It’s still new, but we’re figuring it out.”

She nodded, her expression softening. “That’s good to hear. Kinich can be ahh.. how do I put this? Blunt? but he has a good heart.”

“Yeah, he does,” I agreed, feeling a warm glow at the thought of him. “He’s been really great.”

we continued to clean, the door to the shop opened, and Kinich walked in. His eyes immediately found mine, and he smiled warmly Again, just the hint of his lips turning at the corners. “Hey, Y/n,” he greeted, then turned to Xilonen. “Xilonen.”

“Hey, Kinich,” I replied, feeling a flutter of happiness at seeing him.

Xilonen gave him a playful look. “Didn’t expect to see Y/n here, huh?”

Kinich chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, I was a bit surprised. What’s going on?”

Xilonen rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, so I can’t see my friend for a day? I asked Y/n to help me clean up since it’s been a while.”

Kinich nodded, looking a bit awkward. “Right, of course. Well, it’s good you both are here. I actually came by to let you know that someone from The Children of the Echos commissioned me for a project, so I don’t have much time to chat.”

“That’s great, What kind of project?” genuinely wanting to know

He shrugged, a small smile on his face. “It’s a bit of a mystery for now, but I’ll fill you in later.”

Xilonen smirked. “Always keeping secrets, huh?”

Kinich laughed. “Something like that. Anyway, I just wanted to say hi. I’ll catch up with you both later.”

It was the perfect time to test Mualani's theory further. I spotted an item on a high shelf that I couldn't reach and decided to ask Kinich for help.

"Kinich, could you please help me get that down?" I called out, pointing to a random scroll.

He stopped talking to Xilonen almost instantly and came up behind me. "Sure, what do you need?" he asked, his voice so, so close to my ear.

I pointed at the scroll again. "That one, right up there."

Without hesitation, Kinich reached over my head and grabbed it, his arm brushing against mine. He handed it to me with a smile. "Here you go."

"Thanks," I said, feeling a bit flustered by how quickly he had responded.

"No problem," he replied. "I have to go now, but I'll see you later." He turned to Xilonen and me, giving us both a quick nod. "Goodbye, Xilonen. Bye, Y/n."

"Bye, Kinich," we both said in unison as he left the shop.

As the door closed behind him, Xilonen turned to me with a curious look. "What was that? I've never seen Kinich act like that before."

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I don't know. Maybe he's just being extra helpful today."

Xilonen raised an eyebrow. "Extra helpful, huh? Well, whatever it is, it's definitely interesting."

I smiled,  Maybe Mualani was onto something after all.

“I should get going too,” I said, giving Xilonen a hug. “Thanks for today. It was really nice to catch up.”

"Oh yeah totally! I can handle the rest here. Also, come by anytime,” she replied, hugging me back. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“I won’t,” I promised, smiling as I headed out the door.

◣──•~❉᯽❉~•──◢

I found myself back at Mualani’s place, surfboard in hand and ready for another lesson. Mualani was determined to teach me how to surf, and I was equally determined to make her proud, even if it meant a few more wipeouts.

“Hey, ‘Lani!” I greeted her, adjusting my swimsuit as I approached. “Ready for another round?”

Mualani grinned, her eyes always sparkling with excitement. “Always! But first, tell me have you been messing with Kinich? He’s been super quiet. More than usual.”

I laughed, setting my surfboard down. “Really? That’s funny. I’ve been testing your theory. It’s been interesting, to say the least. I really don’t think he’s reacting. He’s doing things any normal boyfriend would do.”

She nodded enthusiastically. “You absolutely need to keep it up. Yesterday he looked like he was going to explode.”

I snorted a laugh Mualani clapped her hands together. “Alright, enough talk. Let’s hit the waves!”We headed down to the beach, the sound of the ocean filling the air.

As we paddled out, Mualani and I chatted about everything and nothing, enjoying the easy flow of conversation. Suddenly, someone from the tribe called out to Mualani, needing her assistance with something urgent.

Mualani sighed, giving me an apologetic look. “Duty calls. Just focus on balancing on the board for now, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Got it!” I called, watching as she paddled back to the shore.

Left to my own devices, I paddled out to the shallow part of the water. I stood up on the board, feeling the gentle sway of the ocean beneath me. Balancing was tricky, but I was determined to get the hang of it. I took a deep breath, focusing on keeping my stance steady.

The sun was warm on my skin, and the sound of the waves was soothing.

My balance wavered, and I tumbled into the water with a splash. As I surfaced, sputtering and wiping the saltwater from my eyes, I heard a familiar voice.

"Having trouble there?" Kinich asked, a teasing smile on his face.

I felt my cheeks heat up with embarrassment. "Maybe just a little," I admitted, trying to laugh it off.

He chuckled, wading over to me. "Here, let me help you." He reached out, steadying me as I stood up in the water. His hands were firm but gentle, and I felt a bit more stable with his support.

"Thanks," I mumbled reeling from the taste of saltwater, feeling self-consciousness.

"No problem," he replied, still holding my surfboard, "Everyone falls sometimes. It's part of the learning process."

I nodded, appreciating his encouragement. "Yeah, I guess so."

He handed me the board, his eyes warm with amusement. "Just keep at it. You'll get the hang of it."

The sun glinted off the water as I turned towards Kinich, curiosity, and anxiety bubbling with the ripples of the water.

“Kinich,” I called out, voice catching the wind.

“Would you help me with this, please? I mean, with keeping my balance on the board?”

His gaze softened, and without a word, he nodded. With practiced ease, he dropped the surfboard into the water, and it settled with a small splash. Approaching me, he placed his hands gently around my waist, lifting me as if I weighed nothing.

My heart beat wildly, like drums against my chest—not just from the thrill, but from the intimate touch. Kinich’s hands lingered longer than necessary as he steadied me on the board, fingers warm against her skin through the thin fabric of my swimsuit. His grip was firm, yet tender, as though he was acutely aware of his strength and its effect.

“This good?” he asked, voice low, almost a whisper. It sent shivers down my spine, as I nodded, unable to find my voice. So instead I nodded, slowly.

Once Kinich was convinced Ihad found my balance, he slowly let go. For a few moments, I managed to stay upright, it was my triumph. But the waves had other plans. The board wobbled violently beneath my feet, and with a startled yelp, I lost my footing. In the blink of an eye, I grabbed onto Kinich, pulling him down with me. We both plunged into the cool embrace of the ocean. Breaking the surface, I wiped the water from my eyes, only to be met with the sight of a thoroughly drenched and disheveled Kinich. My initial shock dissolved into a fit of giggles. 

“I am so sorry!” I gasped between laughs, noticing the way his usually calm demeanor was replaced with a mixture of surprise a cute scowl. “You look... upset.”

Kinich’s expression softened, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile. “Upset with you? Never.”

His eyes held mine, a glint of mischief playing in their sunsets. “Actually,” he continued, his voice low and sincere, “since you’ve been asking so politely, I thought I might as well ask the same... Can I please kiss you?”

Time seemed to pause as his words settled over. The world faded around us, leaving just the two of us in that perfect, sunlit moment. I barely managed a nod.

Kinich's lips met mine with a tenderness that took my breath away. The kiss was soft, almost hesitant as if he was savoring the moment, afraid it might slip away too soon. His hands, still resting on my hips, tightened slightly, pulling closer but never forcefully. 

I felt the warmth of his touch through the cool water, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on my revealed skin. The world around us seemed to fade, leaving only the sensation of his lips on mine and the steady rhythm of our breaths mingling. 

As the kiss deepened, Kinich's hand moved to cradle my face, his thumb brushing lightly against my cheekbone. It was a gesture of pure affection, a silent promise of his care and respect. I responded in kind, my own hands finding their way to his shoulders, feeling the strength and warmth beneath my fingertips.

When we finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against mine, heavy breaths mingling in the space between us. Kinich's eyes searched mine, a soft smile playing on his lips. Before he frowned.

"Now please stop saying please," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the gentle lapping of the waves. "I can't take it anymore."

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

Mortality Defined

Masterlist Word count: 1.6 k Halsin x Reader Read on AO3

Summary: You are a human, Halsin is an elf. Your lifespan is much shorter than his and he wonders if life is worth living if you're not in it.

Writer's note: I don't know why but I still can't post a full work here. I don't know why. Tumblr just doesn't allow me to add any words to these one-shots. If anyone has any solutions for me, please let me know. I'm getting frustrated.

The year changes from sunlit beach days to a sunset of leaves. Halsin always admires this time of year. The dying of the world in anticipation for new life. It's a wonderful thing and something he often ponders on.  A year is an hour in the long, long lifespan of an elf. In Halsin's busy and chaotic life it feels more like a second, but these past weeks travelling with her and the other friends he made felt like centuries. She, so humble and kind, carried the world on her shoulders.  He feels he will never understand her fully. She is human. Where he has already lived 350 years, she will get a 100 if she's lucky. With their way of life, it will probably be less. A human's body dies around them every second of every day after they're done growing.  She was 27 when they embarked on their journey to safe Faerun, a young adult in human years. When he was 27 he was just latching off the helping hands of his parents. She told him she had been living on her own since she was 18.   Now she's 32 and has been living with him since the Absolute was put down. He can tell she's slowly ageing. She is forming some smile lines and little crows feet at the corners of her eyes. Halsin hadn't really thought about elderly people as his kind doesn't visibly age much after a certain point, but then he was confronted with Shadowheart's mother who looked so frail. It suddenly made him realize that she will someday look like that as well.  Even so, there's this thing that is only found in those that are human. The phenomenon of the Impenetrable Human Spirit. A death grip on life, refusal to let go in the direst of times. When all the odds are stacked against you but you refuse to let them define you. Which sounds strange until you meet a few humans in time of war. After he realized that, he understood why so many Flaming Fists are human.  He hopes he'll never have to witness it again but to see someone so fiercely cling onto life while any other would have already perished in the same circumstances is truly a sight. Humans are a force to be reckoned with. Even with their short lifespans, they try to put something worthwhile on this plane. They want to feel accomplished.  'Halsin, dinner's ready,' her angelic voice calls from inside and Halsin snaps out of his trance. 'Did you want to eat outside?' He looks over his shoulder through the open backdoor of their cosy little cottage, straight into the kitchen where she is plating up dinner. She's a wonderful cook, an amazing partner, and a great artist. His days are spent trying to find the best way to worship her being in hopes it'll buy her another year.  'That'd be lovely. Thank you.’ She walks out with two plates and a smile on her face. He takes his plate from her as she sits down on the grass next to him.  'You were so far away all day,' she notes with her smile still on her lips, 'where did your mind go?'  'My heart, you would not want to know.'  'Don't worry me, love. You can tell me.' Halsin takes a second to compose himself, playing with his food for a second. She always tells him everything, what reason does he have to keep his worries to himself? She'll understand. She always does.  'I was pondering your mortality.'  'How so?'  'Well, I have nothing but time, but that is not the same for you. I have lived over three centuries. That's three, maybe four, human lifetimes. You are merely a tenth of my age and yet you feel like an equal.' He looks over to her, a somber smile now plays on her lips.  'That's not all, is it?'  'It is not.'  'Are you worried you will be alone after I pass? That you won't have enough time to know me?'  'Something like that, yes.'  'Something like that?' 

Read the remainder on AO3

[bamboozledbird]

IGNITE: A Teen Wolf S1 AU (Reader's Version) // Prev. / Chapter 3 / Next

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, omc, ofc Pairing: Eventual Stiles x Reader, but man are we talking slow burn Word Count: 6.2k Warnings: Canon typical gore/violence, parental death (rip to your fake mom), depictions of depression (apathy, dissociation, 'numb little bug' vibes) Tags: Canon has been lovingly scrapped for parts, author is a chaotic bi and it shows, prolific overuse of the em dash, the slowest of burns i fear

Summary: You can always smell ash long after the fire is gone. Perhaps, that’s why you still can’t breathe without choking on the past. It’s been four years since your mom died. Four years since she burned alive. Four years since you didn’t. You survived, but they must have buried your heart with her because most days you feel like a shadow, some horrifically sad creature caught halfway between a ghost and a lamb for slaughter. 

You can’t scrub the bitter smell of hospital from your memories, not even with denial. Maybe, that’s why death and disease follows Stiles wherever he goes now. It’s been eight years since his mom died. Eight years since he didn’t. Eight years since he decided that he wouldn’t let anyone he loved die ever again. He survived, but Scott’s new-found abilities and the murky world they’ve been dragged into is making it pretty damn hard to keep his promise. 

Time never stops turning. The grief never dissipates. Children soldier on—but in a town where all the monsters under the bed are real and old family skeletons rattle in every closet, how long can two fragile, breakable humans survive? 

Maybe, the real question is: How long will they want to? Chapter Summary: More information about the animal attack comes to light. You can’t decide if you're more scared of the monster or becoming friends with someone new. 

A/N: You can also check me out on ao3 (dork_knight) for the full lore version!

You were surprised to see your dad’s car in the garage. He wasn’t supposed to be off work for hours, and he certainly never came home early on weekdays. You would be more nervous if there was anyone left in your life to grieve. It was just the two of you now. Your mom hadn’t ever talked about her family; you weren't even sure if she ever had one, and Grandma and Papa Dickinson died before you even had the chance to remember them. You wished, sometimes, that there was someone else in the house. Someone who could fill the cold silence and closed doors. Someone who might chase away the ghosts lingering in the long halls and photographs on the walls. It was a futile dream. You were going to die in this house, and someday a new family would chase your family’s shadows away with laughter.

You felt a bittersweet sense of déjà vu when you walked into the house and saw your dad sitting at the kitchen table. The kitchen was his spot before everything went wrong. He puttered around the island in the mornings with his thermos of coffee and tablet, somehow knowing exactly when to flip the bubbling pancakes on the griddle without glancing up from whatever NPR article he was reading. He only looked up from the screen to kiss your mom on the cheek and give you a side-squeeze until you whined about your inability to breathe. 

That was a long time ago, you reminded yourself as your dad looked up from his iPad. It’d been four years, but he still hadn’t quite figured out how to hug you and the kitchen never smelled like pancakes and cinnamon syrup anymore. “How was school?” your dad finally said after a long moment of uneasy eye-contact. 

Your brow wrinkled, and your head canted slightly, “You really want to talk about my day?”

“Of course,” your dad paused and rubbed his hands over his face, “but there is something important I wanted to talk to you about.” His stubble had grown out enough that you could see where the brown was starting to gray. He looked so old for a moment, and you weren't quite sure how to feel. You never did around him. 

Frowning, you sat down in the chair across from him, “Did someone die?”

“No,” your dad quickly replied, and then he sighed, “well, yes.” He set his iPad to the side and took his thick reading glasses off, “You know about the animal attacks.” It wasn’t a question. You figured that was how this would go; it was easier to pretend you didn’t exist if he monologued to the spot on the wall just over your shoulder. “Sheriff Stilinski and I agree that a curfew is the best course of action, considering the situation we’re in.”

Best course of action. You chewed on what was left of your nails and resisted the sigh budding in your chest. So, this was a council meeting too. You just didn’t get a vote. “Okay.” 

“Okay.” Your dad blinked a few times and rubbed at his jaw, like he’d been expecting you to fight him on it. Most of the fight fizzled out in you a long time ago; it was just easier to pretend. You got that from him, you thought. You inherited your dad’s love for mystery novels and his ability to deny reality straight to its face, and that was where the similarity ended. Your face, your skin, your heart—your exhausting curiosity—that was all your mom. It must be why your dad couldn’t keep his gaze on you for long. He ran his fingers through his short crop of dark hair and said, “Anyone under the age of 18 needs to be home by 9:00 every night.” 

“Fine.” It wasn’t like you had much of a social life anyway, and the curio shop you worked for closed long before dark. “So,” you fiddled with the edge of a decorative bamboo placemat that hadn’t seen a plate in years, “do the police have any idea what kind of animal’s going all Pac-Man on people?”

Your dad stared at you for a moment, a deep divot developing above the crooked bridge of his nose. You looked down at your hands and mumbled, “The vampire Pomeranian, not the wimpyass circle.”

His mouth tugged a little, and you would’ve sworn he was fighting a smile if everything else in the world didn’t directly contradict the theory. “Not exactly.”

“Which means…” you shook your head a little and tugged your fingers through your unruly hair, grimacing a bit as they snagged on a few knots where your hair had frizzed together, “they’ve ruled out tiny bloodsucking dogs, or they’ve narrowed it down to a few probable options?” 

He paused for a long moment, and you pulled your shins to your chest, focusing on the tips of your sneakers hanging off the edge of the wooden seat. You turned your cheek into your kneecaps and waited for your dad to make an excuse and leave. You’d pushed. You always had to push. 

“There were wolf fibers on the girl.”

You whipped your head up from your knees, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted. You were a little embarrassed that you were more stunned by your dad sharing confidential information with you than a wolf migrating to central California for the first time in over a hundred years. “And the bus driver?”

“He’s still…unresponsive. Stilinski is looking into the possibility that he was attacked by the same animal.” 

“Huh,” you said quietly, eyes glazing over as you considered the possibility.

“Regardless, you need to be home before dark until they catch the damn thing,” he leaned back against his chair, tipping his head back with his bottle of Miller High life. The golden liquid sloshed back and forth with the strength of his swallow. It was the first time you’d seen him drink since the funeral, but you knew about the empty bottles he threw away in the trash outside. Over the years, the number varied; you noticed a significant increase around anniversaries, birthdays, and Christmas. You left extra take-out in the fridge during those weeks, always his favorites, and they were gone in the morning. You twisted the pendant on your necklace and made a note to order Little India’s tandoori chicken after your shift.

“I have to work tonight.” You said quietly, nibbling the bed of your thumbnail, “I’m off at 8:00.” 

You both dreaded and longed for your boss’s absurd take on the situation—though boss wasn’t quite the right word for Maggie Sinclair. Despite the fact that she owned Curio Killed the Cat and approved your paychecks, Maggie was the least authoritative person you knew. You’d say Mags was like an older sister, but older sisters generally didn’t require so much supervision around open flames and sangria—and anything else sparkling enough to distract her sporadic focus. Your mom used to look out for her before she died; you supposed Maggie was just another thing you inherited from her. Your favorite thing probably, but that was something you’d most likely take to your grave.

Your dad’s face went blank for a moment, as it always did when he was reminded of anything remotely related to your mom. It was easier for him, you thought, to pretend that she never existed. You couldn’t even be bitter about it; you hadn’t even cried at the funeral. You cried much later, of course, but by then the pity well had run dry. Nobody cared how you coped, so long as you coped quickly. You’d wasted those precious first few months of constant consolations with numbness, with monotonous, 'Thank you,’s and, 'It’s sad, but I’m okay,'s and then, eventually, everyone stopped asking if you were okay. Time passed. You didn’t touch any of the casseroles in the fridge. People moved on. You lived in the wake and pushed people away with an acrid bite that would disappoint the resurrection right out of your mother. Your dad was just coping. You both were. 

“Right,” he cleared his throat, “come straight home after.”

You shouldered your backpack and stood up, “Always do.”

You still didn’t know how Maggie met your mom, given the 15-year age gap and their vastly different…everything, but Maggie had been in your life for as long as you could remember. You spent so much time in Maggie’s store after your mom died that you figured you might as well get paid for shelving spell books and grimoires while you were there—even if you did think that most of Maggie’s customers were totally off their rocker. Of course, in-person customers were a rare oddity in Curio Killed the Cat.

The store was always slow on weekdays, weekends too actually. Most of Maggie’s business was online; she shipped ‘haunted’ and ‘magical’ artifacts all across the globe to e-goths with bad backs and Wicca wannabes. Truthfully, Maggie didn’t really need your help running the storefront, but she claimed she enjoyed the company—even if said company was bitterly sarcastic and hypercritical of the product she was stocking. 

“Hey, Mags,” you called. The bell on the front door tinkled in the background as you shoved it open with your shoulder. You paused to scratch under Maggie’s ancient tabby’s chin until he let out a sawing purr. You weren't exactly sure how old Gizmo was, but he behaved more like the taxidermied animals on the walls than the stray cats that lived in the small alley behind the store. 

“Maggie’s head popped up from the circle of book-stack pillars surrounding her. A few of her black curls frizzed out from her bun like a chaotic springy bow and her sweater swallowed her whole despite the relatively warm evening. “Babe,” Maggie placed her hands on your shoulders and grinned at you with a little too much teeth, “thorn in my side, light of my life.”

You lifted the large pair of acrylic glasses from Maggie’s nest of curls and then slipped them over her rounded nose with a reluctant sigh, “What?”

“Glasses. That was next on the agenda.” Maggie blinked owlishly behind her lenses as her eyes adjusted, and then they lit up with whatever it was she’d miraculously remembered, “I am so delighted to see you.”

“It’s Monday.” Gizmo curled around your leg and meowed pathetically until you bent down and lifted him onto you shoulder, “I work Mondays.”

Maggie rolled her eyes, “I’m aware; I made the schedule. The Concerta isn’t completely defective.”

You grinned a little, and Gizmo kneaded your chest in agreement, “So: You’re delighted to see me.”

Nodding rapidly, Maggie picked up a lavishly bound book from one of the stacks of new inventory. It was so tall that it reached her chin, and there were four more just like it in the back. “I need these stocked for realsies,” Maggie said, blowing off the thin layer of dust that had started to gather on the cover. She dropped the book back on top of the pile with a loud thump and carefully avoided knocking anything over on her way to the front of the store, “And I’m currently in the middle of a bidding war.”

“Haunted or historical?” you grabbed the clunky price gun off of the tarot card display.

“A little of both actually,” Maggie hummed, fiercely focused on the computer screen. Her nose was almost smashed against the monitor.

You set Gizmo down on the floor, patting his head tenderly when he let out a disgruntled whine and clawed at your thin knee socks. Eventually, the effort became too much for his poor paws to bear, and he waddled off towards one of his many nesting spots. “For you or for the store?” you pulled the stepladder away from the wall of stone runes and protection charms and plopped yourself down on the top step.

“For you, actually,” Maggie grinned a little and winked, “don’t say I never gave ya’ nothing.”

“Wonderful,” you dropped your chin into your cupped hands, “a poltergeist bonus.”

Maggie huffed and shoved the sleeves of her hand-knitted cardigan up to her elbows, “It’s not actually haunted. Not really. It’s like…a spirit router, basically. Whatever. It’ll make me feel better about you walking around with a rabid Cujo on the loose.”

“Aw,” you smirked good-naturedly and slapped a price tag on a book entitled ‘Heal the Witch Wound Inside’—$35.99, and for what? You were too amused to point out the redundancy of rabid Cujo. “You got me a guardian angel.”

“Trying to,” Maggie corrected her under her breath, “but MagikMike9917 is a persistent little bitch.”

You laughed and slid ‘Witch Wound’ into the self-help section, “Just get me a mini-taser; they come in some real cute cases now.”

“Mhm.” Maggie briefly glanced over in your direction and then abruptly whirled her head back towards the thick book in your hands, “Not that one.”

You narrowed your gaze as you examined the cover of the book more closely. You had to admit, it was beautiful. The leather was a deep burgundy, and the spine was hand stitched together with gold thread—but it was the carving on the front that really caught your attention. There were two wolves etched into the leather. Their howling snouts pointed towards the full moon above their heads, and their tails entwined around the roots of a large tree sprouting into the sky. Ornate symbols framed the borders of the scene, and a few scattered jewels glinted in the light. It must have taken at least a week to finish. 

You held up the book, your brow curved into a high arch, “This for me too? ‘Cause I’ve already seen The Witcher; pretty sure I got the gist.”

Rolling her eyes, Maggie reached blindly for her soup mug of passionflower and mugwort tea. The smell of it was truly rank, but you had grown accustomed to the musky bitterness over the years. “That one’s already sold. They should be dropping by to pick it up anytime now.” She raised her cup towards you, “I told you bestiaries are essential reading.”

“For dungeon masters, maybe,” you hummed as you studied the cover again. The red and citrine jewels in the wolves’ eyes seemed to be winking at you when the light hit them at the just right angle. 

“Which is an essential contribution to society,” Maggie punctuated her sentence with a loud slurp. 

Your lips gave way to a small grin as you set the book to the side. You’d stocked around half the stacks of books when the front door chimed for the first time since your shift started. You looked towards the door and squinted at the increasingly familiar smattering of freckles and moles, “Are you stalking me now? I will tell your dad; I’m not above snitching or stitches.” 

Stiles blinked a few times and then shook his head, holding up his hands, “I swear on my jeep this time it’s a coincidence. I ordered something here like a week ago.”

You folded your arms over your chest, “And your jeep is sacred, is it?”

Stiles nodded solemnly and rested his hand over his chest, “The sacredest.” 

If the muttered cursing and aggressive sipping was anything to go by, Maggie was too busy with her eBay war to be of any help with inventory. Stocking would have to wait. You stood up and glanced over Stiles’s shoulder, “Where’s your sidekick?”

Stiles squeezed one eye almost completely shut and looked off into the void with the other until realization dawned over his face, “You mean Scott?” He snorted and shot you a grin that was loaded with self-pity, “I’m usually the sidekick reference. Always, actually.” 

You nodded and looked down, searching for the culprit of the little head butting into your shin. Gizmo was probably the most ineffective, geriatric guard dog in the entire animal kingdom, but you appreciated the effort. You scooped him up into your arms so that he could better inspect the strange boy who’d invaded his den and nuzzled your nose against the black stripe on top of his head. “They do tend to never shut up.” 

Stiles looked like he wanted to argue—a frequent expression of you were beginning to realize—and then his shoulders slumped in defeat, “Holy shit, I’ve been type-casted.”

“You could do an arthouse film,” you tilted your head, “show people you’ve got range.”

Stiles nodded, considering the idea, “My charming wit and boyish good looks are really holding me back.” He stooped down to scratch behind Gizmo’s ears. Gizmo bristled for a moment, eyeing his hand suspiciously, but he eventually flopped back in your arms after a few curious sniffs. “No one takes me seriously.”

“Uh huh.” You watched Stiles pet Gizmo and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, trying to remember the last man Gizmo hadn’t bit. You couldn’t recall a single one. Warmth enveloped your face when Stiles looked up and met your gaze. He didn’t appear to think much of it, just turned his eyes towards the ground and stroked Gizmo’s little gray toes. 

You set Giz down, despite his pathetic protests, and turned towards the stockpile of inventory, fighting the urge to bite your nails to the quick, “So, what’d you order, boy wonder?” You looked over your shoulder when Stiles didn’t answer. He was smiling a little, mostly to himself, with his hands shoved in his pockets. Your brows quirked, “What?”

“Nothing.” He groaned a little when you kept looking at him, your brows still cocked, and then shrugged with his hands still fisted in his jacket pockets, “It’s just not so bad, the sidekick thing. It’s not so pathetic when you say it like that.”

You swallowed, a little startled by his honesty even though you were the one who’d insisted upon it. “Order?”

“Right,” he nodded a few times and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s a thickass book, wolves on the front, about yea big,” Stiles held his palms almost six inches apart from each other. “Please don’t make me say the name; I’m pretty sure it’s Latin.”

You grabbed the bestiary you’d set aside earlier and looked at the cover again; there was a small inscription just below the tree roots. “It’s Greek, actually.” You brushed your fingers over the indented letters, “φυσιολόγος.”

Stiles shook his head and took his frustration out on the air with a dramatic jerk of his hands, “In English?”

“The Naturalist,” your lips curled into a shrewd smile, “so sorry we don’t carry it in Japanese.”

Stiles pursed his lips and snatched the book out of your hands. “Hilarious. Truly. I don’t just watch anime, y’know. I also like…” he trailed off and scratched at the nape of his neck, “very cool, normal things.”

“Such as?” 

He pulled a face that was distinctly reminiscent of a little kid sticking their tongue out, “Such as shut your face.”

“Wow.” Shaking your head, you returned to your task of shelving books—this one was about the spiritual properties of mushrooms—and made a popping noise with your tongue against the top of your mouth, “You better hope there’s an English translation in there ‘cause consider my mouth officially shut.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Stiles continued quickly, words almost overlapping with the speed of his tongue, before you could take advantage of such low-hanging fruit, “I made sure I could read it before I bought it—being comprehensible is literally the least it can do for 50 bucks plus shipping.” He shook his head and held up the book, “Can you believe the library wouldn’t order it for me?”

“Imagine that,” you chided, “and with all the demand for vintage bestiaries too.”

He dropped his order on top of a rickety writing desk that supposedly belonged to a Beacon Hills’ heretic who died in the 1800s—at least, according to the tag hanging from one of the drawers and Maggie’s generous interpretation of her family history. “D&D is coming back in a big, big way,” Stiles pointed at you and winked with obnoxious flourish, “just you wait.”

You smirked, pointedly ignoring your recurrent childhood obsession with Egyptian and Roman mythology, and smacked the side of the price gun until the sticker tape unjammed, “My instinct is to make fun of you, but I’m afraid the hypocrisy will catch up with me.”

“What?” Stiles glanced around the store and smirked, “Are you one of those new-agey astrology, crystal nerds? How many fingers is my aura holding up right now?”

You gave him a flat look and reached for another book. “We don’t sell crystals, actually. They aren’t that common in ritualistic spell-casting.”

Stiles blinked slowly, “You’re joking.”

“Wish I was.” You still weren't entirely sure if Maggie actually believed in all this spiritualist-mythical bullshit. She contradicted herself constantly, and often said things just to make your face pinch in disbelief, but at the same time she still insisted that you keep a protection charm bundle under your bed. The smell of the divination tea, at the very least, was great at warding off unwanted chitchat. “Animal blood is the main ingredient in most of ‘em.”

“That’s…repulsive,” Stiles cringed, restless fingers meandering towards the shelves of books next to you. He pulled out a small illuminated grimoire and flipped through the yellowing pages, pulling a face every so often at some of the more unsavory hex materials. 

You pried the book from his fingers and slid it back into its correct slot. Maggie didn’t actually ask you to organize them; her exact words were, ‘Slap a sticker on ‘em and stick ‘em on a shelf,’ but the idea of such a chaotic setup haunted you until you finally reshelved them all with a revised, occult-specific Dewey Decimal System. “It’s actually just corn syrup and—”

“100% authentic dove juice,” Maggie interrupted from behind the front counter without removing her face from her monitor.

Stiles jerked his head to the side, evidently just realizing that there was someone else in the room with you, and then swiveled back to you with his face stretched out in a toothy grin, “That dove juice discount must save you, like, so much money.”

You watched Stiles, warily and wearily, reach for a meditation journal from one of the heaps by your legs, “I have to stock that.”

Stiles turned the journal over in his hands, “Lemme help.”

You huffed deeply and gestured to the diligently organized bookshelves, “I have a system.”

He gave a staunch shake of his head and hunched down so that he could read the small stickers on the spines, “I owe you—for covering for me.”

You took the journal from his hands and squatted down to the bottom shelf. You quickly found the guided meditation section and managed to squeeze the bulky notebook between ‘Walking the Pagan Path’ and ‘Warding Your Mind' with some aggressive wiggling. You looked up briefly and met Stiles’s eyeline. He was especially lanky from this angle. Lanky and soft, with his layers of sleeves and rounded features. You tucked a loose curl behind your ear and looked back at the line of jewel-toned spines, “How is he? Scott?”

“Better.” He tapped his fingers against the top of the bookshelf to a rhythmic beat that felt familiar, “Exposure therapy is a real pain in the ass.”

“I thought it was ‘low blood sugar.’”

“That too.” Stiles leaned over your head and grabbed another book, and you shivered the soft cotton hem of his jacket skimmed over your face. “He’s hemophobic and breakfastphobic,” he said as he handed you the book. You hummed softly in appreciation as he continued, “It’s a vicious cycle, actually. Dude would totally fall apart without me.”

“That’s nice.” You tipped your chin up towards him and grinned, “Totally bogus, but still nice.”

“I told you.” His smile was smug, but somehow still dopey enough to be charming, “I’m a nice guy.”

Your thighs started to ache from squatting in the same position for so long, so you dropped onto your knees, shivering as your bare skin pressed against the cold hardwood floor. “I’m still not sharing my sacrificial blood discount with you.”

“Guess I have to get a job here, then,” Stiles shrugged and leaned against the bookcase, jerking back a bit when he turned his head and came face-to-face with a yellow-eyed taxidermied owl. He turned it around until the glass eyes were safely pointed in the opposite direction and said, “That way I can drive you nuts all day long and become a master wizard.”

You clicked your tongue; the cluck rang with saccharinely sweet pity, “Sucks that you’re only qualified for the first part.”

“Yeah? How’d you get the job, then? You clearly don’t respect the craft.” Stiles ran his spindly fingers along a row of spines, and you wondered if he could play the piano. He certainly had the hands for it. 

“Mags knew my mom, so…” you chewed on your lip until the metallic tang of copper burst on the tip of your tongue. You abruptly returned your attention to shelving the Wicca section and fiddled with the spines until they were all perfectly in line with each other, “It’s more nepotism than anything else, but I do take the history books home sometimes.”

Stiles looked at you, and the prickling sensation of being seen started slithering through your nervous system again. It took you a few tries to get Greek and Roman Necromancy to slip into the small gap on the shelf in front of you. Stiles crouched down next to you. His mouth was twisted around a sly smile, but you could see the earnestness in his eyes, “Witch training?”

You grinned a little, grateful for the out, “Hardly. I just like the lore.”

“Yeah,” Stiles’ gaze drifted towards the book he ordered; the wolves’ gleaming eyes were almost hypnotic, “me too.” 

“I’d hope so, for 50 bucks.” you nudged his knee with your elbow, and he swayed precariously on his perched toes and then shot you a glare that lacked any actual malice. “There are cheaper D&D monster manuals, y’know.”

He snickered and elbowed you in the ribs, gently but his bony limbs were sharp and unforgiving, “I knew you were a nerd.”

You were tempted to rebut the accusation, but he already had far too much evidence to the contrary. At least, he didn’t know about your Data/Geordi fanfiction phase—and no one ever would, you thought darkly. You’d have to kill them, probably, or at the very least flee the country.

“At least I’m not a sucker.” You stood up and brushed off your socks, though there was nothing to be done about the red indentations on your kneecaps from kneeling on oak flooring for so long, “Just how easy would it be to convince you to drop another 50 on a replica Byzantine amulet?”

Stiles held out his hand, shaking it in the air incessantly for far too long. You tilted your head and tried not to smirk at his predicament. The longer you watched him struggle, the more pathetic his pleading became. Eventually, Stiles groaned and pushed himself onto his feet with exaggerated effort, “Obviously not very. Evil spirit didn’t even crack the top 20 on my suspect pool.”

“Got it.” You propped your arm on top of an antique guillotine, bent elbow crooked along the wooden pillory. Stiles stared at the rusted blade and then gawked at your arm. He looked like he was a few seconds away from shoving you out of the way, even though the edge was dull with age and safely secured to the iron frame with thick rope. Rolling your eyes, you stepped away from the antique and trailed your fingers over a less forbidding oddity. 

You spun the brass globe a few times and said, “So silver bullets, then? I’m sure there’s some kind of bulk-discount we can work out.”

Stiles’ eyes snapped to your face, “What?”

“You know,” you gestured towards the order he abandoned while buzzing after you like an especially tenacious mosquito, “for all the werewolves running around town. Thought you’d already know that, being a wannabe wizard n’all.” 

“Right.” Stiles’s jaw shut with a click as he ran his hand over his head, “Duh.” He rubbed at his bicep and swallowed a few times before clearing his throat, “Didn’t get to that chapter yet. Clearly, I’ve got a lot of studying to do before I graduate from apprentice to master.” 

You squinted at him, mulling over if you should call him out on his odd behavior or just chalk it up to his usual weirdness. Maggie materialized behind you before you could do either. She placed her hands on your shoulders, squeezing softly, and then shuffled you to the side so that she could join your little circle, “I’m strictly anti-gun violence; the NRA hates me—but we do carry wolfsbane essence.”

“Don’t say essence,” you grimaced.

“We have some wolfsbane goo in the back.” Maggie pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and pivoted back to you, “Happy?”

“Not even remotely.” You turned towards Stiles, finally grateful for his presence. Usually, you were on your own in your never-ending believer versus non-believer disputes, and Maggie was somehow under the impression that she wasn’t massively outnumbered beyond these four spooky walls. Oddly, Stiles looked lost in thought. The one time you needed his dismissive snark, and he just had to actually consider the opposing side.

“Is this like the dove juice thing?” Stiles watched Maggie’s face closely, astute eyes tracking every minute twitch and flicker in her expression. It was easy to make out all the different pieces of Sheriff Stilinski in his face like this. You could see the calculations running behind his eyes, the strings coming together, the chess pieces moving. The effect was startlingly piercing. “Or is this actually the real deal?”

You stared at him, face scrunched in bewilderment, but Maggie was undeterred, “We only sell the real deal in the back, to the honored few.”

Stiles looked towards you, his right brow raised. You sighed, folding your arms over your chest and flicking your hair over your shoulder, “Real useless, but…yeah. The plants are real I guess.”

Maggie winked, “I’ll even give you the friends and family discount.”

You scoffed, “We aren’t friends.”

Stiles frowned, momentarily distracted from his intense investigation of Maggie’s body language, “We aren’t?”

You licked your rapidly drying lips and shook your head slightly, more confused than indignant. Truth be told, you’d expected him to agree with you. You hadn’t known each other for long, and he seemed to be more interested in your connection to Lydia than forming one with you. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that he wanted to talk to you about anything else. It’d been a long time since anyone wanted to, that’s all. The friends who hugged you at the funeral, they stopped coming around a long time ago, and they still avoided you at school—like you were contagious, like you’d leak radiation and your misery would metastasize in their bone marrow. You still woke up crying sometimes, throat claggy with stubborn shadows, choking on the hollow bones of picked-apart memories—too busy shoveling dirt to consider tomorrow. 

You scratched at your arm absently and rolled your eyes, slowly, so that everyone could see how utterly unaffected you were, “It’s a couple hundred bucks for a few millimeters of emulsified weeds. If we were friends, I wouldn’t even let you buy something so stupid.”

Stiles’s frown quickly curved into a crooked grin, boyishly charming and vexingly sure, “Sounds like that’s exactly what you’re trying to do.”

Maggie reappeared through the door to the back room, locking it with one of the many keys dangling from her strawberry lanyard. You didn’t have a clue when she’d disappeared to begin with, but the vial clutched in her hand was far more interesting. It was filled with a thick purple liquid, so dark it was almost black. Maggie held it out to Stiles and laughed at his inquisitive stare, “It’s on the house this time, ‘cause you’re such good friends with my darlingest girl.”

Eventually, Stiles took the vial from her hand. “Yeah, darling,” Stiles smirked and rolled the vial between his long fingers, “‘cause we’re such good friends.” The liquid sloshed slowly, a little like a lava lamp, and you kind of wanted to stuff it down his throat.

“Careful with that,” Maggie blinked at you behind her thick lenses. She wasn’t grinning or winking. It was a little eerie to see her so still, like her body had been snatched by a pod person and it was trying to mimic casual human behavior. “It's potent stuff. Shish-kebab a were with that, and they’ll be dead by sunrise—humans too, obviously, so please don’t stick it in your mouth.”

“If you can even get that close,” Stiles muttered to himself as he held the vial up to his pinched gaze.

“To a werewolf,” you deadpanned, looking between the two of them, searching their faces for any indication of irony. Bat-shit. Your grand total of two friends were both certifiably batty.

Stiles was too busy looking at the back of Maggie’s head to absorb your mockery. Your brow furrowed at the intensity of his stare until your attention was diverted to the dusky orange cast over his skin. You glanced out the window; daylight was rapidly fading. Was it really already almost 8:30? “You should probably head home,” you raised your chin towards the door, “if you don’t want to run into the big bad wolf with a purple goo heavy arsenal.” 

He let out a little laugh, more like a breath really, and muttered, “You have no idea.” Your forehead crinkled as you parsed over whatever the hell that meant, and Stiles shoved the book he ordered into his already overcrowded backpack. “I’ll see you at school.”

Your chin bobbed as you gave him a little nod. You lifted Gizmo from his bed of tasseled meditation cushions, for your own comfort this time, and nosed into his matted fur. Maybe, Stiles was just…really into larping, or maybe he was just…a really dedicated collector of supernatural keepsakes—because there was absolutely no way that you just naturally attracted delusional conspiracy theorists. You’d already met your quota of one the moment you were born. 

“Get home safe.” Stiles’s voice pulled your face from Gizmo’s neck. He lingered against the doorframe, clutching his backpack strap. The corner of his mouth cocked into a tight smile, “No more dead batteries after dark, okay? I’ll kick your ass if you get eaten.”

You took a moment to smile, but once you did, it unfurled over your entire face like sunset coating the store in a golden glow. The corners of your eyes crinkled as you shook your head a little, “I’ll try to restrain myself from killing any more cars.”

“Friends,” Stiles grinned and pointed at you, “we’re totally friends.” He ducked out the door before you had the chance to disagree, but you couldn’t decide if you really wanted to this time. 

You almost dropped Gizmo when Maggie bumped you with your hip. “Who the hell was that?” 

“Stiles. He’s…” you waved your hand in the air and eventually settled on, “a friend.”

Maggie stroked the gray fluff on Gizmo’s cheek, cooed when he rubbed his face against her palm, and then pursed her lips, “Uh huh.”

You shrugged and buried your nose in Gizmo’s neck again, taking solace in the fact that at least half of your face was hidden by silver fur, “So he’s more like a fungus in my life.”

Maggie’s grin was insufferable. Her cheeks dimpled, and her eyes nearly disappeared into happy little crescent moons, “Uh huh.”

You glowered at a stuffed crow perched on top of a water-logged armoire; there was a shine in its beaded eyes that appeared a lot like laughter. “You are the single most irritating person I have ever met.”

It was an admirable trait, never getting upset, never getting offended—but at the moment you wished that Maggie wasn’t so idealistic. She simply gave you a smile that was annoyingly wrought with meaning and took Gizmo from your arms. “Whoever the hell he is, he’s right. Get your ass home before the Wolf Man bites it.”

Maggie wiggled her fingers in the air, and you shoved them away from your face. “I’m going. I’m going.” You paused at the door, gave the store one last look and Gizmo a little good-bye wave, “Seriously, mini-taser, Mags. Prime shipping’s gotta be faster than the spirit realm.” At the very least, a taser might actually have a chance against whatever carnivore was hell-bent on ruining your sophomore year.

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter twenty : like real people do (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 8.4k

summary : princess and din spend another day together, chasing a feeling of normalcy

warnings, etc. : language, angst, slight discussions of pregnancy, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, oral f!receiving, soooo much talking during sex, dom/sub vibes, a lot of sex

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

Mando and Din. 

All you can think about right now is how there must be two of them. 

You’re playing with his curls. His snores bounce off the walls of the closet and his head rests against your chest as you let your fingers comb through his hair.

Mando has always taken. (Not that you mind.) But Din liked to give. 

Is it selfish to want both?

If it is then you might just be a selfish person. How could you not? You’ve been presented with a man who has quite literally made a point to worship you, a man who is your heart. Your kar’ta.

Maybe you could tease him into man-handling you today. It probably wouldn’t be hard to do, not that you don’t love how gentle he was with you last night, it just made you hungry.

Hungry for more of him. 

And if you’re being selfish, you might as well admit to yourself that you want it all.   

You want it all.

No shame in thinking about it. 

You want to walk through the street holding his hand, you want to worship him the way he worships you, and you want to wake up like this. Skin against skin, tangled in the sheets.

You want to be his, and for him to be yours.

You want everything. 

You want people to know that he is yours.

Maybe someday you want kids.

None of these things are practical. You know that, but you can want them.

“He isn’t going to touch you. Ever again. I never should have let him in the first place.”

Din doesn’t want to share. Maybe he won’t. He’s clearly capable of things, maybe he really can protect you from your husband. 

It’s a nice dream.

Speaking of nice dreams, he stirs a little in his sleep, his hands slide across your spine, under you as his snores stutter for a moment before leveling back out.

His face is pressed against your chest and you can feel his breath on your flesh, occasionally his lips move against you as he mumbles to no one. You let your hands roam a little, to give you a vague outline of him. 

There’s a prominent scar on the back of his head, a thin line with a slight indent where his hair doesn’t grow. 

Letting your fingers gently graze down his neck you can feel the mess of curls there, all of varying lengths. Maybe someday he’d let you cut his hair for him. In all honesty though, that’s the one thing you don’t want from him. 

Or at least you don’t need it.

You care about him too much to want to see his face. Sure you’re curious but you’d never ask for such a thing. 

His back and shoulders have it the worst. You can feel the lines that stick out on his skin and indents from old wounds healed over. It’s still a little surprising how much bulk the armor adds. He’s remarkably broad but considerably more lithe than you ever would have thought. And he’s softer. You know what he’s capable of, obviously he’s a former bounty hunter, he’s toned but there’s something about him that’s soft.

His skin is soft, the way he holds you is gentle, like he’s being careful.

Would he allow you to see his body? 

You’ve seen parts already, his hands, and other things. But now that you can feel all of the scars he has you’d like to see them, and ask him how he got them. 

You wish you knew what time it was. How much time you have left like this, perfect and undisturbed. But there’s responsibilities. One of them being the fact that you have dinner with Kodo tonight. Almost as if he sensed your distress his snores stop and he presses a kiss against your breast. 

“Is it morning sarad?” His voice is thick with sleep.

“I think so.” You manage to mumble back. 

“What do you want to do today?” He yawns as he says it and lifts himself off of you briefly, when he lays back down you feel steel against your skin and his voice is modulated. 

“I thought we could go back into the city.” You let your hand settle between his shoulder blades. “I wanted to help out the woman I met yesterday. She was telling me about her daughter's store.”

“Mhmm.” 

“And then I have dinner with Kodo.” 

He doesn’t have a response to that but you note that his entire body tenses up. 

It makes you want to do something for him. 

To remind him that you care for him as much as he cares for you. And to make him forget that at the end of every week he has to escort you back to your husband.

“And after that I thought maybe we could go to your cabin if that’s alright.” 

He relaxes the tiniest bit. 

“That’s more than alright.” His hands start to move down, from your hips to your thighs. “What did you want to do once we got there?” 

“I have a little surprise for you.” You gasp out as he squeezes your thighs, sitting up on his knees to get a better angle. 

“What do you want to do before all that?”

Him.

Stay like this forever.

Ignore the knocking on your bedroom door.

Kriff.

The girls. 

You’re sitting up in an instant, scrambling around in the darkness, trying to find your discarded nightie. Thankfully he senses your panic as he flips the switch for the lamp, dimly illuminating the closet as you hear the girls start milling about the main room. 

You find the thin white fabric slipping it on quickly before stumbling to your feet. Din seems to be in a state of shock, sitting still in the silence so you grab the first dress you find. 

“Just- shit, just stay here, I’ll come get you when they’re gone.” Is all you whisper before you rush out, quickly shutting the closet door behind you, the girls staring at you in silence. 

“Good morning, my lady.” Elaine speaks first, her voice hesitant as she takes in your disheveled form. Thankfully they waste no time getting you into your routine, in the light of the main room you get a good look at yourself in the mirror as they change you into new undergarments. 

It’s not a great look. 

You know that. 

You aren’t wearing panties and your thighs are littered with bite marks. Both the girls gawk at you and there really is nothing to say so you don’t bother. There’s no possible excuse for this. They dress you in silence, at one point Elaine laughs but covers it with a cough. 

Other than that everything seems to be going smoothly until you see Lysa going towards the closet to fetch you some shoes and you nearly tumble out of your chair at the vanity as you turn around to stop her. 

“No!” Everyone freezes in place and you can feel your face getting hot as you stumble over your words. “Sorry, I just- I-I’ll get them. Thank you though, but I’ll get them.” There’s a long moment of silence before they both look to the closet and then back at you. 

“...Okay?” Elaine says it like she’s trying to calm you as you frantically look between the two of them. 

You really know how to make a bad situation worse. They finish dressing you quickly, the dress you grabbed is rather pretty. A dark red top contrasting a long champagne tulle skirt with stars all along the bottom. If you weren’t currently so flustered you’d probably admire it more. 

They work swiftly on your hair and makeup, leaving it as simple as possible before rushing out. Once they’re in the hall you can hear them whispering and laughing, you hear Lysa say something about how the Mandalorian is not at his post outside your door. 

Your face is getting hot all over again and it doesn’t help when the second they’re gone the closet door swings open and Din steps out, already back in all of his armor. 

It’s like you have a school yard crush on him as you stare at him, twisting your hands a bit in front of you. 

You had been tangled in each other's bodies not even an hour ago yet you’re flustered just staring at him.

Not wanting to make a fool of yourself by stumbling over your words you just turn on your heel and head out the door, with him following closely behind. 

“Leo!” You yell, the moment you close the door behind you, the Mandalorian standing firmly at your side as Leodall hurries towards you, bowing.

“Good morning, ma’am, how can I help you?”

You give him a polite smile.

“I’m going to be going into the city today, I’d like some credits please.” With that he rushes off and you stand in the hall, staring at Din with a smile.

“You’re going to run the royal family's funds dry at this rate.” He whispers, bumping his shoulder against yours. 

“What a shame that would be.” You mutter back as Leo makes his hasty return, handing you the coin purse which you hand off the Din, Leo rushing away in the opposite direction. 

★

You go through the usual routine of getting your trackers and you eagerly step out of the gates into the street. Din dismisses the speeder to your delight as you begin to walk through the street, it’s still rather early and it seems like most vendors are heading towards the market streets or opening their shops, you make an effort to smile and wave at as many people as possible. 

While you walk he matches your speed, staying next to you but not touching you, he leans down to whisper. 

“You look nice.” The rasp in his voice makes you tingly as you feel your face getting hot. He sounds like he’s still waking up.

“Thank you.” You whisper back, not bothering to lean towards him, knowing he’ll hear you. 

It’s the dumbest thing to get all hot and bothered about but outside of sex he doesn’t really compliment you like that, it feels… normal. Like something a normal couple would do. 

You make a beeline towards what you know to be the woman you met yesterday’s store. Din stays close behind you as you push open the shop door, a little bell jingles as you step into what appears to be a standard supermarket, you recognize the woman at the front counter to be Vivian’s daughter, giving her a smile you approach, asking where Vivian is and being taken towards the back, Din stays silent as he follows. 

In the back storage rooms you’re pleased to find the older woman at a table along with a small surprise waiting for you.

“You actually came back?” She’s got a shocked grin on her face as you sit next to her at the table where she appears to be putting labels on different fruits and vegetables. 

“Of course I did, I said I would.” You smile at her before smiling at the toddler in her lap, you recognize him from yesterday, one of the younger boys playing with your Mandalorian, the one who kept drooling on Din’s armor, you give him a small wave. “Hello, little one.” 

He waves back at you, currently drooling on an apple slice and what appears to be a permanent frown plastered on his face. 

You look at Din, holding out your hand for the coin purse, he places it in your palm before taking his place behind your chair, keeping his hands on the back of it. 

“Here, I brought this for you.” You set the bag onto the table in front of her and she seems a little taken aback. 

“Your highness, we can’t take this, you’re very kind but, it’s too much.” She pushes the bag back in your direction. 

“I insist, really.” You give her a reassuring smile as she cuts another slice of apple, handing it to the boy you assume to be her grandson. 

“I can’t just take your money…” She seems unsure still as she stares at it. 

“Yes, you can, we have too much of it anyway.” She still looks a bit hesitant so you try your best to put her at ease, it’s probably off putting, to have royalty show up at your place of business and offer you money without asking for anything in return. “Think of it as a purchase, I need a few things, this should cover everything and you can consider the rest as a tip.” This seems to convince her as she nods slowly. 

“If you insist, princess.” 

You grin at her.

“I do, insist.” You find yourself staring at the toddler, you haven’t gotten to interact with a baby since you left home, watching him makes you miss your younger siblings as you look back up at Vivian. “Would it be alright if I held him?” She lifts him up under his arms, passing him over the table to you.

“Say hello to the princess, Theodore.” She says, setting him in your lap. 

He doesn’t seem inclined to greet you but he doesn’t seem inclined to do anything other than drool, but he doesn’t protest now that you’re holding him which fills you with a sense of accomplishment as you carefully bounce him in your lap. 

“Hello, Theodore.” You whisper, leaning down a bit so you can see his face better, he has a few teeth that appear to be coming in as he chews, his wide eyes meet yours as he gives you a curious look. One of his chubby little hands grips your wrist and you can’t help but stare up at Din. The helmet is tilted down, watching you intently. “Isn’t he just the cutest thing?” You continue to gently bounce your knee as Vivian hands him another apple slice before looking up at the Mandalorian. 

“Would you like to hold him?” The moment she says it you’re turning in your seat, picking up the baby and holding him towards Din who’s starting to protest but you’ve already pressed Theodore into his arms. 

“Perfect, you can hold him while I help Vivian.” You give him a smirk before turning back around in your chair, you can hear Din sigh as you look away. “What do you need me to do?” 

She shows you what goes where, you just have to follow the labels and put the correct stickers onto the matching product. It’s busy work but you really don’t mind it, you’ve spent weeks upon weeks in the castle with a few small trips out, you consider any change from your routine to be a blessing. She seems a little shocked that you would leave the castle to do this kind of thing and you once again have to reassure her a few times as you start.

“Once we finish this up can you help me find a few things?” You ask, labeling a carton of berries. 

“Of course, princess.” 

You sit for a few more minutes, enjoying the peace as a radio in the corner plays a soft tune. 

“Careful now ik’aad.” You hear Din mumbling behind you, when you turn to look at him he’s got Theodore cradled in one arm, his free hand pokes at the little one's stomach as he chubby little fingers pull on his glove. He doesn’t even seem to notice you as the little boy tugs his glove off completely, his bare hand ruffles Theodores curls. “It isn’t wise to steal from a bounty hunter.” The boy finally cracks a smile and you feel a sorrow settling in your stomach. 

That is what you want. The sense of domesticity you feel watching him hold this baby, you can physically see the paternal instinct coming off of him.

Is he thinking about his own little one? 

“Can you help me put that back on, ad?” He whispers, Theodore shoves the glove back onto Din’s hand, missing his pinky, letting out a high pitched laugh that fills the room. 

You turn back to the table, you can’t bear to watch anymore. 

Pick up a fruit. Put a sticker on it. Ignore the little giggles behind you. Repeat. 

You manage that, ignoring the question that is now demanding your attention. You keep it pushed down and locked away, until suddenly, and without warning the exact thing you’re trying to ignore is asked. 

“Do you want children someday, princess?” Vivian’s voice snaps you out of your little work routine and you realize you’re nearly done labeling everything. 

Kriff, think of an answer. Obviously she’s implying children you would have with Kodo but you know that your answer is going to be noted by the man who is standing silently behind you now. You can practically feel Din anxiously waiting for you to answer. 

Certainly it’s too soon to think about kids with Din. 

Right?

Your time with him sort of melts together, it’s only been a couple of months since you met him but it feels like so much more considering the fact that you spend every waking moment together. 

But your relationship is technically undefined. 

For Maker’s sake you haven’t even said I love you, you can’t think about kids. 

Shit, do you love him? 

You’re gonna give yourself a headache, focus on the kid thing first before you give yourself another impossible to answer question.

Kids with Din wasn’t even a possibility a week ago, but now? This is obviously more than casual, he’s made that pretty clear with his several declarations of devotion to you. You wouldn’t want to have kids here, you couldn’t have kids here. You don’t even want to think about what Kodo would do if you were pregnant after never consummating your marriage with him. 

Of course you could wait until Kodo wanted heirs.

The thought makes you cringe.

But you could wait, and take a gamble, there would be no guarantee as to who’s children you’d be carrying though. Of course you’d know once they came out either blonde little monsters or brunette with pretty little noses. 

Now you’re thinking about little ones with your eyes and messy brown curls. 

And suddenly you’re filled with fear for your hypothetical child when you think of what your husband's reaction to babies that look nothing like him would be. 

No kids. 

At least not here. Maybe in another life, on another planet, you could have your little brunette babies. And a partner who doesn’t terrify you. 

“Ma’am?” Vivian once again snaps you back to reality, how long have you been staring at the table, Din is directly behind you now, his hand hovers over your shoulder, not actually touching you. 

“Sorry, what were you saying?” You clear your throat when your voice cracks. Din drops his hand but not before gently brushing his fingertips against you, it’s the most comfort he can give you with someone else present. 

“I was wondering if you wanted children someday.” She says it patiently, like she knows this question has you in mental turmoil. 

Answer honestly. 

“I haven’t really thought about it. Maybe, someday, Kodo isn’t really ready for kids yet.” It’s a shitty answer, and you kind of think Din deserves a better one but it’s true. You decide you don’t want kids if you’d have to have them here. If you were somewhere else and it was just you and Din then yes, maybe you’d give it a shot, but you have a husband here, so you’d never take that risk, not if it meant risking the lives of any babies who don’t bear a resemblance to Kodo. 

She doesn’t press further and you finish labeling everything in silence, once you’re done you help her stand. Leaning in to whisper to her.

“Would it be okay if Mando watches the baby for a few minutes while you help me with something?” You need to keep him distracted while you do this. 

“I think that would be fine.” She grins, the two of you starting to leave the storage room while he grumbles something about not being a babysitter as he follows, Theodore still held in the crook of one of his arms. 

Exactly as you’d hoped Theodore seems to get distracted by something, driving Mando to fall behind as you walk arm in arm with Vivian through the aisles. 

“I’m trying to make a dessert I got in the markets.” You keep your voice low and hushed. “It was sort of like a snack cake, I’m pretty sure it was vanilla and maybe cinnamon? I have a cookbook at home but I didn’t have time to grab it this morning.” She nods as you speak.

“I think I know what you’re looking for.” She points you towards a few different things, mostly essentials that you know you won’t have access to, it’s rather simple, flour, sugar, eggs, vanilla extract, and a few other things. Eventually Din catches up but Theodore appears to have found a burst of energy and keeps him busy once he sets him down and ends up chasing him through the aisles. Once you have everything she helps you check out, putting everything into cloth bags as you exchange pleasantries with Theodore’s mother, until Din walks over holding the little boy with purple stained lips in one arm and his other hand holds a carton of blueberries. 

“He got into these.” Stoic and professional as ever in public, he hands the giggling boy to his mother before setting the carton into your bags, placing a handful of credits onto the counter for them before gathering your things in his arms. Vivian tries to hand him his money back but he’s already out the door. You give her an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, he’s not much of a talker, I had a wonderful time today, thank you for keeping me company.” You take her hand in yours, the corners of her eyes crinkle as she smiles at you.

“You’re welcome anytime, princess. We were honored to host a member of the royal family.” You give her hand a reassuring squeeze before giving Theodore a wave. 

“Good bye, Theo, I’ll visit soon.” He gives you a hesitant wave as you exit the shop, joining Din out on the sidewalk. 

“Did you get everything you needed?” He’s dropped that stern tone of voice.

His Mando voice. He’s Din again. 

“Yes, I think I’m good, I’ll need you to put all of that in your cabin.” You gesture towards the bags as you start walking. 

“Excuse me?” He easily matches your stride.

“I just want to try something. Can you just do this one thing for me without asking any questions?” You turn to stare at him and he doesn’t speak for a few moments but he nods. “Thank you.” 

★

When you arrive back at the castle it’s just after noon, you promise to stay in your chambers until Din returns after taking the groceries to his cabin.

If everything goes according to plan you’ll go to the library for a few hours until dinner time, you’ll get through dinner as quickly as possible. And once that’s taken care of, Din will sneak you out to the cabin for a few hours.

You’ve got several hours before you’ll need to do any of that though. And currently your mind is wandering a bit. You’ve had a mentally exhausting morning and there’s one specific thing you’re sure would help you relax. You want to not think about the many questions that are currently plaguing your mind. So you think of a less exhausting question.

Is he still going to be weird about having sex? 

Is he going to need you to really want it everytime?  

You always want it. If he’d give it to you all the time you’d never leave your room. If you ask him when he returns would he lock the door and take you right here in the middle of the day? 

It’s not like you haven’t had sex in the middle of the day. 

That gives you an idea. 

If this works you won’t have to beg him, you’ll just get him worked up until he takes it. And you know exactly what to do to get him to take it. It worked previously to get him all bothered so why not try again. 

When he returns you’ve got one of the books you bought yesterday under your arm and you give him an innocent smile.

“Library?”

He has one of the books he picked for himself in his hand. 

“Library.”

You try not to seem too eager as you walk rather quickly there. As always it’s eerily empty and you rush over to your nook. Leaving him plenty of space to sit next to you, which he does. You set your book in your lap so he can get a good look at it. 

Bound in Beskar. 

You stifle a laugh as you stare at the cover art of a woman in a loose fitting dress pressed against the chest of a Mandalorian. This Mandalorian’s armor is a mix of colors, the helmet reminds you of Din’s but the rest of the armor is a chestnut brown except for one of the pauldrons which is half blue and half tan.

“You can’t be serious.” He turns to stare at you and you grin. 

“What? It looks like a good book.” You feign innocence, opening up the book, delighted to find it’s as kitschy as you had hoped it would be. A story about a Mandalorian blacksmith and a woman in town who becomes employed by him. You ignore him completely, hoping he’ll take the bait but he just opens his own reading, so you rest your head on his pauldron and read. 

At the very least you’ll get to enjoy the book. 

Which you do for the better part of an hour. You’re so engrossed by the campy romance you don’t even notice when Din stops turning pages in his own book, sitting completely still next to you. 

Until you flip to a page where the blacksmith bends the protagonist over the anvil, he finally shifts a little in his seat, clearing his throat yet when he speaks his voice is husky and dangerous. 

“You really want to do this?” 

Yes. Probably more than anything. 

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“For someone who claims that I’m constantly plotting to get the upper hand on them you do a lot of scheming.” His hand is on your waist. 

You don’t have a response. Just a big stupid grin on your face. 

“You’re terrible. How many hours a day do you spend masterminding different ways to lure me into bed?” He squeezes your waist, pulling you a little closer. 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You scoff, although he may have a point. 

“I’m starting to think that you take me for a common whore.” His voice keeps getting softer and softer, you instinctively lean closer to him. 

“You’re distracting me from my book.” You whisper back to him.

“Fine, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” That’s the last thing he says before standing up and you’re about to apologize for taking it too far when he kneels on the floor in front of you.

There’s a solid moment of silence before he speaks again. 

“If it’s so important, then keep reading.” 

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. 

You stare at the pages. trying to ignore the way he plays with the hem of your skirt.

Focus on the book. 

The Mandalorian in the book doesn’t have a name, coincidentally he goes by Mando. You couldn’t be happier about it. 

“Such a pretty dress.” He murmurs. You don’t dare stop reading to respond to him. Focusing on the smut in front of you, it doesn’t seem practical to chain someone to an anvil the way it’s done in the story. 

You’re trying to logistically imagine how one would weld another person's cuffs to an anvil without hurting them in the process when you freeze, hearing a hiss of air. 

“Keep your eyes on the pages.” You don’t dare move. Watching in your peripherals as he lifts the helmet off. 

In broad daylight. 

Where anyone could walk in. 

You focus on the words, you aren’t comprehending them in the slightest but you do everything in your power to make sure you see nothing. 

You decide to just close your eyes, it isn’t worth the risk. 

His hands push your skirt up to your waist, exposing your bottom half to him, his hand pushes your thighs apart and he hums softly in approval, admiring the marks he left there the previous night. 

“Now, I want you to be good and read your book for me, sarad, okay?” His hands guide the book up in front of you and you slowly open your eyes, he’s got you holding it close enough to your face that you can’t see him. 

He doesn’t wait for a response, he just hooks a finger around your panties, tugging them down quickly, removing them completely. You’re holding your breath in anticipation, waiting for the mouth that never comes. 

“Tell me about the book.” You feel him rest his head on your thigh.

“What?” He can’t be serious.

“The book you so badly wanted to read, tell me about it.”

He’s staring at your pussy and he wants to do this. Fine, if it gets you what you want, you have such little dignity left regarding your relationship with him at this point, why not? 

“The Mandalorian in it is a blacksmith, they call him an armorer…” You start hesitantly but once you get halfway through the first sentence he drags his tongue between your folds, drawing a sharp gasp from you, the moment you stop, he stops. 

He’s mean. 

You like that he’s mean. 

“He makes armor for all the other Mandalorians.” 

One hand pushes your thigh up a little more while the other spreads you open. 

“And the woman needed a job so she-” 

Without warning his lips wrap around your clit, you know better than to stop talking. 

“S-she takes a job in his shop, and then, kriff, she knocks something over-” 

He’s in no rush. He briefly sucks directly on your clit before moving down a bit, plunging his tongue into your weeping cunt. 

“Fuck, Din.” And just like that he’s pulled back. You almost throw the book in frustration but you can’t even do that because you might see something. “Come on…” You whine softly.

“Already with the complaining?” You hear him tsk quietly, his hand squeezing the meat of your thigh. “I’ve barely started.” 

“You’re being an ass.” You grumble.

“And you need to be taught a lesson.” His hand lifts briefly before slapping your thigh, the loud smack is a stark juxtaposition to the silence of the shelves. 

“What lesson?” 

His hand reaches up over your book pointing at the pages. 

“That if you want something, you need to ask for it. Now, tell me about your book.” 

The nerve of him, to tell you that you have to really want it and then days later tell you that all you had to do was ask. You’d tell him off right now, maybe even return the slap if you weren’t so turned on right now. 

You sigh.

“She knocks something over in his workshop.” 

He picks up right where he left off, his tongue pushes inside of you and you swallow your moan as his free hand starts to work your clit. 

“It’s nothing important, it's just like a- ah, a hammer or, or something.” 

He’s drawing slow circles onto that bundle of nerves, you’re embarrassed to say that he’s rapidly working you towards an orgasm already. Who gave him the right to know just how to push your buttons.

“And he gets mad, he b-bends her over his knee-” 

He switches, dragging his tongue upwards to your clit while plunging a gloved finger into your cunt. 

“D-dank farrik- and he spanks her, for- fuck- for dropping the, the thing.” 

He hums against you, the vibration has your thighs squeezing around his head, he doesn’t seem to mind, the hand that isn’t currently trying to fit a second finger into you throws one of your legs over his shoulder, wrapping his arm around it to keep you in place. 

“And, and, and- the next day she knocks something over ag- Din!” 

He pulls his fingers out completely before shoving them back into you. You don’t bother looking at the pages anymore, you let your head fall back, leaning against the glass of the window behind you.

“She knocks another one of his- his tools over to get him t-to spank her again. Shit, m-my eyes are closed.” You toss the book to the side, squeezing your eyes shut and letting your fingers tangle themselves in his hair. “He bends her over the anv- Maker, the anvil, and I don’t know what happens next, I haven’t gotten that far, d-don’t stop, please.” 

Thank the gods he doesn’t stop, he seems to be too content with his efforts to stop now. But just to make sure he doesn’t you keep rambling.

“M’sorry, for not telling you what I- what I wanted.” You’re mostly gasps at this point as you tug at his curls, trying to pull him closer while he methodically pushes his fingers in and out of you. And Maker that tongue.

It’s a good thing he has the creed because if he didn’t you’d spend all day on his tongue. 

He’s eagerly lapping at your clit, tracing different shapes against you, the constant stimulation has your back arching, your admission of guilt has him working faster than ever. 

“Next time… I’ll ask, p-promise.” You groan, fuck, you’ll ask right now, it’s basically a habit at this point. “Can I cum? Please, Din, can I?” 

He doesn’t pull off, too focused on what he’s doing but he mumbles something against you that sounds like yes so you chase that high. 

It doesn’t take long and you’re seeing stars, one of your hands detaches from his hair to cover your mouth as his name forces its way out of your throat. You’re vaguely aware of his tongue licking up your remaining wetness before pulling off of you, your eyes are still closed but his hand leaves your thigh and comes up to cover them. 

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” His lips crash against yours as you taste yourself on him.

There’s those words again. You’re about to ask him what they mean but he starts kissing down your face, moving from your lips to your chin to your jaw. Finally settling at your throat.

“Don’t go to dinner.” He’s whispering against the skin of your neck.

He could convince you to do just about anything right now. 

“Okay.” You whisper back, he doesn’t respond, did he hear you? You nod instead which seems to register with him.

“Tell him you don’t feel well.” He places a soft kiss on the column of your throat. 

“I will.” 

★

And that’s exactly what you do.

Once you’ve caught your breath you return to your chambers, summoning Leo and tell him you’re feeling a bit under the weather, and won’t be attending dinner with Kodo tonight. He protests a bit until finally you mention having lady troubles and his face gets an even darker shade of orange before he scurries off. 

And then you say goodbye to Din. With a whispered promise to see him soon. 

A part of you thinks someones going to come fetch you, and force you down to dinner but no one ever does. You told Din to wait two hours just in case but the first hour passes and nothing happens so you rush to the closet to change. It’ll be considerably easier to sneak you in and out if you aren’t in a shimmering gown. You manage to get out of the dress after a few minutes of struggling.

You find the pants you set aside. Happily tugging on a pair of gray trousers and a white cotton tunic. 

You’ve still got at least half an hour before he’ll be back so you search for the cookbook of desserts, it only takes a few minutes for you to find the snack cakes that he likes, folding the corner of the page you set it aside.

Next order of business.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

Find out what that means. 

You go to the pile of books, looking for the translation book you bought but you can’t find it. You double check every title but it’s gone.

The bastard must have taken it. 

“Son of a-” You start to grumble to yourself but the door swings open, and there he is. “You’re early, and you’re a thief.” You march over to the bed, grabbing the cookbook as he holds the door open for you.

“I missed you.” He murmurs. “And I have no idea what you mean.” 

He missed you.

Maybe you can forgive him for taking your book. 

“Fine. Let’s go.” 

You move quickly, he checks around corners before hurrying you forward in silence throughout the dark halls of the castle. You exhale loudly once you make it outside through the exit you use to get to the gardens. He holds a hand out to you but you hesitate to take it.

“What if someone sees from a window?” 

“It’s dark, they won’t be able to tell it’s us, it could be anyone.” It doesn’t reassure you completely but you take his hand nonetheless, walking through the darkness you quickly realize he’s right, you can’t see your feet in front of you as you stumble onward and you’re suddenly glad to have him guiding you. Walking in silence for a few minutes.

“So what’s this surprise you’ve got planned?” He gently squeezes your hand as you feel the terrain below your feet change, indicating you’re off of the lawn and onto the trail in the woods. 

“Promise not to laugh?”

It’s starting to remind you of the birthday you surprised him with and you’re feeling more and more stupid the closer you get to the cabin. 

“You know I can’t promise that.” He lets your arms gently swing back and forth.

“Then I’m not telling you.”

“Fine. I promise not to laugh.” He chuckles as he says it and you hope he sees your scowl in the darkness. 

“I was gonna bake something for you. Just so we could, I don’t know it’s dumb, but we can try and feel like a normal couple for a few hours.” You say it as quickly as possible, to just get it out of the way.

His arm stops swinging, he’s pulling you along now and you feel dread washing over you from his lack of a response. 

“Or we can do literally anything else, it doesn’t really matter to me…” You add quickly. You’re about to keep on rambling just to fill the silence but he scoops you up into his arms, you hear the sound of his boots stepping into water and it’s only a few more seconds before you hear the creak of the door followed by wood floors beneath your feet. He flips the switch that turns the lamps around his home on.

“I would love it if you baked something.” He finally says. He almost sounds choked up but you aren’t sure, and decide not to press as he sits at the table, removing his boots, setting them by the door to dry, you head towards the kitchenette, getting the things you purchased out of the cupboards and out on the counter. Opening the book as you read the recipe, hearing the clunk of his armor being removed behind you. 

You don’t have a lot of kitchen experience but it seems easy enough. Once you start mixing things in a large bowl you find he comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder. 

“Do you need help?” He sounds at peace. 

You want him to sound like this all the time.

“No, this is your surprise, go sit down.” You turn your head to smile at him, he’s down to just his flight suit and helmet as he retreats to the kitchen table.

When you check the ingredient list again you turn to check on him, he doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself, like he doesn’t know how to relax. 

You ask yourself a question you’ve wondered before. 

Who takes care of him?

All he does is take care of you, who’s taking care of him?

Has anyone taken care of him? Ever? 

You need to get him to relax, even just a little. So you start with a joke.

“You’re still mean during sex.” You crack an egg as you say it and you thankfully get a chuckle from him.

“And you still like it.”

“Clearly I’m not the only one who likes it.” You turn to face him, bowl in one arm, wooden spoon in the other as you mix. “You’re lucky I’m so good at doing what you like, what would you do without me?” You grin at him before turning back around, grabbing the cupcake tin you found, it isn’t the exact shape you neeed but it’s the closest thing he has. 

“Really? I didn’t realize it required a lot of skill to sit still and take it.” He taunts, you resist turning around and throwing something at him. 

“It’s harder than what you do. Believe it or not it isn’t easy to try and maintain your dignity in those situations.” You begin pouring the batter into the tin. 

“It isn’t exactly easy to convince you to lose your dignity, princess.” 

Maybe you can get him to relax in a different way. 

Afterall, he did say all you had to do was ask. 

“If only there was a way to find out which way is harder.” You turn the dial on the oven before sliding the pan in, it’s tiny, only just big enough to hold the one pan. “We’ve got about an hour.” You slowly make your way around the room, clicking the lamps off.

He stands up from his chair, visor trained on you.

“I’m asking for sex, if that wasn’t clear.” You say with a condescending tone as you sit on the bed. 

There’s no hesitation in his strides as he slots himself between your legs. He pushes his knee up between your thighs as he starts laying you back against his mattress. You sit up on your elbows.

“Sit with your back against the headboard.” You say it as sternly as you can manage and it stops him dead in his tracks making you grin. “I thought we wanted to find out which way was harder?” You say a bit quieter, he seems to be considering it for a moment before he nods, getting off of you and sitting as you told him to, legs out in front of him, his erection already visibly straining against the flight suit. 

You should probably figure out what you’re gonna do now. 

You were all talk up until this point. A part of you thought he’d just do what he normally does and just take what he wanted, now here you are and you’re the one who is expected to take. 

What does he normally do? 

He would get on top, in a position above you.

So that’s just what you do, straddling his waist as you sit down on his thighs. It’s actually a bit strange to have him not telling you what to do. 

That’s what you should do next. Tell him what to do. 

He usually gets you to tell him something, or admit something, or he’s just trying to prove a point. Like he wants you to be as flustered as possible.

And he doesn’t shut up unless he’s using his mouth for something else. 

Your hands drag down the fabric on his chest, stopping at his stomach before going back up to his shoulders. 

What could you get him to say that would get him fired up the way he likes to do to you? 

“What does ni kar'tayl gar darasuum mean?” Your hands rest on his shoulders as you say it and he laughs. 

“It’s nothing, just something you say to someone you care about.” He’s still laughing a bit as he says it.

“That isn’t an answer, I want to know what it means.” You let your hands unzip the crotch of his flight suit, his cock slaps against his stomach once you do, you hear him sharply inhale through his teeth.

“I don’t know what it means.” He mutters as you lean back a bit to get your own pants off, tossing them to the floor along with your panties. 

The cabin smells like vanilla. 

“I think you do.” You position yourself back in his lap, hovering above him on your knees as you bring your hand between your thighs, placing your other hand on his shoulder to balance yourself as you slide two fingers into yourself with a groan, your head falling forward against his helmet, his hands find your waist but you remove your fingers.

“No touching Din, not until I say so.”

“You know I’m stronger than you, right?” He drops his hands nonetheless. 

“Shut it.” You pick up where you left off with your fingers, scissoring them, stretching yourself a bit for him. “What does mesh’la mean?” You lean forward a bit more, spitting on his length as you remove your fingers once more, using your combined wetness and spit as a lubricant as you begin to slowly stroke him, his head leaning back ever so slightly.

“It means beautiful.” He sounds strained, it makes you smile as you continue your leisurely pace. 

“Okay. You can touch me now.” His hands fly back to your waist, his grip is tighter this time. “What about cyare?” You soften your voice, picking up speed a tiny bit so he knows that if he tells you he’ll get more. 

“B-beloved.” He stammers a bit and your face is getting hot. He was right, it is harder to do this, or maybe you just don’t have the patience for it because you know you should probably tease him for a lot longer but you don’t want to wait, moving yourself forwards to line him up at your entrance. Staring into the helmet as you grip him at the base of his cock.

“What about ni kar'tayl gar darasuum?” He begins a breathless chuckle but it’s cut short as you sink yourself down onto him halfway. You stare at him, waiting for an answer, when you never get one you take your time easing yourself the rest of the way onto him. He stays mostly quiet, aside from the occasional grunt or gasp but his grip on your waist is definitely going to leave bruises. “Cyar’ika? What does that mean?” 

“Darling.” With that answer you put your hands back on his shoulders, moving yourself up and down on him at your own pace, savoring the feeling of how he splits you open, due to your own impatience there’s a bit of a sting from the stretch but you wouldn’t change a thing. 

You maintain what you think is eye contact as you ride him, the only sounds now in the cabin are the sounds of your flesh slapping together and your collective gasps. 

“I’ll stop reading those books in front of you if you tell me.” 

He laughs again.

“I don’t mind the books.” 

You pick up the pace, lifting yourself almost completely off of him before slamming yourself back down on his length. His groan is downright pornagraphic. 

“Do you have a weird fetish? I’ll let you act out a weird fetish with me if you tell me.” That gets another breathless laugh.

“I don’t have a weird fetish.”

“I’ll buy something lacy and green and wear it for you again.” You need to convince him and soon because your thighs burn and you aren’t sure how much longer you’re gonna last, he rests his helmet on your shoulder.

“You’re gonna do that anyway.” You hate that he’s right. 

You’ve only got one other thing you can think of to offer, and honestly you just hope he doesn’t think you’re being ridiculous.

“If you tell me I’ll get a pill.” You blurt out. “I’ll get a pill and you can cum inside me.” His grip on your waist tightens the moment you say it and much to your surprise, you finish, in a blinding hot flash you feel your stomach tighten, and before you know it’s happening he’s hastily lifting you off of him, a strangled moan comes from the modulator as you watch him paint the inside of your thighs with his seed. 

There’s a beat of silence, you both breathlessly stare at each other in surprise until he starts to laugh and quickly you are too. He pulls you to him so you sit against the headboard as well. 

“So you liked one of my offers?” 

“I might have been interested in one of them” He chuckles in response as you rest your head against his arm. 

You’re turning towards him to give him a smile but it seems he has other plans.

He doesn’t give you a warning when he does it and you don’t hear the hiss of air, when you turn you see his plush bottom lip, chin, and patches of facial hair before shutting your eyes tight. 

Kriff.

You aren’t sure what to say, you're feeling a little shell-shocked as he leans forward, giving you a chaste kiss before situating his helmet once more, you don’t open your eyes until you hear it lock back into place. He says something so quietly you can’t quite make it out. 

“What did you say?” You whisper back, still trying to get over the shock of seeing a fraction of his face while simultaneously trying to remember every detail. 

“It means I love you.” 

Your eyes go wide and you stare at him in silence for so long that you have to make another batch of cakes.

The ones in the oven are burned when you finally go to check on them. 

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[anylady-fics]

Into you | Han Jisung x F Reader

Summary:

[…] You know how sometimes you become friends with someone you have insane chemistry with, and that totally blocks anything physical from happening? That’s exactly what happened with you and Jisung. You two have been friends for about two years now, and there’s always been this tension whenever you’re alone or when people ask if you’ve hooked up. But you’ve always been careful not to cross that line. […]

Jisung had a dream… it came true. ♥

*** this work is for adult audiences. Minors DNI ***

Warnings: oral sex, unprotected sex (don't do it), vaginal sex, creampie

2,361K words - cross posted on ao3

Ⴡ Masterlist

You know how sometimes you become friends with someone you have insane chemistry with, and that totally blocks anything physical from happening? That’s exactly what happened with you and Jisung.

You two have been friends for about two years now, and there’s always been this tension whenever you’re alone or when people ask if you’ve hooked up. But you’ve always been careful not to cross that line.

When you first met, it was through mutual friends at a setup, and as soon as your eyes met, you were interested in him. But then, he turned out to be super sweet, and you guys just clicked as friends. Nothing more happened. You’re not besties, but you’re close enough that you worried hooking up would ruin things. Even though you’ve tried to avoid it, Jisung has always been pretty clear that he’d be more than happy to help you out when you’re feeling... in need.

He’d throw out these wild comments when you’re in a group, but never when it’s just the two of you... which made it easier to brush off as a joke, even though you knew he wasn’t entirely kidding. You’ve always felt like it was just a matter of time—he only needed the right chance, and you’d probably give in easily because... let’s be honest, how could you not? Things only got worse when he got a tattoo and decided to show it off to the group by just taking his shirt off like it was no big deal. Like he wasn’t fully aware about how hot he is. You remember him standing super close to you, grabbing your hand to make you feel the texture of the ink on his skin, teasing you by sliding your hand down his abs, leaving you totally flustered in front of everyone.

If you two had been alone, something definitely would’ve happened—it was so obvious it hurted. And you were getting tired of pretending like you didn’t want it, or going out of your way to avoid it. It’s not like you had anything to lose, right? You figured the friendship would stay the same, at least from your side.

There was this get-together at a friend’s place, and you went there already thinking that if the opportunity came up, you weren’t going to stop it. Would he hesitate? You were curious.

At the party, you guys ordered pizza, had some drinks, and once everyone was full, you all gathered in the living room to chat. Most of the night was spent gossiping about work and people you all didn’t like, which was entertaining enough. But eventually, the conversation turned to relationships. Everyone wanted to know who was single, who was dating who...

“I’ve said it before, I’m just waiting for the chance to get suffocated between her thighs... but she never takes me seriously,” Jisung said, pointing at you. “Isn’t that right?”

"Maybe I’ll give you that privilege someday." You laughed, trying to keep it light, even though your words were anything but. Usually, your comebacks were a lot more evasive. You always dodge the subject, but not this time.

Your friends didn’t pay much attention, assuming it was just you two messing around as usual. But Jisung’s eyes narrowed at you, like he was trying to figure out if you meant it. It was fun watching him be both suspicious and confident for the rest of the night, right up until it was time to leave.

"I’m coming with you," he said, moving to your side as you looked for a taxi. "It’s kinda on the way."

"You live on the other side of town, Ji!"

"I’m inviting myself to crash at your place. What do you think?"

"I’ll think about it on the ride..." You licked your lips and winked, pulling out the cockiest grin you’d ever seen from him. "The taxi is here."

You both got into the backseat, and the ride to your place was going to be about fifteen minutes. Two minutes in, Jisung was already inching closer, leaning his head back in a way that his breath almost brushed your neck.

"Did you mean it?" he whispered, trying to be low-key. You knew he was talking about what you said at the ‘party’.

"Why would I joke about something like that?"

"Because you’ve never let anything happen before... and you know I’ve always wanted it." His hand landed on your knee, sliding up your thigh. You were wearing a skirt, and your legs instinctively pressed together from the way his touch sent a shiver through you. "You know it won’t mess up our friendship..."

"I’m counting on that."

"Hmm..." His fingers gripped your thigh, sliding higher to the edge of your skirt, fingertips slipping just under the fabric. "You better not change your mind, that’d be so mean..."

You were already wet, and you knew it. He’d barely touched you, but the tension between you two was very, very real. You could see the bulge in his pants too, and it took all your willpower not to do something totally inappropriate in front of the poor taxi driver working the night shift.

"Cruel would be if you’re just talk and no action..."

He was already brushing his lips against your neck when he let out a low laugh, his breath hot against your skin, making you shiver again. You were barely breathing by the time you pulled up in front of your building.

You both got out and walked quietly to the lobby, the tension between you hanging thick in the air. You called the elevator, and you couldn’t help but smile when you realized you’d be alone with him in that tiny space.

Jisung moved in closer, slipping a hand around your waist as you both stepped inside, his fingers trailing down to the small of your back. He glanced at the security camera in the corner, then back at you. You knew he wanted to do something, but you only lived on the second floor... so not enough time to have fun around there.

The doors opened, and you led him to your apartment, feeling a little nervous as you unlocked the door, hyper-aware of his body hovering so close behind you. As soon as you were inside, he shut the door and locked it before pinning you against the wall in the living room, cupping your face with both hands and staring at you like he was trying to memorize every detail.

You opened your mouth to make a joke about him not making a move, but he kissed you before you could get the words out. Your hands flew to his back, pulling him closer as you matched his intensity. The kiss was passionate, his body pressing you against the wall, tongues tangling together in a heated rhythm. Then, he slowed down, pulling back after gently sucking on your bottom lip.

"Two years waiting to kiss you. I almost gave up." His smile was dangerous, and the way his hands gripped your waist harder made your knees a little weak.

"I wanted it too... no idea why I ran from it."

"I don’t want to rush things because I want to take my time with you, but..." His hands were already sliding up your skirt, pushing the fabric higher. "I wasn’t joking about wanting to be suffocated between your thighs."

"Well, now’s your chance..."

"Fuck..."

He kissed you again, and this time you could feel his erection pressing against your stomach as he devoured your mouth. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling slightly as he kissed down your neck.

You slipped off your jacket and let it fall to the floor as his lips moved lower, kissing across your collarbone and down between your breasts, taking full advantage of your low-cut top. You unhooked your bra and tossed it aside, leaving you in just your skirt and panties, completely forgetting this was his first time seeing you like this.

Jisung grabbed your tits with both hands, lowering himself to give your nipples the attention they’d been craving. He sucked, bit, and teased them with his tongue, making you moan as the sensation seemed to pulse straight between your legs. He made sure both your breasts were equally marked and wet before pulling back with a smirk, clearly enjoying himself.

His quick hands unbuttoned your skirt, letting it drop to the floor, leaving you in just your thin panties while he was still fully dressed.

Jisung steps back for a moment, just to watch the mess you’ve become, then he crouches down in front of you, kissing up your thighs the same way he had kissed your breasts earlier. Your hands find their way to his hair again, fingers tangling in it as you try to keep your moans under control with each touch. You spread your legs wider on your own, and he pulls your panties down, leaving them on the floor.

You thought you’d feel shy, being completely naked in front of him like this, but that doesn’t happen… you’re just too eager for what’s coming.

He tugs at your leg, signaling for you to rest it on his shoulder, and you suddenly want to grab onto something, even though you know Jisung can hold you just fine. The moment your thigh is on his shoulder, he dives between your legs, groaning as his mouth meets your soaked pussy, his lips and chin getting just as wet as you are. You glance down, watching him as he eats you out you like he’s been starving for it, and your stomach flips, muscles tensing as the sight makes it all feel even more intense. His lips kiss your clit, his tongue teases at your entrance, and he drinks you in like he can’t get enough.

“Ji, need your fingers…” you barely manage to get out.

He pauses for just a second, looking up at you with his face covered in your wetness, giving you a knowing smile before slipping two fingers inside, already teasing you as he pushes them deep. 

“So needy… sucking my fingers in like that…”

You almost buckle—your other leg shaking as soon as he curls his fingers and hits that sweet spot, sending a shock through your whole body. You grab onto his hair, leaning back against the wall, practically gasping from the intensity of it all.

Everything else fades when his tongue finds your clit again, working in sync with his fingers. Your legs are trembling, and you’re getting so close you can feel it building. You start grinding against his face, not even caring about keeping your balance anymore, just chasing your high. He’s moaning with you, staying right on pace as you ride his face.

You tug harder on his hair, crying out as your orgasm crashes over you, leaving you trembling and breathless. The oversensitivity kicks in almost immediately, and you’re whimpering, practically begging him to stop licking you.

He finally lowers your leg, but it’s still shaky, barely keeping you standing. He rises to his feet, pinning you against the wall again, kissing you deep, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as his hands explore your body.

“Don’t you think you’re wearing too much?” You tug his shirt up, and he lets you pull it off with no resistance. “It’s not fair.”

“You can do whatever you want with me now… I’ve already had my dream come true.”

You toss his shirt aside, then work on his belt, pushing his pants down until he’s just in his boxers. You pushed him back into your living room until he fell onto the couch, then you were climbing into his lap to kiss him again.

Your lips trail down to his neck as your hands press against his chest, pausing for a second to admire the damn tattoo. It looks so good on him, and even though you never said it out loud, you’re sure he already knows. Straddling his lap, you grind against his hard cock, feeling the damp spot your wetness leaves on his boxers before pulling them down, his cock springing free as you slide the fabric away.

You lift your hips, grabbing him by the base, aligning him with your entrance, and slowly sink down until he’s buried deep inside you. Once again, you regret waiting so long to let this happen.

“Fuck, I don’t know how long I’ll last…” he groans.

“You’ve got all night to make it up to me after this.”

You start rocking your hips, his hands gripping your ass as he leans his head back, clearly struggling to hold on. You don’t care if he doesn’t last long the first time. Gripping his shoulders, you lift your hips and drop down harder, moving faster as you get caught up in the wet sound of him sliding in and out of you. You can feel how soaked you are, you were just dripping on his cock and balls.

You ride him hard for a few minutes, Jisung panting and moaning, begging you to slow down because he’s so close he can’t hold anymore. But all you can think about is feeling him come inside you, so you don’t stop.

“Come for me, Ji… fill me up.”

“Oh—fuck!”

He swears under his breath, gripping you tighter as he starts thrusting up to meet your movements, losing control as he hits deep a few more times before he comes, spilling inside you. You can feel his fingers digging into your skin as he holds you close.

You stay there, catching your breath, finding his lips for another deep kiss, not pulling away until you feel him slip out of you.

“Think you can go again?” you ask, teasing him while grinding your hips on his now soft cock.

“I’ll stay up all night if I have to.”

Jisung stands up, lifting you off the couch with ease as he carries you to the bedroom, ready to show you everything you’ve been missing. Lucky for you, you’ve already decided you’re not missing out anymore—just letting yourself enjoy wherever this takes you.

[wintaerbaer]

things we don’t say: part 4 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 11.5k

chapter warnings: swearing as usual, jin is sad and precious, alcohol consumption, one (1) instance of mild violence, suspension of disbelief as to the legal consequences of said violence, jungkook still has zero filter, feelings and bed sharing

a/n: this was a fun one >:) shout out to everyone who brainstormed, sprinted, or otherwise shouted about this fic with me and gave me the motivation to power through this (y’all know who you are, and i love each and every one of you <3)! and a massive shoutout to @jeonqkooks for the beautiful new banner!!

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

“And Tae encouraged you to do this?”

“Yeah. Kind of made up my mind for me actually.”

You toss down a few potential dresses on Maya’s bed after spending the past several minutes raiding her closet. With the bulk of your wardrobe still at your old apartment, she’d invited you to borrow something of hers for your date with Seokjin.

You may also be sharing a couple glasses of wine to calm your nerves.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but I can see you thinking.”

“It’s nothing.” She holds a sparkling gold number up to your shoulders, then frowns and throws it back down. “Or at least nothing you want to hear, anyway.”

“Don’t tell me you’re on about Tae and I again.”

She shrugs. “I think you’d be great together. Sue me.”

“I could say the same about you and Kook.”

A snort rasps from the back of her throat as she coughs on her wine. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“The two of you are more alike than you think,” you say. “And I don’t think you give him enough credit. He’s a good guy.”

She purses her lips, watching clouds go by out the window. “He’s…frustrating.” Her eyelids drop, coming together in a slow blink as her focus turns back to you razor-sharp. “And weren’t you against us together in the first place?”

“Yeah, because it was just sex.”

“It is just sex.”

“Well, I changed my mind.” You take a sip of your drink, let the acidic taste roll around and coat your tongue before it slides down your throat. “If there’s a possibility you two can make each other happy, then you should have that. I think maybe love is rarer than it seems.”

“He and I are far from love.”

“For now,” you say. “But maybe someday?”

She only grimaces like she’s swallowed a bitter pill, giving the tiniest shake of her head before rushing to change the subject. “Tell me about this Seokjin guy.”

“Not much to tell,” you explain. “Joon knows him from the hospital. He’s been very pleasant when we’ve texted. Polite. I’m definitely not getting creep vibes from him.”

“Always a plus. But still, text me the address of the restaurant and a physical description once you’re there.” She pauses, tapping a finger against her chin. “Also, I have some condoms if you want to take a couple.”

“Um, no?”

“Why not? Best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

“See, that sounds like something Jungkook would say.”

“Well a dumbass clock is right twice a day, or whatever the saying is.”

“I don’t think that’s quite right.”

“Close enough in his case.” Her voice lowers suddenly—delicately—as if to share something confidential even though you’re the only two in the room. “But speaking of protection, did you hear back from the clinic?”

Maya had delicately suggested a couple weeks ago that you should probably get tested for STDs given that you don’t really know how many women Jace had been with and if they were being safe. It was a fair point, as humiliating as it was to consider that he may have found yet another way to rip apart your life, and so you’d gone for an appointment last week, trying not to cry as you provided the necessary samples.

“Negative,” you murmur, feeling embarrassed even though you know you shouldn’t be and that your friend would never judge you. But the fact that you even have to have this conversation at all gnaws at your own sense of self-doubt. “I’m clean.”

She presses her mouth into a line, an acknowledgment of the misfortune of the situation, while simultaneously tilting her chin in approval. “Good.”

You pick at a loose thread hanging off the hem of the dress you’re holding, a dog barking somewhere outside the window as you grasp for literally anything else to talk about. “So where are you guys heading tonight?”

“Who knows?” Maya says with a sigh, leaning back on the bed. “You know it’s like herding cats with them sometimes. I’m supposed to go over there after this, and we’re going to wing it then.”

“So one of our usual clubs?”

“I’d bet my left tit on it.”

You let out a soft laugh, feeling that maybe you’d rather be spending time with your friends tonight instead of going on a half-hearted date. But Seokjin seems nice, and you’ve already committed so you’re stuck. “Could you please just try to make sure Tae has some fun?” You chew at your bottom lip. “He’s been so focused on cheering me up, I want to be sure he still has time for himself.”

“Worry not. I’ll help him pick someone up,” Maya says nonchalantly.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Her entire body perks up, eager that you’ve taken the bait. “Why, does that bother you?”

“Also not what I meant,” you say, crushing down the tiny flip in your stomach at the thought of Taehyung taking someone home as Maya pouts. “I just want him to enjoy himself. I don’t think he’s been doing enough of that lately.”

“Without his other half there with him?” Maya mumbles. “Fat chance.”

You ignore it, knowing she’s baiting you yet again.

But your heart warms all the same.

Seokjin is the embodiment of a perfect gentleman.

He’s handsome—you can’t help but notice as he stands at your approach, introducing himself and coming around the table to pull out your chair for you with a slight bow. When the waiter appears to take your drink order, Seokjin (or “Jin,” as he says to call him) offers to let you pick the wine, so you go with a nice-looking pinot grigio (you haven’t even been able to look at reds since that night). Typical first date conversation flows as you browse the menu, order, and wait for your food, and you find that Jin is soft-spoken without being shy, confident without being arrogant. He tells you about his job as a physical therapist and how he likes to spend his weekends fishing with his brother on his parents’ boat. As you likewise share anecdotes about your publishing job and college shenanigans, Jin listens attentively with kind eyes, asks thoughtful questions, and chuckles at all the right bits.

He’s nice.

But there’s no spark.

You can sense it in his posture, too. His eyes are kind, but there’s pain behind them. He asks questions, but there’s an uncertainty lingering under the surface. He laughs at your jokes but subtly deflates each time like he’s guilty of something.

By the time your meals arrive, you’re ready to chalk it up as a loss.

“Jin,” you begin, tone aiming for the gentleness of “it’s not you, it’s me” proportions. “You seem like a wonderful guy, but for the sake of honesty, it doesn’t feel like either of us sees this going further, does it?”

Jin’s shoulders sag, the mask of obligatory cheerfulness falling away in defeat. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!” you say quickly, not wanting him to feel bad when he was clearly trying his best to have a good time with you. “I think we both knew going into this that we were each coming to the table with…baggage.”

Jin nods, his eyes now tinged red as he murmurs, “It’s been tough.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Ah.” He smiles sadly. “We’ve only just met, and you’re clearly a very sweet woman. I’d feel bad dumping it all out on you when I’ve already wasted your time.”

“Maybe it would be good for both of us?” you suggest. “Obviously we’re both not feeling this from a date standpoint, but maybe what we need is just a friend who understands.”

A slow tip of his chin downwards as he considers. “I think I can do that.”

“And you’re not wasting my time, for the record. I just appreciate the company.”

Jin visibly relaxes at that, his posture easing with the pressure of the date now gone.

“So Namjoon told me you also just got out of a long-term relationship?” you ask, poking at your ravioli.

His chin dips in acknowledgment, voice rough as he states, “Aera.”

“How long were the two of you together?”

“Since high school.” He twists the fabric of his napkin in his hands. “She was my first…everything. Truly. I’ve never loved anyone or anything like her.” A stray thread absentmindedly twines around his finger, the blood darkening under the skin. “We made it all the way through college and my physical therapy schooling doing long distance. Spent the past couple years finally living together. We were happy.” The thread snaps, and he shakes his head. “At least I thought we were.”

You’d swear you can feel your heart literally ache with how forlorn he looks across the table as you gently ask, “I’m guessing she left?”

“I proposed, and she said no.” A strand of dark hair falls in front of his eyes, and he rakes a hand across his head one, two, three times in frustration. “She told me she thinks she’s missing out. That she already lost most of her youth to me, waiting to finish school, when she could’ve been enjoying herself and seeing what else is out there.” He slumps forward, leaning his forearms on the table and lacing his fingers together. “But I can’t understand. I spent just as much time with her, and I never doubted it. To me, she was always the one.”

A quiet settles at the table, the conversational white noise of your fellow diners taking over for the moment as you soak in the sudden sense of kinship with the man in front of you—both blindsided by the partners you thought you’d spend the rest of your lives with.

“I get it,” you tell him, feeling the need to give something in return after he opened his heart to a stranger. “My ex—I thought we were about to get engaged too. I was making all of these plans in my head only to find out that we definitely weren’t on the same page.”

Gentle eyes appraise your face. “He broke up with you?”

“He cheated.”

The words taste bitter as they drop from your lips.

“I’m so sorry,” Jin says, and you can tell by his tone and the look on his face that he genuinely means it.

You chew the inside of your cheek until a canine catches the soft corner of your lip and you taste blood. “I found a ring in his desk and then found him in bed with someone else two weeks later.”

“Wow, Y/N.” He bends in as if he’s going to take your hand before seeming to think better of it and sighing. “I can’t even imagine if I had…” A shake of his head like he’s trying to clear an intrusive thought. “Puts my situation into perspective. I feel awful even comparing the two.”

“Oh, please don’t,” you quickly say. “Your hurt is just as valid as mine. But I can tell that you’re a really great guy, Jin. And if Aera can’t see it, I’m sure there’s someone out there who will cherish that.” You smile to yourself, remembering a night not too long ago with tanned skin and old photographs. “That’s the advice Taehyung gave me, at least.”

“Taehyung?”

“Oh, sorry, he’s my best friend.”

There’s an agreeable hiss as Jin sucks his teeth with a nod. “Well, he sounds like a smart man.”

“He’s my favorite person in the whole world.”

“He must be pretty great, then.”

You can’t help but to nod your head eagerly, words rushing out of you. “He cares so deeply. And he’s so, so talented, but he has a tendency to underestimate himself sometimes,” you gush. “But he’s incredible at everything he does. And just…so resilient. I’ve seen him go through things that no person should ever have to endure, and he’s never let it make him resentful. He could be having the worst day of his life, and he’d still give you the shirt off his back. I admire him more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“You’ve known each other a while then?”

“Since we were kids,” you explain. “It was lonely growing up in my house—my parents weren’t around a lot—so we’d hang out every day. He always knew how to cheer me up, how to make me smile, even by simply being there. Some days, we’d literally sit in my room doing homework silently for hours, and it just felt nice to share space with somebody else. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t have him.”

Jin watches you closely. It reminds you of Namjoon’s typical evaluative expression, and you can instantly understand why they’re friends. Heat rises to your cheeks as you realize you’ve been jabbering on, though Jin doesn’t look too bothered, asking, “And the two of you have never…?”

You sheepishly poke at your food again, red as a tomato now based on how hot your cheeks feel. “No, he doesn’t feel that way about me.”

“But you feel that way about him?”

Something strange churns low in your belly. You’re not sure why your usual denials catch on the back of your throat, but they stick there, holding your tongue hostage. It should come easily, the words, “No, just friends” a habit by now.

Why do they suddenly feel like a lie?

Thankfully, you’re saved as your phone flashes in the low light of the restaurant with an incoming call, Jimin’s face appearing on the screen.

You furrow your eyebrows at the smiling photo, Jin still watching you curiously. Jimin knows you’re on a date right now, and he’s supposed to be out clubbing with Taehyung, Maya, and Jungkook. Why would he be calling you? Could it be a case of butt dialing? Then again, maybe he’s just drunk.

Or maybe something is wrong.

Your anxiety wins out, and you make a quick apology to Jin, who kindly waves you off, before swiping to accept the call.

“What’s up? I’m on a date.”

“I know, Y/N, and I’m so sorry, but I think we need you at the apartment. Something’s happened.” Jimin’s voice is frazzled on the other end of the line, the discomfort in your stomach slipping straight to full-on nausea as your fingers tighten around the phone, skin stretching taut around your knuckles when he speaks again.

“It’s Tae.”

The club is loud, music pounding an earthquake into the walls and floors as a tangle of sweaty bodies surges around the dance floor. Jimin thinks to himself that maybe, just maybe, he's starting to get a little too old for this when the image of the writhing mob does more to set off feelings of claustrophobia than set him at ease. Still, once he and the others have made camp at a more secluded table in the back of the room, drinks in hand, he's still appreciative of the time out with his friends—even with Jungkook immediately scurrying off with a glint in his eye, target already in his sights.

"Ugh, look at him," Maya sneers, watching him chat up a blonde woman at the bar. "Shameless. Absolutely shameless."

Jimin can't resist a smirk. "Careful there, Maya, you sound jealous."

"Oh, fuck no!" she shrieks, punctuating this with a sip of her drink. "On the contrary, I hope this works out for him, and they get married and have a million babies and move far, far away. Get him out of my hair."

Both Jimin and Taehyung chuckle at that. "You do know you have the option of not sleeping with him, right?" Jimin asks.

"I take what I can get, and he's good at his craft. I'll give him that." Jimin chokes on his drink, while Taehyung only smiles, amused. "Speaking of getting, anyone catching the eye of either of you gentlemen? I'm happy to take on wing-woman duties tonight."

"No," Taehyung says, shaking his head. "I'm just here to make sure none of you do something stupid."

Maya rolls her eyes. "Translation: the love of my life is out on a date, and I'm trying not to think about it. How about you, Chim?"

"I don't know." Jimin shrugs. "Let me get a couple drinks in me and then see how I feel."

"Suit yourselves. But just remember that I offered when I ask one of you two to help a girl out." She tosses her hair over her shoulder. "Especially you, Tae. I know your heart is taken with your endless 'will-they-won't-they' thing with Y/N, but you could always sell the fake ex play better than Jimin here…Tae?"

But Taehyung is no longer paying attention, eyes now intensely locked on the crowd like a hawk zeroing in on prey. Maya follows his line of sight to a couple grinding on the edge of the dance floor, a dark-haired woman and a man with a distinct, bright green jacket—

"Oh my God, is that Jace?!"

Jimin's head snaps around, and even from a distance, there's no denying it. Jace tosses his head back, laughing at something the woman says, before he presses into her further, leaning back down to whisper something in her ear. Jimin quickly turns towards Taehyung, who sits terrifyingly still, eyes still zoned in on Jace and his date.

"Tae, I know you're angry. We all are," he begins, gripping Taehyung's forearm in an attempt to grab his attention. "But you cannot confront him. Not here, not now. Y/N is doing great—she's finally starting to move on. Don't undo that by poking the bear."

"He's right," Maya says, leaning in. "You're not going to accomplish anything here. It's loud, there's too many people—he'll just brush you off. And I know you care about her, Tae, but really? Not your battle to fight. Let it go."

Taehyung continues to sit in silence until Jace and the woman disappear into the crowd, and it's like a spell is suddenly lifted as he blinks rapidly at his friends. "No, you're right." He rubs a finger at the space between his eyes. "Y/N is a grown woman. She doesn't need me to protect her."

"See? A man of sense," Maya lilts. "Not like Mr. Don Juan over here about to stick his tongue into yet another college girl who thinks his immature ass counts as an ‘older man’." She nods her head towards the bar where the blonde woman has positioned herself closer to Jungkook, his hands now encircling her waist.

Taehyung quirks an eyebrow, teasing, "You’re not in college though."

Maya's jaw drops, and she puts a hand to her heart in feigned offense. "Wow! Someone's feisty tonight."

"Don't underestimate Tae when he's in one of his moods," Jimin laughs. "And don't overestimate Kook. I bet you twenty bucks he doesn't take her home."

"I'll take that action. He's got her wrapped around him already. Easy money." They shake on it, and the conversation devolves into trying to find someone in the crowd for Maya to shoot her shot with. However, in spite of her previous claim that she "takes what she can get," she finds an excuse to brush off every potential candidate ("Too short…too tall…too rich-looking?").

(Jimin suspects it may have something to do with the man who is now kissing the blonde at the bar.)

An hour later, and they're still parked at the table and on their third round of drinks. Jace has not resurfaced since they first spotted him, much to Jimin's relief, and he hopes he snuck out to a different club somewhere across town or maybe even a different country. Taehyung sports an easy smile now, alcohol loosening up his body as he laughs at a story Maya is telling about two guys who once had a fist-fight over her in this very club during college. Still, Jimin keeps an eye on their surroundings, likewise wary about what might happen if Jace spots them.

"And thankfully, the cops didn't wind up getting called, but oh God, can you imagine?" Maya howls, her and Taehyung in near-hysterics as she finishes up her story.

"Geez," Taehyung gasps, wiping at his eyes. "You're gonna make me piss my pants. I need the bathroom."

He stands from the table and wanders off in the direction of the restrooms, Maya staring at his back the whole way.

"We need to get that guy laid," she dramatically sighs.

"While he's still in crisis mode over Y/N’s breakup?" Jimin scoffs. "Good luck with that one."

"I don't get those two—I really don't." Maya rattles her perfectly-manicured nails against the table. "She's single for the first time in four years. He's been helplessly in love with her for so much longer. I don't know what he's waiting for."

"I mean it's only been what, a month?" Jimin muses. "He probably feels like it's too soon to make a move. Which is fair."

"Jimin. You're a man. You have eyes. Not only is Y/N pretty, but she has that whole—" She waves a hand in front of her face. "—'take me home to meet your parents’ energy to her. She won't be on the market for long, and you know it. She's already got this date with this Seokjin guy—and Tae told her to do it! It's like he's trying to sabotage himself! And then you have Y/N being smitten with him as always, too. I mentioned helping Tae find a hook-up earlier, and she looked like she was going to hurl."

He shrugs, tapping the side of his glass in thought. “I think they’re just scared. Imagine knowing someone for as long as they have and having to take that leap and risk losing it all.”

“You are out of your mind if you think either of them would reject each other,” Maya snorts.

“You don’t think Y/N might not want to take the chance that they fall apart? Especially after what she’s going through?”

“Tae wouldn’t do that to her,” she frigidly says, as if to challenge the very audacity of the thought.

“I’m not saying he would; I’m just saying she might be guarded.”

“So the solution is for him to help set her up with other guys at his own expense? That’s not fair to him either.”

He tilts his head in subtle agreement but adds, "Look, I want to see the two of them together as much as the next person. But maybe we need to just…let them come to it on their own? I mean, we've tried nudging them in the past, and it clearly hasn't worked. But I have faith they'll get there. Tae can be an idiot, but not that much of an id—"

His thought is cut off by screams and the sound of a commotion out on the dance floor. Hairs standing up on the back of his neck, Jimin bolts from his chair and darts into the crowd, Maya close on his heels. They shove their way through the surge of bodies—pressing back and away from the source of the disturbance—until they reach the spot where a small space has cleared out, and Jimin hears Maya swear loudly behind him.

Taehyung is knelt over Jace on the floor, his fists connecting with the latter's face and head over and over in a frenzy. Jace lies there, face bloodied and clearly dazed, his hands weakly raised in front of him in a futile attempt to shield himself from the blows, but Taehyung is relentless. His arm swings down on a repeated loop as if powered by a motor, and even though the music continues to pound above them, Jimin would swear he can hear the sound of knuckles cracking against flesh and bone. He rushes forward with Maya, both of them grabbing ahold of Taehyung's shoulders to pull him back, but he struggles against them, still trying desperately to connect his punches.

Jungkook suddenly materializes out of nowhere, a halfway-finished beer in his hand that he promptly empties over Jace’s head before grabbing Taehyung around the waist and dragging him back through the crowd. The three of them are able to muscle Taehyung towards the door, Jungkook breaking off to intercept the two bouncers who are stalking their way over as Jimin shoves Taehyung out onto the sidewalk.

"What the fuck, man!"

Taehyung's eyes are wild, his gray hoodie dotted with blood. "I wasn't finished," he says, deep voice chillingly calm.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Maya screams. "Are you trying to get yourself arrested?! Over that piece of shit?!”

“You said you were going to the fucking bathroom,” Jimin angrily adds. “How the hell did you wind up in a fistfight?!”

“I saw him. I hit him. I’m going to do it again,” Taehyung bluntly states. “Let me back in there.”

“The hell we are!” Maya exclaims, and Taehyung may have a few good inches on her, but she steps toe-to-toe with him to block his way. “He's not worth it, Tae, he's not!"

"She is!" Taehyung snaps, and Jimin notices his hands start to shake as the adrenaline begins to wear off. "She…you guys saw her that night. You saw her. In all this time, I have never seen her that broken. Never." His voice cracks, and a sheen appears behind his eyes, tears threatening to spill. "So get out of my way because I am going to make that motherfucker feel every tear I've had to wipe from her face because of him!"

"You're not." The door of the club swings shut as Jungkook joins them outside. "We're leaving now."

Taehyung takes a step forward, pleading, "Jungkook, I—"

"No, Tae, you're done." Jungkook moves to grab his arm, but Taehyung recognizes defeat and shakes him off, pulling his hood over his head and tramping off in the direction of their apartment. The others follow behind, close enough to keep a watchful eye out but with enough distance to give him space to cool down.

"How did it go inside?" Jimin asks quietly.

Jungkook pushes a hand through his hair. “We lucked out. I've worked with those guys before, and we're friendly. Gave them a quick rundown of the situation, and they're going to try and contain it, but…you know…" He shrugs. "That was technically assault."

"What that was was idiotic," Maya hisses.

"It was awesome."

"Kook!"

"What?! It was. Would've thought about taking care of it myself if Tae hadn't beaten me to it. Guy deserved it."

"At the cost of possible jail?" Jimin chimes in. "We all hate the guy, but I don't think it's doing Y/N a favor if she has to bail us out of—" He slaps a hand to his forehead. "Oh, fuck, Y/N."

The other two look at him in question, and he hesitates. "Do we…do we tell her?" he asks slowly. "She's on that date. What if it's going well?"

The three of them fall into silence, looking uneasily at Taehyung's back. He walks with his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched and heels digging into the sidewalk. Jimin watches as he takes a kick at an empty can, sending it flying into the gutter.

"It's Tae," Maya murmurs suddenly from his left. "She'd want to know."

"Shit, yeah." Jimin presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to rub away the headache that is quickly developing. "I'll call her—see if she can meet us back at the apartment."

"I'm going to call Hobi too," Jungkook says, phone already out. "I've punched someone before and can guarantee—his hand is fucked up."

Jimin nods, slowing his steps so he can fall behind the others for a bit of privacy. He doesn't know how the night spiraled so out of control, but he can't shake the existential feeling that something in the cosmos has changed.

Sliding his phone out of his pocket, he takes a deep breath of the night air and dials your number.

Your hands shake as you fumble with your keys outside the guys' apartment, struggling to grasp the spare that Taehyung lent you when you decided to stay with them. Jimin had said to take your time if you had to, but the thought of something being wrong with Taehyung had you in a panic. He hadn’t given you any details either, saying that they’d explain it all once you were there.

Jin had hurried you out at the distressed look on your face after you hung up, telling you that he’d take care of dinner and to go take care of your friend (you’ll later try to have Namjoon pass along some money for your meal that Jin will steadfastly refuse). Not wanting to stand and wait for an Uber, you had half-run the twelve blocks from the restaurant instead.

Out of breath, you gasp out a, "What happened?!" when Jungkook opens the door at the sound of your scrambling, not even giving him a chance to answer before you're pushing past him inside.

Taehyung sits on the edge of the couch with Hoseok kneeling in front of him, first aid kit at his feet. From here, you can see that his right hand is littered with cuts, purple bruises already forming across his swollen knuckles even as Hoseok tends to the wounds. Taehyung doesn't look up when you walk in, his eyes hooded and fixed on his hand.

"What the fuck happened?!" You repeat, but the room is quiet for a moment more as Jungkook, Jimin, and Maya all look at each other as if they don't know what to say.

Jimin breaks first. "We, ah…" he begins from his armchair seat. "We ran into your ex."

Your heart drops into your stomach, and you immediately feel dizzy. Images of Jace flood your mind: his smile, his hands, his voice—him tangled up in your bed when you got back from the beach house.

"He was at the club," Jimin continues. "And Tae…he, um—"

"He kicked his ass!" Jungkook chirps, an unmistakable hint of delight in his voice.

A tornado of feelings rips through your insides, a blend of confusion and anxiety that has you momentarily reeling. You'd be lying if you said you didn't have any residual feelings for Jace, the tiniest part of your brain in a worry over the state he might be in right now. But it all melts away when you look down at the man who still won't meet your eyes, his purpling hand making your heart twist even harder.

"Are you okay?" you ask softly, and Taehyung finally lifts his head to look at you. His gaze is stoic, but there's a haze of emotion behind his eyes that you can't place.

"I'm fine," he says, but his voice is tight and gravelly.

Hoseok tuts, dabbing a spot of ointment across Taehyung's knuckles. "Let's hope you stay that way. I don't think you'll need any stitches, and nothing seems to be broken, but we'll have to keep an eye on this to make sure nothing gets infected." He pulls bandages out of the first aid kit and begins wrapping Taehyung's hand.

You're afraid to ask this next question, but the words fall out anyway. "Did the police come?"

Jimin shakes his head. "We got out of there quick, and Kook talked to the bouncers that were friends of his—" Jungkook gives a two-finger salute from his perch by the kitchen. "—they said they'd try to take care of it, but who knows." He pauses before asking, "Do you think Jace would press charges?"

"I don't know," you answer honestly. You've known Jace to be proud, but you're not sure if that means he'll brush this off as a simple scrap or want to save face in some way.

"If he does, I know a lawyer who might be able to help," Maya pipes up at the opposite end of the couch. "He's a…friend. Owes me a favor."

"A lawyer friend?" Jungkook asks, eyes narrowing. "Do we know him? What's his name?"

"Last name: Out. First name: Butt."

Jungkook scoffs at that, but you also hear him mutter under his breath, "He sounds like a butt."

"Well as much as I would like to stay and chat about fights and butts," Hoseok says, bandaging the last of Tae's hand and closing his kit, "Sunny and I have a meeting with the wedding coordinator in the morning so I’ve gotta go. Keep that clean, and text me immediately if anything looks or feels wrong or if the swelling doesn’t go down. I can swing by in a couple days to look at it again."

Taehyung nods silently, and Hoseok heads for the door, waving as Jungkook shouts, "Thanks, doc!"

An awkward silence sweeps the room as the door swings shut, the only sound being that of Jimin anxiously tapping his heels against the floor. Maya reads the room, looking around at each person and eventually settling on you and Taehyung. Your posture is tense as you stiffly hover by the side of the couch, shifting your feet, while Taehyung is back to avoiding eye contact.

"I think I'm going to head out too," she says, standing up and shooting Jimin a pointed look.

"Do you need a ride home?" Jungkook asks. His tone says that he's trying to be nonchalant, but his eyes betray his eagerness.

"I'm a big girl, Kook," Maya drawls. "I can get myself home."

"Would you let lawyer friend drive you home?"

She rolls her eyes dramatically, her whole head tilting back in exasperation. "Oh my God, you're insufferable. Fine."

Jungkook moves for his keys, a certain spring in his step, while Maya addresses the rest of you. "I'll stop by tomorrow. Please, please try to stay out of trouble until then. Looking at you, Tae." And then she and Jungkook exit the apartment, Maya slipping money into Jimin’s hand as she goes.

Jimin lets out a heavy sigh. "Well he's not coming home tonight." He stands and stretches his arms above his head. "I'm gonna turn in. Let me know if either of you needs something, yeah?" He shuffles away to his bedroom, leaving you and Taehyung alone.

Taehyung continues to sit still as a statue, staring at the wall, and so you take a careful seat next to him, slowly so as to not jostle the cushions too much. When he keeps his eyes straight ahead, you gently take his injured hand between both of yours. His body visibly softens as you graze your fingers back and forth across his palm.

"Tae…"

He looks at you then, and you take the time to examine his face. There's no guilt or shame in his expression, but you see a pain there that has you reaching up to rub at the creases between his eyes.

His eyelids droop down at your touch. “I’m sorry about your date.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “It wasn’t going that well anyway.”

You see a muscle jump in his jaw, concern tightening the corners of his mouth. “Did he do something?”

“Easy.” You resume your tracing of his palm. “He was very kind and respectful, and we had an oddly sweet conversation. Just realized that neither of us is in the proper mindset for it to be anything more than maybe a friendship.”

A hum comes from deep in his throat. “Alright.”

“Certainly no need for you to fight any other men on my behalf,” you say, and he shoots you an uneasy look before staring down your reflections in the dark of the TV screen.

You take it in with him, observing the shadowy duplicates who feel like they’re sitting across from you. The linked arms, the soothing press of your knee to his—your current situation may feel anxiety-inducing, but the figures mirrored in the screen look comfortable. Unified.

"Are you mad?" he whispers after a moment.

The question catches you off guard. "Why would I be?"

"I know you still care about him." Taehyung swallows, glancing down at your intertwined hands. "You wouldn't still be this upset over him if you didn't."

You let his words sink in, not altogether untrue but certainly not at the forefront of your mind right now. "I'm not worried about him—I'm worried about you." Taehyung's eyes flash at that with something akin to confusion, and you chew at your lower lip. "I've never seen you like this."

It's true. Taehyung, in spite of his mild nature, has always had a protective streak in him. One time, when the two of you were twelve, a few boys in your class had spent a week bullying you about your clothes—calling you a “spoiled, pretentious bitch”—only to come back from gym class one day to find their shirts in the garbage, cut to bits. But never—in all of your years together—have you ever known him to get violent.

"I tried to let it go. I did," Taehyung insists. He picks at his bandages, and you cover his hand with your own to still him. "I just…" His voice cracks, eyes suddenly glassy. "I couldn't stop seeing you on the bathroom floor that night."

The tears spill over, and you pull him into you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he gasps into your shoulder. He's trying to force the emotion down—you can feel it in the way his body trembles—and so you tangle your fingers in the spot where his hairline meets the back of his neck. You know it's always been a soothing spot for him, and his breathing slowly evens out as you coast your fingers back and forth, a rogue piece of your brain taking pleasure in the feel of his soft hair under your hands.

"Tae," you whisper again once he's calmed, and he pulls back to look at you, face entirely too close. Your heart stutters at the sheer amount of raw affection in his expression, and the words you were about to say catch in your throat along with your breath. Since when does being around him make you so nervous?

"I'm sorry," Taehyung murmurs, entirely oblivious to your current internal struggle. "I know this isn't about me—"

"No," you quickly say, snapping out of your inner turmoil. "Tae, you're allowed to have feelings, you know?" Your fingers absentmindedly run along his neck again. "And like you told me that night, I will be fine. I will be. It just…takes a bit of time. And I appreciate everything you've done to try and help get me there."

You try to convey just how much you mean this in your tone, lacing your words with every bit of gratitude you've built up over the past month (over the past years). Taehyung seems to understand, his thumb coming up to gently brush against your chin.

A glimpse of white bandages turns you sullen, raising your hands to delicately graze against their soft edges and chart the way they wrap around his knuckles. He winces as you touch them, and frustration crests like a wave in your chest; you hate that he’s hurting, hate that your own troubles are the cause of it.

“You didn’t have to do this for me,” you sigh, dripping with guilt.

“I’d do anything for you.”

His words are firm, and he cants forward as he says them until his forehead rests against yours, a single shared breath haunting the space between your lips.

"I just don't ever want to see you like that again," he whispers.

And it's all too much: your pulse spikes, the blood pounding through your veins at his nearness and the honey-sweet words rolling off his tongue. This time, you're the one who can't look him in the eye as you put some distance between your bodies, abruptly shifting away from him on the couch.

"You won't."

The tension settles in thick, and Taehyung gazes at you, undoubtedly perplexed by your sudden withdrawal. Just as he opens his mouth to say something, you nod at his hand. "You had an eventful day. I'm fine out here if you want to sleep?"

He slowly shakes his head. "No, uh…I don't think I'll be able to sleep. Might just stay up and watch some TV. You can take my bed, though, if you're tired."

The charged atmosphere still has you slightly shaken—your scrambled brain trying to make sense of the tingling in your stomach—but concern for Taehyung ultimately wins out, and you tell him that you'll stay up to keep him company. He doesn't argue with that, simply flips on your favorite cooking channel and drags your legs into his lap as you stretch out.

It's how Jungkook finds you as he slinks back in the next morning, smiling to himself as he drapes a blanket over your sleeping forms.

July is beginning its descent into August, stifling clouds of heat stuffing themselves into roads and alleyways, when your sign to move back into your own apartment comes in the form of Jeon Jungkook almost getting a full look at your bare ass one Saturday morning.

He immediately flips his back to you, frantically covering his face with his arms and bellowing, "I'M NOT LOOKING!" at the top of his lungs.

"Jeon, you'd better keep your eyes covered or I swear to God I'll put your nuts in a vise!"

"Is that like a kink thi—"

"Do NOT." You rush to dress yourself, giving him the signal when it's safe to turn around.

He doesn't look the least bit ashamed, the bastard.

"Not that it's necessarily unwelcome, but why were you almost naked in my living room?"

You glare at him. "Jimin is taking one of his long ass showers."

"And Tae's at work. Just use his room."

You'd thought about it, but the idea of getting naked in your best friend's bedroom had made you blush, like you'd be crossing some sort of line.

"I thought I could change fast enough," you say, not wanting to have to explain your reasoning to Jungkook of all people.

"Well you obviously thought wrong." He smirks, and you already know what's coming. "Nice bra, by the way."

You pick up a throw pillow off the couch and fling it at him. You'd been shooting for his head, wanting to smack the smug grin right off his face, but your aim is about two feet off and he catches it effortlessly anyway.

What an ass.

“No wonder Maya is always pissed at you,” you jab. “Constantly flirting with other girls.”

His demeanor shifts ever so slightly—his shoulders lower, and you can tell by the way his cockiness subtly but immediately deflates that you’ve wounded him. A pang of regret for your words hits at the sight of wide doe eyes.

“She talks about me to you?”

You wouldn’t have believed it to be possible, but you don’t think that you’ve ever seen him look so innocent, tentative hopefulness coloring his face.

“Not, like, regularly, but sometimes, sure,” you say, not quite certain how to handle this new edition of Jungkook.

“What does she say?”

Wow, those big, round Bambi eyes are really doing work.

“Just that, you know.” You scratch at your ear, not wanting to accidentally throw Maya under any buses while also honoring your friendship with Jungkook. “You’re kind of annoying sometimes.”

That clearly doesn’t make him happy, his jaw tightening with discontent as he grimaces. “Right.”

“I mean think about it, Kook,” you say, compelled to defend Maya. “You hook up with her, and then flirt and pick up other girls right in front of her face.”

“We’re not exclusive!” he exclaims.

“Maybe she wants to be?”

“But that was her idea!”

That stops you. Not once since you found out the two of them were hooking up did it cross your mind that Jungkook would ever be the one unhappy with their arrangement. He’s never had a serious girlfriend in the entire time you’ve known him. Up until this moment, you were sure he’d be a perpetual bachelor. “What?”

“She wanted to be non-exclusive.”

“And you…don’t?”

He looks away from you, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t know.”

No. It can’t be.

“Wait a second.”

You move to stand in front of him, taking his face in your hands so you can turn him every which way, inspecting his face. Pink cheeks, a creased brow, jawline so hard you could probably cut yourself on it.

“You’re flustered!” you shriek. Jungkook quickly uncrosses his arms to bat your hands away, reeling back to put some distance between the two of you.

“I’m not!”

“You are!” you shout, following him as he roams around the room. “Jeon Jungkook is flustered!”

“Bah, you’re insane, woman.” He swings a dismissive hand even as the two of you settle in at the kitchen island.

“You’d be cute together!”

“She’s too stubborn.”

“I can totally see it!”

“It would never work.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Hey, worry about your own love life.”

He means it to be teasing, obviously not thinking too hard about his words because the second he realizes what he’s just said, he pales. “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you say, sobered. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Still—“

“You’re right. I’m avoiding things.” You peer over at the pull-out couch, still in bed-mode with your blankets and pillows messily strewn across it. Your suitcase, meanwhile, sits off to the side with the contents tangled and half-overflowing.

In short, you’re a mess.

The guys have never made you feel unwelcome, have only ever made it clear that you are free to stay as long as you’d like, but you’d be lying if you said you haven’t felt your time here beginning to weigh on your shoulders, knowing you’re only putting off the inevitable.

You feel like you’ve been (slowly, but surely) making emotional progress, but going back to the apartment might threaten to undo all of that. Although it may have felt like it at times growing up, you’ve technically never lived alone, and you’ve grown accustomed to having your people around. In fact, you thrive on it. Being around your friends is the only reason why you’ve been doing as well as you have.

You love having someone to come home to.

“I need to move back soon,” you tell Jungkook. “But returning to the apartment is actually terrifying.”

He considers you for a moment, leaning his weight back on the granite countertop. “Do you know what helps me when I’m not confident about something?”

“Getting a stranger to moan your name?”

“Well, yes, but aside from that.” You shrug, and he grins. “I just do it.”

“Wow, Jeon,” you say, with the appropriate amount of eye roll. “Reaching real deep on that one.”

“I mean it!” he urges. “Just need to rip off the band-aid. The longer you dwell on it, the harder it will be in the end.”

That’s…oddly decent advice.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you might have a point,” you say, somewhat thrown off by this flustered, good-advice-giving version of your friend.

“And speaking of things being harder, that last bit of advice also goes for forepl—“

“Aaaaaaand it’s ruined.”

“I’m just saying it has multiple applications!”

“Yeah, it’s time for me to move back out,” you say. “I can’t live with you anymore.”

Jungkook chuckles, rubbing at his jaw. “Tae is going to be devastated though.”

Your head jerks around. “What? Why?”

“Because he likes having you here,” he says, looking at you like you just asked him what color the sky is. “The guy punched out your ex for you. I think it’s safe to say he enjoys having you around.”

You wince at the mention of the club, a nerve jumping in your chest every time you’re reminded that Taehyung almost got arrested defending your honor. Nothing had ever come of the fight, so you’re assuming Jace has chosen to just let it go, and for that, you’re thankful. You never would have been able to live with it if Taehyung had suffered serious consequences over your own personal crisis.

You’d do the same thing for him, sure. But that’s different.

“Jimin and I will miss you too, of course,” Jungkook continues. “And I’m still kind of sad I didn’t get my own shot in on that asshole that night. Dumped a beer on him though.” He smiles at you like he’d be wagging his tail if he had one.

“My hero.”

“Yeah, the mayor said I’m getting a medal.”

“Oh, really? When’s the ceremony.”

“Sunday afternoon.”

You snap your fingers. “Ah, I can’t make it. I have a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, a super important thing. Way more important than your thing.”

“You’re a heart-breaker, Y/N. My ego will never recover.” He grins again, playfully rapping his fingers against the counter as he stands to grab a drink.

“Yep,” he says, voice muffled on the other side of the fridge door. “Definitely going to miss you around here.”

As Jungkook predicted, Taehyung frowns when he gets home from work and you tell him about your plans to move back into your apartment at the end of the week, perhaps sensing your apprehension about returning to the scene of the crime. He insists he’ll come with you and sleep over the first night for support and to make sure you’re okay being back there.

“Whatever you need,” he says. “You’re not going to face it alone.”

Your apartment is pitch black when you swing the door open, the quietness hovering in the air making you feel like you're suffocating. You flick on the light, and you're struck by how much emptier the space is. Jace definitely came by at some point as all of his things are no longer present: his gaming system, his turntable, the tiny rhino statue he had picked out on your last vacation together. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a glint of a key on the kitchen counter.

Taehyung tries to give you space by busying himself—turning on lights and opening cabinets in a seeming attempt to take inventory of what Jace left behind. He steals glances at you every now and then as you slowly move through the living room, hands reaching out to lightly brush at the furniture with no real goal in mind. This is supposed to be your home, but you feel like a stranger—the ghosts of late nights binging TV shows, giggling wildly at inside jokes, promising forever lurk around every corner.

When you take a hesitant step inside the bedroom, your breath catches in your throat and you choke on a sob. The bedsheets are still in a tangle, a relic of that night seven weeks ago when your whole world fell apart.

Taehyung senses something is wrong and bolts to your side in an instant, hands steadying you where you slump against the doorframe. He turns you in his arms, and his fingers come up to cradle your face in his direction.

"Don't look at that, look at me," he murmurs, thumbs rubbing away the tears that have begun to fall. "What do you need?"

To run, to hide, to crawl into the deepest hole you can find and scream your lungs out until the pain subsides. But you can't. Instead you focus on the brown of Taehyung's eyes, let it ease you back down until your breathing steadies and your heart rate levels.

"A shower," you finally choke out. "I need a shower."

He takes a final swipe at your tear-stained cheeks and offers up a small smile. "Okay. Where are the towels?"

You nod in the direction of the closet as Taehyung ushers you out towards the bathroom. It feels empty in here too, the single toothbrush staring you down from its holder and counter notably absent of shaving cream and hair gel. You tear your eyes away from the vanity to start the water running, and Taehyung pops up a moment later with a towel in hand and a fresh pair of pajamas he must've found in your dresser.

"Take your time," he says. "And if you need anything, anything at all, just give a shout. I'll be right out here." His cheeks take on a hint of pink when you quirk an eyebrow at him. "I'll close my eyes. Promise."

You thank him as he steps out so you can strip and get into the tub. The water is set to a near-scalding temperature and you welcome the sting, scrubbing away at your skin as if trying to erase all of the memories that are once again flooding back.

Your first date at the art museum, where he pointed to a painting of an extravagant rose garden and said it reminded him of you.

Your first kiss under the stars, the two of you losing track of time as he pulled you in again and again.

Endless Saturdays wandering around the city, not caring where you wound up as long as his hand was in yours.

Planning your someday wedding, his whispered promises of, Soon, beautiful, soon, sealed with a signature wink.

Picking out names for children who would never be born.

The tears are pouring out of you now, but you let them. One cry, you promise yourself. One final, good cry to wash it all away, and then it'll be time to let go for good.

You don't know how long you spend in the shower, but by the time you step back out into the living room, Taehyung has already set himself up with a makeshift bed on the couch. He lifts his head when he sees you and, taking note of your red-rimmed eyes, gets up to pull you into a hug.

For a moment he just holds you, arms banding tight around your shoulders before he says, "I cleaned out your fridge. Most of it was spoiled." He hesitates, pulling back to look at you. "And I changed the bedsheets." A hand rubs at the back of his neck. "I actually ran downstairs and threw them straight in the dumpster, I hope that's okay."

His thoughtfulness overwhelms you, and you'd probably start crying again if not for the fact that you don't think you have a single tear left in your body. As you gape at him, Taehyung interprets your silence for disapproval and quickly adds, "I'll buy you new ones."

You respond by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him back into you, sinking your face into the crook of his neck as you whisper a, "Thank you."

He seems to falter for a second before returning the hug, and as you give him one last squeeze he steps back, scrutinizing you more closely. "You look like you could use some sleep."

"Yeah," you admit, eyeing the cramped set-up on the couch. "Is that going to be okay for you though?"

"Absolutely," he chimes, bounding over to the couch to settle back in. He has to bend his long legs to fit, toes pressing into the fabric of the arm. "See? Comfy." When he catches the uneasy look on your face, he says, "Honestly. Y/N. Nowhere else I'd rather be."

You give him a hesitant nod—you know it'd be useless to try to convince him otherwise. "Okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight!" He flips onto his back, popping an arm behind his head and closing his eyes.

You cross the room slowly and, just like last time, find yourself pausing at the threshold of your bedroom. The bed is no longer a mess, fresh sheets now stretched neatly across the mattress, but as you look at it, it strikes you that you have never slept here alone. And while you may have committed yourself to moving on from this moment forward, you know this has the power to break you. Tomorrow, maybe, but right now, you're nowhere near ready for this.

You look back and forth between your bed and where Taehyung is lying, his legs now half-draped over the couch's arm, and you make up your mind.

"Tae?"

"Hmm?" He opens his eyes and turns his head to look at you.

"Can you sleep in here with me?"

He blinks, jaw dropping in surprise. "Uhh…are you sure?"

His hesitancy has you losing some of your nerve, and you have to look away. "I just don't think I can…" You purse your lips and shake your head. "You don't have to. I just—"

"No, it's okay. We can—yeah," he blurts, already standing up.

He sidesteps you in the doorway, taking your hand and pulling you into the room after him with a soft smile. "C'mon. Like I said, whatever you need."

Taehyung pulls back the covers so the two of you can crawl in. It's awkward at first, both of your bodies lying stiff across from each other. Physical affection has never been altogether uncommon for the two of you, but this—lying in the bed you used to share with your ex—feels like crossing a line of intimacy that you've never experienced with him before.

But then Taehyung laughs, reaching over to take your hand in his. "I know we’re a long way from high school, but we can do this, yeah? Not like we haven’t shared a bed before."

It breaks the tension, and you giggle back, looking down at where he's laced your fingers together. His knuckles are still lightly bruised with touches of yellow and green, and you run your free hand over the marks, smile drooping.

"I'm really sorry about this," you murmur.

"I'm not." Taehyung's forehead creases. "I'd do it again."

"Please don't," you say quickly. "If you see him again, just let it go."

He frowns and opens his mouth to respond, but you cut in. "Not because I care about him. I just don't want you getting into any trouble on his account. He's not worth it."

Taehyung briefly clenches his jaw but eventually gives you a slow nod. "Well I think my point was made anyway."

"Thank you," you say, pulling his hand up to brush a light kiss to his bruises. "I know I keep saying that, but I really can't tell you enough."

"You don't need to thank me. I know you'd do the same." His face breaks out into one of his boxy smiles. "Remember when Luna broke up with me, and I barely left the apartment for two weeks? You stopped by every day to make sure I was still eating."

You hum at the memory. It had been two weeks of dropping off take-out and commandeering the boys' kitchen to make large batch meals, even harassing Jimin to give you regular updates on whether or not Taehyung had eaten lunch. Jace had given you grief about it at the time, whining that Taehyung was a grown man who could take care of himself, especially when the two of you had just moved in and were still working on unpacking.

“And my birthday junior year of high school.” He’s quiet as he remembers, eyes fixed on some spot over your shoulder as if he’s rewatching the moments on film. “You got me those shoes I’d been absolutely enamored with.”

His old ones had been falling apart entirely, soles curling away from the fabric like orange peels in the sun. Barely even looking away from the bottle at that point, there was virtually no chance that Taehyung’s father would give him enough money to buy him new ones at the thrift store, let alone the high-end sneakers you’d always catch him subtly staring at every time the two of you wandered around the mall after school.

So of course, you’d done the only logical thing and surprised him with them for his birthday, the look of complete elation on his face making your heart leap in ways you didn’t even know it could.

A touch of joy slips into his expression too now as he picks another recollection out of his brain. "Or that time in college when I got stuck in that bathroom across campus with no toilet paper and you left class to break into the men's room and bring me some."

You scrunch your nose at that, saying, "We swore never to talk about that again!"

Taehyung laughs. "I know, but what I'm trying to say is that that's what we do. We take care of each other."

The truth of the statement hits you like a truck as you're suddenly anchoring yourself in Taehyung's eyes again.

It's as though every moment of the last seventeen years comes rushing back to you all at once—every joy, every celebration, every tear, every heartbreak. And at your side in each memory are the same brown eyes you're staring into right now.

A feeling that you're too scared to place stirs in your chest and has you panicking, and you can see that Taehyung isn't unaffected by the moment either as his lips part and he studies you with a newfound softness. When he reaches up to brush your hair behind your ear, the feeling in your chest swells and snaps, and you bury your face in his chest, tears starting afresh, as he wraps his arms around you.

"I'm here," he whispers. "I'm right here."

You press your hands into his back, clinging to him, and hope the pressure conveys what your words can't—what you don't even have a name for yet.

Your sobs subside after a while, but you stay wrapped up in each other. Right before you fall asleep, one final flashback of Jace leaks into your mind—words he had spit at you before leaving this place that night.

I've never been your priority. No one can be. Not when he's around.

It's hard work dragging yourself awake the next morning, your eyelids heavy and begging you to close them for just five more minutes.

But you realize that the side of the bed next to you is not only empty—it's cold. Reaching out to your nightstand, you flip your phone over to check the time. 10:42. The morning is practically gone.

You pull yourself out of bed and shuffle into the living room where you spot a figure standing in the kitchen. Taehyung is busy at the stove, white t-shirt tight across his shoulders as he works, humming to himself, and you stop for a moment to take him in (was he always this broad?).

"Good mood today?" you say. He turns, flashing you a smile over his shoulder.

"Morning, sleepyhead!" He catches himself, realizing he might sound a little too chipper for the occasion and quietly asks, "How are you feeling?"

"Alright," you shrug, and it's the truth. The seemingly endless crying the night before had been exhausting, but it also provided you with something of a catharsis, leaving you feeling almost refreshed today.

"Good," Taehyung says. He nods to the plate on the counter next to him. "I made pancakes."

"The chocolate chip ones?"

He places a hand over his heart and looks at you in mock offense. “Of course. What do you take me for?”

You laugh and wander over to the dining room table where a bright bouquet of lilies now sits in a vase. Pinching one of the delicate, silky petals between your fingers, you ask, "What's this?"

Taehyung glances over his shoulder again, blushing slightly when he sees what you're looking at. "Oh, I um—" He fumbles for his words. "I ran out to get you some groceries and saw the florist next door. Figured they could, you know, brighten things up in here a little."

"You didn't have to do that," you tell him softly, but he brushes you off with a shrug.

"I wanted to."

You reach for the petals again, the bright orange seeming to cast a glow on your skin like a sunset. “You know these look like—“

“The ones you used to collect on our walks growing up?” He chuckles at your stunned silence. “Yeah, I know.”

It still surprises you sometimes—the depth of his thoughtfulness and how well he knows you—and before you can stop yourself, you’re stepping up behind him at the stove. You wind your arms around his middle, pressing your forehead to the space between his shoulder blades and allowing your breath to warm the cotton of his t-shirt. It’s soft—intimate—and you feel Taehyung tighten up under your touch, his entire body going rigid.

“Y/N—“

“You know you mean the world to me, right?”

It’s a near-whisper—you sound like you’re on the brink of tears—and maybe that’s why Taehyung’s hard lines soften at the sound of your voice, turning in your arms so he can reciprocate the embrace and press a cheek to your temple. He doesn’t say a word, just holds you tight as you lean your face into his chest and inhale the comforting scent of pancake batter, laundry detergent, and honey-scented soap.

You think you could stay here forever.

Last night’s mood seems to linger in the air like little beams of light that warm your skin in the best way. You recall falling asleep in these same arms, this same scent wrapped around you—how it was easily the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

It's different, this space between you now. Has been since the night in the bathroom. You and Taehyung may have gone through a metric fuck ton of pain over the course of your lives, but there's no denying that this breakup is pushing your friendship into a new form, molding it into a new shape.

You're too nervous to dwell on it, but damn, if you aren't going to take advantage of how good it feels to cling to him right now. You want to wrap yourself around him like a koala—draw your legs around his waist and bury your nose into the hollow space at his collarbone.

What a great way to scare him off too, your brain says, even as your heart argues, He's stuck with you through worse.

You're tempted—seriously considering dragging him over to the couch so you can snuggle him properly—when the fire alarm goes off, the pancake on the stove burnt and blackened.

Taehyung releases you in a flash, spinning to shut off the burner and pull the pan off the stove as you rush to the hallway closet for a broom. You swing it underneath the alarm until the smoke clears, and the device stops its blaring shrieks. As silence filters back in, Taehyung tips the burnt pancake into the trash, the previous moment ruined.

"That'd be our luck to burn this place down your first day back," he jokes.

You tip your head up, already thinking this may have been a bad idea and wishing you were back at the guys' place. "Maybe not the worst thing in the world."

He approaches you slowly but deliberately, raising a long finger to press at your chin until you've lowered your gaze enough to look him in the eyes. Taking your hands in his—gently, so gently—he says, "We're going to breathe life back into this place. I'll be here every day if you want me to be."

"You d—"

"I will. Or Maya or Jimin or Kook." He moves his head so you're forced to look at him even as you try to look away, confronted with the raw sincerity in his eyes. "We'll drown out the bad memories with new good ones."

His voice is CPR, pressing warmth into your chest, and just like that, the suffocating walls around you open up a bit. You can see it, the two of you sitting on the couch watching TV—or maybe you watching him play one of his games—your other friends occasionally dipping in and out as they please.

More orange lilies on the table.

You pull your hands from his and drift to the kitchen counter, picking up the glinting silver key sitting on its surface. Turning back to Taehyung, you press it into his palm, and he stares at you, eyes wide with wonder.

"You're sure?"

You nod, and he curls his fingers around the key like it's something delicate—handling it with the same care you once saw him give a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest in the park when you were thirteen.

"Every day," he promises, pinky wrapping around yours and squeezing. "Just say the word."

NEXT

a/n: likes, reblogs, and feedback are always appreciated! <3

taglist is open!

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

u might want to cut this ask into 2... sorry?

so more like cantrips vs full blown artifacts, that eases so many worries. i wonder if anyone would change their vote knowing this lol.

you wanted ideas? lets build off the new info from the artifacts! im running off the assumptions that this is pre curse break.

the phoenix stone- reader could be stuck in rain, trying to stay warm by lighting up the stone, but as the weather gets more windy and the sun goes down it starts getting too cold to stay on, reader tries warm breaths and body heat just to get it starting so it can self sustain on its own heat from its flames. bonus if she is actively putting herself in harms way to warm it up so the monkeys can use it as a heat source.

forest stone- reader could grow plants from home, maybe native food from home and just have a bittersweet interaction over getting to see native crops but being unable to consume them safely. maybe reader grows a garden someday? a bouquet for a would-be human lover? or after they 'mysteriously' disappear, flower crowns for the monkeys? a garden would be nice to remind reader of home

for the healing part of the stone, reader could heal the monkey duo! what's not to say the curse slowed down their healing? imagine the bonding from one of the monkey duo seeing reader doing their very best to patch up the other? they could fake injuries to try and get more one on one 'healing' time. or reader could try and fail to heal a fever, and rely on traditional methods to break it.

the shield amulet- it may be impenetrable, but is it immovable? can reader move while its up? because if she cant, its a test of patience that the monkey duo will win. she cant grow food it will be too slow. she could threaten to eat something fatal tho… playing with fire there. what is stopping sun wukong from stealing it in readers sleep? nothing. bet the only reason he hasn't is because his mate convinced him that its the equivalent of a stuffed toy for reader : it makes her feel safe, even if it really doesn't lol.

im going to straight up guess that the glamor mask is either your oc appearance or a demon monkey form. would be funny if it were a genderbend mask tho. just straight up switch the gender if they try and pull gender related shenanigans. "what princess/queen? i only see men between the 3 of us"

just as i was about to hit send, a wild idea approaches!

[maybe i will polish this and put it on ao3 when i have the time, the will and the patience, probably not though]

this is way outside the scope of the artefact's powers but imagine if reader dies inside the shield, and it stays up. they can't shatter it, and the forest stone slowly but surely grows around the shield, hiding readers body from view.

the plants outside can be cut down, but the plants inside can't. the duo have to deal with the fact that, slowly but surely, reader's body is being hidden from them, and one day will be the last day they will ever see her, inside her would-be coffin, the thing that stopped them from saving her.

oh, how they regretted not throwing it away when they had the chance and now it will not even give them the ability to give her a proper burial. away from flower fruit mountain, will she buried under the sands of time forgotten, left to rot?

unacceptable. clones are left behind to guard her final resting place, the plants growing to make a flowerbed for reader to rest on. any who approach are struck down without mercy.

in the meantime, they need to make a visit to Diyu.

inside the shell of a last stand, a metamorphosis takes place.

they come back, heartbroken. she was not from these lands, and thus was not taken by those reigning over the dead. there was no name to strike from the records, no spirit to rescue from diyu.

they come back to see the site that they left so lovingly preserved in ruins.  all the plants that were growing were trampled and dying, the area carved by the fights the clones must have put up. not a single one was left.

and worst of all, in the very center of it all, the final resting spot was disturbed.

someone took her. somebody had the GALL to break in and steal her body from her final resting place, and they weren't even here to protect her!

they weren't able to protect her again, protect the last thing they had of her.

they would make sure that the perpetrator will wish they had lost to the clones.

above them all, in the treetops, a monkey cub holds its breath, watching.

lmao, i was going down the angst train at full speed, but decided describing the grieving process and the false hope i was giving them only to brutally crush it before their very eyes was maybe a sign i was going too far on the angst ride. idk how much angst is acceptable here so i decided to make reader turn into a monkey for the lols.

i wonder if they would be able to see through it using their true sight. hahaha must suck to the one stuck as a monkey cub now huh?

i like to imagine that reader gets found by them but they don't realise its her, just as she doesn't realise it's them[she died while they were still cursed], and they decide to adopt her in memory of the human who cared for 2 cubs she saw needed help. and reader gets to be at ground zero to see these two warlords grieve.

who does she think they are grieving for?

OBVIOUSLY THE MONKEY CUBS SHE HAD WITH HER, ARE YOU STUPID?? THERE WAS NO WAY THEY SURVIVED THE ATTACK, AND THERE WERE TWO FLOWER BOUQUETS FOR THE TWO CUBS THAT MATCHED THEIR COLOR SCHEME AND THEY LOOKED JUST LIKE THE CUBS! WHY ON EARTH WOULD TWO MONKEY DEMON WARLORDS GRIEVE FOR HER???

truly a foolish thought that could only come from such a foolish human to die such a stupid death and make the cubs die with her!

she was back, but they weren't. she wasn't the one to pay the ultimate price for her mistake.

did spirit grieve for her? did she come back only to she that she had died while she was away, reluctantly leaving to find a nearby village only after reader reassured her that she would be safe with the shield amulet, that it would be alright.

and they died because of her. spirit had to come back to their corpses because of her. the monkey demon pairing had to come back to their children's corpses because of her.

i would imagine the experience made her more introverted. more quiet, less willing to make friends. effectively mute. while the shield from the amulet may have fallen, another shield has formed around her heart.

would the monkey duo realise that reader was with them? would they brush it off as wishful thinking, as them projecting their false hopes onto a random monkey that perhaps they weren't too weak, too late? would they draw parallels between their curse and the cub in front of them? would they beg her for a sign?

would reader, drowning in guilt, give it to them?

what would the troop think? they see their kings grieving, ignoring the cub sometimes to go on rampages, and other times begging at its feet as if to ask for salvation. what sort of life is this for that poor cub, to have to endure their grief-induced psychosis?

no, it would be best for the cub to grow in a stable environment, at the very least until the kings recover from their grief.

it takes the duo 5 days to realise what has happened. it's hard to remember about the cub you so callously adopt when you are too busy going off on rampages throughout heaven and earth after all.

when the duo finds out why the cub is missing they just collapse, emotionally. reader is dead. she isn't coming back. and there is nothing they can do about it. the monkey duo don't leave their bed nest and are inconsolable.

reader feels bad for them, it's all her fault after all, that they lost their kids[she still believes this]. so she goes into their room, where they reminisce aloud about reader, and reader, who is unintentionally eavesdropping, finally figures out that A) its HER that they're grieving, and B) THEY'RE HER CUBS! THEY'RE NOT DEAD! SHE DIDNT KILL THEM!

she is so relieved she starts crying, and they hear her call out for them, not by the names everyone knows them as, but the nickname they got from the one person they miss the most:

"plums? peaches?"

denial, if i remember right, is the first stage of grief. they're in denial at first. who wouldn't be? they saw her die, they saw her die. their eyes cant lie their ears can't lie their nose can't lie she was dead dead DEAD-

anger is next i think. how dare that cub call them by those names, only reader can call them by those names! only she can, only her, only her!

but how could the cub know those names if not for her?

bargaining is the third stage.  its quite an odd thing, to bargain with the small, fluttering bit of hope inside of you. to bargain with oneself, to say that you will believe that if its her if she says it again, if she says something again, if she says anything again!-

"is it really you?"

you wouldn't expect to hit depression, would you? reader is back! They're back and they were here the entire time! they've been leaving you alone all this time, grieving for you all this time, and you were here all this time all along. so many tears, so much misery, and when they find out that you were here the entire time, the only thing they can feel is numbness as they reach out to you.

and you

reach back.

being crushed in an embrace between the two, you feel the shaking first, their tears streaming down their cheeks. you hug them as tightly as you can. they hug you back.

and as you look into their eyes you see acceptance. acceptance of the fact that you are back that is is real that you are in their arms, alive, here-!

that they love you too much to let you go.

while they dont care if you arent human or not, it is a bit worrying that you turned into a cub, like they did. did the curse transfer to you? is this something new?

after talking things through, you realise most of the artefacts 'malfunctioned' in a way. the shield didn't fall even in death, the forest stone grew plants nonstop around you. you found them on you and took them with you.

what happened to the glamor mask and phoenix stone?

sun wukong and macaque swear up and down that they searched, and not a single artifact left your bubble.[they were looking for something, anything of yours that they could keep on their person because you were dead-].

you had them all on you. and well, you did come back from the dead, right?

but that doesnt explain the where the glamor mask went! you didnt have it on you! you would have known if-

...

you tear off [not your face not your face NOT YOUR FACE]

the mask

off of your face.

...

a giggle leaves your mouth. well that was a bit silly wasn't it! if you had less self control and clawed off not your face perhaps this would have been solved much earlier!

well at least you were with your monkeys again.

________

ok now i gotta stop for real. i wrote this with no sleep so ahve mercy on spelling mistakes that slip through. have a nice day

Sorry about the confusion 😅. I always thought artifacts were old enchanted items so it didn't cross my mind to explain all of the weaknesses. Was probably going to later but eh who knows when it's me we're talking about.

For the heat, she would totally put herself into danger trying to get it to work. Spirit of course would try to bundle her up in clothes but they don't have all that many. (Spirit is covered in thick fur and less perceptible to the cold, which makes it worse for her because she can't stand the fact that her sister is probably freezing to death)

The monkey duo would be curled up in her arms trying to both be warm and share their heat with her. They'd probably be snuggled up against her chest holding onto her undershirt for closer skin contact as that would help aid in real warmth. They can't even enjoy this because of how cold they are! (It helps them decide that it's best she stay on Flower Fruit Mountain where she would always have the supplies she needs to stay safe and warm)

For the Forest Stone - I could totally see Reader making flowers. Oh, a human man thinks they're pretty. Here, he can have them sure. Cue monkey duo finding a way for this human to go missing. Was he a lover? They wouldn't care. He was a threat because he might become one. They can't let that happen, not at all. She was there human, theirs!

Another thought goes to your idea with the healing stone! Oh my word, these two would be trying for snuggles so badly that they would totally do that. A little scrape on the hand, it's not bleeding and doesn't even bruise, but it 'hurts.' Reader would try to help them immediately, of course. It's just another reason they want to keep her, once they decide they are going to.

For the patience on the sheild Macaque would obviously win in a test of patience. Depending on the situation there could be another thing that happens.

Reader can summon the sheild anywhere, I'm yoinking the idea of it being immovable to an extent. She can only summon one sheild and that sheild can be summoned to protect someone else. In order to move it she has to deactivate it and reactivate it. So that gives a window of opportunity for the Monkey duo.

Say she has the sheild up and then a group of human merchants come to pass by. Well, the Monkey duo likes her, yes, but who's to say they won't threaten the merchants. (They totally would if they are desperate enough) cue Reader making the sheild cover them. Which, of course, leaves her open to 'attacks' one attack being bombarded in snuggles and kisses.

>>><<<

Idea for the fic idea. I loved your idea with the glamour mask. But- I forgot to mention that the mask is still visible while the user is glamoured. (If you make a fic with an altered mask that isn't visible, that is absolutely fine. I would definitely read it for sure.)

So personally, I'd just have the curse kinda transfer to Reader instead. Depending on when the found her depends on if Wukong has his gold vision yet. Since this starts before the war on heaven, he doesn't have it because he hasn't gotten stuck in the furnace yet.

Also, they would totally take Reader in, even before meeting Reader or any of that. Orphan monkey cubs are always welcome in their home (they are quite biased to their own kind, so they are always offered a place in their kingdom. That's not to say some refuse or still fight them, of course)

Yes, the Monkey duo would definitely travel to diyu and return heartbroken. Would her body still be there probably not, if it's because she actually died she might get pulled back to her world and that might save her.

Or if the curse was transfered to her hoho, now her reaction on telling them would depend on so many things. She might feel guilty thinking they are grieving their cub but seeing the absolute devastation they cause would be terrifying.

Once she learns that it's her that they are doing this for she might get more terrified or be happy. She would be happy her monkeys survived, and she could still be terrified at the absolute power they held.

What would they do with her when they learned the truth? She'd heard stories about these two, Spirit tells her about them, and her monkey friends had liked listening to stories. (Wukong probably liked hearing the fear and terror he spread around)

Did they want revenge that she dragged them with her when they fought at first? If so, why were they mad she was gone? Did they want to make her a breeding mate? There were some demons that tried during her journey. They wouldn't want to make her a true wife, right? She was just a human woman, and the Monkey duo hated humans. She had passed through a town devastated by their kingdom before.

So maybe she would be too terrified to let them know, maybe she'd try to find a way to break the curse and return home. She might try to hide from them more.

In this case they might pick her up and as gentle as they can force her to let them take care of her. Via spoon feeding, and making sure she drinks water. And since she's so young they would make her sleep in their nest with them.

There are so many ways this story could go, both happy and joyful or sad and fearful. You said angst well how would the Monkey duo feel about the one they love being too scared of them to let them help break the curse? They would be so happy she's alive yet so scared of how much weaker and smaller she is verses how she already was.

If she tried to escape before they find out and failed. Oh boy there would be no getting away from them once they learn the truth.

But of course if she's not afraid of them, then she'd probably try to communicate who she is. With broken chirps as she doesn't know tne language at first, the curse would probably mess with the communication that she was granted. So cue her trying to learn the language so she can tell her heartbroken monkeys that it's her, she is reader. Since they don't call her Reader and probably gave her a different name. Oh the possibilities.

>>><<<

I would love to hear your thoughts on this! Everyone is welcome to send me an ask about these! I was bouncing in my seat as I read this ask, I loved the fic! To know my fanfiction helped inspire it 🥰 makes me feel so cozy.

Please send me more ideas, if you have them. No pressure. Or you can just send me something to say you liked my idea or not.

[porcelainseashore]

Teenage Headache Dreams (4)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: High School! College! Leon Kennedy x Dancer! Fem! Reader

Summary: You’re a bored, but ambitious high school student who can’t wait to escape small town life and make it in the big city. You thought you had it all figured out, until you unwittingly befriend the resident golden boy, Leon. A series of events beginning from junior year to college until Resident Evil 2 Remake.

Warnings: 18+ Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Eventual Smut, No (Y/N), Ambiguous/Open Ending

Content: High School AU, College AU, Pre-Resident Evil 2, Fluff, Romance, Cliche, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Lack of Communication

Author's Note: Things get heated in both senses of the word… I toned it down here, but the final chapter will go further 😉 I have to say this chapter was a bit of an unruly beast, but I hope it worked out in the end. Expect some angst and as usual, fluff.

AO3 Link

Chapter 4: Different Dreams

Since that wintry night in February which left you reeling from having kissed your best friend, you never found the opportunity to speak with him on where you both stood. Things just kept getting in the way: preparing for junior year finals, college admission tests, then summer placements and so on. To be fair, you weren’t exactly keen on confronting the question either, since you still weren’t sure whether you and Leon would be in the same place after graduating from high school. You had long since crossed the river of denial and you liked him a lot, but you were selfish. If you had to choose between a relationship with him and Tisch School of the Arts, the one college you had always dreamed of going to since you were young, you knew you’d pick the latter in a heartbeat. And that fucked you up. You couldn’t help but feel guilty each time he tried to broach the subject of “that night”, and when you brushed him off, he didn’t get upset or push it. He just waited patiently as ever, with a hopeful look in his eyes, that someday you’d be ready to talk. 

Maybe it was just better to remain as friends. That said, you were there for him as one. You supported him, teasing through the countless college possibilities he had swimming around in his mind, after he returned from the school’s career counselor. When the local police force had come round to give one of their recruitment talks, he seemed to have taken an interest in their work. In particular, their speech about directly interacting with and helping civilians in times of need really resonated with him. Although you were wary about cops in general, questioning the punishment system and incidences of police brutality, you encouraged him to follow what felt right to him.

As you sat together with him on his bed, littered with a bunch of police academy brochures that were sprawled across the covers, he went through the reasons that led him to make this choice, and you began to connect the dots. “Remember when you said that I’m a good person?”

“Yeah?” You perked up.

“Well, I just wondered how I could be more of that,” he explained.

Did he feel like he needed to prove himself, just so he could believe in it? You were dying to tell him that he didn’t have to do all of this. That he was perfect the way he was. But sometimes people just needed to go through the motions themselves. This was his journey to make, so you bit back your tongue and listened.

“I want to help regular people, like you and me. Protecting the innocent, changing their lives for the better…” He stared into space for a while before continuing. “And what about all the unsolved cases? Those families deserve closure.”

You realized that closure from the past was something he never had.

“I mean, I just want to make a difference somehow,” he reiterated.

“Hm, that sounds stupid, doesn’t it?” He remarked sheepishly, constantly glancing at you for your opinion.

“No… no, not at all.” You shook your head, reassuring him sincerely. “Well, you know I don’t have the best impression of cops,” you laughed. “But that will change, with you.”

“You think so?” A slight smile formed at the corners of his mouth.

You leaned back against the mattress on your forearms and confirmed. “Hell, Leon. If there’s such a thing as a model police officer, I think you’re gonna be that.”

“There isn’t a single bad bone in your body.” You winked. “Not vouching for the lame ones though.”

“Gee, thanks.” He was blushing now as he twiddled his thumbs.

“I take it that you’re gonna enjoy helping old ladies cross the road?” You couldn’t resist teasing him when he looked like that.

“Sure, you know you can call on me anytime.” He smirked.

You forgot he had a knack for winding you up. “Fuck you, Leon!”

“Oh yeah?” He challenged, although you could tell from his expression that he was only half-kidding.

That stopped you in your tracks, as a mental image of you and Leon in various intimate positions formed in your mind. You swallowed hard, feeling a burning sensation of arousal surging within. Despite that, you shrugged off those thoughts and picked up one of the brochures lying in the pile to distract yourself. “So, you’re gonna visit the open house?”

You heard what sounded like a disheartened sigh before he replied, “Yeah I’d like to.” He turned to face you expectantly. “It’d be nice, if uh, you came along?”

“They’re all pretty nearby,” he added, trying to sweeten the deal. As if you needed convincing.

You rolled your eyes, exclaiming, “Even if it was a gazillion miles away, I’d still be there.”

Echoing his previous sentiment at the time he had supported you at your performance, you mentioned naively, “That’s what friends are for, right?”

When you caught him wincing and tightening up at the word “friends”, you realized the blunder you had made, but it was too late.

He stood up silently and made his way over to his desk, busying himself with a stack of papers.

That hand-wringing sensation of guilt started to swell in your chest again. You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Finally, you got up to leave. “Just let me know when, ok?”

He nodded his head in acknowledgement, without turning around to see you off. You walked out of his room with your eyes downcast, trying to console yourself that it was for the best. The police academies he had singled out weren’t even remotely near New York. There was no way it would work out. No way.

━━━━━━━━━━━

You accompanied Leon to the open houses that summer, as he got a good look around the various campuses, asking inquisitive questions and highlighting his athletic achievements, albeit rather humbly. After some nudging from you, he began to mention his academics too. You always held his intelligence in high regard, which you had noticed in class and during your study sessions, that were miraculously still going on despite his earlier reluctance. In your opinion, he would make a great detective, though he had tried to downplay it when you shared it with him.

In any case, you should’ve known that it never ends well when unresolved things are left to fester. So here you were, in your room this time, having the biggest argument you’ve ever encountered with Leon so far.

It all started when you were grabbing something quick from your shelf, before heading out with Leon for a walk along the surrounding forest trails, just so you could make the best use of the remaining summer days. He’d waited around the entrance to your room when something piqued his interest. Walking in, he pointed at a makeshift board lying by your bedside. “Jeez, what’s this? An evidence board or something?”

Whipping your head around, you laughed, “It’s to keep track of all the colleges I’m applying to, dumbass.”

Resting his fingers under his chin, he tilted his head and noted without hiding his disappointment, “They’re kinda far away.” 

“And this one.” He pointed to the red circle in the middle. “That’s your dream school, huh?” At least he remembered. Not like you hadn’t been going on about it for ages.

“Yeah, since I was little.” You nodded, taking a couple of steps closer, till you joined Leon at his side. A moment of doubt set in, as you shrugged and chewed your lip nervously. “I don’t know if I’m good enough.”

“You’re more than good enough,” he stated simply, in a tone deeper than usual. It reverberated across the room as he eyed you intently. 

“I’ve watched you-” He pulled you in close, wrapping an arm around your waist, which elicited a small gasp from your lips. “Perform.” His other hand trailed up to caress your cheek.

“Choreograph,” he continued, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Teach.” He smiled fondly at the memory of picking you up from class one day, as the little ballerinas you taught gathered around your legs quizzing, Miss, is that your boyfriend? 

Meanwhile, it felt like your brain was malfunctioning, as you stood frozen on the spot, losing yourself in the pool of his ocean blue eyes, while he issued you compliment after compliment, finally finishing with, “You’re incredibly talented.”

Stroking his thumb gently over your bottom lip, his gaze followed suit, transfixed by its outline. Checking for any signs of discomfort on your face but finding none, he leaned in, planting his mouth on yours, as an involuntary moan escaped from your throat. No matter how much you tried to fight it, your body would not lie. It craved his touch, and all at once, you threw out the barriers you had placed between yourself and Leon in the past few months.

Sliding your hands up his chest, you parted your lips slightly to allow his tongue to slip inside. The kisses grew hungrier and more urgent as you tasted each other, causing you to stumble backwards onto your bed with him laying on top of you. You were so glad your parents were out, as the door to your bedroom was wide open and both of you weren’t exactly keeping very quiet about things. He peppered kisses along your neck, as his hands roamed across your body. Then his lips traveled downwards to your chest and you tangled your hands tightly in his hair, cursing his name in pleasure under your breath.

There were countless thoughts running through your head, like how fast you and Leon were going, and how badly you wanted him, but something was screaming inside of you about how wrong all of this was. You were just friends, right? You shouldn’t be leading him on like this.

With whatever resolve you had left, you tore yourself away and pushed him off you, stammering, “I’m sorry, I can’t!” You were shaking uncontrollably as Leon regarded you with a mixture of worry and confusion, panting heavily through his swollen, red lips.

“Wha-? Are you ok? Did I hurt you?” The questions came out like rapid fire.

“I-I’m fine.” You looked down in embarrassment as you adjusted your clothes.

“Then, what’s wrong?” His brows were knitted in distress, wondering if he had unknowingly crossed your boundaries.

“I just don’t think this is such a good idea,” you offered hesitantly.

Running his hand through the mess you had made of his silky blonde hair, he sighed, “Why? What about that night?” There it was again.

You bit your lip apprehensively. “We never followed up on that.”

As his face contorted in anguish, you knew that your time of delaying the inevitable had run out, and he wasn’t going to let it go now. “It was like you never wanted me to bring it up.” He began to raise his voice, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I gave you months… Months!”

“It’s… complicated,” you whispered.

“How?” He asked, bristling with irritation.

“Well, for starters, we’re gonna be living miles apart by the time we finish high school.”

“You don’t know that,” he countered, crossing his arms firmly, as if shielding himself from being let down again.

“What do you mean?” You blurted out in bewilderment.

By now, he had gotten up and paced around your room restlessly. “You could… I don’t know, go to one of the bigger cities around here. I heard Chicago’s got a pretty good-”

You felt a flash of annoyance as you cut him off instantly. “You know I’ve wanted to go to Tisch my whole life!”

“I don’t understand you!” He choked, shaking his head furiously. “You’d travel miles with me to the academies, but you can’t even think of doing this long distance?” 

He was grasping at straws to keep you, but you didn’t want to hurt him. You didn’t know if you were right for each other. In your mind, Leon was a bit of a homebody, judging by the college choices he had made. He needed someone who could provide him with stability and the white picket fence American dream. You couldn’t do that. You wanted to travel the world and live out new experiences.

As you hugged yourself wordlessly, unable to look at him, he softened, once again trying to reason things out. “I just thought… we mattered too.”

Your heart broke as he said that. You wanted nothing more than warmth and intimacy with him on this lazy Sunday, cuddling and trading affectionate kisses. But you couldn’t. “You do matter to me, Leon.”

“Then why do you keep pushing me away?” There was no more anger in his voice, only sadness.

He deserved an answer, and you would give him one. You just didn’t expect to be so inept at choosing how to express yourself. “We both have our own dreams,” you tried to explain. “They’ve just turned out to be very different.” 

The next line came out a lot harsher than you intended. “I can’t have someone holding me back. I’m sorry.”

Before regret could even sink in, Leon had started to take his leave, his expression turning colder than ice. “No, I’m sorry for even trying,” he commented bitterly. “I’ll stop wasting your time.”

“Leon!” You called out after him, but he paid no attention and continued to walk off. “It came out wrong,” you pleaded. “That’s not what I meant!”

The last thing you heard was your front door slamming shut.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Over the next weeks when senior year started, you tried to reach out to Leon to no avail. He had become a distant shell of his former self. There was an air of aloofness each time you bumped into each other, as he pretended not to recognize you. All the notes you attempted to pass to him in class ended up crumpled and thrown into the bin without being read. You felt a stab to your gut every single time.

However, you were observant enough to make out the sting of hurt in his eyes when he thought you weren’t looking. You knew he was keeping you at an arm’s length to protect himself, but also partly to give you a taste of your own medicine, just like when you had foolishly dragged things on, hoping they would resolve themself without giving him an answer. Until it was too late. You hated him for being so immature and childish, but you held yourself responsible for starting it first.

Then, the rumors came. You saw him with that girl, Val?, again. They were doing the things you used to do together before the fallout. It made you sick to your stomach, but you said nothing. Maybe you deserved all of this, you thought.

“Lattes after class?” Kayla’s chirpy voice snapped you out of your reverie.

“Hm?” You weren’t really in the mood, but you tried your best to smile through it.

“They brought in the pumpkin spice ones early this season! Can you believe it?” She giggled excitedly, throwing her arm around your shoulder as she proceeded to whisper into your ear, “Come on, you and I need some girl-to-girl talk.”

As you made your way towards the cafe, you caught sight of Leon with his arm around Val on the other side of the street. Kayla wrinkled her nose at them, as she quickened her pace, pulling you along. “Smooth, real smooth, Kennedy,” she muttered under breath.

Whilst it was comforting to know you had someone who supported you through this - something which you didn’t expect, not least from Kayla - you were flung into the center of drama and gossip again. 

Clink. Kayla placed both cups of coffee on the table as she sat down, adjusting her mini skirt before turning to face you attentively. “Spill it.”

You shrugged, glancing around awkwardly.

She tried prompting you at first, “Did he break up with you?” No answer.

“He did something stupid.” No answer.

“Oh my god, he cheated on you, didn’t he?” She accused melodramatically, such that a couple of customers in the cafe glowered over in displeasure at the noise.

You slapped a palm against your forehead and cringed. “Kayla, please.”

“Oops, sorry.”

You sighed, deciding that perhaps it would do some good to open up a little, instead of keeping things to yourself all the time. “It was me. I fucked up, ok?”

“Bullshit,” she scoffed. “It always takes two to tango.” She checked out her manicured nails for a second before continuing, “And even if he was the sweet angel as you claim he is, he sure is fucking it up spectacularly now.”

You raised an eyebrow. Strong choice of words. “Look, we were never really together. I mean, we did some things-” You paused, swallowing anxiously. “-friends don’t usually do.” 

She gave you a knowing smirk, gesturing at you to continue.

“I told him…” At this, your voice cracked, “I didn’t want him, Kayla.” Your mouth quivered, as stray tears welled up in the corners of your eyes.

“Oh, babe,” she cooed. “But you do, don’t you?” She placed her hand over yours understandingly.

You weren’t used to crying, especially not out in the open like this. You pulled away from Kayla, wiping the tears away roughly with the back of your hand, as you straightened up and put on the same facade you always do. “It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s with Val-”

Immediately, Kayla scowled. “That girl has some nerve! I knew it,” she spat. “Always waiting in the sidelines to bag your man.”

“It’s not her fault!” You protested. As far as you were concerned, you and Leon hadn’t made any promises to each other. He was free to go out with whoever he wanted.

Kayla rolled her eyes, “I’m sure she couldn’t wait one hot minute.”

“If that’s the case, then Leon should’ve waited too, right?” You argued. If you had to go along with this warped way of reasoning with her, then so be it. 

“Fair enough,” she conceded, though you could tell that she wasn’t exactly happy about the outcome, and you wanted to put a stop to whatever mean girl prank she had up her sleeve. 

“I’m serious. Don’t,” you warned.

She threw up her hands in mock surrender. “Ok, Miss Party Pooper… I won’t do anything to her. I swear!”

━━━━━━━━━━━

It took you a while to realize what Kayla’s actual plan of action was. In her typical fashion, it was loud, flashy and drew the attention of the whole school. It happened during lunch break in one of the weeks following your girl talk. You had seated yourself with the rest of the cheer team at the cafeteria, when you saw her slam her cutlery down on the table, snarling, “That’s it. I’ve had enough of this shit!”

The rest of the girls including you stared at her in shock, as she stormed up to where the other sports teams usually sat. She made a beeline for the blonde boy whom you’d been moping about for most of the term now, situating herself between him and his latest flame. You couldn’t hear what she was saying, but it made Val scurry off, before she and Leon entered into some sort of shouting match. You only managed to make out bits and pieces of it.

“What the fuck’s your problem?”

“Let me guess, the classy rebound-” Slow clap.

“Stay out of it-”

“You’re the one causing trouble!”

The next minute, she pointed at you, motioning to come over. Leon’s eyes grew dark, giving you a withering glare as you walked towards them with a mix of reluctance and unease. You despised being singled out like this, but you needed to put an end to running away from your problems.

Once you had made your way over, Kayla, who was seemingly pretty satisfied herself, barked out an order, “You two, just sort it out! It’s driving me insane.”

When she left the table and the curious onlookers - which meant literally everyone in the cafeteria - had decided to resume back to whatever they were doing, you uttered the first words to Leon in a long time, “Well, that was awkward.”

“You don’t say.”

“Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t know she would get like that,” you admitted.

He still held his guard up as he regarded you stoically. “So what did you want to talk about?”

You sighed, hoping you would do better this time. But there was just so much to say. Where to start? “I just wanted apologize for what I said that day,” you treaded cautiously. “I miss you, Leon.” You were getting glassy-eyed again, but you braved on. “And I still really care about you.”

His lips were pinched together as he considered your words. He had his reservations, but his hard gaze was slowly faltering. For a while, he didn’t respond. Just as you thought you had overstayed your welcome, he piped up almost inaudibly, “I care, too.”

You nodded in response and took your leave. You knew things would never be the same again, but this was enough for now.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The atmosphere between you and Leon remained tense, but at least it was amicable now. Apparently, Val was out of the picture. Nothing happened, they went on a date or two and Leon called it off. Well, that was what was going through the rumor mill anyway.

Still, it killed you inside, as it felt like you had lost a lover and a best friend. When you received your acceptance letter in December from Tisch, you didn’t even know whether to celebrate or not. Moreover, the one person you would have celebrated with was hardly in your life anymore. Kayla pushed you to tell Leon regardless, and you started to think maybe you had the wrong impression of some of your schoolmates after all. They did seem to look out for you, in their own weird way. It was like reading Pride and Prejudice all over again.

That’s what brought you in front of Leon’s front door, as you rang the doorbell in anticipation. You flinched as the door opened. The corridor was bathed in a warm, golden glow as the light filtered through the doorway, partly blocked by Leon, who peered out at you curiously. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you called out timidly. God, it was like you were strangers again. “Um, can I come in?”

“S-sure.” He held the door open for you, as you took in your surroundings. It had been months since you’d last visited, but nothing much had changed.

“So… what can I do for you?” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. You weren’t used to this formal way of addressing each other. It gave you goosebumps.

“I thought it was only right to let you know,” you started. Your hands were trembling as you held out a thick white envelope towards Leon. “I-I got in.”

He took the envelope in his hands, frowning as he opened it. As he glanced over the papers, a spark of recognition shone in his eyes. “Oh! Uh-” He looked like he was at a loss for words as a wave of conflicting emotions washed over him. “Congratulations! I guess.”

“Thanks.” You nipped at your lip lightly, wondering if your next question would be appropriate. “Can I have a hug?”

For a fleeting instant, he looked like a deer in the headlights, but then he got a hold of himself. “Y-yeah.”

It took both of you a good minute to navigate your way into an embrace, so much so you nearly laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. But once you were in each other’s arms, you relaxed, breathing in his familiar scent that you grew to love. “I missed this,” he sighed blissfully into your hair. You deepened the embrace, pulling him closer to you.

“I guess I should also tell you…” He pressed his lips to the side of your forehead as he spoke, “I’m heading to the police academy in Springfield.”

Your heart leapt out of joy and ached with melancholy at the same time. “That’s fantastic! I’m so proud of you, Leon.”

“Mm, you always know how to make me feel…” his words faded off as he broke away from your arms, but held your gaze, as if asking, “What now?”

Maybe this was your chance for the heart-to-heart that was long overdue. And you grabbed it with both hands.

“I was scared,” you started. “I didn’t know how it could work out with the distance, maybe even performing internationally…” After a brief pause, you revealed, “I thought you wanted the suburban dream.”

“When did I ever say that?” He blurted out, with a look of shock plastered across his face.

You flinched, realizing that he had a point. He never mentioned wanting that. These doubts you had appeared to stem from your own fears projected onto him. “I-I thought…” You trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

“You could’ve asked me,” he replied, seemingly perturbed from the misunderstanding that occurred between the two of you. “I really wished we talked about this.”

Your eyes dropped to the ground, as you felt a heavy weight in your chest. “I’m sorry, I just assumed it was the case.” At this, he grasped his forehead in his hands and sighed wearily.

This was all so stupid. But you needed to tell him exactly how you felt about him, especially after this wake-up call. “Leon, hear me out, please? When I lost you, I realized I was so caught up with running as far away as I could from this place, that I didn’t see how important being with you was to me.”

You forced down a lump in your throat as you continued, “You never held me back, I was wrong to say that.”

“I want you,” you confessed. “Always have.”

You felt completely exposed, as if every part of you was laid bare and open to scrutiny. “I just had to let you know, even if you don’t feel the same way about me anymore.”

As you folded your arms to brace yourself for what would come next, Leon reached out and caressed your hair comfortingly. “I-” he paused. “If this is about Val, I’m sorry I did that,” he apologized. “I was hurt, and it wasn’t fair to either of you.”

Placing his fingers under your chin, he lifted it to bring you within eye contact. “However, I need you to stop guessing what you think I might want,” he stated firmly. “I can make my own decisions, ok?”

As you nodded in agreement, his gaze softened, and he took you within his arms again, cradling your head against his chest. “And… you haven’t lost me, but I need some time.” He sighed. “This was all just-”

At that moment, you were interrupted by his mom, who’d made her way in from the living room. “Gosh, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

You and Leon let go of each other self-consciously, as she spontaneously invited you to dinner with the family that evening, which had just been freshly cooked and served out on the dining table. As you shared in the laughter and light-hearted conversations together, you couldn’t help but feel a sliver of hope about your future with the boy sitting beside you.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Prom night was coming up. At least that was what Kayla kept reminding you. You still had a few months to prepare, but for her it was the most important social event of high school. No one had asked you out yet, and Kayla felt that wouldn’t do. Secretly, you wished Leon would have made a move by now, but maybe things were still too raw.

As you emptied out your locker, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Spinning around, you brushed up against one of the footballers you had hardly spoken with during your school years. He must have noticed the bemusement on your face, as he spoke first, “Wanna go to the prom with me?”

From afar, you heard a distant giggle and narrowed your eyes at the source. Kayla’s sly grin gave it away. She set the whole thing up. Why?

You glanced between her and the beefy guy in front of you. Clearly not your type. At all. “Uh…” you tried to stall, wondering how you were going to maneuver your way out of this situation.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the side, snaking an arm around your waist, causing you to yelp in surprise. “She’s coming with me.” You’d recognize that voice anywhere.

Hm, this was getting interesting. Talk about Mr Knight in Shining Armor to the rescue.

Leon turned to face you. “Am I right?”

“Y-yeah, I’d like-,” you paused to recollect yourself. “I’m going with you,” you confirmed with a hint of shyness.

The footballer backed off, raising his hands in the air as he excused himself clumsily. “Sorry man, my bad. I didn’t know she was taken.” Leon was giving him the stink eye all the way through.

“You trying to make me jealous, baby?”

Baby? You gulped. What the hell has gotten into him? You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. But his arm was still resting on your waist with no intention of letting go anytime soon.

You saw Kayla shrug and dust her hands, before sashaying away. You had to hand it to her though. Fucking mastermind genius.

“Well, you never asked.”

“I did now,” he retorted smugly.

Ok, so you were back to bantering. Guess you could deal. But it still didn’t answer the question on where you stood with him. Had he finalized his thoughts since that talk you had?

“Leon,” you sighed. “Is this your way of saying you’d like to make things official?”

“Sorry about that. I was kinda put on the spot,” he admitted bashfully, as if he had been caught doing something wrong and now had a tail between his legs. 

“But yeah, I want to,” he professed. “Do you?” He stared at you, swallowing nervously. “I mean, would you like to be my, uh- girlfriend?”

You gave him a coy smile, copying one of his previous lines in response. “Sure, I suck at it. So why not?”

“Never know till you try.” He beamed in return, unable to conceal the sheer look of happiness on his face any longer. “Guess we can figure out the rest along the way.”

“Uh huh.” You glanced around, all of a sudden painfully aware that you both were having this conversation in full public view. Although the other students were pretending not to pay attention, you knew they had seen and overheard everything. 

A hot flush rose to your face. It didn’t seem to deter Leon as he tugged you closer with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. You had an inkling of what was about to unfold, but you chose to embrace it.

“Let’s give them a show, shall we?” He smirked, and with that, his lips collided into yours, as you made out against the lockers, oblivious to the world around you.

[defectivevillain]

home where

pairing: Wally Darling/Reader (can be platonic or romantic)

reader's race & gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

summary: You wake up in an unfamiliar place. The only other occupant, a friendly man named Wally, seems to think it’s home. …You disagree.

word count: 1.5k | ao3 version

warnings: canon-typical derealization

author's notes: I know virtually nothing about Welcome Home and its characters. It seems really cool, but I just didn’t have enough energy to commit myself to another fandom when I first wrote this (and I still feel the same). Maybe I’ll come back to WH and do a deeper dive someday! Who knows. I certainly don’t.

On a related note, I’ve decided I want to do some sort of Halloween oneshot collection this October. I have quite a few drafts for various movies and series that I wrote up a few months ago in preparation for this Halloween… and when I stumbled upon this draft, I realized it would be a great way to kick things off. So yeah! I will admit, without shame, that many (if not all) of the works in this "collection" will be slightly unfinished (aka less detailed than I may want them to be). But I still wanted these fics posted, and I know that they’ll likely just rot in my docs forever otherwise.

Your eyes are stinging. You rub at them roughly, letting out a quiet sigh. It’s been a pretty long day. You stumble through your nighttime routine with a bit less finesse than usual, counting down the seconds until you can collapse into bed. When you finally get back to your room, you move to turn off the lights—only to realize you forgot to close your laptop. The screen’s vividness immediately sears into your eyelids. Blinking tears from your eyes, you close it and head back to your bed to go to sleep. 

Fortunately, you’re tired enough to find sleep rather easily. But even when your eyes slip shut, remnants of that bright light from moments ago burn through your vision. 

When you wake the next morning, sunlight stretches through the gaps in your curtains—illuminating your room in a dim glow. You blink several times to make your eyes feel less dry, before taking a deep breath and pushing yourself up to a sitting position. The bedspread is weirdly scratchy. You look down at it, entirely perplexed when you find a multi-color patchwork quilt instead of your normal comforter. You run a hand along it, trying to rationalize how you could’ve gone to sleep and woken up in a bed with different dressings. 

But your bedspread isn’t the only thing that’s changed��as you glance about the room, you realize that everything looks slightly different. The posters and photos adorning the walls are unusually colorful, and any harsh corners on your furniture have been smoothed over into neat curves. And as your hands investigate the quilt on your bed, you realize that you look strange too. The mirror on the wall casts a familiar reflection, but with softened edges and vivid coloring. Your clothes are far too bright than you remember them being—the same goes for your eyes. 

After a lot of exploring, you come to the unfortunate conclusion that your surroundings are drenched in technicolor. Even more surprising and inexplicable is the unshakeable fact that you’re not dreaming. Several hard pinches to the skin on your forearm cement that unfortunate reality. 

You step outside of your living space, only to find that the surrounding town is just as blindingly bright-colored. Vivid trees in neon colors surround the various buildings. With a churning stomach, you walk through the waving grass and desperately look for a clue to explain your unfamiliar surroundings. Some time later, you’ve explored the entire area—only to yield no new information. 

It’s only when you approach the outskirts of the humble town that you hear a voice. “Where are you going?”

You freeze. For a moment, you contemplate ignoring this new presence; then you realize this may be the only way for you to understand what’s going on. You turn around to find yourself staring at a man with yellow fleece skin and blue hair styled elegantly above his head. He wears a bright blue shirt and multi-colored pants. Looking at him makes your head spin. 

“I’m trying to go home,” You respond, watching as the sidewalk stretches into the distance. You shove your hands in your pockets to quell some of your restless energy. It doesn’t work as well as you’d like. 

“This is Home,” the newcomer frowns. He looks confused but sympathetic.

“My home, I mean,” you clarify. Surely, if this guy is a local, he should know you’re a stranger. You don’t belong here. 

“This is your home,” he insists. For a moment, his voice almost sounds forceful. “Our home!” He then chirps, as if attempting to distract you from his brief slip in composure.

You stare at him for a moment, unable to shake the strange feeling of foreboding running down your spine. “Who are you?” You finally relent and ask. 

“I’m Wally Darling,” he responds. “Who are you?” Wally peers at you curiously. 

You return his gaze, struggling to find an answer to the question. Who… are you? What’s your name? And, most importantly, why are you here?

You try to deflect. “Where is everyone?” You ask, looking around at the quiet town. It feels weirdly empty. There’s almost something… sinister about it: this cute little town, entirely vacant. How can something so colorful be so lifeless?

“They’re sleeping, I think.” Wally responds smoothly, breaking you out of your thoughts. You swear you see his smile falter for a second, but the expression vanishes just as quickly as it appeared. 

Adrenaline courses you at the thought of being trapped in this unfamiliar place with no one but this stranger for company. You try to take another step towards the forest, but it feels as if some invisible force is fighting against you. You’re then shoved backwards, colliding with Wally in the process. 

“Easy there,” he smiles, steadying you with hands on your shoulders. The gesture doesn’t reach his eyes. 

You nod and quickly excuse yourself from the conversation, citing your growing headache as justification. In your defense, you do have a rather painful headache growing to inhabit your temple and stretch through your cheekbones. Wally seems to sense that you’re telling the truth, because he just smiles and bids you good day, after one final remark welcoming you to the neighborhood. You continue to explore the town throughout the remainder of the day, despite the uncanny feeling of eyes on your back. 

As time passes, you start to notice that there’s a friendly sort of malice in the way Wally carries himself. He’s a bundle of contradictions: misery behind a paper-thin smile; glee behind a disparaging frown. He’s always lingering in the corner of your vision: when you’re getting up in the morning; when you’re taking a walk. He tells you virtually nothing about himself, yet he seems eager to learn anything and everything about you. You can’t help but be wary around him. 

But somehow, he wants to be friends with you. Wally’s idea of friendship seems to bleed into something far past platonic, though. He regularly makes remarks about how his life has changed for the better since your arrival; his eyes gleam with something close to envy when you talk about your friends outside this colorful town. You don’t want to overanalyze things, but then you notice the rapt attention he pays you when you speak. Then you notice the freshly trimmed flowers in the vase on your front porch—the one you’ve walked past every day without a second thought. 

Although Wally’s behavior is a bit puzzling, he dominates your thoughts for a different reason. Safe to say, he unnerves you sometimes. And you can’t shake the conviction that he’s hiding things from you. Sometimes he’ll look at the other houses with nostalgia in his eyes; he’ll reference people you’ve never heard of and then clam up when you ask about them. 

He greets you every morning, without fail. The first few times, you smile and wave back. But as time passes and you still can’t find a way out of this place, you start to ignore him. However, this behavior only seems to encourage Wally—as he begins to tag along on your morning walks. 

And it only takes you so long to break. After all, he’s the only other form of human (?) contact in this place. You need to talk to someone about something—anything—and Wally is your only choice. It’s only natural that you stop resisting. Not to mention, Wally is a superb listener. He’s almost too good at it. You get the feeling that he would let you talk for hours, content remaining silent and digesting all the information you give him. You’ve made sure not to reveal too many private details about your life—your real life, outside of this town—but Wally seems to know you anyway. He knows things about you that you’ve never told anyone; sometimes, he even references conversations you think you’ve had with friends over direct messages. 

Ultimately, it doesn’t take you long to come to the conclusion that Wally is the key to leaving this place. You’re not deluded enough to think he’ll let you leave, but you can’t deny that he knows more than he’s letting on. He is far from innocent in this whole affair. He must be pulling the strings from somewhere, somehow. You can only dismiss these thoughts as paranoid for so long, before the dots begin to connect and you’re faced with incontrovertible evidence of his malevolence.  

And while you relented and allowed Wally to join you on your morning walks, you never stepped foot inside his residence or took him up on his offers to spend more time together. 

At least, not until now, when you find yourself standing on the doorstep of Wally’s home with your heart racing in your chest. Despite the dread prickling along your skin, you extend a hand and ring the doorbell. You don’t understand what’s happening here, but you know one thing for certain: Wally is at the center of it. 

The door creaks open ominously. Wally stands in the doorway, an easy smile plastered across his face. You both know it isn’t genuine, and within moments, it starts to melt and slip off his face. A crooked grin shudders over his lips. “Hey, neighbor!” He says brightly. A thick tension descends across the space. A stiff breeze ruffles your clothes and sends chills down your arms. Wally’s dark eyes almost seem to engulf you; there’s a faint ringing sound echoing in your ears. “I’ve been expecting you.”

thanks for reading! <3

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friendly reminder that i don't give permission for my writing to be shared to other sites, stolen, copied, translated, or used in any way. thanks!

[joshusten]

love me in spite (guy/honey, redacted audios)

Guy and Honey get into an argument early into their relationship.

(angst, hurt/comfort, arguments, fluff)

3k+ words [ao3 link here!] [masterlist]

[CW and notes: swearing, arguing, insecurities, overthinking, breakdowns, descriptive?? crying?? I think??, idk they’re both having a bad time. probably a lot of grammatical errors lmao. also honey is implied to be empowered!!]

Honey doesn't remember the last time they felt like this, but they’ve always known their personality would bite them in the ass someday.

“Aww, is my beloved mad again? Oh, pray tell, which heinous crime did I commit this time, officer? Robbery? Public indecency?” Guy stroked his chin, pretending to rack up his mind on any possible offense he could have made. “Hm…jaywalking?"

“Guy.”

“Oh! Or maybe—just maybe—it was wanting my ever-so-affectionate lover to stop their pretty head from fussing over me?”

"Guy, can’t you take this seriously for once?” 

“But I am! It’s just not that big of a deal, baby! Look, a manuscript can’t just write itself, y’know? Especially one with a little flair from yours truly!”

“You haven’t slept properly for days now, you work overnight most of the time, and on your days off you pull all-nighters writing!” 

“Oh, you’re one to talk!”

“Well, this one’s more serious! I haven’t even seen you eat a proper meal and anything I offer you gets left out cold!”

They continued to have a back-and-forth confrontation, voices raising and words getting crueler as time goes on, with both parties not intending to back down anytime soon. Honey thought it was the first time they ever heard Guy let out an actual annoyed scoff and they noticed the slightest change in his demeanor. 

“Jesus, Honey. Of all the times you can finally act like you care for me, why now? Hm?” There was a playful smile on his face. It almost made them believe he was still joking around but his words were laced with an unmistakable annoyance.

But something inside Honey snapped. Their chest tightened at the thought of their partner thinking they didn’t care. They felt themselves flinch from the comment and Guy seemed to notice that too as his smile drops. “Shit. Honey, I didn’t–”

“I’m–,” They scrambled to get their bag, keys, wallet, anything they would need because they just want to be anywhere but here.“I’m going out. Let’s finish this later. I-I just can’t fucking do this right now.”

They didn’t mean that. Didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh. Then again, they don’t mean to sound so harsh most of the time but end up doing so either way. Grumpy. Mean. Intimidating. A common descriptor from most people. But Guy wasn’t like most people. ‘Unless,’ they think, ‘That was just a lie you told yourself to believe in.’

Honey shuts the door behind them, leaving the building and the warmth of their partner.

The pain in their chest almost distracts them from the exhaustion currently catching up to their body after a long day. They can feel the telltale signs of a migraine coming as they rub their temples gingerly with one hand, the other guiding the steering wheel. ‘Damn, it started to rain too. What a great way to lighten the mood,’ they think bitterly. Their mind eventually goes back to the fight earlier.

“Of all the times you finally can act like you care for me, why now? Hm?”

They do care. They care for him so much it scares them . He knows that, right? Even if they groan at his flirtatious quips and innuendos or if they grumble at his (very creative) attempts to give them as many hugs and kisses as they would allow, he knows that that’s just how they are, right? 

Maybe that wasn’t enough anymore. Maybe that never was enough to begin with. Maybe Guy finally realized he deserves better than an ill-tempered partner who doesn’t even know how to properly show any affection to their own fucking boyfriend.

A sharp car horn snaps them out of their thoughts.��Shit, it’s a green light. They continue to drive until they see the familiar soft glow of a nearby 7-Eleven sign despite the persistent rain. 

Honey's entrance was signaled with the chime of the bell above the glass door. It’s relatively empty save for what they recognize to be a few D.A.M.N. students buying some late-night study snacks. Walking through the aisles while the pop song they heard their partner hum before softly plays in the background, slowly but surely calming them down. Muscle memory makes Honey reach for Guy’s favorite snack and they wonder how he’s doing. 

---

Guy doesn't remember the last time he felt like this, but he’s always known his personality would bite him in the ass someday.

Sure, he and Honey had their disagreements, but they were all accompanied by playful slaps and teasing laughter. Never had it gotten to the point of an actual argument that caused them to spit such venom toward each other like the one they just had. 

“I’m going out. I-I just can’t fucking do this right now.”

The door closes and Honey leaves, bringing the warmth of their shared apartment with them. Guy lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and starts to get to work. He wordlessly distracts himself by cleaning the living room—picking up stray plastic chip bags, vacuuming crumbs that settled on the cheap shag carpet, and fixing up the pillows on the couch that he’s been nesting on for the past few days while he works on the final draft of the project he was writing. 

Piles of paper littered their second-hand coffee table. Every inch is covered in Post-it notes and wrinkled pieces of paper filled with ideas that he had haphazardly scribbled in an attempt to record them before it leaves his mind. Most of them, he recalls, are just random doodles of spirals and honeybees that he absentmindedly drew as he was typing away on his laptop. The spaces left exposed on the table were adorned with faded mug rings on the old dark oak wood.

He tries to compile them into a neater collection, pausing as he notices a doodle he made of his Honey. It was far from a masterpiece, but the cute cartoony style paired with heavily exaggerated furrowed brows in order to replicate their partner’s usual expression pulls a smile from his lips. There was even a jumbled-up line inside a small text bubble next to it to symbolize the adorable grumbles they always make. 

Fuck, he misses them so fucking much.

A sudden wave of exhaustion almost makes him drop the stack of papers he’s holding and it dawns on him how much he really has been neglecting his own health for this project. The stress of trying to find a job where he can utilize his degree and finally get out of that godforsaken pizza place has been taking a toll on him. All Honey was trying to do was for him to take a break that he so desperately ( and, he embarrassingly admits, unknowingly ) needed. And he just treated it like some silly joke. Granted, it really was because he wasn’t used to being coddled after, but, it definitely wasn’t an excuse to dismiss their worries like that. 

The guilt builds up in Guy’s throat like bile. He feels worse now, especially considering how much they struggle with expressing themselves like that to him in general, even if they don’t say it aloud.

He finishes cleaning up but the restlessness doesn’t leave him as time passes by with no word from his partner. Maybe this is it? Maybe he fucked it all up like always? Maybe they finally came to their senses and got fed up with him. It wasn’t uncommon for people to think he was a bit too much. Too chaotic, too irritating, too overwhelming. He ever minded those comments in the first place, but the thought of Honey possibly thinking like that too makes him sick. 

It’s getting late and he can hear the rain outside get louder. The anxiety that has been settling in their stomach flares up. He reaches for his phone to message them before concluding they might not want to be bothered right now. Shit, he’s feeling a little sluggish. 

Guy begrudgingly trudges to the wardrobe of their shared bedroom to get a change of clothes. He glances over as he pulls a familiar-looking hoodie from the hanger. Their double bed, adorned with a pizza plushie that Honey had given to him as a joke gift, was more inviting than usual. Maybe he should just take a rest and go to sleep. 

No, no, no, they might want some space from that too. Guy wants to talk this out with them instead of sleeping it out. If this persists, he isn't sure how his poor heart could take it. He ultimately decides to go back to the couch, stay up, and (at the very least) greet them when they come back. 

If they come back. God, please come back.

What if they don’t?

The thought felt like a mere whisper in his head but it left him numb. Guy's aware of his tendency to overthink but before he knew it, he was lying down on his side, hand clamped to his mouth as he forced his eyes shut. He lets out a quiet sniff. His breath hitches. Then he hears himself choke out a small sob. 

Then another.

And another. 

And another.

The dam breaks, his eyes water and he heaves as much air as he can into his lungs. It suddenly became a struggle to breathe and it definitely became a struggle to calm the ugly thoughts that plague his mind. Shaky, broken sobs fill the room, he cringes at how pathetic it sounds.  He hates this. He hates this feeling. Just come back, I’m sorry.

After what felt like hours, his sniffles slowly died down. With heavy eyes and a heavier heart, he finds himself drowsy from all the crying. The hot tears streaming down his face had begun to dry, but, the warmth on his cheeks reminds him of his Honey and the thought of them finally lulls him to sleep.

---

Honey returns, a little haggard but with a calmer mind. The drive around Dahlia and their quick run to the local convenience store definitely helped lighten their mood but the guilt still followed them around like a shadow. Shaky hands find their way to the lock of their shared apartment and Honey opens to a dim living room, with the forgotten hanging bulbs from the kitchen barely providing a sense of light. They noticed the place was tidier than they remembered.

It was eerily quiet, as well. The wrinkling sound of the paper bag that they were holding filled the room.

"Guy?" Fuck, they can hear their voice getting wobbly. 

"I'm home. You there?" A shift from the room was all they heard accompanied by a sniffle. Honey suddenly becomes hyper-aware of the soft snores matching the rise and fall of a figure on the couch.

They couldn't really explain why their heart started to pound with their pulsating headache. Why they made a beeline inside their apartment. Why they started to get down on their knees in the living room despite the protests of their tired body. Why their chest sank deeper as they saw their partner all bundled up on their battered couch. 

They don't miss the frown on his face and his tear-stained cheeks.

Fuck. Tears? Guy was crying? 

Honey quietly (urgently) sets down the paper bag from their grasp and slowly places a hand on his shoulder, patting it ever so gently.

"H-hey? Guy, what are you doing over here?" They noticed how cold they felt to the touch and remembered their thermostat wasn't working that well. "It's freezing. You're freezing. "

After a few gentle pats and caresses (and reminders of how it's cold here, the bed is warm. Take it, please. ) Guy manages to blearily open his eyes, rubbing away the sleepiness and the few tears that managed to slip.

Cute. His eyes are so cute. Honey would have thought if their mind wasn't filled with thoughts and questions. Why was he sleeping on the couch? Was he waiting for me? He didn't need to do that. Why was he crying? Did he cry himself to sleep? Was it because of me?

Did I do this?

"Honey?" Guy's voice croaked and Honey's heart aches after hearing how hoarse it was. It aches a little more to see him smile at them despite the argument they had earlier.

"You're back…" he mumbles, slightly adjusting his body to prop himself up with his arm. He was wearing their hoodie again.

"Guy, why are you sleeping here? It's cold," they repeated, the worry in their tone becoming more and more evident. 

This had Guy fully sitting up, giving his full attention to their Honey with a slight grin that was preparing to give out a smug reply before dropping his smile and deciding otherwise. If he noticed that their eyes were starting to get just as glassy as his, he didn't mention it. “I-I mean, you’re…mad, right? I thought you’d want some more space from me or something…” 

“N-no! I mean, yeah, thank you for that but that doesn't—” Honey cuts themselves off with a groan. Why can’t I just say what I want to say? What do I even want to say? Guy immediately notices their partner’s frustration and sits down beside them.

“Hey, hey, it's okay. You’re okay, Honey,” he says with a reassuring smile and slowly raises his hand near their cheek, “Can I touch?” 

Honey immediately nods, almost melting at Guy’s warm hands. The familiar calluses from working countless graveyard shifts and delivery jobs all over Dahlia for Max’s kept them grounded. They notice a newly formed bump on the ring finger of his dominant hand from the number of handwritten notes he’s been doing recently.

After a few moments of soft breaths and the sound of Guy's rough thumb gently gliding across their cheek, Honey let out a weak laugh but the words that followed were by no means a joke to them. “You’re so good for me.” Too good. I don’t deserve you. 

It was Guy’s turn to let out a confused chuckle. He felt anything but good to them at the moment.

“What do you mean by that, hon?” He caresses their cheek and he forgets how much his chest hurts when his Honey leans into his touch. “Hey, c’mon. Do you…do you wanna talk about what happened?”

Honey nods once more. "I'm…I'm sorry," they choke out as if the words got caught up in their throat. Everything was overwhelming again. The sound of the remains of the rain, the ticks of the wall clock, and most of all, Guy's unwavering attention to them. They avoid his gaze. 

"I know that…I'm…I dont have the most…pleasant attitude," The nervousness in their tone was obvious but the quick squeeze of their hand from their partner was enough for them to go on. "And I know that you didn’t mean that. About me…not caring,” They felt him give another squeeze, a bit tighter than the last. “Fuck, god knows you’ve put up with me long enough for me to know you wouldn’t mean that.” 

Honey manages to finally look him in his eyes again, they think it's their favorite color. “I…I just don’t know why I act like this. Why can't I just…care for you in a normal way.”

“Oh, Honey…” 

“I’m just so fucking sorry. I really, really care for you, please know that,” they sob out. Guy thinks he’s never seen them this vulnerable. His arms slowly circle and stop around their body as if he was waiting for their permission but Honey beats them to the embrace, burying their head on his chest. He knows they can hear his heart speed up.

“Hey, I know, I know,” The hands that were once on his partner's cheeks find their way to their back, rubbing circles and tracing shapes. “I’m really sorry for what I said too. The stress from work and writing these past few days is catching up but please don’t let that ever be an excuse for me to talk like that, especially to you and especially if it makes you think of all these lies.”

“And all this talk about…caring for me in the ‘normal’ way. Don’t say that.” Guy slowly pulls away to tilt his partner's chin up for their eyes to meet again. The way his Honey looked so distressed was a sight he decided he never wants to see again. “What matters is that I know you care and I want you to know that the way you show it is… fuck, I’ve never felt so cared for like this until you, Honey. Okay?”

“I’ll work…on not neglecting my health too. If it weren’t for you, I might’ve actually collapsed from exhaustion,” he adds, lips upturned into a sheepish smile. “So, thank you.”

Guy isn’t prepared for the way their Honey finally graced him with a soft smile. He’s had them laugh and grin at his…eccentric behavior before, but this smile held so much fondness and sincerity (directed towards him of all people! ) that made this moment all the more intimate. 

I think I'm gonna have a fucking heart attack. He doesn't recall having butterflies for lunch but he definitely feels them flutter up and about in his ribcage. He wants to treasure this moment. He wants to treasure them.

Honey looks down, uncharacteristically flustered and Guy’s heart soars again. “Thank you,” they whispered. “For that.”

“Of course, Honey. Though, I must say,” he grins. “Although your methods of conveying your love for me are a bit… unconventional , you could say I’m on the more bizarre side, too. I guess we make a perfect match after all then, don't we?”

Honey snorts, a reaction that's endearingly familiar to him and he smirks even wider. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“Well, for the record, if anybody here is fucking stupid, it would be you!” Guy shoots back, “Hi, hello, I’m stupid, by the way, ehh– Ow, ow, ow!”

The pair continues to laugh and banter at each other like before, but, as they comfortably settle down to cuddle on the couch, they both don’t miss the way the grip on their entangled hands tightened for the slightest bit.

---

hope you enjoyed!! please let me know if i had any mistakes or just some feedback in general!! i kinda wanna continue doing these kinda stuff :DD

[quadrantadvisor]

DP x TMA

Prompt: post Nasty Buger explosion

(Mostly just an idea of what Danny's story might look like if he was in the Magnus Archives world.)

-

While searching for answers in America, Jon ran into a strange sort of being, and, upon the being’s request, took their statement.

It was different, for someone connected to the entities to seem so young. There was no doubt about what they were, though. Their presence filled Jon with a horrible, certain dread, and a prickling worry that he may end up as they did; barely more than a phantom.

They didn’t remember much, and Jon thought that it was likely a large part of the point, taking their identity away. The story that he did hear, though, was very familiar. A book that should never have been opened. A family, friends, who didn’t understand the danger they were in. A fire that took away everything.

But then, instead of a sudden, horrible end, the story kept going. This part was more detailed, as they described being taken in by an old friend of their parents’, one who had an interest in certain types of the macabre.

He was terrified of death, the child said. He’d never say it in so many words, but it was true. But discovering that death, or the personification of it, was a real force in the universe had convinced him that it could be reasoned with. Knowing that the child had been so touched by death, he took them under his wing, and trained them in all he’d discovered. Maybe as a successor, maybe as a tool.

He’d designed a ritual. An offering to death, to pull it to him, so that he could control it. The child never told him how foolish the idea was. Death was not moved, but the two of them were pulled to it. The child never saw the man again. Maybe he really had reached oblivion, or maybe he’d become the same as they were. A wandering shade, trapped between existence and non, no semblance of a life to be lived but no peace, either.

That was alright, the child told Jon. There was no need for struggle, no need for pain. Somehow, someday, everything would end.

-

On AO3

[darth-mortem]

My friend @g8se transleted several of my COD fanfics into English. This is one of them.

ATTENTION: This fic contains Call of Duty MW3 spoilers.

Having buried Johnny, Ghost no longer wants to live. He tries to commit suicide, but at the last moment, a real miracle saves him. From that moment on, this miracle accompanies Ghost throughout his long and stressful life. 4172 words.

Post-canon, fix-it, angst, hurt/comfort, love

When the wind carried Johnny's ashes over the mountains of Scotland, Ghost finally realized that he was gone. There would be no more of his radiant smile, no more cheerful banter and jokes during missions. Ghost would never hear his voice again, feel the touch of his hands and tender lips, or run his fingers through his ridiculous mohawk. The opportunity to say what Simon hadn't had the chance to say, thinking he would do it later someday, was now gone. Simon himself was no more, having died in the underground with Johnny. Now, only Ghost remained, who would never again remove his mask.

You can read on Ao3 or here:

All the way to the small motel where the three members of Task Force 141 had stopped, Ghost remained silent. He didn't utter a word, even when they were sipping from a bottle of whiskey, reminiscing about their fallen comrade. "Rest in peace, Johnny" were the last words Ghost heard from Price and Gaz. The latter looked at the lieutenant with concern, but Ghost seemed oblivious. He sat, staring into space, seemingly not hearing anything that the other two soldiers were saying as they remembered Johnny. When the bottle emptied, and it was time to go to their rooms, Ghost quietly stood up and, without even attempting to say goodbye, went to his own room.

Price and Gaz stopped in the room next to him. For a while, Ghost could hear their muffled voices, and then everything fell silent. He then stood up, pulled another bottle from his backpack, and placed it on the table by the window. Next to it, he placed his pistol.

Ghost didn't know how to express emotions, but now, after a significant amount of alcohol on an empty stomach, he felt that he could no longer take all the pain that was literally tearing him apart from the inside. His hand, that was clutching the glass, trembled, and burning tears rolled from his eyes, washing away the black face paint, and soaking the fabric of his balaclava.

Ghost cried silently. His shoulders shook, he breathed convulsively, tears blurred his eyes, but not a sound escaped his chest. The whiskey was already starting to make his head spin; reality swayed and blurred, but he still finished the bottle, set it aside, and reached for the pistol.

His fingers instinctively gripped the handle. Ghost automatically checked the magazine, removed the fuse, and racked the slide. Price and Gaz talked about revenge, but the lieutenant knew that it would bring him neither comfort nor solace. Even if he burned the damn world down, it wouldn't bring Johnny back. He didn't care whether Makarov lived or died in agony. Johnny was gone. If he was now in a better place, Ghost didn't believe in Heavens, he would still not care about the damn revenge, to the futile attempts of those still alive to give his death some meaning.

Ghost's lips trembled, as if he wanted to say something, but he couldn't, even now, when his hand already raised the weapon. He pressed the muzzle of the pistol to his temple and closed his eyes. His finger rested on the trigger. He could no longer and did not want to live. Not after his restless Johnny, the glimmer of warm light in Task Force 141, finally managed to see beyond Ghost's skull mask; managed to bring him to the surface; helped him remember what it was like to be human. Not after the indifferent and cold piece of lead took away that warmth and light, in an instant destroying all the careful and uncertain dreams that Ghost might still have some life left. That maybe, someday, Simon would take over, and then he would take off the mask and walk away from the army with Johnny, leaving all this behind for the sake of simple and quiet human happiness.

Ghost's finger began to slowly pull the trigger when suddenly someone's strong hand seized the pistol by the barrel and yanked it towards them, pulling it from his palm. The lieutenant opened his eyes, expecting to see Sergeant Garrick or Captain Price in front of him, but...

Johnny stood before him. The gaze of a seasoned soldier immediately noticed the absence of the scar on his chin, the wrinkles that had appeared on his face a few years ago despite his youth. Johnny was dressed in jeans, a dark blue t-shirt, and his usual sand-coloured armour, and behind him, his wings shone with a warm yellowish light, immense and incredibly beautiful.

"What’re ye doing!" Johnny exclaimed, stepping forward and clenching his fists. "Don't ye dare! I won't let ye!"

And he rushed toward Ghost, embracing him tightly. His wings curved around him, sheltering the lieutenant from the whole world, immersing him in an endless ocean of warm and gentle light. It delicately touched the bleeding wounds on Simon's soul; tiny rays pierced through the armour of sorrow and despair; it touched the heart; it took him as if with tender invisible hands, touches that bestowed healing and peace.

All of this turned out to be too much for Ghost. His fingers slid powerlessly over Johnny's shoulders, which seemed so real and tangible, and then his weary consciousness left him, and he hung limply in the arms of someone whom just a few hours ago he considered absolutely and eternally lost.

One-four-one should have been heading back to base as soon as possible, but Captain Price didn't wake up the lieutenant, wanting to give him a chance to get some sleep. He and Kyle had breakfast together at the café near the motel, hardly speaking, only occasionally glancing anxiously through the window towards the door of the lieutenant's room.

Ghost woke up late, with a very heavy head. He vaguely remembered last night, and lying in bed with his eyes closed, he couldn't gather his thoughts together and understand what had happened. He distinctly remembered planning to shoot himself. The lieutenant had made that decision when he hugged Johnny's cold, lifeless body in the helicopter on the way to the base. He knew that instincts wouldn't allow him to do it, so he deliberately got heavily drunk to dull them. And when he was ready, when he felt the chill of the gun barrel even through the fabric of his balaclava, something happened.

He saw Johnny.

Of course, Ghost knew that it was just an illusion. The response of an overtired brain to lack of sleep, food, an excessive dose of alcohol. But Johnny looked so real that Ghost still felt, with his hands, how he touched him.

Opening his eyes, the lieutenant saw a ceiling with cracked whitewash above him. He swallowed a bitter lump that had formed in his throat and slowly raised himself on his elbows, intending to get up and go to the shower, but...

Johnny was sitting on his bed, on the unoccupied half, his legs crossed, looking at Ghost with a slightly sad but still shining smile. Seeing that the lieutenant had woken up, he immediately got up, approached, and embraced him, making him lay back on the bed again.

"Never ever do that again!" Johnny exclaimed furiously, leaning over Ghost, and looking into his eyes. "Ye can't die now, ye understand? Yer time has not come yet!"

"I've lost my mind completely," Ghost thought, looking into Johnny's bright blue eyes.

"Not at all," he smiled cheerfully, then gently stroked Ghost's cheek, slipping his hand under his balaclava. "Ye weren't supposed to see me at all, tis against the rules and all that, but when ‘ave we ever followed the rules, huh?"

"Johnny?" Ghost whispered almost silently, his lips barely moving, and he felt tears welling up in his eyes again.

"That's right!" he replied cheerfully, then leaned in, lying on the lieutenant's chest and gently traced his fingers over the exposed part of Ghost's face in the opening of his balaclava. "Ye asked me if I'm with ye, and I said ye already know the answer. Even death won't change that. Ye protected me, love, and now it's my turn. I wuldnae disappear; I'll be with you all your life. And then, when yer time comes, I'll take ye by the hand, and we'll go together where there's no more war, no fear, pain, cruelty, or death – only light and love. There, we won't have to part anymore, and we'll be together forever."

"Johnny..." Ghost whispered. "This isn’t an illusion? Are you really here?"

"I really am here, Simon," Johnny replied and looked into his eyes. "I loved ye so much in life that the ones up there wouldn't dare tae separate us even after my death. So now I'm sort of your guardian angel. Cool, huh? But keep in mind, no one but ye’ll be able to see or hear me. It won't be easy, but..."

"I love you too," Simon interrupted and embraced Johnny, pressing him to his chest, feeling the warmth and weight of his body and his breath on his neck. "Even if I really lost my mind and I'm hallucinating – I don't care. It's better this way than without you."

"Then get up," Johnny laughed cheerfully. "Cap’s already waiting for ye."

On the way to the base, Price and Gaz no longer could hide their concerned looks towards Ghost. He still didn't say a word, his eyes constantly staring into emptiness, not focusing on anything specific.

Deciding to give the lieutenant some time, captain Price quietly ordered Kyle not to bother Ghost as well. They hoped their friend would pull himself together, but everything got only worse. Riley continued to remain silent, responding to all questions with nods, head tilts, or shrugs. However, this only applied to cases when someone living and real addressed him. Several times, the lieutenant was noticed in remote corners of the base muttering something to himself, yet again staring into emptiness with the insane gaze of his dark eyes. Laswell even hinted to Price that it wouldn't hurt to send Riley for a psychiatric evaluation or therapy. The captain, though reluctant, was ready to agree, as he himself had noticed that Riley had become too strange. But unexpectedly, Makarov's trace appeared, and the one-four-one had to move quickly in that direction.

Time was short, yet Price managed to carve out a moment to talk one-on-one with Ghost. Sending Gaz to check the helicopter's readiness, the captain called the lieutenant over, took him by the shoulders, and shook him slightly, forcing him to pay attention.

"Simon," he said, "tell me you're okay, because I need your cool head and your combat skills right now."

Behind Price, Johnny was clowning around. He was making faces and, holding an imaginary microphone, sang very off-key:

“Don't wanna close my eyes

I don't wanna fall asleep

'Cause I'd miss you, baby

And I don't wanna miss a thing!”

"Simon!" Price raised his tone a bit, noticing that he was once again staring somewhere past him.

"I'm okay," the lieutenant finally replied calmly, and as his eyes narrowed in the skull-mask eye sockets, Price understood that he was smiling.

Everything proceeded as usual. The remnants of Task Force 141, with support from Kate Laswell, tried to catch the elusive Makarov, who kept evading them, leaving traps, bombs, dangerous chemicals, and other things behind that could harm both his pursuers and civilians. Ghost's strange behaviour persisted, but during missions, he remained a professional as before, so Price abandoned thoughts of treating him. Lieutenant Riley was needed in combat, and besides, he had the most right to seek revenge.

As for Ghost, at some point, he got himself a Bluetooth headset, and rumours about the Lieutenant from 141 going crazy and talking to himself started to gradually die down. Even Gaz relaxed and stopped closely monitoring Ghost. Only Captain Price remained concerned because he knew well that Simon had no one to talk to on the phone.

The first episode occurred during one of the missions. Task Force 141 encountered overwhelming enemy forces. Ghost and Gaz had to retreat to the evacuation point under Price's cover, who coordinated them, lying with a sniper rifle at a considerable distance. The two soldiers managed to obtain the necessary information, but now they had to somehow get it outside the territory of the enemy base.

The hard drive was in Garrick's hands, and Ghost understood that now the sergeant's life was a priority due to his valuable cargo. Ordering Gaz to go first, the lieutenant covered him, trying not to fall too far behind. He no longer had grenades and throwing knives, and he had just loaded the last magazine into his assault rifle. After, there would only be a pistol - a fifteen-round Beretta, one magazine of which was half-empty, and the other lay in the pocket. Ghost knew that this wouldn't be enough for the retreat, but he didn't worry because Johnny was circling above him, spreading his wings.

Price, who was watching his boys through the optic sight, saw how Ghost suddenly stopped and looked up, and then both he and Garrick clearly heard his words.

"Yes, Johnny," Lieutenant Riley said, "let's give it a try."

"Ghost!" Price shouted into the microphone of his radio, but it was already too late.

Riley darted off to the side, drawing the enemy's attention to himself. The captain understood that his top priority now was to protect Garrick with the information, but he couldn't help keeping an eye on Riley. He ran along a broad path, responding to the enemy's actions so precisely and accurately, as if someone was guiding him.

"Not 'someone'," Price thought, "it’s Soap." Only with Sergeant MacTavish did Ghost work so seamlessly, as if there was a special connection between them on a level that’s superior to others.

"Go!" Johnny ordered sharply, and Ghost leaped from his cover toward the next one, gripping his assault rifle. "To the right! Drop! Move!"

Riley sprinted, following these short commands, and Soap, from the height of his flight, saw everything, not missing a single bullet fired towards the lieutenant.

Later, when all three were in the helicopter, having obtained what they came for, Price looked at Ghost, who was sitting relaxed across from him, as if someone was leaning against him, resting their head on his right shoulder.

"That was quite a run," the captain finally said.

Ghost raised slowly his head, looked at Price through the openings of his mask, and replied briefly:

"Thank you, captain."

Kyle became a witness to the second episode. Then everything happened very quickly: a fragmentation grenade was thrown at them, and the sergeant managed to fall for cover, but the lieutenant did not. Gaz got up almost immediately, overpowering the disgusting squeal in his ears, and he saw Ghost rising from the ground completely unharmed.

"How did you survive?" Kyle asked in amazement. "The shrapnel had cut everything around you!"

"Luck," Ghost replied shortly and, shaking his head, added, "let’s go!"

Of course, Gaz could not know that a mere second before the explosion, Johnny pushed Riley to the ground and fell on top of him, covering them both with his wings. The fragments bounced off the shining orange feathers, and Ghost remained unharmed.

There were also less obvious things. For instance, Lieutenant Riley, who used to grumble about smoking to all the soldiers of the 141, sometimes even to Captain Price, began smoking himself. Moreover, he chose the same cigarettes that Soap preferred. Also now, he could often be seen munching on chocolate chip cookies, which Johnny loved. Furthermore, he now quite frequently preferred sweetened coffee. Garrick and Price closely observed these peculiarities but didn't attempt to ask any questions, knowing that Ghost wouldn't answer.

"I feel the same as you do," Johnny once said, as always walking to the right of Riley, who was heading to the mess hall. "So, when ye kiss me, I feel it twice as keenly as ye do. When ye drink whiskey or that disgusting stuff of yours, I taste it."

"Where are you leading with this?" Ghost asked, and they turned to look at him, but upon seeing the blue light of the Bluetooth headset, lost interest.

"I wantae taste the flavour of a burger, chips, ‘n’ my favourite biscuits!" Johnny exclaimed, and the feathers on his wings stood on end. "I wantae remember what it's like tae smoke a cigarette with coffee!"

"Okay," Ghost replied calmly and turned towards the cafeteria, where all of this could be bought.

Gradually, everyone got used to Lieutenant Riley's strange new behaviour, and even comrades-in-arms stopped paying special attention to it. In the 141, they recruited a new soldier, and eventually, they found and killed Makarov, avenging their fallen comrade and saving the world from the Russian villain. After that, Price, Garrick, and Riley gathered again on the hill where almost a year ago, they scattered the ashes of their deceased comrade.

"Now you can truly rest in peace, soldier," Price said, looking into the distance where the sun was setting behind the mountains.

Ghost smiled under his balaclava and glanced to the right, where Johnny stood beside him.

"I can't say I'm not glad that we killed that bastard," Soap said, hugging Ghost and extending his wing around him.

Though the battle continued. One threat was eliminated, but there were still many others that the soldiers of Task Force 141 had to deal with. Without much enthusiasm, Lieutenant Riley accepted a new soldier, though he still preferred to work alone. Meanwhile, rumours began circulating at the base that Ghost was invincible. Of course, he occasionally got injured, spent time in the hospital, but much more often he got off with a whole skin from the worst, almost hopeless situations.

Years passed. The cast of the unit changed from time to time, and eventually, Price retired, with Major Riley taking his place. Now young soldiers were telling legends about his invulnerability and the discussions of this strange phenomenon never ceased.

"He’s definitely guarded by some higher power," Gaz once said, when the entire 141 was in the rec room after another hellish mission. "Some kind of angel."

"Or a demon," another soldier said thoughtfully.

Ghost just smiled and looked, as it seemed to everyone, into emptiness at an empty chair pushed away as if someone had been sitting in it.

Major Riley retired when he turned sixty. They tried to persuade him to stay and take a staff position or become an instructor, but shuffling papers or dealing with young recruits wasn't what he wanted. Leaving the army, Ghost went to Wales, where he settled on the coast, having bought an old, non-functional lighthouse for a song. He personally restored it, turning it into a cozy home, far enough from people so that no one would disturb him.

Finally, peace settled in the soul of the old soldier. He fulfilled his military duty and left the ranks, making way for the young. In the village where he went for supplies, they called him Major Riley, but he felt the identity that made him a soldier, a Ghost, gradually fading away.

Simon still woke up early, but now he allowed himself to linger in the cozy bed – too big for one, but he wasn't alone. Johnny was with him, covering them both with his wing, and they talked or just stayed silent, listening to the sound of the waves coming in through the open window.

Johnny hadn't changed at all. He was just as young-looking as when he died, as Simon first saw him again. His happy smile and charming blue eyes still shone when he looked at him. Riley aged slowly, keeping himself in shape, his body hardly changing, except for his hair turning completely grey, and wrinkles lining his face. Old scars had faded, becoming less noticeable, and Simon gradually swapped his balaclava for a buff with the same skull print. However, now he only wore it when he went to the village or when old friends visited – Price, whom he now simply called John, and Kyle.

"Let's buy a boat," Johnny suggested once, as they stood together on the top balcony of the lighthouse, accessible from the lantern room. "It's strange to live by the sea and not have a boat."

"Are we going fishing?" Simon asked, leaning against the metal railing as he smoked.

"Yes!" Johnny exclaimed happily, embracing him.

One day, Ghost received a call from Gaz with the sad news that Price had passed away. He died peacefully in his sleep, seemingly finding peace and tranquillity at the end of his chaotic life. With no family, Kyle and Simon took care of everything. Simon subconsciously hoped to see John when they picked up the urn with his ashes and drove to the Scottish mountains to scatter them, as Price had written in his will, but it didn't happen.

"He had no unfinished business," Johnny said when Ghost and Gaz stood on the hill, watching the wind carry the ashes of their former captain high into the sky. "He went straight to a better place. We'll meet him there when your time comes."

"Kyle," Simon looked at his friend and saw tears in his eyes, "I might go before you. I'd like my ashes to be scattered here too."

"Okay," Garrick wiped his face with his sleeve and looked at Riley. "Just let it be not too soon, alright?"

"Alright," Johnny replied cheerfully instead of Ghost, "You can count on me!"

Simon lived to the age of eighty-three. He didn't fall ill and preserved his strength and military discipline until the end. However, one day he began to feel that his time was running out. This feeling grew stronger, reaching its peak when he and Johnny sat on the shore, watching the sunset – the stern old man with a perfectly straight back and absolutely white hair, and the young cheerful guy with huge, orange wings radiating warm and gentle light.

"What do you think, Johnny," Simon spoke, lighting a cigarette, "did I live a good life?"

"A mighty good one," he replied, leaning his head on Simon's shoulder. "Ye saved many innocent lives and defeated much evil. Ye found peace here, at the edge of the world. And ye were a ray of light in my life."

"Odd," Simon smiled sadly and ran his fingers through Johnny's hair, "I always thought the ray of light was you."

They fell silent for a moment, watching as the red sun dipped into the sea, leaving glimmers of its light on the water. Simon stubbed out the cigarette in the sand, briefly closed his eyes, and asked:

"My time is coming, isn't it?"

"Aye," Johnny didn't argue and hugged him even tighter, shielding him from the cold wind with his wing. "But there's no need to be afraid. It won't hurt, love. You'll just fall asleep."

"And then you'll take me by the hand and lead me to a better place?" Simon asked, feeling a bitter lump rising in his throat and his eyes stinging with tears.

"Aye," Johnny replied again. "We'll go there together, and there will be no more pain or death."

"And we'll be together forever," Simon whispered, squeezing the warm hand of his guardian with his cold fingers.

A few days later, in the village, Simon and Johnny stood in front of the newspaper stand and looked at the page with obituaries. One of them was about the retired Major Riley, who lived in the lighthouse and was found dead on the beach near his home.

"They wrote so many good words about ye," Johnny said, playfully nudging Simon in the side.

He stood beside him – once again young, without scars, without the burden of the horrors of the past on his shoulders, and behind him were folded, shining snow-white wings. He wore his uniform and gear, but no mask. It was no longer needed.

"Odd," Simon replied, and he smiled perplexedly. "I didn't really talk to anyone here."

This time, on the hill amid the Scottish mountains, Kyle Garrick stood, thinking he was alone. He held an urn with ashes in his hands, and tears rolled down his cheeks.

"I'll miss you, Simon," he said with a trembling voice, "all of you, guys."

Ghost and Soap, standing to the right and left of him, exchanged glances, and Simon placed his hand on Kyle's shoulder, but, of course, he felt nothing.

"Ye'll join us when yer time comes," Johnny spoke. "Yer children will bring your ashes here, as ye wrote in yer will, and we'll meet ye up there."

Ghost looked up at the sky, where Johnny had pointed, and saw that the clouds had parted, and through this opening, bright warm light shone.

"Is it time for us to go?" Ghost asked.

"Aye, sir," Soap replied.

Johnny approached Simon, took him by the hand, they spread their wings, and slowly started to ascend into the sky, towards their home waiting for them beyond the bright light.

* Aerosmith «I don't wanna miss a thing»

[hbyrde36]

Life is a Game (and True Love is a Trophy)

ao3 link

Chapter 1

*Eddie  - 1986*

“That was amazing, Eddie!” Will exclaimed, with a wide smile.

They’d been playing for over 10 hours and Eddie was exhausted. He was only a few years older than the other boys, so he knew it was a poor excuse, but he was getting too old for these marathon sessions. Where he felt dead on his feet, the other boys looked like they could go for another 10 hours, no sweat.

It was well past curfew for the younger boys but since it was Saturday, and spring break, it hadn’t taken much convincing to get all the kids' parents to agree to the late session, as long as Eddie got them all home safe. 

The small group said goodnight to Mike and Mrs. Wheeler before walking Lucas next door to his house. Then, Eddie, Dustin, and Will piled into the van. Technically Dustin’s house was closer but Eddie drove Will home first. He liked to drop his cousin off last, so he could stop in and say hello to his aunt if she was home. 

Eddie was a little distracted during the drive. He’d been trying to keep busy for the last few days, anything to help him forget about the fact that it’s the anniversary of Steve Harrington’s disappearance, but today that had been impossible. How could he not think about the guy who inspired one of the main characters in a game they had just spent all day playing?

When it's finally just him and Dustin in the car, he allows some of his thoughts to spill over. 

“It’s one thing that we use ourselves in this crazy story but do you ever think it’s fucked up that we kept Steve as an NPC after his disappearance?”

Dustin shrugged. “I don’t know, I mean, I didn’t know the guy. Mike always said he was an asshole, so, who cares?”

Eddie almost slammed on the breaks, it’s only for the sake of his beloved van that he didn’t. He can’t believe the kid would say something so insensitive.

“Dude he’s like your best friend, how can you say that!?”

“In the game, Eddie. He’s my character’s best friend, in the game . You always take it too seriously.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over them when Eddie didn’t respond, too upset and lost in his thoughts to make conversation. He pulled his van into the driveway behind his Aunt Claudia’s car and shut the ignition off. 

“Mike was wrong, y’know. Steve wasn’t an asshole, not really.” Eddie said, as he followed his cousin up the path to the front porch.

Dustin stopped abruptly, turning on his heel to look at Eddie. “Wait. Did you know him? Were you friends?”

Eddie sighed. His feelings about Steve Harrington had always been…complicated.

“I knew him my whole life. We were in the same grade till I got held back, and it’s a small town. We were never friends, exactly, but I saw him almost every day in school. We talked sometimes in the halls, on the bus. Maybe he was a bit of a dick to people occasionally, but who isn’t? That’s what kids do. He was always nice to me.”

Dustin stared at Eddie like he’d never seen him before.

“I'm sorry, man.” He stuttered. “I didn't know. Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

It was Eddie’s turn to shrug. “I don’t really know. I guess I was trying to keep the real Steve and the game Steve separate in my head. I always thought he’d turn back up eventually. That maybe he’d just run away from home, and someday he would come back when he ran out of money or something.

“It could still be that. It's not like they ever found a body.” Dustin offered, not really sounding like he believed it, but wanting to be supportive.

“It’s been 2 years, almost to the day. The Harrington’s have more than enough money to hire fancy private detectives and shit. If he was alive, they’d have found him by now.”

*Steve - 1983*

Steve Harrington had just started dating Nancy Wheeler when Will Byers went missing. Later, he would be embarrassed to admit it, but at the time he was a little pissed off that she wanted to ditch their date to join in the search for the boy. The kid was probably just out playing and lost track of time or something. Everyone knew Joyce wasn’t exactly the most stable person in the world. He knew Hopper only humored her with this search to get her off his back. 

When he told Nancy as much, she called him an asshole and stormed out. After sulking about it for an hour after she left, he realized she was right. He didn’t want to be that guy. He didn’t want to turn out like his dad. So, he threw some sneakers on and set out to join the search party. 

He walked through the woods looking for Hopper, or anyone else who could assign him an area to search. It started raining before he could find anyone, and he was just getting ready to head back to his car, when he heard rustling in the bushes off to his left. He turned in the direction of the sound, squinting in the dark to try and see if someone was there. He thought he saw movement and then a twig snapped. It sounded loud in the quiet of the trees.

It was so dark out here, he wished he had a flashlight or something. 

“Will?” Steve asked, taking a tentative step forward.

The only response was a quiet gasp from the dark. There was definitely someone there.

In a stroke of pure luck, the moon chose that moment to come out from behind the clouds. Her soft light illuminated things just enough for Steve to make out the shape of a small child with a shaved head, wearing a gigantic yellow t-shirt. This was definitely not Will Byers, but the kid sure did look like she was in trouble. 

“Hey there, I'm Steve. Do you need some help?”

The girl stared up at him with wide eyes. She didn’t answer, but she hadn’t run away from him yet either.

He tried again.

“Do you want to get out of the rain? My car isn’t far from here.” He didn’t step any closer but held his hand out to her to take, or not, whatever she chose.

The girl studied him for a long time. She looked into his eyes like she was trying to read his soul. He didn’t know what she saw there, but it must have been enough to convince her that he was safe. She nodded, pushing her tiny hand into his, and the two of them walked together back to the warmth and safety of Steve’s car. 

-

It wasn’t ideal, bringing the girl back to his house, but at least his parents were out of town. Once he’d gotten her into the car he had tried to take her to the hospital, or at least the police station. She’d shaken her head slowly, ominously, and uttered the first words he’d heard her speak. 

“Bad men.”

Steve didn’t know what to do, he was in way over his head. He needed help. He needed people much smarter than him to tell him what to do. The idea occurred to him to take her to Nancy’s. She was smart, and a girl. Surely she'd be better suited for this, she’d know the best course of action to take. But, the girl refused that too. She seemed to only trust Steve.

Tired, and out of options, he went home. 

He gathered some dry clothes for her, old sweatpants and a Hawkins High swim team t-shirt from his freshman year, and sent her into one of the guestrooms to change. The clothes would be huge on her but it’s the best he could do for now. 

It was late and he kind of expected her to just go to bed once she changed. They could always figure things out in the morning. But, a few minutes later, there she was, standing in his doorway, looking around the room curiously.

“It’s okay, you can come in.” He said, as he shut the closet door. “In fact, why don’t you come sit down. I think we should talk about some things.”

She looked hesitant, but joined him, cross-legged on the floor. She still hadn’t said more than those two words to him but clearly she could speak, and she understood him fine, so he had to try. They’d start small.

“What’s your name?” He asked, voice gentle as he could make it.

She shook her head. 

Somehow he knew it wasn’t a refusal, but more like a confusion on her part. 

He pointed to himself. “Steve. People call me Steve. What do people call you?”

She pressed her lips into a thin line and held her shaking wrist out to him.

He was confused at first, until he noticed the small writing there.

011

“Eleven?” He asked.

She nodded vigorously, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

That was, well, it was so not good. Shaved head and a number tattooed on her arm. Steve wasn’t a genius but even he knew that something was seriously messed up here. Who would do this to a little girl? Where were her parents?

“Is that what your parents call you?”

“Parents?” She sounded the word out slowly like she was saying it for the first time.

“Yea, like your mom or dad? Mama or Papa?”

“Papa" She agreed, nodding. "Bad man.”

O..k. Well that certainly answered some things.

“Is that why you were in the woods tonight? Were you running from Papa and the bad men?”

She nodded. 

That was enough for tonight, he decided. They were both tired and he really needed some time to think, to make a plan.

“I think we should get some sleep. We can talk some more in the morning. Okay?”

She blinked at him and nodded again. She definitely preferred non-verbal communication. It didn’t bother Steve, he could roll with it. 

“You can sleep in that other room, the bed in there is really comfy.” He said, rising up off the floor as she did the same.

“Where do you sleep?” She asked.

It was a little jarring, hearing her string together a full sentence like that. It was stilted, the way she spoke. Obviously talking wasn’t something she did very much.

“Here.” He answered, motioning to his bed. “This is my room. So i’ll be right across the hall if you need anything.”

She looked over her shoulder at the doorway and then back at Steve. She made no motion to leave.

“Would you rather stay here?” He guessed and there was that little smile again.

“Safer in here, with you.”

Steve’s heart broke. He kind of hadn’t thought about it until that moment, the night had been so full of weird things and it had all happened so fast, he hadn’t realized how utterly terrified Eleven was. He wanted to fold her up into his arms and squeeze her tight. Promise her that he’d keep her safe from the bad men of the world.

But he couldn't do that. He couldn't promise anything when he had no idea what was going on. He wasn’t sure if she would welcome his embrace either, so he held himself back. Instead he got into bed, scooching all the way over to the wall, and then patted the big space he’d left for her. 

She crawled onto the bed and almost immediately curled into a ball. He watched her as she settled on the pillow. She looked so small. He vowed to himself that he would do whatever he could to protect her. He’d hide her in this house forever if that’s what it took. He didn’t yet know what she’d been through, but he knew it was bad, and something no little kid should have to go through.

The rain had turned into a storm while they talked, and it raged now on the other side of his window. A loud crack of thunder startled them both. Eleven was shaking again. Steve laid his hand out, palm up, on the bed between them. An offering of comfort he thought she might accept, since she had taken his hand in the woods.

She hesitated for only a moment before placing her hand on top of his.

Chapter 2

[justallihere]

20 Questions for the Writers Tag Game!

I was tagged by @widebrimmedhatsblog

1. Total number of AO3 works

8!

2. Total AO3 word count

291,174

3. Fandoms I've written for

The only thing I've ever really published that's been popular is The Empyrean. I have a couple ACOTAR ideas but they've never seen the light of day

4. Top 5 fics by kudos

storm in the quiet (5,357)

simmer (609)

invisible in a violet sea (515)

violence in my veins (499)

somehow i still love you more (499)

5. Do I respond to comments?

....sometimes. Generally no because I'm really horrible at making time for it. But know that I read them all over and over again!! I'm trying to be better

6. What has the angstiest ending?

Everything that's currently posted has a happy ending. Storm in the quiet has the most angst overall, and some people might find the ending angsty but I don't think it is lol

7. What has the happiest ending?

Probably somehow i still love you more. Just Xaden and Violet and their baby, living their happy lives 😌

8. Have I received hate?

Not really! A couple people here and there who I think either didn't get the point of some of my work or it wasn't their thing and they told me about it anyway, but no outright hate

9. Do I write smut? And what kind?

Yes. Anything with a praise kink basically

10. Do I write crossovers?

Nope.

11. Have I ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of!

12. Have I ever had a fic translated?

Not yet! Maybe someday someone will want to.

13. Have I ever co-written a fic?

I have not. I'm so particular about my writing I don't know how it would go for me lol

14. What is my all time favorite ship?

For the Empyrean, Riorgail are my babies 🥰

15. A WIP I'll never finish?

Uh I started a Violet/Aaric fic set during Iron Flame that I don't think I'll ever pick back up

16. Writing strengths?

Dialogue and probably descriptions? I love taking the time to describe what the characters are seeing and feeling

17. Writing weaknesses?

Any type of action/fight scene. I hate it so much

18. Do I like foreign language dialogue?

A lot of untranslated dialogue when I'm reading takes me out of the story because I have to keep translating it myself. As far as writing, I don't really write it because I don't speak other languages besides English, so I wouldn't want to get it wrong

19. First fandom I wrote for?

I think it was PJO way back in the day? It never got published

20. Favorite fic I've written?

storm in the quiet. It's so long but it's really been a labor of love and the response I've gotten to it isn't something I'll ever forget. It's been an incredible experience sharing it with everyone 💕

I don't have anyone to tag so if you want to participate please do!!!