#but instead we have a laundry closet and a small ass room that would probably be better as an office than a bedroom

[fandomitor]

it seems that my mother doesn’t understand basic math (geometry? but 3d) that you can’t fit a rectangle into a smaller square (even if it’s attached to a longer rectangle (stairs) if you can’t get it past the doorway)

[angelguk]

omg so i sent in an ask re angst jock jk n oc ! but then i also realized its highly possible these 2 break up at one point while in uni mostly bc of the "are we dating bc its convenient" kinda dilemma and then it just pushes them apart bc they think theyre losing theirselves while being in such a close relationship,,,cue save ur tears by theweeknd BUT i just know when they grow up a lil bit more, theyll end up together <3

here we go! (the beginning of the end....may be...)

didn’t include save your tears as the soundtrack but may haps for the follow-up :3

pairing: jock!jk and oc

warnings: angst, yes the break-up scene, jaykay being an ass (a very huge one motivated by his own insecurities and selfishness – translation: he’d rather break her heart and carry that weight than be the heartbroken one), chayoung is no longer Seed of Doubt but something else (still up for debate but she’s fairly nice here), not edited but hey atp that’s part of my branding (also i would like everyone to consider that oc is not the greatest gf ever like guys don’t hate jk alone!!)

soundtrack: bags, clairo + stay, gracie abrams + say you know, alina baraz

(titled — honeymoon fades)

Jeongguk’s contact name hasn’t lit up the screen of your phone for six days now and you haven’t seen his face for just as long. It’s weird to go from constant incessant  communication to complete and utter radio silence. Not a single meme deposited in your Instagram inbox, no random notification from his Twitter. Just silence, quiet brewing silence. 

It breaks two days later when Chayoung finds you coddled under your duvet, mouth stuffed with the saccharine sweetness of mint chocolate. (Jeongguk kept a stash of it at your place but who was around to eat it anymore apart from you?). 

“And why do you look like you live in a dumpster?” She’d hummed, ripping open the curtains you’d involuntarily welded shut. 

“Because that’s how I feel inside,” you’d retorted, pushing aside your laptop. The screen is stuck with an image of an idiotic character named Nabi kissing the spawn of Satan. You hope for her sake it works out. Chayoung had huffed at your response, fondly whacking your head with a stray pillow. 

“Well get over that feeling cause we’re going out tonight.” A declaration, the fierceness in her feline eyes a warning that you’re not allowed to even think of saying no. That doesn’t mean you hadn’t tried – sorrowful eyes and pouted lips as you begged her to spare you. But Chayoung is a force of nature, one that could easily wreak havoc on your delicateness. And she does though, with a string of comments that propels you out of the miserable burrow you’d dug up. 

“You’re killing everyone, you know?” She’d supplied, yanking open your closet. “You’re sulking, Jeongguk is shutting down. He’s said like five words since this whole...thing...you have going on.” 

You couldn’t help but scoff at that, toying with the corner of the large grey shirt donned on your body. Jeongguk’s shirt. One of his favourites actually. You’d thought about stealing it after spying it on his obsessively neat laundry pile, but after seeing your wandering eyes he’d given it to you instead. 

“He always does that,” you’d said after Chayoung had whipped her head in your direction, curved eyebrows perplexed. “I mean, shut down. It’s his emotional response to things that bother him. Complete detachment so it hurts less.”

She had just stared at you, a long meaningful look at left your skin prickled. 

“Huh.”

“What do you mean ‘huh’?”

A measured step forward, her body weight sinking into the edge of your mattress a moment later. “I mean, you know him so well.”

“Of course I do he’s my best-friend,” you’d said, indignation coating your words

“No–No you're not getting me. You know him. You know he wouldn’t make the move to reconcile–”

“But he should!”

“You told him to go away! He’s trying to listen to you even though he’s hurting!”

And maybe that was it, that simple implication that you were causing him pain that had you pausing, reviewing the things you’d said to him – the things you’d felt. 

“But,” a timid rebuttal, “I just–I just need him to show me that he cares.”

“He does,” Chayoung had returned. “So much. And he misses you. He’s probably just afraid that you don’t feel the same.”

“But I do! He knows this.”

“Does he?” A question in her eyes, one that you’re afraid you know the honest answer to. 

You say things and never mean them, he had said, eyes hard.

That had hurt you but perhaps he was right, there are things you hadn’t told him, feelings you hadn’t truly expressed. And Jeongguk had always been good to you, so understanding and caring, trying to fill the places were you lacked. Wasn’t he the one who planned the majority of your dates? Remembered all the important milestones of your relationship while you contributed the bare minimum. You hadn’t even told Chayoung about the surprise he had planned for your one-year anniversary, the shame of your own choice hanging heavy over your head. 

So that’s why you’re here, staring at the back of his head forlornly as the music drifts around you, flashing florescent lights bathing him a hazy glory. He hasn’t seen you yet (something you’re thankful for because oddly enough you feel sick to your stomach). It feels like you’re skating on thin ice, waiting for the impending crack to sound through your heart, ice water swallowing you whole immediately. Chayoung is the one who pushes you forward, gingerly plucking the idle drink from your hand, Jimin aiding her efforts with a soft smile your way. 

It’s time for you to try the way Jeongguk has, put aside that bumbling ego that oversees your actions and adopt the humility he’s always granted you.

“Go,” she murmurs. “He misses you.”

And God you hope he does because you’ve missed him too. 

Except the moment his honey eyes land on you you know he hasn’t.

“Jeongguk,” you mumble. Yoonoh is frozen beside him, concerned gaze flicking between your faces. Your own eyes are stuck on him, the shape of his nose, the curve of his lips, the subtle hint of the dimple in his cheeks. 

You’ve missed him, and it slips from your heart and brims in your eyes, vision blurry as your blink those stray tears back inside. 

“Hi,” you add, when his silence doesn’t break.

“I should probably go,” Yoonoh lets out, awkward words bumping into the wall of tension standing firm between you to. He settles a hand on Jeongguk’s shoulder, sending him a look that feels loaded. “See you guys later, right?”

You nod, finally noticing the lump clogging your throat. “Yeah, sure.” Jeongguk just hums, the edge of his cup caught between his lips. Yoonoh flees within seconds, leaving you to wade through this alone. 

“I–I know you’re not happy with me right now, but please, can we just talk?” He blinks at you, it feels like a premonition. “Please?”

“Okay.” The simple word fills you, like a hollow you weren’t aware of finally found the cure needed. 

“Okay,” a small smile on your lips. Jeongguk’s face is still unreadable. He guides you up and away from the deafening sound of the song bleeding from the speakers, into an empty room, the door closing behind him muting the music and giving way to the own pounding in your head. Nobody says anything for a second, both of you navigating this uncharted territory of animosity. Until Jeongguk sighs, melting into the bed at the centre of the room. You follow suit, allocating enough space between the two of you. You’ve ever had to do that before.

“You said you wanted to talk?” Jeongguk finally cuts through it, eyes unforgiving when he glances at you.

“I did! I do–Just Jeongguk,” you can’t help it drifting out. “I miss you.”

Nothing, not even a flicker in his eyes. He eyes shift to the floor instead. “Okay. I that what you wanted to say?”

“No–No not just that! I’ve missed you Jeongguk and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that i went off on you like that and I’m sorry I haven’t been the best towards you and I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel like I didn’t care about you–or made you feel like the things I said or did had no meaning behind them. Because they do–they do because I love you. I love you so so much and I’m sorry if I made it seem like otherwise.” You automatically extend out for him, hoping to grasp on his thing floating to fast away from you. Jeongguk shifts and you hand tumbles down to the empty space between you instead, halted by his hesitance. 

His head drops into his palms a second later, a broken exhale leaving his lips. The motion cause the silver bracelet on his wrist to slip down the length of his arm. It jolts something in you. Jeongguk had given you a matching one but you’d ripped it off after the last argument and hadn’t considered putting it back on. But Jeongguk was still wearing his. 

“Do you really?”

“What?” He’s staring at you know, doe eyes cloudy.

“Do you really love me?” There, that stupid evil vile question that you thought you had the answer to but the words vanish in your head the longer he looks at you.

“I do–what? What are you implying? Of course, I do.”

“Of course, you do,” Jeongguk echoes. His eyes turn to the window located over his shoulder. You can see his head working through something, and you’re suddenly terrified fingertips itching to wander through his curls and coax those thoughts from his head. 

“Jeongguk? What the hell are you talking about? Talk to me, please.”

He sighs again, at it feels like your heart splinters. A sudden shake of his head and Jeongguk twists back to face you, a silent tear falling down his cheek.

“You don’t love me.”

“Wh–What are you talking about? I do! And how can you decide my feelings for me?”

“No. You don’t love me the way you think you do–the way you should.” It feels like he’s saying it to more than you, like he’s saying it to himself. “Maybe this the wrong choice to make. You know. Maybe we shouldn’t have done this.”

You shatter just like that, shards on the floor as you stare him, this person that you thought you knew. And maybe the feeling is mutual because Jeongguk is staring at you in a similar way, searching for the courage to say the words you know lie in his heart. Like a loaded cannon, waiting for the match to strike and leave you lying in pieces. 

“I think we should break–"

“No,” you cut him off with an adamance that you didn’t know existed until right then. “No, you’re not gonna say that and we are not doing this.”

His eyes narrow then, jaw set. “This is not about ‘us’, I’m doing what’s right for me.”

“How is that right? Huh, Jeongguk? Don’t you care about this? Don’t you care about me?”

He looks away then, ignoring your questions, his throat stuck. 

“Jeongguk...” You reach out again, and he allows it, shoulders sinking with the weight of your hand on them. “Don’t you care about me?”

Another heavy exhale, his eyes blinking hard. “I do. And that’s why this won’t work, not the way it should at least. I really think we should end this, or at least reconsider the reasons why we’re together. You say you love me–you say you always have but really–really think about it. About me and us and what we are. I’m sorry, I really am but I just can’t do this anymore.”

He rises then, your outstretched hand tumbling down to the empty space he’d left behind. You can’t move it, can’t breathe, your heart hurtling out of your chest and onto the ground where it lies, fragmented beyond repair and bleeding bare. You glance up through tears, watch him open his mouth and then it and look away. 

“Do you mean it?” You finally ask, and his eyes snap to you. He knows what you’re saying. There’s a pause that stretches out for eternity, coloured by the sound of the ringing in your head.

“Maybe.” It cuts right through you, lodging itself deep with intent. And then you just have to nod, swallow the scream clawing at your throat. He murmurs one more apology before his feet carry him away, and you watch, forlorn as you burn his frame into your memory, as your whole world walks out the door.

[rightsockjin]

Summary: Jungkook is the best friend anyone could ask for. He’d been there for you through thick and thin, and right now, you were looking extra thick and his patience was thinning...

Rating:M

Genre: SMUT! A good amount of angst...

Warnings: Mutual mastrabation, porn, big dick JK. Best friend pining. Pillow riding. Butts. Blow job. Spit. Finger licking? Is that a warning? 

Word count: 4,906

Author’s note: this has nothing to do with his boots...

It's been years. Literal years. Years in which Jungkook had questioned what the nature of your relationship was. Never did he truly have the confidence or the strength to so much as toe the line between what you already had and something more.

You were laying down on his bed, your socked feet pushed up against the lowest section of the attic ceiling . Your toes were pointed and your heels tapped softly on the wall, your legs flush against it. Your butt was pushed up against the pillows on his bed. The comforter was slightly pulled from the edges. He’d be upset. Really, he would be upset since he had this weird OCD about the neatness of his bed but his mind was blank.

He leaned back against his gaming chair right across from it and in front of his desk. His laptop  was firmly closed. His heart rate must have been 100 beats per minute. His hands were sweaty and a little slick from the lotion.

It was safe to say that he hadn’t expected you that day. Given, you come over whenever you feel like, he had hoped-no prayed, that he would have a solid hour or so to himself. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to see you, it was just that seeing you was the cause of the issue that he was trying to resolve.

He’d been taking you to the gym with him lately and he was really starting to see results. Especially in your thighs and your butt. Now, he had always thought you were attractive which was what had led him to question his feelings for you in the first place, but now he was getting hard ons far too often when you were around and he was running out of excuses to get away and rub one out.

It seemed that the pillow under your butt was getting uncomfortable because you started to shimmy it to the side. Finally, you pulled it out from under you and set it longways on your body. Without seeming to think much of the action, you wrapped your legs and arms around it and cuddled into the fabric that he’d freshly washed.

Your butt stuck out behind you, in perfect view of Jungkook whose erection was straining painfully against his jeans. His mind wandered back to what he had been watching before you had so rudely barged into his room. A film, of sorts, with two equally consenting adults but their faces were blurred. The woman had a fantastic ass so as he stared at yours, it wasn’t hard to put your face where her’s should have been.

He spread his legs farther to try to give the thing between his legs room to breathe but his jeans only strained over the rock hard rod. He needed to get you out of his room. He needed some relief.

“Hey,” he said, his voice cracking almost comically. He cleared his throat quickly, hoping you missed the sound but when your head snapped to look at him he knew you wouldn’t let it go.

“HeY,” you mimicked, rolling over to face him and onto your knees, your legs straddling his pillow as you sat back on your heels. The light from the attic window outlined you from behind, like a spotlight shining from almost directly behind as the sun began to set. He couldn’t help but scan your body in a position a little too sexual to be accidental. His eyes stopped on your torso. The white shirt that had been perfectly fine only seconds before now seemed extremely see through. In mock slow motion, you reached up and pushed your hair from one shoulder to the other. The shirt rode up slightly revealing what looked like thin black ribbons of fabric that wrapped around your ribs.

Jungkook’s dick pulsed where it was squished. He balled his hands into fists on the arms of his chair and forced himself not to react, though arousal thrummed through his body like a wildfire.

“Why are you such a bitch,” he groaned, channeling his arousal into annoyance as he’d recently taken to doing. It had the added plus side of making you so angry sometimes that you’d just leave him alone until he apologized which went hand in hand with when he’d finished himself off in the comfort of his own room.

“Geez, I’ve been here for five minutes and already you’re being rude.”

Jungkook groaned and rolled his eyes at you plastering a patronizing look on his face.

“Maybe it's because you came in and fucked up my sheets,” he said, waving his tattooed hand around you. You looked down, a small frown on your face as you saw the little tornado of blanket you had disturbed.

“It’s not that bad…”

Damn you. Damn you and your stupid cuteness. You shifted in your position, holding onto the pillow and spreading your legs wider in an attempt to smooth it out slightly. You probably didn’t mean it. Jungkook told this to himself over and over as you moved. From his perspective, it looked a little like you were humping the pillow. With your lip between your teeth and your brow furrowed in concentration, it wasn’t hard to imagine that you were instead pleasuring yourself before him.

Subconsciously, one of his hands slithered closer to his bulge. It was when he felt it on his thigh near his center that he froze and sat on both his hands instead. He could feel his underwear becoming wet with precum, a small wet spot appearing on his jeans.

“Just-just stop, Y/n! I’ll fix it later. I’m going to have to fucking do my laundry again…” he muttered more to himself than to you but you had clearly heard it, letting out a little hmph.

“Damn. You’ve been such a huge dick lately. I don’t know what your problem is but if you’re going to be exuding this much small dick energy, I don’t wanna be around you anymore.”

Jungkook glared at you. Your arms were now crossed over your bosom, pushing them closer together. A little bit of cleavage visible over the neck of your shirt. How could someone be equal parts infuriating and attractive?

“Well no one’s asking you to stay here! I didn’t even invite you over,” he said turning his chair around with his bare feet so he was looking at his shut laptop.

“When have I ever had to ask to see you?” You asked.

He had severely miscalculated his turn. He bumped his knee hard against one of the legs of the desk. His laptop bounced threateningly close to the edge but stopped just short of falling.

“I don’t know? Maybe you should start! You’re fucking rude sometimes!”

Jungkook didn’t dare look back. His heart had stopped suddenly. It was like he was seeing himself from another vantage point and that him was yelling at the present him to shut the fuck up.

There was a silence from your end as well. Like you couldn’t quite believe what he’d said to you. Sure, you guys cursed back and forward at each other before but it was never serious. It was always in good fun, but this time it seemed a little close to home.

“Fine,” you said suddenly, his bed creaked as you made your way off of it, “I’ll leave. I just fucking missed you since we hadn’t spent time together lately… guess you outgrew me too.”

Jungkook’s heart sank to his stomach. What had he just done? A light sweat broke out on his forehead.

Say something idiot!

“What do you mean ‘too’?”

You were by his bedroom door now. He could see you out of the corner of his eyes but he couldn’t force himself to look at you.

“You’ve changed JK…you used to love to sing, and your friends. You used to have a closet full of white shirts and hated being called oppa. You used to love banana milk and your Timbs… you used to love me…but I guess,” you sighed, your shoulders slumping and what looked like tears started to run down your cheeks, “like the rest of those things… you outgrew me as well.”

Your thin hand reached out to grasp the door knob but Jungkook chose then to act. He jolted off his chair not caring what he hit on the way, he was next to you in two steps.

“Wait Y/N-” but he was cut off by metallic thud and a loud drawn out female moan. All the blood in his body drained. His hand stayed perpetually frozen in the air between him and yourself. The tears on your cheeks ran freely but the shock on your face contradicted that emotion.

Neither of you moved. Another, rather loud moan filled the attic room. It bounced off the poster covered walls and seemed to bounce off the walls of his skull as well. Had he really been watching his ahem…films that loudly? How had you not heard it before you walked in?

“Fuck,” the video yelled and it was like someone had pressed play on both of you. Jungkook’s eyes widened and he rushed back to pick up the fallen computer. You hissed awkwardly looking at the wall to avoid eye contact.

Jungkook shut the computer faster than he thought was humanly possible. The sound cut off just as the woman was getting rammed from behind and her moans were cut coming out short and breathy.

It was when he had set the computer carelessly back on his desk that it hit him hard. You had just witnessed that. Where did you go from there?

He chuckled, because he didn’t know what else to do and the tension in the small room was starting to choke him and honestly that wasn’t one of his kinks so he needed to put an end to it.

“I interrupted you…didn’t I?” Your voice was soft and devoid of emotion. Jungkook chanced a glance at you, his hair covering his eyes slightly. If he pretended it was no big deal then maybe you would take the hint and make it no big deal as well.

“Yep.”

“Oh,” you said, ”Oh! Shit! I’m sorry! No wonder you were so pissy! I would be too if you came over in the middle of-” you clapped your hands over your mouth, your eyes wide and your cheeks red.

That was not a picture that Jungkook had even considered. But suddenly, it was all he could see. You, completely naked in your slightly messy room, your toes curling and uncurling as your fingers pumped in and out of your warm entrance. Your hair, cascaded on your pretty shoulders as your other hand pinched at your nipple. That enticing lip of yours between your teeth and little breathy moans coming out of your lips just like the ones he’d just heard.

His dick twitched again. He was unsuccessful this time in keeping his groan in his throat. It hung in the air between you like an invitation that he regretted sending instantly but he couldn’t take back. You turned slowly to face him.

“Did-did you just-”

“N-no! I didn’t! I-”

“You totally just-”

“Y/N!”

“What?” You asked forcefully, taking a step towards him.

“Please stop… this is humiliating enough without you pointing out that I-”

“Moaned at the thought of me masturbating?”

You’d said it. Somehow, he knew there was no going back. You had ventured past the metaphorical line together, maybe not in the way he’d wanted but here was the chance he’d been looking for. He either pushed you away indefinitely, or took the chance to see if you could do something more with the foundation you had built together.

“Okay fine, so it turned me on a little. So what? I’m a guy! Do you forget or something?”

You blinked at him, biting your lip and furrowing your eyebrows. A shock of arousal burst through him at the sight.

“Can you please stop doing that? You’re making it really hard to keep my hormones under control,” he begged looking up at the ceiling. The light in the room had significantly dimmed. It was making it difficult for him to see you properly.

“What if I want it to be hard,” you whispered so softly he wasn’t even sure if he had heard you correctly.

“What if you- if you…wait what?” He needed to hear you say it again. He needed to be sure he didn’t hear you incorrectly.

“What if,” you took a deep breath, “what if I want to make it hard for you to keep your hormones at bay?”

Jungkook.exe has stopped working. Error #6969. Recalibrating.

His mouth hung open. The gears in his brain had ground to a stop. There was no way he had heard what he thought he’d heard.

You looked at him expectantly. Hope in your wide eyes. Jungkook swallowed loudly, clicking his mouth shut.

Drooling isn’t attractive.

He scrambled around for some words to say back to you. Anything to say to you that expressed what he was feeling. Maybe a ‘hell yeah’ or a simple ‘okay’. But he couldn’t make his mouth move. His penis pressed against his jeans painfully.

“P-pardon?”

Nope. Not the optimal thing to say. Not even a little close to what he wanted to say. You were right. He was exuding small dick energy and you were projecting the complete opposite.

“You know what? Never mind… let’s just pretend that I didn’t say that and I’ll leave you alone to sort yourself out,” you mumbled under your breath reaching for the door knob again, but this time Jungkook was much quicker and there was no laptop to distract him. He clasped his hand over your wrist before you could turn the knob.

You snapped your head to look at him, the blush still prominent on your cheeks as you looked up at him. There was fear and embarrassment in your pretty eyes. Jungkook didn’t know what he was going to do but he knew he couldn’t let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

“Wait! Uh… what if I told you that it’s been hard?”

It was your turn to look confused. You raised an inquisitive eyebrow relaxing your body slightly.

“What’s been hard?”

With an embarrassed hiss Jungkook said, “It’s been hard… my um…you know?”

You searched his face as if you could read his emotions and thoughts on it like a book. After a couple of seconds of tense silence, the muscles in your face relaxed and your confidence seemed to rise.

“Oh…really?” Jungkook nodded without hesitation. The fact that you hadn’t run screaming spurred him on, hoping that if he was honest he could maybe get somewhere with you, even if it was short term.

“Do you…would you want some help? With that?”

Your eyes were focused on his own but it felt like you could see right through him. The sun had fully set and the only light was coming from the stars and the moon outside the attic window. He was grateful, really. It did a good job of hiding his major dorkiness.

“You…you want to help?”

You hummed, a sound so low and even that It sent shivers down his spine. Just the thought of seeing you naked was enough to have him twitching like crazy.

“Yeah… Why watch porn on a screen when you could watch IRL right?”

Jungkook.exe has stopped working again. Error #6970. Rebooting system in progress. Were you really offering-

“I mean… you could do it as well! We could both… and you can tell me what to do if that’s what you’re into? Or we could just watch each other -hmph-” Jungkook slammed an open palm against the wall effectively pinning you between his toned body and it.

His breath was warm against your cheek. His chest was barely grazing your own. A jolt of fear and arousal hit you hard as you looked up at your best friend of many years. If someone had told you days ago that you would be propositioning Jungkook the way you were now, you would have laughed in their face. But that was then and this was now, and now you knew much more information than you did then.

“It’s the least you can do,” he whispered against your ear, “you did ruin my sheets. Give me a good reason to have to wash them.”

You looked back and forward between his eyes, searching for any hesitance. When you found none and he put his hand down, gently caressing your cheek with his knuckles, you realized that this was actually happening in real time and not in one of your many daydreams.

Jungkook nuzzled his lips on the shell of your ear before he sucked the lobe into his mouth. He nibbled lightly, pressing his lower body against yours. You could feel his erection against the lower part of your stomach. You gasped. It felt big. Really big and unbelievably hard.

His big hand found your waist easily. He held you against the wall and gingerly ground his hips into you. He let out a shaky exhale against your neck. One hand traveled up your torso. He could feel the thin ribbons he had seen earlier under his fingertips. He traced them softly. Inevitably, they lead him to your clothed chest. It didn’t take long for him to realize that you weren’t exactly wearing a proper bra as your nipples were already poking out of the thin fabric of both your shirt and bralette.

Jungkook ran a thumb over the sensitive bud. It was feather light but it ignited the fire that had been steadily burning over the last couple of minutes. You gasped softly as he did it once more and nibbled at your pulse point. His breath was hitting your neck, his hips still rotating sensually on your lower belly.

When you didn’t touch him back, Jungkook panicked. Had he gone too far? He stopped his hand at your chest and pulled away from your neck. A bit of worry was evident on his face.

“Is…is this okay?”

You nodded quickly, not wanting him to stop. He smiled brightly, clear excitement in his expression, then pulled away from you entirely. You tried to hold back your disappointment as you watched him back away.

“Hey we’re not done yet,” he assured, his teeth on display, “I’m just taking you up on your offer.” He shrugged as he lowered himself back on his desk chair. His legs were spread wide, his feet firmly planted. He was slouched against the back of it with an expectant look. Slowly, he unzipped his pants and slid them part of the way down.

Even in this darkness, you could see the enormous bulge in his underpants. Your mouth salivated, something primal awakening at the sight. You wanted to touch him. You wanted to eat him alive, but you didn’t move, still a little confused as to what you were supposed to do.

Jungkook palmed himself over the fabric. His face screwed up into a slightly pained expression. Like even this much stimulation was too much.

You swallowed thickly as you watched his head loll to the side. He was sexier than in your dreams. Sexier than you could have even imagined.

“Well?” he asked, looking at you through lidded eyes, “Get comfortable on my bed babe.”

As if you were in a trance, you walked over back to the bed and sat on the edge trying to think of what to do to entice him. You had pictured this moment so many times, but in every single one, he was on top of you or touching you in some way. You had never thought about him wanting to watch you touch yourself.

In a spurt of confidence, you pulled off your shirt revealing the infamous, barely there, black bralette. You rolled your shoulders back and pushed your chest out so he could better admire it and you weren’t disappointed. Jungkook’s mouth fell open at the sight. A quiet fuck escaped his lips and his hand tightened around his bulge.

“You like?” you asked cheekily with a wink.

“Duh,” he answered rolling his eyes, “Take off the sweat pants.”

You raised your eyebrows at him but did as he asked. Still, this was your best friend, you couldn’t help but be a bit bratty.

“Damn you’re so bossy. I’m doing you a favor JK.”

Jungkook laughed at that, pushing his pants fully off of him as he watched you strip yours.

“Annoying as always. Why did I think you would change that in the bedroom?”

“You love it,” you argued, spreading your legs wide, finally free of your pants. The black, silk underwear you were wearing on full display. You set your hands on your knees to keep your legs spread. The light of the stars seemed to catch every curve and edge of your partially exposed body. You smirked as you looked at your best friend. He was manspreading, his chest rising and falling quickly, like he’d just finished working out.

“I can’t argue with that…” he said blinking rapidly as if you would disappear after he closed his eyes, “Take off your bra.”

“Hell no. I’m more naked than you are, take off your shirt Jeon,” you argued, snapping the edge of your underwear to your skin as a punctuation.

“Hey! You said I could tell you what to do,” he groaned already reaching for the edge of his shirt.

“I changed my mind. If you’re not going to be fair then I’m calling the shots.”

“Whatever,” he groaned, his abs out in the open, but he didn’t stop there. In one fluid motion, he yanked off his underwear. His dick sprung up against his stomach, long and thick. Even in the blue tinted darkness, you could see how angry the tip looked.

“Happy now?” He asked wrapping his hand around his penis and giving it a solid tug that made him screw up his face again, “your turn.”

You said nothing, instead, you pulled down one of the black cups of your bra so your boob hung out in the open for him to see. Then, with not nearly as much grace as him, you tugged your underwear off and sat back farther on the bed.

“Damn,” Jungkook whispered, “you’re so…” he paused looking kind of embarrassed, “beautiful.”

You blushed, not at all expecting him to give you such a genuine compliment based on what you were doing right then, but you took it nonetheless and smiled.

“Hey,” he said before you could thank him, “do you think you could, uh… ride my pillow?”

You blinked at him, then looked at the pillow behind you that you had been cuddling earlier. Jungkook was anal about his pillows being clean so this request really took you by surprise.

“Really?”

“Yeah… please?”

“Okay,” you agreed but you only moved the pillow closer to you and hiked a leg up on his mattress. Your lips were spread enticingly and you curved a finger so he could come closer. Jungkook did as you asked, his hand wrapped firmly around his member and stroking it. He stopped a couple of inches short of his bed, his eyes fixated on your core.

With one finger, you traced from your opening up to your clit. The coldness of your own hand sent a shiver up your spine. You whimpered, doing it again but with two fingers, collecting your arousal. Jungkook watched, enraptured by what was between your legs. The scent of you making him twitch uncomfortably.

“Wanna taste?” you asked him holding your fingers out in front of his lips. His eyes widened and he nodded leaning in quickly and taking your fingers in his mouth. His tongue worked to collect all of your juices. It felt heavenly. You could already imagine what it would be like to have his mouth between your legs, but that was a venture for another time.

When he had finished, you pulled your fingers back and onto your core. With his saliva coating your digits, it wasn’t hard to slip them into your heat. Your walls fluttered around them as you pumped in time to his hand around his shaft.

You let little mewls escape past your lips as Jungkook moaned at the sight. With your other hand, you began to rub at your clit. A shock of pure pleasure nestled in your stomach. You drew tight little circles around it. Your legs twitched with impatience.

“Ngh… Jungkook,” you moaned letting your eyes roll to the back of your head. Jungkook’s hand sped up on his erection. The sound of his fist on it turned you on a little.

“Fuck, Y/N… can I ask you a favor?”

You stopped your fingers on your core and looked up at him. He looked down at his sex then back at you awkwardly gesturing at it.

“Could you…maybe get it a little wet?”

“Yeah,” you said enthusiastically, pulling your fingers from your entrance and changing your position. You pushed the pillow between your legs and spread your lips apart so the fabric was nuzzled right against your sensitive bits. Then, slowly you pressed your wet fingers to his lips again and whispered, “suck.”

“Yes ma’am,” Jungkook half joked but the thrill it sent through you was nothing to laugh at. He took your hand in his own and put your fingers back in his mouth. You leaned down over his member and began to fervently lick around it, using your other hand to stroke your spit into his skin. He tasted vaguely of baby powder and lotion which you assumed was what he was using to masturbate before.

You gave his tip a couple of good generous licks before you sucked at his slits. His precum was salty against your tongue and he casually bucked his hips up into you but you held him down. His lips on your hand stuttered and fell open.

You pulled your fingers from his lips and you used both hands to hold him down as you greedily sucked. Loud, prolonged moans came frequently from Jungkook. Maybe it was because he was so worked up but you could already feel his dick twitching like crazy. Slowly, you began to build your own pleasure with the pillow between your legs, rubbing your soaking slits on it back and forward. The pleasure made you moan around him which made him groan and choke on the sound.

Suddenly, you felt his hand on your back, traveling lower until it was on your ass. He squeezed it slightly, jiggling it and pushing you forward on the pillow. You pushed back against him sending another shock of pleasure directly to your clit. His other hand found its way to your chest. His finger tweaking your sensitive, exposed nipple and rubbing circles on the areola.

You took a bit more of his erection in your mouth, spit dribbled down yours lips and onto him. You did your best to slurp it up, lewd noises floated around you both. Jungkook’s melodic moans filling the room like music.

You found yourself close to the edge faster than you anticipated. Jungkook continued to aid you in your pleasure, bucking his hips slightly as you sucked him off with care. You ran your fingers over his toned abs, abs that you had wanted to lick since the day you saw them and the thought alone pushed you so close it was painful.

“Fuck Y/N… I love you…” That did it. Your walls clenched around nothing, blood pumped into your clit at an alarming speed, your mouth fell open, wide around his cock and it fell straight into the back of your throat setting off your gag reflex. You moaned erotically against him. The pleasure filled your every nerve as Jungkook gasped and twitched then stilled.

Ropes of hot cum hit your tongue, some making it into your throat, some spilling onto his pelvis as he orgasmed. You both came down from your high, nearly together. With his dick still in your mouth, you slurped at the remaining cum around him.

He hissed and tried to push your head off of him but you didn’t stop until you had licked it all up. When you pulled away and sat up so you could see him, his words sunk in. Jungkook loved you? As more than just a friend?

It seemed that it had just dawned on Jungkook what he had let slip as well. His cheeks darkened in the faint light of the moon and he couldn’t look at you. There you both sat, almost entirely naked, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, his pillow soiled with your orgasmic juices and the words hung out like an invitation that he’d regretted sending but couldn’t take back.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

Fireworks erupted all over Jungkook’s chest, his lips pulled up into his bunny like smile, his toned chest rose and fell with the quick pace of his heart. The explosion was so powerful that fireworks didn’t even seem like the right word for what he was feeling as he lunged forward and sandwiched your lips between his.

No, not fireworks. It was something more like Dynamite.

Read the rest here!

Part 2

[buckys-little-hoe]

Guys my age | Peter x Fem!Reader, Tony x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Peter x Reader, Tony x Reader

Summary: Years pass and you’re not the little girl anymore.

Warnings: Half naked woman, alcohol, sexual thoughts, grammar and spelling mistakes (I really don’t feel like reading through it again lmao)

A/N: Do I smell a possible series? Tell me if you like it and I will probably continue this. Hehehe

-

Peter Parker. The cutest best friend someone could only ever find in their wildest dreams. He helps you with your homework, he’s been there when you were lovesick, when you were hurt, he trusts you with his life. You’d do anything for him and he’d do the same. He’d get you the moon if you’d ask him. 

You’ve been close friends since Freshman Year - therefore you know his secret identity. Countless nights you spend in eachothers arms, both of you have changed in front of the other. Nothing is really a big deal to you two anymore. Now that you’re two years into college - you traveled around the world for one year after highschool - you’re legally an adult. Drinking is something you can legally do now, not that you often would. You feel like a woman. No. You are a woman. Things change. Feelings change. You often spent the weekend at the compound, sharing a room with Peter back in highschool. So spending Spring Break there isn’t really different. What Peter didn’t tell you, was that everyone is going to be home. This situation is rare. More than half of the team you’ve last seen when you were like sixteen. It will be something completely new, not only for you. “Y/N?”, your dorm roommate calls after you. “Yeah?”, you respond while packing the last things into a suitcase. She barges into your room and scans the room, looking for you. She sees you standing in front of your small closet. “Ohh. You’re leaving. Where to?”, she asks, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “I told you. I’m staying at Peter’s.”, you answer smiling. “Peter? Oh, your boyfriend!”, she says. “He’s not my boyfriend.”, you mumble now. “Whatever, he’s totally into you.”, she responds and sits down on your bed, which is a mess by the way. “He’s not.” Your cheeks start to burn and you turn around. “If you wanna believe that. Have you seen my black dress?” You're grateful that she changes the conversation. “Yeah, you brought it to the salon to get it cleaned.”, you respond, still not facing her. “You’re a literal angel, Y/N. I guess we’ll see eachother after spring break again, so have fun and wrap it before you tap it, darling.”, she says and gives you a kiss on the cheek. Before you can turn around she’s already out the door. 

“I’m bored Peter.”, you sigh looking out of the window. “We’re almost there.” You can feel how he rolls his eyes. “Why are we spending Spring Break here anyway?”, you ask him now facing him. His brown messy hair almost falling into his eyes. He needs to cut that. “I want to work on my skills again and maybe Captain can teach you something, like he promised when he saw you last.”, he replies, still focused on the road. Oh yes. That five years ago. Captain please fuck me America. Man, what a sight for sore eyes. That man could literally run you over with a car, you’d be thanking him. “So instead of relaxing, you want them to murder me?” “Basically.” He finally pulls up to the compound after passing through all those security checks. You look at the time. Almost ten p.m. You feel so tired. “Alright Parker. You bring in those bags, I’ll shower and we watch a movie while falling asleep?”, you question. Well not really, It’s more of an order. He sighs and kills you with his eyes. Before he can say anything, you run into the empty compound. Seems like they’re on a mission. “FRIDAY?”, you call. “Hello, miss Y/L/N. It’s good to see you back.”, the AI greets you. “Well, thanks. Where can I take a shower?”

Relaxed, you get out of the shower, seeing the dampness all over the mirror. That’s when you realise you forgot to bring in clothes. No big deal, right? It’s just good ol’ Penis Parker. You wrap a towel around your curves. You slowly open the door just to see nothing. No Peter, no suitcase. No clothes? You moan in disbelief. This can’t be true. Your old clothes already went down the laundry chute. “FRIDAY?”, you call once again. “Yes, miss?”, the voice answers. “Where is Peter?” “It seems to me that mister Parker went to the kitchen with the luggage.” You’re going to murder him. “Well can you tell him to come?”, you ask. “Unfortunately he has his headphones in at full volume. I can not reach him.”, FRIDAY replies. “That’s fine, thanks.”, you huff, annoyed. It’s been only like ten minutes. They’re not gonna be here, right? Peter said they’ll return tomorrow. Alright. You pull the towel tighter around your body and slowly walk across the room. It’s now or never. You open the door and look outside. No sign of anybody. So you slowly walk next to the wall. You just need to reach the elevator, go into the kitchen and beat his ass. Man, you’re really nervous. You take a deep breath and walk to the elevator. The elevator opens and you slip into it. Thank god, you’re alone. You turn around to look into the mirror. Your wet hair falls on your decollete, your cheeks still a little red from the hot shower, your lips are plump from the lip masks. Wow, you look really good. What a shame that you don’t have your phone to take a selfie. You don’t even notice when the elevator stops. You do notice when the doors open. Your heart drops when you hear two voices, now becoming clearer to hear. No. No. No. You try to keep your cool. Both of them enter and you could drop dead right now. They stop their conversation when they notice you. “Uhm. Ma’am?”, Steve asks while pulling his eyebrows together. Bucky looks really confused. Of course. A half naked woman stands in their elevator. “Oh. Hey.”, you smile softly, trying to ignore your fast beating heart. “It’s me. Uhm. Y/N Y/L/N.” “Little Y/N?” “Queen’s girlfriend?” Both of them ask at the same time. “I’m not Peter’s girlfriend.”, you answer with an eye roll. “Also, I’m not little Y/N anymore. I’m a woman, Bucky.” He looks you up and down and nods. “Yeah, no. I can see that.”, he stutters. You remember how you're clothed and get shy again. You clear your throat and ignore Caps stare. “Have you guys seen Peter?”, you ask, changing the conversation. Captain awakes again and blinks. “Uh, yeah. He went upstairs.” “That little fucker.”, you whisper while pushing the button to your floor again. So the elevator stops one last time before going up again. Your eyes are glued on the floor. That’s awkward. “It was nice meeting you guys again.”, you smile, still not looking up. Instead you just exit the elevator, walking straight to your shared room, ready to beat his ass. “Was that really Y/N?”, Bucky asks Steve quietly while the doors close again. He just nods as a response, his eyes still on the closed doors. 

You yawn and turn around, just to see Peter’s already dead asleep. The movie finished a few seconds ago. Your phone buzzes and you turn around again to see a notification. With tired eyes you unlock your phone. Your roommate sent you a picture of her with a bottle of vodka. A Sigh escapes your parted lips. You’d give anything for a little bit of a party. Why not make one yourself. Excited you grab your headphones and walk out. A few minutes later you stand in the kitchen searching through the cabinets. The headphones blast your favorite music into your head. What a dreamlife, you think as you pull out something. There you go, a little bit of Tequila never hurts. You don’t waste time searching for a shot glass. Instead you drink it straight out of the bottle. Nice. You lean on the counter, humming the little song. Even swaying your hips a little bit. Peter can be such a nerd. Instead of getting your brain fucked out, you’re stuck in this golden cage with a bunch of old people. Suddenly someone pulls one headphone out. The music stops automatically. You turn to your right and stand right up when you realize who it is. “Mister Stark!”, you say with wide eyes. Your head shoots to his hand where he holds your headphone and then back to him, your two little braids flying with you. “Y/N?”, he asks confused and you nod. He then looks you up and down. There you are again, in shorts that barely cover your ass and a cropped sweater. “Yes, sir.”, you reply nervously. Of course you are. Who is standing half naked in his kitchen in the middle of the night just to down a little bit of vodka? Right, you are. “You grew up, huh.”, he says taking the bottle out of your hand. You make a pout but don’t resist. “You could say so, sir.”, you respond. “Well, compliments, princess. You look beautiful.”, he tells you and finally looks into your eyes. And the longer you look at him, the faster your heart beats. Was he always this handsome? “Thank you, sir.”, you reply shy. “Please, call me Tony.”, he sighs. “May I ask why you’re already here?”, you ask now. He raises an eyebrow. “I mean.. Peter. He, uhm. He told me you’d arrive tomorrow.”, you stutter. “Pepper broke up with me so I thought I could as well already return.”, Tony answers. “Oh. I’m sorry.”, you say. “For what?” For asking. “I’m not sure.” He looks you up and down again. “You should go back to Peter, princess.”, he whispers, still not taking his eyes off of you. You feel the heat in your cheeks and once again you ask yourself if he’s always been this gorgeous. “I don’t feel like returning.” Your answer is fully the truth. You’d rather stay here next to him. “You feel like playing with the big ones, sweetheart?”, he wants to know. His voice is hoarse. You bite your lip. And when you understand what may happen you can’t help but giggle. “You could say so, Tony.” 

[morbidanthem]

-> Prompt HERE <- By: @otpprompts

(( A/N: Here is the other part, again, I’m trying to clear out my Google Docs. I will probably upload this to my AO3... maybe. IDK yet. ))

Continuity - Boku no Hero Academia

Character(s) - Mirio Togata, Fem!Reader, Shouta Aizawa Parring - Fem!Reader/Mirio Togata Genre - Fluffy Rating - M for Mature Warning - Cursing, Implied Heavy Petting

Word Count - 2,183

➡️ [ Izuku Midoriya Ver. Here ] ⬅️

✏️Written 06/13/20 - ??/??/20✏️

Mirio Togata

“Oi, there is a surprise Dorm Inspection in Five Minutes!” You heard a loud feminine voice shout, it was coming from right outside of your dorm room door, and you took notice that they hadn't even bothered to knock on the door.

You ignored the shouting though, as the sound was nothing more than an annoying muffle that was easily tuned out.

No...

You were too focused on what was going on on top of you to really care about what the voices in the hallway were screeching to you.

The one and only boy scout, Mirio Togata, had you pinned hard to your mattress while his strong hands gripping your wrists above your head as you whimpered under him in submission.

He didn't seem to pay any mind to the voices in the hallway either, as he groaned into your mouth at the warm feeling he was experiencing in his core, as you began to defy his display of dominance by sliding your tounge around his to try and wrestle the control he had over you.

You wanted to break free from the grip he had on your wrists, but even without his quirk, he was still able to over power you with his physical strength.

It drove you wild, as you felt a shiver jolt down your entire body and through your spine.

It was pure ecstasy.

Moments like these were so few and far in between… you don't think you'll ever get your fill of Mirio Togata.

“Hey! You and your Boy Toy need to throw some clothes on and separate before the Teachers or Class Rep. catches you!” The snickering singsong voice shouted again, this time banging loudly on the locked door.

You grunted uncomfortably as he pulled away from your lips a little too quickly, causing a small pop to reverberate through the room from the sheer force of separation between the two of you.

"Ugh, OK! Thank you, Nini!" You shouted in response, as Mirio looked down at you with a quizzical expression on his face.

You couldn't help but memorize the flush on his face so deliciously mixed with the color of his slightly swollen lips.

"This boy will be the death of me."

"Didn't we just have a Dorm Inspection last week?" Mirio asked, moving to wipe his mouth on the back of his hand, while he began to sit up straight. He was still straddling your hips, as you both strain to listen to the incoherent yelling that was going on through the door.

'Dude! Help me hide my stash!'

'Does anyone remember if we were allowed to have snacks in our rooms or not?'

'Ok, but how much trouble will I get if my room is trashed?'

"You have enough time to fix your room, right?" You asked, as you tapped Mirio's thigh to get his attention back onto you.

"Yeah, besides some dirty laundry on the floor, I'm good." He smiled, shifting his weight off of you, so that he was sitting next to you. You yawned and stretched as you sat up, watching Mirio trying to piece together a puzzle in his mind.

"I wonder why they keep doing inspections so frequently like this..." He hummed loudly, placing a hand on his chin, with a very cute thoughtful look on his face.

"Probably because of me." You sighed, stretching your legs as you stood up.

How long had you two been "napping'' anyway?

An hour?

Who knows.

"What?" Mirio asked, watching you with so much interest in his gaze, as you began to clean your ruffled aperance.

You casually tried to smooth out the wrinkles on your tank top, and shifted your lounge pants so that they sat on your hips once more, instead of down past your thighs… When has he had time to pull your pants down?

"Haru is absolutely hellbent on catching me doing something wrong." You spoke, with a very nonchalant tone to your voice, while you turned to help fix Mirio's disheveled appearance as well. "He hasn't forgiven me 'ruining' his chance to date you, you know."

You could have sworn you've had this conversation with him, but judging by the surprised expression on his face, you've probably forgotten to mention it.

"No! I didn't know that!" He replied, shocked, as you ran your fingers through his hair to try and brush out the knots that had formed in it earlier.

"Huh, it must've slipped my mind,I forgot to tell you that part." You laughed, sending him a cheeky smile as you continued. "He has a huge crush on you, and is mad at me because, because I quote- 'dug my claws into your heart and refused to let go'."

"That's… there is a lot to unpack here…" He mumbled, turning his gaze to look at the floor.

God, when he is all distracted in thought like that, you would have loved to just grab the back of his head and pull him in close until your lips swallowed his in another passionate kiss… but, getting any more intimate can cause the clean-up to take a lot more time than the Five Minute warning you just got.

Good thing the two of you didn't get very far in that time.

Because, you honesty might not have been able to stop had he gotten your pants further down your hip.

"God, Mirio, you really are oblivious." You laughed out loud, as you brought yourself back to reality, by standing in front of him and smoothing out the wrinkles on his short.

Instinctively, he placed his hands on your hips, as you continued to grooming him while he sat on your bed. He couldn't help but huff at your words though, a cute pout replacing his once quizzical expression, as he turned his face up to look into your eyes.

You can see he had questions he wanted to ask, as that curious glint never left his gaze.

You don't have time, really, you don't have time to stand here and fix his appearance either… but you just can't seem to keep your hands to yourself when you were around him.

"Wait… So what does calling a surprise inspection have to do with you, though?" He asked, pulling you into a hug, as you giggled and patted at the back of his shoulders.

"I am offended right now, I can't believe you forget about El Perro!" You spoke in a dramatic tone, a mock hurt present in your voice as you couldn't help but tease him. "Dios Mio! I am hurt! Hurt on El Perro's behalf." You laughed as you felt Mirio's shoulder shake under your grip, as he began to chuckle as well.

"I did, actually. He is so quiet that I forget he lives in here too." He said, turning his head to look at your closed closet door, with his trademark smile back on his face.

"That's how I've gotten away with having him for so long. Not even my Mom knew I had him, she would have kicked my ass if she ever found out." You chuckled, as you pulled away from Mirio's grasp, to meander over to softly pull your closet door open.

There he was, El Perro, the infamous Black and Tan Teacup Chihuahua.

The dog himself was no bigger than 2 pounds, and could easily fit in the palm of your hands. He was a short hair, and had the cutest bug eyes you've ever laid your eyes on.

He wagged his tail happily, as you went and picked him up off of his pillow, to hold him against your chest, as his tail wagged happily at the affection you were showing him. Your fingers caressed through his long soft fur, as he begins to pant as his tail wags harder.

You cooed at him, saying how cute he was, as you handed him off to Mirio so that you can go through the routine of hiding the evidence the dog leavea behind.

You heard Mirio laughing in the background, as you went to work by hiding the dog's bed and food dishes that were on a small dresser in your closet.

You began by unceremoniously shoving his bed and blankets into a large pillow case, quickly shaping it to make it look like a rather terribly lumpy pillow. But that was the whole plan though, as when the teacher looked into your closet, they would just assume that it was shoved in the closet because it was uncomfortable to sleep with.

His food was already hidden in a cereal box that you had, it was cleverly placed next to other various snack foods that you were allowed to keep in your dorm for midnight snacking. His water bowl was collapsed, and was easily clipped to your backpack that was hanging up next to your clothes, so it looked like something that you would use for hiking.

You were an expert at this by now, and if your Mother was never able to catch you, then it was far beyond the reach of the nosey Class Representative and his gaggle of teachers.

Five minutes... two minutes after your messing around was done, was more than enough time to hide the evidence that you had a dog in the dorms.

The final piece to complete your charade, was a baggy black sweater that you slipped on over your tank top, just as there was a loyd knock on your door.

"Hey, it's inspection time, open up." You heard a bored voice speak, as you quickly took the dog from Mirio's hands, and gently slid him into the pocket of your sweater.

El Perro was used to being in your pockets, so it took him no time to settle and be still, as you placed your arms through the pocket of your sweater as the teacher walked in.

"Aizawa? You're inspecting the 3rd Year Dorms?" You blurted out in shock, as you unlocked and opened the door to let the tired looking teacher into your room.

He always seemed to have bad bags under his eyes.

"Yeah." He sighed. "Your Teacher is off, having an exciting weekend…" He mumbled flatly, as you and Mirio stood off to the side as he began his inspection by opening up the drawers to your dresser.

He really looked tired, more so than usual, which made him not really inspect much of anything.

You could tell he just wanted to get this over with, as his eyes lazily roam around the room.

"You're not off having an exciting weekend as well?" You chided, as he slid the closet door open, while he scanned the small nook.

He didn't answer your sarcastic question.

He didn't even really acknowledge you'd actually said anything.

He also didn't say anything about all the snacks you had stashed in there… but, he probably didn't really care about that.

That isn't what he was looking for.

"Your Class Rep. wanted to call an emergency search. He was convinced I would find something amiss in here." Aizawa mumbled, mostly to himself, as he slid the door shut slowly as he turned to face the two of you. "What did you do to the poor kid?"

"M-Me? C'mon Aizawa, I didn't do anything..." You muttered, flabbergasted he would accuse you of anything, as you gave El Perro a little squeeze in your pocket.

"Right." He said, rolling his eyes at your feigned ignorance. "Just make sure you're behaving in here, no… after hour dorm visits."

"Of course!" You laughed loudly, spoke a little too quickly, and if you were to ask Aizawa's opinion he would look further into why you both had the door locked before he came… but he had so many more dorms to check that day, he just nodded and walked out. "Your Dorm Check is coming up soon, Togata, you should head over there now so I don't have to wait for you."

"Right! I'll be there!" Mirio said, watching Aizawa turn and leave the room, as he intentionally left the door wide open.

"Why does everyone think I'm the instigator?" You huffed with a scowl on your face, as you turned to face Mirio, who had a big smile plastered on his face.

"What?" You laughed, his smile infectious, as you pushed him on his chest lightly.

"Oh, I was just thinking about how much of an instigator you are." He laughed too, as you playfully slapped him across the chest.

"Tch, whatever!' You tutted, as you tried to push him out of your dorm.

He barely budged.

"Go away, Lemillion, lest you fail your dorm check for making Aizawa wait."

He just laughed again as he turned to leave your room, but not without giving you his trademark goofy smile and a small wave.

You waved back, as you watched him disappear out into the hallway.

'Girl, that boy is going to get you into trouble if you're not careful.' You thought to yourself, as you closed the door as you went back into your dorm.

[valkyrieofsmut]

Captive Love   5

UF!Sans x Reader (or Frisk if you wanna)

Summary: (Y/n)'s day at the skelebro's house, Sans' day out.

A/N: So, in this chapter, we find out that (Y/n)'s soul trait is integrity; honesty and strong morals. The only problem with having integrity as a main soul trate is that, because you're so honest, even if you don't want to trust people, you can have the tendency to believe people easier, because you expect others to mean what they say as much as you do. Even extremely smart beings with the trait can second guess their instincts or have them overwritten because the person lying is someone they (want to) trust or have positive feelings about/ for. Based on the note... can you guess what's going to happen in this chapter... lol Also, sorry, guys! I kept trying to get this to post all day, but I guess that tumblr hates long posts...? Or me... Might just be me... lol.

Masterlist      Series Masterlist

Story

Little lies never hurt anyone.

Sans leaned on the counter of the odd and ends shop, though it should rightfully be called a thrift shop, since most of its contents had come from other people and not “sources” like a normal store. 

“You got a friend you’re buyin’ all this stuff for?” The bunny on the other side asked suggestively. 

Sans gave her a smirk. “what’d make ya think that?” 

“Well, you haven’t flirted with me once since you walked in the door,” she hinted. 

“ah, sorry, doll. jus’ a lil distracted fer a sec, thinkin’ a comin’ in... did ya want ta hop on th’ sans express an’ ride it ta th’ bone zone?” He asked with a heavy handed lewdness. 

Honestly, he’d rather spend the time with his sweetheart, but he had to keep up appearances so that no one got suspicious. 

Plus, awkward sexual tension filled innuendos were easier to deal in than talking about feelings and shit.

The bunny gave a giggle and continued to lean over the counter toward him instead of going to get his requested items. “Still as charming as ever, I see.” 

Sans flashed his smirk again. “so, can i get my stuff?” 

The bunny giggled again and with a wiggle of tail asked, “so, does that mean that you’re thinking of getting a pet? Going to go out and take one?” 

He let out an annoyed sound. “can i jus’ get my fuckin' stuff?” 

She looked a little startled by the suddenness of the change, but took it in stride as it wasn’t really so strange for the former Underground citizens to be testy, and turned to go to the back. 

"So," the bunny’s brother asked as he brought the requested items out a moment later, "you gonna wear these, then?" 

Sans sneered at him. "you wish ya freak." 

"A little too much denial…?" The bunny suggested with a smirk. 

Sans gave a disgusted face. "go fuck yerself." He turned, flicking his fingers and letting his magic tug on the piles of stuff on the shelves above the bunny's head. "get dunked on, ya ass hat," he called back over his shoulder.

.

“aww, ya ain’t seen nothin’ at all?” Sans asked with a suggestive grin to the small cluster of spider ladies selling their baked goods in the corner of the bar. "'s a human, hard ta miss..."

“Ooooh, no,” one hummed.

“No, not anything… Do you wanna buy a croissant, Sans? It tastes soooo good with mustard…” another tempted. 

“heh. ‘d rather have somethin' a lil sweeter on my tongue,” he insinuated, thinking of (Y/n) at home, spread across his bed, his tongue tasting all sorts of things… 

Drool was slowly pooling between his sharp teeth, and he quickly wiped it, giving an internal groan at how fast his cock had risen to attention at the thought. 

He needed to get with his sweetheart quick, even just enough to curb the appetite growing inside of him. 

The spider girls giggling brought him back to the present. He flashed a grin and went to the bar, getting a mustard to drink as he continued around, checking everyone for info. 

After the rest of his rounds, he headed to his last few information gathering contacts. The ones he knew couldn't keep their mouths shut. 

.

(Y/n) didn’t know what to do. She was stuck in this house, not able to leave, not much to do, nowhere to go. 

Sans’ room was messy, her clothes were dirty, it wasn’t even lunch time… 

First, she went to the bathroom and washed her clothes in the tub the best she could, cleaning herself as much as possible in the process, hanging them to dry so she could have something clean to go home in. 

Then, she went back to Sans’ room, looking around. She couldn’t read any of the books on the shelf, seeing that the words were all written in a strange sort of glyph, and remembered that Sans had told her he couldn't read human language, but as she put all the books on the shelves, she saw the covers had various strange pictures, outerspace, numbers, shapes, most of them looked like school books, but, like they’d be for some advanced courses. She flipped through the pages of a few of them and saw all sorts of charts and formulas that looked reminiscent of something she’d seen on a tv show with Neil deGrasse Tyson as the host. Very smart… and science-y… 

(Y/n) put them on the shelves, trying to keep them together as best she could. Some of the books were obviously not… string theory… or whatever the hell the others were… but, novels or something, a few of them she had only a vague idea, having to make a guess that one with a simple cover of a monster laughing at a casket and a crowd laughing at the two was either a black comedy novel, or a book of dark jokes. 

She leaned toward the dark jokes. 

Under his desk, she found a folded up paper and opened it, trying to see if it was important, though she'd really have no idea, and saw that it looked like some sort of congratulatory certificate. High school diploma, maybe? 

After she got everything sorted, she tried to put it with other things that looked the same. 

She went out into the rest of the house and found a garbage can under the extra tall sink cabinet, and took it up Sans' room, only throwing away things that were obviously trash; food wrappers, crumpled up bits of paper, other strange little things that might have been dried lava, or eternally frozen snow… any way, they were things that looked like they had fallen from his shoes. 

When she took the garbage can back down, she found something that looked like it might be a vacuum, and she looked at it, turning it around and pressing the buttons to see how they worked without any power, before sticking it back in the closet and pulling out the broom and dust pan. 

Sweeping was better than nothing… and also better than blowing up the house. 

The next task (Y/n) tackled was sorting out the laundry, though she couldn’t find any washer or dryer to clean them in. Maybe they made laundromat trips? 

After that she figured it was about lunch time, so she dug through the fridge and ate a small portion of the lasagna from the night before. It wasn’t the worst she’d ever had, but it was far from the best. Maybe if she hid some of the spices he’d used that should have stayed out of the mix, like sage, paprika, cinnamon, nutmeg… really, she thought maybe he’d just put some of everything in the spice rack in there. 

She tried turning on the tv and entertaining herself, but the only channels they seemed to get all had the same robotic actor on them, overdramatically giving monologues, "hosting" or cooking things- awful things… that’s probably where Sans’ brother had gotten the recipe for the lasagna… 

She turned it back off, and decided to look through the windows to try to get an idea of the area she was in. Knowing that she was at least supposedly in danger, and most likely truly could be, she only peeped from the edges of the window for the first few minutes, but after noticing that there didn't seem to be anyone or anything outside but tall grass and flowers, she just looked through it normally. 

I thought they said we were in monster territory…? 

(Y/n) put a hand over her face. What if they were all the way on the other side of the monster territory? She certainly couldn't find any landmarks that looked familiar, and the tall buildings usually on the horizon seemed to be missing. 

Only more support for her 'Sans is actually a nice, though perverted, guy' theory… 

She sighed and decided to go look out the windows in Sans' room, thinking that maybe she'd see something familiar from higher up. 

(Y/n) was standing at the window, wondering what kind of flowers were in the field, when the door opened. She, of course, expected it to be Sans, this being his room and all, but the blood drained from her face was she saw the tall skeleton in the doorway. 

"HUMAN, I THOUGHT YOU WOULD PROBABLY GET HUNGRY, AND I DIDN'T THINK YOU'D BE ABLE TO FEND FOR YOURSELF," he shouted, sounding extremely put upon. "AND I KNEW SANS WOULD BE TOO LAZY TO REMEMBER TO FEED YOU, SO I- WHAT ARE YOU DOING OVER THERE?" He asked suspiciously, cutting himself off before getting to his point about how much of a hassle it would be if she died from starvation.  

Her color had gotten paler when she'd seen him, and her eyes had started darting around the room, as though taking stock of what she could use as a weapon. Papyrus automatically did a check and found that not only did she have a blue soul, denoting her strong integrity, but it seemed to have a bit of a purple glow around the edges showing her perseverance, looking a bit like blue velvet; blue, but purple in the shadows caused by the texture, and she had an extremely low LOVE, around that of a child's, and was surprised that her desire to find a weapon went so against her stats. 

It must be a survival tactic, then. Probably to defend against any oncoming attacks.

She posed no threat to him, but he applauded her instinct to be ready to fight if necessary. 

She swallowed harshly and managed to rasp out a broken whisper. "Loo-n-  ou-si-." She pointed out the window to try to help him understand what she was saying. 

He seemed to have dismissed her, though, looking around the room. "OH MY GOD!!" 

She jumped at his exclamation. Did she do something wrong by cleaning? 

"THIS IS THE CLEANEST I'VE SEEN MY LAZY BROTHER'S ROOM SINCE WE MOVED IN!! BUT, WHY DIDN'T YOU DO THE LAUNDRY? IT'S JUST SITTING HERE IN PILES." 

"C-ou-... cou-n't fi-d," she rasped, shaking her head nervously apologetic. Her hand went to her throat, and the way she winced showed how hard on her throat just getting that much out was. 

Papyrus hummed, his fingers lifting to his chin. It would make sense that she wouldn't wash them if she couldn't find anything to do it with. "FEAR NOT, HUMAN! I, THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS, WILL SHOW YOU WHERE THE WASHING MACHINE IS! AND HOW TO USE IT!!" 

(Y/n) opened her mouth to object that she did know how a washer worked, but it didn't matter, because he had just turned and started out the door with, "COME, HUMAN, AND BRING A PILE OF LAUNDRY!!" 

After having the instructions on how to use the machine yelled at her, for no particular reason, she was glad that it had been Sans that had found her, and that Papyrus had only come to check on her and would be leaving soon. She didn’t know how long she’d be able to stay in his presence without constantly being on the edge of a panic attack. 

When she came back into the front room from where the laundry room was, behind a hidden door in the kitchen, Papyrus was standing a little awkwardly near the door. 

"W-WELL… I CAN'T SPEND ALL DAY MAKING SURE THAT YOU DON'T DIE! I HAVE TO GO! …" He stood silently for another moment, then announced, "I'M GOING." 

(Y/n) gave a smile and waved, the most she could do without hurting her throat further or risking offending him, and had to hold back a laugh as the start of a red glow touched his cheeks and he looked flustered for a millisecond before he gave a tug to straighten his outfit before he turned and walked out through the door. 

After Papyrus left, (Y/n) mostly just hung around and did laundry, looking through things, but not finding much for her to do until she found a deck of cards, then she sat on the floor and played solitaire, pausing only when the laundry was done, to fold it and put it on the desk chair, not wanting to dig around in Sans’ drawers. 

He was a guy… guys had… stuff … that she’d rather not stumble across… especially due to the strange things that had apparently turned him on before. Also, being a skeleton monster made him different from every other guy she'd known, and the thought of finding super weird fetish stuff that she'd inevitably be morbidly curious about gave her pause. 

She wasn't a "freak" but… curiosity was something that had gotten the better of her before, and some things in life, you just didn't need to know. 

.

(Y/n) had finished the few loads of laundry, folded them, and turned to just playing card games by herself on Sans’ bed by the time the door opened and Sans walked in, looking tired and sweating a weird sort of translucent, but red tinged, perspiration. 

He stepped in and closed the door behind him before looking up, but then froze in place and swept his shocked and slightly horrified gaze around the room. 

For the second time that day, she wondered if she'd done something wrong by cleaning Sans' room. 

He stiffly walked to the chair and pushed the laundry off onto the floor. 

(Y/n) made an indignant noise from the bed, but heard him mutter, "too clean…" 

Ahh, so he's one of those people who need a little disorder to feel comfortable , she noted, feeling the anxiety leaving her as he tossed his coat on the chair and turned to her. 

He smiled and lifted a bag onto the bed. "i, uh- i uh- gotcha some stuff…" His expression shifted to that angry sort of flustered look he'd had before, paying close attention to how his other hand was fiddling with the edge of his red sweater. "somethin' ta wear, s-so ya don't have ta keep wearin' dirty clothes…" 

Sans glanced over at her and felt another pang in his chest at the beautiful smile she was giving him. 

fuck-! so adorable! an'... why d'i feel disappointed that she's not wearing my clothes, now?  

(Y/n) smiled at him, mouthing thank you . She hesitated before nervousness seemed to grow over her a little and her gaze focused on the bed. 

“wassup, sweetheart?” He asks, feeling a bit nervous about what was on her mind. 

She gestured, asking, can I go home? She immediately winced and glanced up at him then back to the bed, as though she were worried he was going to hit her. 

Sans felt his soul throb painfully at the thought of her leaving, and his hand automatically went to it. He realized what he was doing, and changed the movement to scratching his sternum through his sweater. Luckily, he had a reason for her to stay. He move the bag onto the floor, then sat on the mattress and laid back with his shoulders about even with her, making himself comfortable as he told her, “i talked ta alla my contacts, an’ it sounds like no one knows ‘xactly where ya are, but they definitely know that there’s a human on monster turf.” 

Her brow dipped in confusion and she asked, how?  

Sans shrugged as he put his arms behind his head, his fingers running over a crack on the back of his skull. “dunno fer sure-” ok, it might have been from his asking so blatantly if anyone had seen a human around- “but i hadda getcha here somehow. coulda jus’ been spotted on th’ way. tough luck, but, should be good in two or three days. ‘f we wait fer three, they’ll most likely ferget ta be lookin’ fer ya.” 

(Y/n) eyed him, and he was glad that he’d already been sweating so that she hopefully didn’t notice the fresh round of perspiration beading on his skull. Finally, she seemed to accept it, and he let out an internal sigh of relief. 

“so, you, uh, ya have an ok day?” She gave a half nod half shrug. “noticed ya cleaned up ‘round here… an’ i appreciate th’ thought behind it, sweetheart, ‘s real sweet a ya, but, i gotta ask ya; please don’t. kinda wigs me out when ‘s too clean. like it’s a fake fuckin’ storybook,” he muttered. 

She put a hand on his arm, and it felt like Sans’ soul tumbled around his rib cage. He looked up to see the apologetic look on her face. Sorry...

Apologies? Yeah… Those were something that never happened in the Underground. 

In a kill or be killed world, any sign of niceness was seen as a form of weakness, so niceties had been dropped long ago. 

The way his sweetheart was so nice, showing kindness and caring was definitely something he liked about her, but… it also made him uncomfortable. 

Sans would never turn away from her for her weakness, he wanted to protect her, keep her with him and safe. But… he didn't know how to react to this kindness. So he again took it to a place he was more comfortable with. 

“ah, dollface, don’t worry ‘bout it…” He turned and his thumb went out to run down her cheek, trying not to let the tiny flinch get to him. “if it’d make ya feel better, i know somthin’ ya could do ta make it up ta me…” He gave her a smirky grin and took his hand back, putting a fingertip on his cheek. “how ‘bouta kiss?” He watched her gaze turn wary, her body stiffening like she was getting ready to bolt. 

False, flirty affection and innuendo was so much easier to handle than real affection, even if he wanted her affection like a starving man wanted food. It seemed, though, that she knew how to take flirting about as well as he knew how to take a compliment, so he again changed directions.

 “kiddin’- ‘m kiddin’, doll,” he assured quickly, feeling a prick of pain in his soul. He was not kidding. He'd probably do anything to get her to willingly kiss him again. “heya, knock knock.”

She looked at him uncertainly, but lifted a brow and tilted her head. Who’s there?  

“sherlock,” he told her, watching as she puzzled over it. 

Sherlock who…? Seemed to be what she asked with her confused expression after a moment. 

“ sherlock yer door tight, sweetheart,” he told her, watching as her eyes closed as she took it in, then her posture changed as she silently chuckled. 

Sans’ smile widened in satisfaction that she enjoyed his joke. “knock knock, doll.”

She lifted her brow to ask who's there, but it was the cute little smile on her face that made his soul throb. 

“mustache,” he told her, watching her expression contort in confusion. 

Mustache? Can skeleton monsters even grow mustaches? What the hell? She thought and tilted her head inquiringly.

“ mustache ya a question, but i’ll shave it fer later,” he told her with a blow off expression, watching her giggle as squeaks and huffs left her. 

There… that adorable expression on her face was a much better look than her being worried that he was going to do something unpleasant to her. Even if the worry was justifiable, given his track record concerning her… 

He just watched her giggling for a moment, red spreading over the bridge of his nose. 

She tapped her hand to his arm and managed to ask, you know a lot of knock knock jokes?  

“knock knock,” he told her in answer, and she lifted a brow immediately in question. “rhino,” he told her. 

Oh, this one had to be good. She tilted her head and lifted her brow again. 

“ rhino every knock knock joke there is,” he told her, his grin getting a bit goofier at her reaction. Stars she was cute! “so, what else d’ja do?”

(Y/n) wondered if it was something normal for monsters to talk so comfortably with someone they’d only really just met the day before. It really seemed like some ideal relationship situation from some rom-com; he got home from work, told her about his day, asked about hers… The only thing missing was an actual relationship…

She masked the feelings her internal musings brought up with the ease of practice and gestured around the room. She was good at ‘don’t rock the boat.’ 

“jus’ this, huh?” He asked and she nodded before pointing at the cards, indicating that she'd also played cards. “sounds like a  good day ta me, but maybe ‘m jus’ lazy,” he said as he closed his eye sockets. A contented smile tilting his normal grin up. “‘m gonna try ta get a nap in before dinner. feel like joinin’ me?”

(Y/n) shook her head to answer him, knowing he could see her though his slightly open socket. 

“suit yerself, sweetheart,” he told her, shifting his shoulders as he got comfortable.

He seemed to almost immediately fall asleep, soft snores coming from him, and not even reacting when she’d waved her hand in front of his face. 

She went back to her card game, the weird feeling of being so comfortable around a strange man (one that had pushed her against the wall and basically rubbed against her, no less!) struck her as wrong, but she couldn't bring herself to be truly uncomfortable. 

Uneasy and worried from his actions sometimes? 

For sure. 

Uncomfortable? 

Nope. 

Something brushed against and down her back, laying against her butt. 

(Y/n) looked over her shoulder, seeing Sans' arm laid out behind her. She watched him closely, not wanting to miss any tell in his expression, but other than slightly rolling toward her, he still seemed asleep. 

She gave a doubtful glance, but it fell to the back of her mind as she continued her game. 

After a few minutes, she felt Sans rolling toward her more, his hand sliding over the bed, snaking over her thigh, wrapping around her waist and burying his face against her thigh. 

Oh, yeah. He's asleep, my ass, she mentally grumbled. 

She rolled her eyes and went back to her game, not entirely comfortable with this extent of touching, but she knew that some good friends got touchy and cuddled, so it wasn't some insanely strange concept to her, even if they weren't that close. 

Halfway through the next round of her game, (Y/n) felt Sans' arms tighten around her, and she looked down to see him rolling over onto his stomach, putting him on the cards and into her lap, his head awkwardly pressing against her. 

She tried to shift around to get rid of the discomfort of his skull pressing against her hip, and the weird kink he'd put in his neck vertebrae to do so. 

Of course, with all of her edging around his head, and their shifting around, she ended up laying back with him in her lap, his skull laying on her stomach. How could this end any other possible way with her luck?

Honestly, though, with all the terrible things he could possibly do to her, that she knew of and worried about, laying with his head on her stomach hadn't even made the list. 

She gave a shattered, huffing sigh that made her cough a little, but it cleared quickly. 

She kept herself ready in case she was going to have to defend herself from the skeleton, but folded her arms over her chest to feel like she had at least a little cover, and resigned herself to laying there until either he "woke up," or she had to convince him to move so she could use the bathroom. 

Sans tightened his arms around his sweetheart as she coughed, hating that he didn't have green magic to try and fix it instantly, but, thankfully, it quickly ended. 

He tried to be subtle, not wanting to give away that he was awake, but it was so hard when all he wanted to do was nuzzle into the soft squishiness of her belly. Especially when some of her squishiest bits were against his clavicle and were tempting him to rub against them… and give them a sniff…  

fuck- ya smell so fuckin' good, sweetheart… He mentally groaned to himself. 

(Y/n) shifted under him, but he didn't let it disturb him; he was an expert at pretending to sleep. 

"SANS-" 

The skeleton on her belly jumped at the loud voice, giving a grunt of surprise. 

"YOU BETTER BE DOWN HERE IN FIVE MINUTES TO EAT DINNER!!"

"paps, you fuckin' sonuvabitch," he grumbled to himself, not quite audible to (Y/n). 

"welp. dinner time, doll. you joinin' us downstairs 'gain t'night?" He asked as he sat up, not leaving the bed, or her pile of cards, but off of her. 

She gave him a nervous look, not wanting to be afraid, but also very afraid of the tall, loud skeleton downstairs. 

"aww, c'mon sweetheart, he ain't that bad. i mean, don't get me wrong, 'e's bad, but not that kind a bad." 

As strange as it was for her to trust anyone so quickly, his words kind of made her feel better about being in the same room as the taller skeleton.  

She followed him downstairs, deciding that she was misreading the look on his face and posture as content and proud, as though she trusted him to be her knight in a red sweater; it was probably just self confidence. 

God knew she'd never felt that much of it to know. 

Sans pulled out a chair for her, but instead of waiting to push her in, he sat in the chair next to it and shifted the seat, pulling it closer to him when she sat. 

(Y/n) would protest, but she really did feel safer being closer to him, and farther away from the other skeleton. 

He served her a small slice of lasagna, and she knew that it was because he knew it was going to taste awful, and he didn't want to stick her with too much to eat instead of a plot to starve her. 

It was a quiet dinner, much the same as the night before, with the toe of Sans' sneaker hitting the leg of her chair he was so close, and Papyrus giving her not at all hidden suspicious glares, as though he didn't think it was safe to hold a conversation in front of her. 

(Y/n) took another bite of the lasagna and hid her wince. 

She really should have hidden those spices earlier… 

A/N: Oh Sans... there's a difference between telling Paps that he's an amazing cook and telling (Y/n) she has to stay there because there's no possible way she can get home. Also, I recently got a message from someone who had made fanart of another story I wrote and asked if I wanted to see it- uh, fuck yeah, I do! You kidding?! You were inspired by something I wrote?! I'm gonna fangirl... I love it even more because I can't draw... I guess what I'm saying is that if you do anything inspired from something I've written (art, stories, drabbles), you don't have to ask, there's a 100% chance I want to see it. And that I'll squeal.

[blueeyedslifer]

PROMPT: CLOTHING SWAP

NOTE: This one got steaming so there’s a read more. lol enjoy.

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Spilling his soup had been Sasuke’s first problem. His second one was that he had left Naruto to do the laundry but given the moron’s forgetfulness and busy schedule, it had not yet been done. Grudgingly, Sasuke got everything together and just did the laundry himself. However, that left him with nothing of his own to wear, given that he wasn’t one for keeping loads of clothes anyway.

He had just settled down on the couch in his briefs when the phone rang. The man groaned but knew he needed to answer it. Only a handful of people had the number and if any of them were calling, it was because they needed him urgently.

“Sasuke, I need to here. Fast.”

It was Naruto. “Here meaning the council rooms?”

“Yeah. Please. I need your help.”

“On my way,” Sasuke said. He’d get the details when he got there. 

Just as he was about to reach for the door, Sasuke remembered his laundry situation. With some muttered curses, Sasuke did a lap of the apartment to see what he could do. In the bedroom, he found one of Naruto’s old tracksuits buried in a box in the back of the closet. The orange and black were so hideously garish, but he had little choice in the matter and put it on so he could leave. The material was soft and cozy, smelling strongly of Naruto despite having been stuffed in a box for several years. The more shocking thing was that it fit Sasuke rather well, even if the sleeves were about an inch too short. Dressed well enough for an emergency call, Sasuke crossed town to see what it was the Hokage needed...

“Sorry for the delay,” Sasuke said, walking into the council room and toying with the sleeves to see if he could pull them down farther. 

“Wow,” Shikamaru said from one side of the table, “looking good there, Uchiha.”

Sasuke looked up and saw that most of the council was snickering as they looked over the tracksuit that was so very clearly Naruto’s. The relationship the Hokage shared with his right-hand, was one of the worst-kept secrets within Konohagakure, but this was probably the most blatant display of what happened behind closed doors. Sasuke felt his cheeks warm at the attention, but did his best to ignore it. He should have known better than to assume it would be just him and Naruto...

“What seems to be the problem?” Sasuke said, sitting down in his usual spot and wanted to just get to business. Lucky for him, his fellow council members took the hint and got down to it. 

The meeting went along, even if it did take longer than it should have. Tactical plans were needed for a small-ish rogue uprising in the northernmost part of the Land of Fire. But a small rogue uprising was still a problem that needed to be dealt with as quickly as possible to avoid it spinning out of control. The entire meeting, Sasuke did his best to avoid making direct eye contact with Naruto. He could feel Naruto’s gaze on him, the other man radiating with his need to say something about Sasuke wearing his clothes. That had to be it, otherwise, he wouldn’t keep looking at Sasuke the way he did the entire meeting.

Hours later, the meeting let out, everyone eyeballing Sasuke as they left and making snide remarks quietly to each other. Sasuke found himself growing annoyed at how much gossip was exchanged within the village hall, but his thoughts on the matter were interrupted by Naruto.

“What are you wearing?” he asked once they were alone.

“Someone forgot to do laundry and I had nothing to wear when you called.” Sasuke looked at Naruto now and saw that his partner was blushing. Sasuke held down his smirk and walked close to Naruto, slipping his arms around his waist when he was close enough, and pulling him in to press against his chest.

“S-sorry,” Naruto said.

“Is there a problem?” Sasuke asked, his voice just as teasing as Shikamaru’s had been. “Should I take it off?”

“The door doesn’t lock,” Naruto squeaked and Sasuke smirked at him. 

“Your office does.”

Naruto’s face went scarlet and Sasuke stepped away, promptly leaving the council room to go down the all to Naruto’s private office. The Hokage was hot on his heels as he followed behind. The pair entered Naruto’s office, Sasuke holding the door for him before slamming it shut and locking it. The click of the lock sounded and Sasuke instantly found himself pressed against the wood of the door.

Naruto’s kiss was hungry as he devoured Sasuke, his hands tangling in Sasuke’s hair and held him firmly against the door. Sasuke kissed back, tongue and teeth, his own hands fisting the front of Naruto’s jacket. Naruto shifted and he could feel the heat of him through his pants, solid and heavy against his leg.

“So needy,” Sasuke breathed as Naruto’s mouth went to his neck, just below his jawline.

Naruto didn’t respond with words, instead just biting down on the skin and smiling when Sasuke’s breath hitched with a small gasp.

Sasuke’s hands came up and he tossed Naruto’s Hokage hat to the side before tangling his own fingers in Naruto’s fluffy blonde hair. He let his head fall back against the door as Naruto moved further down his neck, one of his hands letting go of the raven hair and coming to rest as Sasuke’s hip. Sasuke rocked forward with every movement. Naruto pulled away from his throat to kiss him again and his hands moved down to the front of the pants Sasuke was wearing.

“On the desk,” Sasuke breathed.

Naruto smirked at him, “It’s starting to sound like you planned this.”

Sasuke yanked on his hair but Naruto only laughed, “No, you moron. But if you fuck me against the door of your office, it’ll be even less subtle that we’re sleeping together than me showing up wearing your goddamn clothes.”

“Whatever you say.” Naruto yanked Sasuke across the room by his pants, kissing him the whole way across. Sasuke unzipped the jacket, revealing his bare chest while Naruto pushed him onto the desk. “No shirt?” he asked.

“Again, someone didn’t do the laundry.”

“This isn’t making me sorry for forgetting.”

“I hate you,” Sasuke said as he shifted back on the desk, Naruto coming between his knees.

“You say that now,” Naruto replied, tugging at the fly of the pants.

“You’ll need to move faster than that if you expect me to say something different.”

As if on a cue, Naruto pulled the garishly orange pants down and replied with a grin, “So needy.”

Sasuke would have punched him if Naruto hadn’t wrapped his hand around his cock. Instead he let himself fall back to rest on his elbows, pushing papers off the other side of the desk as he did so. Naruto managed to pull the pants off and Sasuke's sandals with them, all while slowly jerking him off. The sight of the other man wearing nothing but his old jacket and sprawled out on his desk was more beautiful than anything else Naruto had seen. And he had seen Sasuke in a number of beautiful positions.

Naruto let go of Sasuke’s erection to pull down his pants and free his own erection. He stroked himself a few times while Sasuke watched, hungrily.

“You gonna get yourself ready?” Naruto teased, removing the rest of his clothes.

Sasuke brought a hand to his mouth, pouting seductively as he kissed the tips of his own fingers. “Do I really have to do everything today?”

“You’re not doing everything today. I was working until you showed up like this.”

Sasuke let out a groan, “Will you shut up already and get over here?”

Naruto didn’t snap back for once, but did as he was asked. He settled between Sasuke’s legs, pulling the man’s hand to his lips and wrapping his lips around Sasuke’s forefingers. It was pornographic, the way Naruto used his tongue to wet them and Sasuke felt his cheeks flush as he watched. He wanted to touch himself, but held off, knowing Naruto would only swat his hand away if he tried. Satisfied with his handy work, Naruto slowly pulled Sasuke’s fingers out of his mouth and watched as the man beneath him brought them down to his hole. It was Naruto’s turn to flush as he watched the fingers slowly disappear into Sasuke’s ass, pale skin turning flushed with every thrust of that equally pale hand.

Naruto licked his palm as he watched, stroking himself in time with Sasuke’s own ministrations. 

“You want it?” Sasuke asked with a quirked brow.

“Since you walked into that stupid council room.”

“Then get over here,” Sasuke repeated with a crooked smirk that was quickly wiped from his face as Naruto pressed inside of him. Sasuke’s back arched off the wood of the desk and his head pressed hard against it, lips parted as his breathing hitched.

Naruto breathed a laugh as he bent over his partner to kiss at his bared throat. “Not so bossy now, are we?” Sasuke relaxed around him and shot a glare up which only made Naruto grin back down at him.

The other man made to say something in response, but Naruto took the moment to snap his hips and Sasuke’s words died in his throat with a groan and his thighs pressed against Naruto’s hips. 

Naruto loved these moments when he had sex with Sasuke, the moments where he could silence the grumpy bastard to the point where the only sounds that escaped those pale lips were the small moans that urged Naruto on. He thrust into the other man, standing upright to hold onto sharp hips as sweat formed on both of their foreheads. 

“N-naruto,” Sasuke gasped as Naruto’s cock hit deeply. 

“What?” Naruto asked softly, pushing in to the hilt and staying there.

“C-co-” Sasuke couldn’t get the words out so he reached up and pulled Naruto down to him, kissing the blonde man deeply as his fingers tangled in his hair.

Naruto moaned into the kiss and let their tongues tangle before he moved his hips again. Sasuke held him close as he felt himself reaching his peak, not wanting to break their kiss until one of them came. Hard as he fought against the pleasure of Naruto’s cock inside of him, Sasuke was the first to do so, moaning as he coated Naruto’s stomach. Naruto slowed his pace as Sasuke relaxed into the desk, smiling at him while Sasuke slowly let his fingers slip from Naruto’s hair. 

“Don’t slow down,” Sasuke said quietly.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Naruto grinned, kissing him as he pulled out. 

It took Sasuke a moment to get what he meant, but once it clicked he carefully slid off of the desk and onto the floor. On his knees, he smiled up at Naruto for a moment before taking his erection into his mouth. He closed his eyes, savouring the taste of himself on Naruto as he took it all in. Naruto moaned low as his fingers tangled in Sasuke’s hair, his hips rocking carefully forward. Sasuke always was good with his tongue, and it didn’t take long before Naruto was practically yanking on his hair. 

“Sasuke,” Naruto moaned in warning, knowing he was reaching his limit. 

Sasuke pulled back in time for Naruto to cum over his face, pale skin glistening with it and sweat.

Naruto breathed a laugh through his panting and let himself sink to his knees before Sasuke, letting his hands come down to cup his face. He leaned in to kiss him, letting his tongue dart out to clean up the miss he had made around Sasuke’s lips. 

“I’ll need to forget to do laundry more often,” Naruto teased. 

“As if you ever remember to do it in the first place,” Sasuke shot back, wrapping his arms around Naruto’s shoulders.

“Fine, then I should forget to do your laundry more often.”

“Usuratonkachi.”

“Love you, too, teme. Get dressed so we can go home now.”

“I thought you were busy working.”

Naruto rolled his eyes, “I was until you came in like this. Didn’t we go over this already?”

“Get back to work, Lord Hokage.”

Naruto let out a whiny groan as Sasuke slipped out of his grasp and pulled on the pants he had been wearing. He also grabbed Naruto’s Hokage cloak and wiped his face with it, being sure he was presentable again before tossing it to Naruto with a wink and heading out the door.

“Aw, Sasuke! That’s so not fair!”

[foxtophat]

hey i said i was gonna get this up today!!!!

so with this chapter's conclusion i can safely say that i've officially written everything that i set out to write with mercy!  this chapter was literally a skeleton that shaped eighty percent of the entire story, so i'm glad i could finally flesh it out and put it out there!!

there's still one more chapter to go, which will be more or less an epilogue for the main story. after that, i think i'll try to get a couple of other fandom fics going (ones that are ACTUALLY nearly done, not half-ass done like mercy was when i decided to start posting lmao) and then i can set up a schedule to write some more for this universe

anyway, for now i just want you to read and enjoy.  this chapter is all about john's ptsd, and it made me sad, so i hope it makes you sad too heheh

as usual, any likes, comments, reblogs, kudos, casual mentions in meatspace or idle daydreaming about different ways this chapter could go are ALL super welcome and adored. i love you guys, you've been so kind to me <3 i hope you enjoy this chapter!!!

the usual: below the cut is the full chapter text if you don't wanna go to ao3, but you should, ao3 is way easier to read on

Things around the Rye homestead have been pretty good as of late. Eight, nine months ago, Nick never would have expected to see the living room floor again, much less finish even half of the tedious repair work that he's managed to check off his list. The planters are already sprouting with what's going to be an early summer harvest, Carmina's hen-house is ready to go, and they've already bartered off some scrap for moonshine and extra ammunition for Carmina's blooming sharpshooter hobby. The house itself only creaks and groans in heavy winds, and a few additional supports outside have secured the second floor from crashing down in the middle of the night. For an old, blown-out house that's been through nuclear winter, the place is coming back together pretty well. Hell, another couple of years and they might be able to reconnect the septic system, and then they'd really be cooking.

Other people have noticed their good luck, too. Mostly friends, like Grace and Jerome, but the word's spread a bit now about the Rye's generosity, and they've gotten a few good trades out of it, although a lot of them are I-O-U's that maybe won't come to fruition. That's fine by Nick — they don't need the old fencing or the scrap plywood, and there are still two mostly-buried garages out back that could be broken down for some really prime salvage. If people want to give him free use of their future smokehouses or promise to help him find more gas for his truck, then that's more than enough payment. Anyway, that's what Nick tells people when they don't have anything to offer — it isn't like he's going to turn somebody away when they need help.

Of course, not all of their generosity is appreciated equally. John being around doesn't sit well with many of the people who come by, although it's never enough to deter them from doing business with Kim or Nick. There aren't many confrontations, even when John helps Nick load wood into a truck or remains lingering in plain view, although somebody usually has something to say about it. Unless they get really vulgar or violent, Nick usually lets them blow off steam in his and John's direction, and he doesn't take it personally when somebody takes a cheap shot at him for being such a soft-hearted bastard.

Their vitriol usually ends after a few minutes. Most of the time, John can handle it by himself, apologizing genuinely to each person who tries to curse him out. Nick hasn't heard the same regret twice, and even if John doesn't recognize every hateful face, he seems to remember his part in their trauma. It might not be what they want to hear, but John's serious, specific remorse usually puts the fire out of their fight. So far, there's only been two instances where Nick had to call Jerome out to mediate, and neither time resulted in anyone getting shot or knocked out. Sure, John might come out of an altercation with a couple of bruises, but that's usually it.

It stands to reason that something was bound to go wrong at some point. Nick's prepared for all sorts of catastrophes; he's got contingency plans for flooding, wild animals, and even ornery neighbors upset that he let John off so easy. There are a million little things that could go wrong out here, and Nick can only do so much to prepare for every eventuality, but he thinks he's got a pretty good handle on it.

That is, until the radio breaks. It's one thing that Nick hadn't even considered a possibility — they'd left the thing in its box until the apocalypse, and until they left the bunker, it'd barely seen any use at all. And yet, one day Nick tries to confirm a trade and the radio fails to catch anything more than static.

Cheap goddamn made-in-China crap, that's what it is, and that's what Nick tells everyone within earshot as he fiddles uselessly with the knobs. When he turns the radio around to get a look at the connectors, he ignores the stamped metal that reads "MADE IN GERMANY" in favor of hunting down the problem — but that's going to involve unscrewing the back and, well, Nick isn't exactly an electrician. He's not sure the best option here is to dig into the guts of his only radio willy-nilly like. He could go get the user's manual, but it's in a pile of boxes down in the bunker, and Nick really doesn't want to go rooting through trash for it.

Heaving a frustrated sigh that takes all the fight out of him, Nick grabs the flashlight and goes out back to let Kim know what's up. She and John are working in the garden, which used to be something John would avoid at all costs. Now, he doesn't even seem phased to be working in the dirt, barely acknowledging Nick's irritated venting about the broken radio as he pulls weeds. It's only when Nick mentions going into the bunker that he seems to take notice; he tries to be subtle about it, but Nick doesn't miss his head swiveling to stare briefly.

Of course, Nick is so used to John's cagey weirdness about bunkers that he barely notices, too busy

Kim looks sympathetic, but she doesn't sound it as she reminds him, "Nick, complaining to his ever-patient wife. "I'm just gonna grab the manual, maybe see if there were any spare parts in the box we missed. It's not like the thing gets used enough to break!" the radio is ten years old. Even expensive equipment can't last forever."

"If I don't get to sit down and give up whenever I want, then neither does the radio. It's not like we got any choice , here. If we don't have a working radio, we're going to have a bitch of a time reconnecting with everybody. And we've actually started to build something, you know?"

"At least you'll have a diagram to work with, I guess." Kim sighs. "John, have you... do you know where our bunker is?"

John smiles wryly. "I do," he replies.

"Oh, right," Nick sighs. "You probably know where everything is on the property, huh."

"Knew," John points out. "But yes, that was my job. I was as thorough as I could be." He chews his lip, standing after a thoughtful second. "I know where a lot of bunkers are. If you can't repair the radio... We could look for another one."

"Okay, of course you do." Nick waves for John to follow him, which he does, keeping pace as they head away from the wash, towards the opposite side of the hangar from their normal route. "What makes you think I wanna take a radio from somebody else ?"

"Not many of the structures put together out here were by any means safe ." John probably shouldn't sound so blase about it, but the guy's got a point. Doubly so when he continues, "I was suggesting we take one from someone who won't be needing it anymore."

Nick clicks his tongue against his teeth. "Well, it's something to think about," he agrees reluctantly. It sounds a lot like grave-robbing to him, but John's right. It's the smartest option, and somebody's going to have to do it eventually. It might be better for everyone if it's them, and not some opportunistic drifter who won't put the resources back into the community.

That's a problem for another day. Right now, Nick leads John around thick tumbleweeds that have gotten caught in the long grass, bringing them up just short of the bunker door. Covered with about two years' worth of dirt but not yet overgrown, the white hatch is only a marginal pain in the ass to pry out of the ground. John waits for Nick to ask for help, only to realize that isn't happening anytime soon, and wordlessly assists in coaxing the rusted hinges to work.

The bunker is dark and smells like a root cellar. Nick sure hopes nothing important molded. They'll have to get down here and clean up soon, before the mildew takes hold and ruins everything.

"Okay," he says, "You just wait here and make sure that thing doesn't close on me."

Nick half-expects some kind of joke about locking him inside, but John only nods obediently, standing a few feet from the opening with his arms folded across his chest. Nick rolls his eyes but does his best to ignore John's unease as he descends into the bunker.

He decides against testing the power — even if the generator down here still has some juice in it, they haven't operated anything in a while and Nick does not want to be engulfed in flames right now. Instead, he clicks on the flashlight and wanders through the narrow space. He doesn't linger on the drawings Carmina left on the wall or the unmade cots, passing by a pile of laundry that'll never get done and heading to the small utility closet in the back.

He finds the box intact, one corner suffering water damage from what looks like a cup of water that nobody ever picked up. Deciding against rooting around for anything else that might be useful, he takes the whole box back out to the ladder, chucking it up out of the hole once he's tackled the lower rungs.

John is trying hard not to show his nerves as Nick pops back up, shoving his hands into his pockets before changing his mind and folding them again over his chest. Bunkers are a tender spot for him, and Nick knows it, so for now he decides not to make a big deal about it. John's too fragile for Nick to be teasing him, even if he refuses to admit it himself.

Pulling the box apart, Nick scavenges the manual and a couple of accessories that he hadn't needed a decade ago and probably doesn't need now. The cardboard is mostly good, so Nick breaks down the box, chucking the useless packaging back into the bunker before foisting the supplies onto John.

Nick gets up and shoves the bunker door until it falls shut on its own weight. "Well, now I gotta spend the rest of my day reading that crap," he says, gesturing to the chunky owner's manual.

"Give it to Carmina," John suggests, "She's desperate for new reading material."

"And give her the chance to become more technologically savvy than me? I'll pass."

Nick spends the next few hours troubleshooting his way through the manual, vengefully ignoring the support hotline numbers plastered on every other page. Even if the service center hadn't been annihilated in a nuclear apocalypse, fat chance Nick would ever lower himself to call.

By dinnertime, Nick is frustrated but satisfied that he knows where the trouble area is. One of two pieces has given out, both designed to be replaced occasionally. On one hand, that's a good thing — it's supposed to be done by novices, which means the manual is painfully clear on the method. On the other hand, there are only going to be so many matching radios out there, and who knows how many will have the same issue?

"It'll be okay," Kim reassures him that night. "Plenty of people get by without a radio, you know."

"That doesn't mean I wanna be one of them," Nick grouses, turning to pin his hopes selfishly on John. "You said there were bunkers around, right? And maybe one of them has a radio we can use?"

"I didn't promise anything," John clarifies, "But that would be my suspicion."

"Maybe it'd be worth it to look. Who knows, we could get lucky."

Kim doesn't look sure about Nick's optimism, but he ignores her skepticism. If nothing else, it'll be good to use John's old cult knowledge to benefit them for once, and that alone puts Nick firmly in the "in favor" group. Even if it turns out to be a waste of time — well, at least they'll have tried everything. For now, Nick can let Kim think up a contingency plan for a no-radio life — Nick is going to rest all of his hopes firmly on the repair plan and hope that it works out.

Nick wakes up last the next morning, sleeping in an extra half-hour or so before finally peeling his eyelids apart to face the sun. Even as he gets dressed, he feels groggy and slow, dragged down by a long night of forgotten stress dreams. His brain probably spent all night running through every possible outcome of bunker-hunting with John — not that it does any good now, when Nick can't remember any of it.

He isn't the only one who looks like they could use more sleep. Carmina is yawning over her breakfast, eating like a sloth as she processes being awake. The bags under Kim's eyes are darker than normal, too, but she's bright-eyed and dressed for the day.

John is the only one who looks like he's coping with the morning at all, but that's probably because he's been up for a while now. Ever since he's been given free rein, John's sleep schedule has put him as the last one to sleep and the first one to wake. Nick doesn't mind too much, though, since he usually brews up some coffee right before anyone else comes down. He's been arguing with Kim for the last few mornings about going by himself to pull water from the river for the house, but Kim is holding tight to her buddy-system, and John isn't going to convince her to give it up that easily.

From the way Kim looks at Nick as he descends the stairs, they might be arguing about it already today. "What?" Nick asks, "What'd I do?"

"It's not you," Kim says. She gestures across the table at John, who looks like he's been waiting for Nick to come to his defense. "Maybe you can talk some sense into him."

"The radio is the same make as mine," John tells Nick, clearly expecting Nick to understand what he's talking about. Fat chance there, though, because Nick has no idea what he means. "It might not be the same model, but it's worth a try."

"Uh... which radio are you talking about, exactly?"

John tries hard to not look like he's suffering at the hands of fools. He fails, but at least he directs his exasperated look towards the ceiling at the last moment. "In my bunker," he explains slowly. "I had a radio of the same make."

"You said yourself it broke," Kim points out, clearly repeating an argument from before Nick's arrival.

"All the more reason to not worry about scrapping it," John replies. "The bunker is closer than any other structure, and it's guaranteed to be there. That is as much of a blessing as you'll get these days."

Nick wonders at first why Kim is so dead-set against going back to John's bunker. Sure, the guy refuses to talk about it, and sure, bunkers in general seem to fill him with unshakable anxiety, but it's still just a bunker. A bunker with a radio that could save their asses, where they won't be stealing from someone who might need it just as much. And hell, John doesn't even have to go inside!

Kim sighs and says gently, "I just don't know if it's... the greatest idea." She looks sideways at Nick, who knows from experience that she's holding back her opinion for John's benefit. She probably doesn't want to be the one telling him he's too fragile to handle it.

"I'm not asking for your permission," John says. "If neither of you want to come with me, I'll go by myself."

"Oh, come on," Kim huffs, "Not this again —"

"If I want to go somewhere, I have the right to do so," John exclaims. "We've established that I'm not a prisoner, and I certainly am not a child."

Carmina huffs loudly, but John pointedly ignores her.

"Okay, okay," Nick says, holding out his hands in a poor attempt to placate all parties. "Look, if you're really dead-set on this, and you really think that the radio's gonna help, well..." He sighs. "Then maybe it's worth going to check out."

Kim looks mildly offended that he's taking John's side, but Nick knows how to reassure her, at least a little. "But there are some ground rules," he says. "You can come with me, but I call the shots. No acting like you know better than me, or deciding to run off and forcing me to follow you. You get it?"

"Of course," John says.

"I mean it. If I decide it's not worth it when we get there, you're gonna have to respect that. I mean, there could be snakes living in there now. I don't even remember if I closed the hatch, it could be flooded from the rain earlier this year."

John nods, so quickly that Nick wonders if he's really listening. "Yes," he says. "That's fair."

"I can't believe this," Kim sighs, relenting at last as she rubs her forehead. "Okay. But you both need to be careful." She looks at John. "Especially you."

"I don't..." John cuts himself off, reluctantly changing tactics. "Okay. Fine." He stands up, leaving his chair wide open for Nick to take as he says, "I need to get ready," and excuses himself. What he needs to get ready for when he's already dressed, Nick has no idea, but that's not exactly Nick's problem. If John needs to go talk himself through the decision he forced on Nick, then it's a good thing he's not involving Nick in any of it!

Nick's real problem right now is the way Kim is staring at him. "What?" he asks, sinking into the abandoned seat. She doesn't respond, and Carmina glances skeptically at her dad from across the table. "What was I supposed to do?" he asks, exasperated. "It's not like he was gonna let it go."

"You could have put your foot down," Kim says. She sounds downright disappointed, and that stings more than Nick wants to admit. "You could have taken my side," she adds, aiming her heavy frown at the coffee cup in front of her.

"We've been waiting for him to want to talk about it," Nick points out. "And anyway, we need a radio. If he can help, we should encourage it. Right?"

Kim isn't keen on getting into a fight right in front of Carmina, so she only nods her head in response. It's enough, though, because Nick does wind up feeling guilty for siding with John. Right or not, he probably should have negotiated that better.

"Hey, I'm sorry," he says. "You're right. I've got tunnel-vision with this radio problem, is all."

"I know," Kim sighs. "I just... worry."

"Well, don't. I'll be fine."

Kim rolls her eyes. "It isn't you I'm worried about, Nick." She looks towards the stairs, listening to John pacing up in his room, then reluctantly turns back to her husband. "Just... promise me that you'll keep an eye on him, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Nick replies. Kim doesn't look too reassured, so Nick reaches over and wraps her hand in his. "Really, I will." He glances at Carmina and tells her, "You'll keep an eye on mom so she doesn't worry all day, right?"

"Sure," Carmina says. Nick knows from the Kim-like tone in her voice that she thinks he's being an ass, but at least she's young enough to not call him out directly yet. All he has to do now is make sure that neither of his girls can rub his rash decision-making in his face when he gets back.

John is quiet as he and Nick make their way through the woods. The walk itself isn't too bad, less than a mile out from the edge of what Nick used to consider his property, but John is having a lot of trouble hiding how jittery it is, and it makes for a tense hike. He keeps speeding up and falling behind, as though he can't decide whether or not he wants to lead the way.

"You sure you're ready for this?" Nick asks eventually, unable to help himself. John answers with such a dirty look that Nick immediately goes on the defensive. "Hey, don't give me that. I just don't want you to, you know... start having nightmares about it or Joseph or whatever all over again. You're the one who's always been weird about it."

John scoffs but doesn't respond. From the way he glares at the ground, Nick figures he probably hasn't stopped having nightmares yet. That's... probably a good reason to keep him from climbing all the way down into the hole. Of course, Nick isn't sure that he'll really be able to stop John, never mind what John promised back at the house.

"What were you doing out here?" John asks after the silence grows out again. "When you found me."

"Oh. Well, I was sorta looking for places to put more traps, after I made them. And, you know, if there was anything left to salvage out here." Neither of those ideas had gone anywhere, although maybe now would be a good time to revisit them. "There's not much out here, though. There's that herd of deer to the north, and the river... we really haven't needed to expand so much."

John hums agreeably in response, although he doesn't have much to add to the conversation. Nick doesn't know how to keep it afloat by himself, so he doesn't, letting them sink back into silence until they finally reach their destination. Nick recognizes the spot by the shock of parachute fabric hanging in the trees, just a flash of artificial color behind the browns and greens of the trees.

Now that he has time to look around, Nick can sort of see where the land had been cleared for installation. Of course, the only remnant of the open circle now is the thinner layer of weeds over what looks like a thirty-foot rectangle. He doesn't remember anybody building out here, and he can't even fathom when they could have done it, but somebody came through here right before the apocalypse and made themselves a hidey-hole.

Nick doesn't wait to approach the closed bunker door, but John lingers at the imagined edge of the space as though facing a barbed-wire fence. He seems pensive and lost in thought, and Nick lets him adjust while he sweeps away dirt and scraggly tumbleweeds that have just started to cover the hatch. Just a bunker or not, it's got to be a lot to deal with, although Nick can't imagine why. No matter how terrible being alone had been, it couldn't have gotten worse than intense boredom. Hell, Nick's met two different people who had clearly let the cabin fever get to them, and neither of them could shut up about their damn bunkers.

Reaching down, Nick braces his legs on either side of the bunker door and pulls at the hatch. John is clearly holding his breath, even this far away, tension coiled in his shoulders and forcing his spine ramrod-straight. He doesn't offer to help, stuck in place like he is.

"Maybe you should stay up here," Nick offers.

Of course, John only scowls at the thought. "You won't know where to look. It would be faster if I went in alone."

"Yeah, Kim would love it if I let you do that. Don't be an asshole."

Nick heaves the door upwards. The rusted hinges scream in protest, as if they hadn't moved in years, but the door swings open after a few hard tugs on the handle.

John hesitates a second longer, then approaches the hatch. Nick goes over to the edge, crouching down so that he doesn't fall, and shines the flashlight down the ladder. The air is stale, smelling like rot and mold, and Nick can see a puddle drying at the base of the ladder. Well, that makes sense — there's no way the seal is still airtight. So much for closing the door from the elements.

"You ready?" Nick asks. John nods mutely in response, standing some feet away from the hole. "Really, John. You don't have anything to prove. Kim would probably be happy if you stayed up top."

John grimaces. "I'll go first," he says, his voice clipped.

This is a bad idea, and Nick knows it. A month or two ago, he'd probably have figured John was about to pull a fast one on him, but now he's more concerned that John is trying to pull something on himself. Confronting your fears is one thing, but as John climbs down the ladder and Nick gets a good look at his pale face and tight jaw, he worries that this is too much, too fast. Not that John seems to understand the concept of pacing himself — he seems more like the kind of guy to throw himself mindlessly at a problem until it shatters under the sheer force of his determination.

Nick hands John the flashlight before he gets out of reach, following him down the rungs as quickly as he can. They knock into each other as he reaches the bottom rung, and Nick turns to find John aiming the flashlight uselessly at their feet. Staring down the murky darkness that turns the bunker into a cave of unknown depths, John looks as though he might hear floodwaters in the distance.

Maybe he's just taken aback by how bad things look, even with only a little light to see by. The looming piles of garbage and years of refuse have turned the twenty-by-ten foot box into a narrow, craggy cavern. Nick can see a door at the far end of the gloom, cracked in the middle and left ajar in its frame, surrounded by a pile of overturned furniture. He spends a second or two trying to calculate the dark tally marks he can see covering the wall next to him, but there are too many and he can't keep track.

John takes a shuddering deep breath that turns Nick's attention back to him. "Hey," he calls, "You okay?"

"Yes," John replies, spitting the word out. He shakes his head heavily from side to side, just in case Nick missed the baldfaced lie for what it is, and takes a hesitating step away from the ladder. The breath he takes doesn't seem to give him enough air, and no amount of gasping can draw more in. He has a white-knuckled grip on the ladder, and it seems for a second to be the only thing holding him up as he visibly reels.

Nick hasn't been on the opposite end of a panic attack in a long time, but he's been through enough on his own to see that John is veering wildly in that direction. He's searching the walls, rapid-fire counting the lines, confusion breaking out on his sweaty, gray face.

"Hey," Nick says quickly, lifting his hands placatingly as he comes closer, "Hey, it's gonna be okay."

John shakes his head again, rapidly this time, abandoning any pretense of control. "No," he gasps, "No, I don't think it is!"

Goddamn it. Nick should have known better, he never should have agreed to this, he never should have let John come down here. He just — he hadn't thought it would be like this. He didn't know it could be this bad.

Nick puts off berating himself, at least until John's panic passes. For now, he focuses on damage control, guiding John's free hand to grab hold of the ladder, which is at least haloed in enough light to keep the worst of it from immediate view.

"It is gonna be okay," he insists. "Here, let's — let's get back up top. Get you some fresh air, okay?"

For a moment, it looks like John doesn't understand the concept, but his fingers eventually curl together on one rung. "I didn't know," he says unhelpfully, but at least he doesn't resist as Nick ushers him slowly up the ladder. He moves so slowly, paralyzed by each step, but Nick's only concern is making sure he doesn't fall on his way out.

The sun is right overhead as John slides out of the bunker, crawling on his hands and knees and collapsing several feet away from the opening. Nick hesitates on the last rung, knowing full well that they can't just leave now that they're here, but he has to deal with John first. The radio has waited this long — it can wait a little while longer.

John gasps for air a few more times, barely catching his breath. He doesn't look at Nick, but he offers him a miserable apology, mumbling, "Sorry," halfway into the dirt.

Nick crouches beside John, awkwardly shifting his weight on his feet. He's not sure what he's supposed to do here — he isn't used to being on this side of things, and Kim is so much better at calming people down than he is. The worst of the attack has passed, but Nick's not good at damage control.

"Hey," he says at last, "It's okay. Take your time."

There's not a patient bone in John's body, so it's a small miracle when he listens obediently, struggling until his breath evens out enough to ease the panic.

"I thought I could handle it," he sighs at last, his voice heavy with resignation. "I handled it for seven years, I thought..."

Nick doesn't think what he saw down there counts as handling it by any means, but he's not about to say as much. Truthfully, he doesn't know what to say.

"We should go," Nick says. "This isn't worth it."

John looks offended at the mere suggestion. "We came all the way here," he rasps. "Give me a minute. I'll — I'll go back —"

"Like hell you will," Nick snaps. He doesn't mean to, but damn, is John really such a masochist? "Look, just — let me go find it. You keep watch up here."

There's barely any hesitation before John nods miserably in agreement. He tries not to let it get to him, but he's already shaken by the underground and he's in a suspiciously fragile state himself. He hopes to God that he can find the radio on his own, and that it works enough to make this trip worth the trauma. If this doesn't work out, Nick is going to feel even worse about it than he already does.

It's not the best idea to leave John alone, but Nick forces himself to go through with it anyway. Armed only with his flashlight and empty backpack, Nick descends as quickly as he can, taking one last breath of fresh air before disappearing into the bunker.

God, there is blood everywhere. Nick's not sure how many of the streaks on the walls are meant to be counted with the rest of the tallies, scratched into the walls with what Nick hopes to God was anything other than John's fingernails. Everywhere Nick shines the light, he finds another smear of crumbling red blood, each one painting a different image of John's scars and scabbed over tattoos. The garbage is honestly overwhelming, with a decade of waste piled up openly on top of sealed trash bags, cans spilling across the floor, dirty clothes and ripped fabrics clumped together in haphazard nests that have molded and mildewed into an inseparable mess...

There's more room to walk than Nick originally thought, although there aren't many places entirely free of trash. Still, he hesitates to step outside of the ring of natural light above. After all, nothing about this bunker is safe. Looking past the garbage and the wreckage that John has left behind, Nick sees rust starting to form along the seams, and his first step feels uneven, as if they hadn't leveled the ground properly before installing and just couldn't be assed to fix it.

Jesus Christ. It's a miracle that John didn't die down here. It's surprising enough that it circulated enough air for him to survive. How the hell did he make it as long as he did in this death trap?

It's not a question Nick can answer, and quite frankly he doesn't think it's safe to spend much time down here ruminating. As a matter of fact, the less time he spends down here, the better. It's hard not to take note of the damage, though, especially as he searches for wherever John might've kept his radio. Lord, with the way everything seems to have been torn apart, who knows if it's even going to be in one piece? Or even somewhere accessible? Nick really doesn't want to go poking through the destroyed couch or the bags of trash heaped in confusing piles across the bunker.

He heads all the way to the back of the space, circling around an overturned table and seeing at last a small desk wedged into the corner, facing the ladder. The radio microphone hangs from its cord over the edge, and Nick has to repress a delighted shout when he sees that it's still in one piece. There's a crack along the plastic case, but other than that, Nick can see that it's a model very similar to the one back home — older by a couple of years, maybe, but hopefully not so old that it's no longer compatible.

He struggles to be careful as he loads the radio into his bag, but all he wants to do is get the hell out of here. It's only once he's pulled the heavy backpack back onto his shoulders that Nick takes stock of the position that he's in. Standing here, facing the ladder, Nick can see a definite barrier that John must've formed at some point — the table, the desk, even the broken down automatic washer, all of it has been set up as though John were planning to hunker down against an enemy attack.

On the ground, behind the table, Nick sees a book with a white leather cover. The gilded Eden's Gate emblem has been mostly rubbed clean off, but Nick has seen that book too many times not to recognize it for what it is. It's bloated with water damage and stuffed with ripped addenda that have filled the binding to burst, lying on the cement like an undetonated grenade.

Nick grabs it before he can think better about it. He immediately regrets it, mostly because the bottom cover has become slimy and the whole thing feels like it's going to come apart in his hands. Not knowing what else to do, he drops it onto the empty desk, wrinkling his nose at the squelching slap of wet paper on wood. He goes so far as to pinch the first few pages under his finger, ready to flip it open to some random verse — but even touching the cover leaves Nick feeling uneasy and watched. Honestly, just looking at it fills Nick with a sense of distant dread, the same hazy fear that came along with the first time he got a face-full of Bliss.

Fuck that, he decides. Whatever John's left in the book, it's not for Nick to look at. He already got what they came for, and it's been about five minutes; Nick can't leave John waiting much longer, and frankly he doesn't want to. With one last grimace in the book's direction, Nick beelines for the ladder. He stops trying to tabulate how many days John kept track of, stops wondering when or if he ever lost count, and focuses entirely on getting the hell out of the goddamn deathtrap.

It's probably just his imagination, but Nick can smell floral sweetness in the air as he finally escapes the bunker. He takes a deep breath once he's out, tipping his face back to gratefully meet the blue Montana sky.

John waits until Nick looks at him to ask uneasily, "Did you find it?"

"Yeah," Nick replies, shifting the backpack so that he can pat it reassuringly. "I think it'll work. I didn't check for the parts — I figure we can do that back home."

John nods a few times. "Good," he mutters, "Good," as if maybe he doesn't think it's such a good thing at all. He falls silent, and Nick realizes he's waiting for Nick to say something about what he saw down there.

Nick wants to say something. He doesn't know what, though. His own thoughts are scattered and confused. "Uh... you mind if I close it up?" he asks.

John shakes his head mutely in response; the clang of the door rises up through the air like a stricken bell, scattering some birds that had been resting in the treetops.

"So... uh..." Nick rubs the back of his head, trying to decide what to say before deciding lamely to go with, "Do you... wanna talk about it?"

The fact that John doesn't immediately reply tells Nick all he needs to know. When John finally says, "No," Nick knows it's a lie, even if he's not sure what to do about it. Nick's positive that they do need to talk about it. But he doesn't know how he can force the issue, and he's sure he's not the man to do it. John needs a licensed psychologist, or a goddamn priest, someone who can absolve him of whatever the fuck that all was down there, not a hick aviator who can hardly handle his own trauma.

"Are you sure?" he presses. "I mean..."

John stares at the dirt, his hands curling into tense fists. Nick moves immediately to rescind the question, but John beats him to the punch. "I didn't know it would look like that," he tells the weeds matted under his boots. "I didn't think it would... be like that."

Nick wants to ask how John avoided noticing the mess spiraling out of control around him, but there had been plenty of evidence down there that proved John hadn't been in a clear state of mind.

"There... were issues with the power early on," John admits, clearing his throat roughly. "I would have to... prioritize. Switch on the lights, switch off the ventilation system. Switch off the lights, switch on the ventilation. Eventually, I stopped switching on the lights."

He swallows a few times and tries to bring his eyes to Nick's, but he can't seem to manage it. "Really," he mutters. "We don't have to talk about it." But before Nick can agree, because he suddenly wants to hear as little of the story as possible, John continues briefly onward, staggering the words as though he's throwing them off a cliff. "I've been locked in the dark before," he says. "I thought I could handle it. But I... I couldn't."

Nick doesn't know what to say. He stares helplessly at John, waiting for Kim to materialize out of the wood and point out the obvious emotional cue for him to take, but there's nothing but John's uncomfortable expression and a quiet forest all around them. He should reach out, maybe. Offer him a sympathetic hand, or something.

"That's all I want to say about it," John says at last.

"Uh. Okay." Nick clears his throat, tries to think up a good joke to lighten the mood, and fails completely. He tries to come up with something to say that would share his sentiment but nothing comes.

"Kim will start to worry," John mutters.

Kim's gonna worry no matter what, but Nick doesn't bother to tell John that. If he thinks he can hide his emotional distress from Nick's wife, then he is welcome to try. At least that'll be more fun to watch than the slow implosion happening in front of him now.

Nick waits until the silence between them on the way back doesn't feel so thick, then tries to distract from John's deeply pensive mood. "I'm not looking forward to reading more of that manual," he says as they trace the path back towards the house. "But I also don't wanna screw up our only chance at replacing it. It's a real tough situation."

"I assume the pictures aren't clear enough for you," John replies. It's a joke insult that stings mostly because of John's brisk delivery, and he ducks away as soon as the words leave his mouth. Nick considers taking it personally for a second, until John wearily mutters a sincere apology into the air between them. "I didn't mean that," he admits roughly.

"It's fine," Nick shrugs. After all, Nick's used to being a self-defensive dickhead; he can't exactly take offense.

Casually brushing it off seems to be the wrong thing to do. John comes to an abrupt halt behind Nick, thick tears gathering and spilling over his closed eyelids. At first, when Nick turns, he can't comprehend the sight in front of him, watching John's face slowly turn red. John sucks in a wet, heaving breath, which only makes things worse as it turns into a sob midway. It seems to mortify John, but he can't stop, and all at once he's just — crying, and Nick is left standing there while John covers his face in humiliation and sucks in deep, horrified breaths. Words try to form between the sobs, but all Nick hears is desperate wailing.

"Shit," Nick says, setting down the backpack, "Okay, hold on —"

"—Didn't know what to do," John's saying, the words tearing from his throat. "I got trapped, I didn't —"

"Hey," Nick tries, "Just — take a breath."

John sobs, dropping to his knees in the mulch. "I lost track of it," he gasps, "I don't know what's real, Nick. How much of this is happening — I keep thinking I'm not — I'm not ever getting out of here, and I —"

Oh, Nick knows he fucked up real bad now. John's cries tear through the scar overlaying his heart, as though twisting a knife that's rusted over in his chest. Nick thinks back to the muttering, the distant looks, the unsettling nightmares, and now he kind of sees them for what they are. Deep, visible wounds on John's psyche that he should have caught sooner. Signs of a collapse much bigger than the one that put them in this world to begin with. Clear indications that John wasn't ready to go back.

"Please," John gasps. He doesn't ask for anything, so Nick doesn't know what he wants, but he repeats the word like it's the only one he knows. "Please."

"God damn," Nick sighs, coming to John's side. "You are a real piece of work."

He can't help but try to deflect, even as he reaches out to grasp the dented curves of John's shoulders. He knows there are deep, claw-mark scars under his hands, even if he can't feel them through the flannel of John's shirt. He thinks he understands where they came from now, although the concept is more horrifying than Nick is willing to consider; all he can do is be better than John had been to himself, and hope that's enough.

Nick barely pulls John in before he's being grabbed, desperate claws sinking into Nick's back as John scrabbles for a secure grip. He's shaking so badly that Nick feels it rattling his own bones. There's nothing for Nick to do but hold on while John desperately tries not to fall apart at the seams, struggling to form coherent words. Nick only catches some of them, as John tries to explain the barriers, the tallies, the scarred over spaces where he used to have tattoos, but he doesn't need to understand the words to see the wounds that are being uncovered.

"Alone," John cries into Nick's chest, "I was alone, the whole time, he said I wouldn't be alone —"

"Okay," Nick consoles, "It's okay."

John eventually calms down, although it's anybody's guess how long it takes for him to finally catch his breath. Even when he does, his gasps finally leveling out, he keeps a tight grip on the back of Nick's shirt. Not even Carmina has clung to Nick so terribly, and despite the fact that John has a couple of years on him, Nick manages to feel desperately protective in the moment. He can't help it. John keeps talking like he can't tell up from down, and he'd been trapped down in that hole for who knows how long without power, and from the chaos he'd seen, it's clear John has been trying to protect himself for a long time.

"I've got ya," Nick says after John lets out a heavy sigh, finally losing the strength to hold on so tightly.

John's sweaty face is pressed into Nick's shoulder, but the words are still clear. "I need this to be real," he admits quietly. "I can't go back there."

"You don't have to," Nick says. He's rubbing John's back now and he doesn't know when he started, but the guy seems so desperate for the contact that he can't bring himself to stop. "You're not making me up, you know?"

John huffs. There might be a laugh somewhere in there, or Nick might be imagining it. "I know," he rasps. "I wouldn't be so kind to myself."

Oh, man. Nick sighs, patting his back gently. "Gotta work on that, I guess," he says. "We'll get you there."

John's fingers curl briefly against Nicks back. "Thank you," he mutters. "God, thank you."

Nick lets the situation lie like that for a minute or so. John is the first one to let go, his arms falling away from Nick's sides as he leans back and takes a deep, steady breath of air. Nick lets him go with a heavy pat on the shoulder, relieved to have the space if only because it means John isn't about to collapse again.

"Kim was right," John admits, saying aloud the thought that's been repeating nonstop in Nick's mind. "I should have listened to her."

Nick gets to his feet. "Yeah, probably. Thank God she isn't the type to say 'I told you so,' huh?"

John sits back, scrubbing at his face with the back of his sleeve. "I hope so," he says.

"I think I know my wife pretty well by now," Nick chuckles, holding his hand out for John. "C'mon, let's get home before she comes looking for us."

For an awful second, Nick thinks John is going to cry again, but he only grits his teeth and takes Nick's help to climb to his own feet. He dusts off his pants as though his face isn't warped by drying tear tracks, wiping belatedly at the wet skin under his eyes as they start onward again. Nick doesn't let him trail behind too far, but he doesn't force John to keep pace either, leaving enough space so that John doesn't feel self-conscious when he starts sniffling again.

They haven't been gone that long, but Kim is still waiting for them outside when they get back. She and Carmina are reading on the porch, but as soon as Nick and John reach the driveway, Kim drops the pretense entirely. Nick hears John take a deep breath behind him; he looks back, but John's expression is too troubled to get a good read. At least he doesn't seem likely to bolt.

"We got it!" Nick shouts as they walk across the drive, lifting the backpack up triumphantly.

"Oh, thank God," Kim sighs, relief flooding her expression. "Nobody got hurt?"

Nick looks back at John, then shrugs. "Nothing we can't fix," he suggests.

John takes a breath. He looks like he wants to spill everything right then and there, but he boils it all down into a simple admission. "I'm sorry," he mutters.

Stunned, Kim asks, "Are you okay?"

"No," he quietly replies. "You were right."

Kim shakes her head, glancing briefly at Nick before putting a gentle hand on John's arm. He sighs shakily at the contact, but thankfully he doesn't collapse into another crying wreck. Kim looks like she's expecting something like that, but John manages to surprise them both.

"We can talk about it later, if you want," Kim tells him, patting his shoulder.

There's relief in John's voice as he suggests, "I'll need a strong drink before I accept that offer."

Kim shakes her head, laughing a little. "It's as good a place to start as any," she tells him.

Carmina, who's been standing on the porch looking increasingly bored, finally gives up waiting for attention. "Hey, dad," she calls, lifting the radio's manual up in the air, "Can I help with the radio?"

"So much for my technological superiority," Nick sighs, raising his voice to tell Carmina, "Sure!"

"I couldn't help it," Kim replies. She has a smug expression that tells Nick a different story, but he can easily forgive her for deciding to make their kid smarter out of spite. It's better than trying to poison him or running off with Hurk and his raider gang. "I cleared off the table for you," she adds, "And I brought out the radio so you could get a better look at it."

"I guess there's no better time to start than now," Nick says. He offers John a lopsided grin and asks, "So, uh, how much do you know about electronic repair?"

"About as much as you," John replies. He gestures his arm towards the house, saying, "It can be a learning experience for us all."

As if this whole year so far hasn't been one big learning curve. Nick shakes his head, leading the three adults up to the porch. Carmina disappears inside, triumphantly waving the manual in the air, leaving Nick to chase playfully after her inside the house. He catches sight of Kim talking to John on the porch, but Carmina is squealing delightedly in his arms so he can't quite make out the conversation. Later on, he can tell Kim about what happened, but for now, she seems content with whatever John is saying, patting him again on the arm before leading him inside. She shuts the door behind her, and for the first time in almost a year, Nick feels as though he's finally home, surrounded by people on the same page as him for once. This, he thinks, could very well be his new normal, and that's not so bad at all.

[elisaphoenix13]

Winter Vacation

Tibbs was making his weird chattering noise when Stephen left the master bedroom one morning, and that usually only meant one thing. Diana was feeding him treats, but not in the conventional way. Stepping into the living room after walking down the stairs and observing the small cat treat floating just out of the cat's reach was confirmation enough. Dia was cocooned in a couple of blankets on the couch and the cat was on the floor standing on his hind legs. Stephen watches quietly as his daughter levitates the treat closer to Tibbs and he chuckles when the feline bats it out of the air with his paw. Tibbs purrs loudly as he eats his well earned treat and the sorcerer moves over to Diana to gently brush her hair back with one of his hands.

"How long have you been up?"

"An hour." Diana replies with a happy chirp as she enjoys the shaking fingers in her hair.

"I take it you're excited about our trip?" Stephen asks softly and digs his daughter out of her cocoon and picks her up.

"Peter and Harley too!"

Diana clings onto the sorcerer, ever mindful of Stephen's hands, and he grabs the bag of cat treats on the coffee table to return to the cupboard through a small gateway. After that, he carries Diana back up to her room and sets her back on the floor and points to her dresser as he walks over to her closet.

"We need to pack your bag. Grab warm clothes." He tells her as he grabs her suitcase.

"Mommy?" Stephen hums in acknowledgement. "Will Peter be okay in the snow?"

"I have a special spell for him so he can enjoy it like we can. He'll still get cold but it won't be dangerous."

Diana was always worried about her brothers, especially Peter since she knew he was different because of his powers. They all of course fought like normal siblings but they also looked put for each other. Stephen smiles at the thought as he opens the suitcase, and Diana pulls out some clothes when Tony raps his knuckles against the door.

"I woke up our teenage trolls. They have requested breakfast from their favorite donut shop." The engineer announces.

"Sugar on a three hour road trip?" Stephen snorts and Tony waves his hand around.

"You're the one that wants us to drive instead of portaling us all there."

"It's a normal life experience and the kids agreed to it."

"Yeah, so did all twenty some of the rest of the kids." Tony says dryly and Stephen looks up in confusion. "Our family trip turned into a team trip."

Stephen sighs. "Of course it did. Did you call and make more reservations at the lodge?"

"Some of the rooms have to be shared but it's taken care of." Tony helps Diana pick out her clothes and throws them to Stephen who folds them and packs them away neatly. "We can always throw Quill outside if there's an issue."

"Tony."

"What? He's a walking furnace! I guarantee people will be gathered around him instead of the fire."

Stephen shakes his head in amusement and shuts the suitcase once they help Diana finish packing, and the little girl announces that she's going to go help Cassie before running out of the room. Tony takes Diana's suitcase down to the elevator when one of the boys yells for the sorcerer, and Stephen walks into Harley's room, immediately side stepping the pants tossed in his direction. He watches as their oldest son digs furiously through his dresser and sighs as he uses his magic to gather the discarded articles of clothing to fold and place on the bed.

"MOM-" Harley shouts and Stephen cringes a little at the volume.

"Vishanti's sake...I'm right here. What are you looking for?"

The teen whips his head around to look at the sorcerer with frantic eyes. "I can't find my green hoodie!"

"I told you last night I was washing it. It's probably still in the dryer."

Stephen barely finished his sentence before Harley was darting past him and giving him a mild heart attack when he vaulted himself over the railing to the living room below. It was one thing when Peter did it, but when Harley did it, Stephen was just waiting for the moment when he wouldn't land correctly and hurt himself. Harley wasn't enhanced, but he was still a teenage boy that had absolutely no regard for his personal well-being. Thankfully, today wasn't that day. Harley landed in a crouch and then darted over to the small walk in laundry room while leaving Stephen the pinch the bridge of his nose as he returns the folded clothes on the teens bed to their rightful place with a wave of his hand.

Tony was not being dramatic when he said the boys were going to give him a heart attack one day. Stephen was right there with him.

"Hey Mom! Will I be able to move or do I need to bundle up like Randy in A Christmas Story?" Peter yells from his bedroom door and Tony laughs loudly from somewhere downstairs.

"I'm honestly surprised you know that movie exists." Stephen says as he walks past Peter and his doorway and toward the stairs. "I will be casting the warmth spell on you again. Garage, twenty minutes."

Meaning, Peter and Harley had twenty minutes to finish packing, get ready, and be down in the garage. He told the kids to pack the night before, but he knew he was wasting his breath. They always waited until the last possible second to pack, but always managed to get it done in time so Stephen didn't complain. He already packed for himself and Tony last night while his husband confirmed their reservations and whatnot...and then added to those reservations because someone caught wind of the trip. Probably Clint. He had a weird obsession with crawling through the vents.

Twenty minutes later, Stephen, Tony, and the boys found themselves in the garage where they found the other team members backing their bags into cars and Diana skipping around...Bucky? She usually stuck to Cassie if she wasn't with her family, but that didn't mean she didn't love her assorted aunts and uncles. Diana was rambling about something Stephen couldn't make out as the winter soldier threw his bag in the trunk of the car he, Steve, Sam, and Natasha were taking, and then the man scoops her up with his metal arm.

"Alright princess, I'm pawning you off on Spacecase with the promise to let you use Uncle Steve's shield as a sled. I snuck it into the car." Bucky grins when the captain sighs, and makes true to his promise.

Diana giggles when Bucky holds her out toward Quill who had his back to them, and the space outlaw doesn't even acknowledge the little girl when she attaches herself to the Celestial's back. She didn't seem to care. He and Scott just continued throwing bags into their own car as Diana chattered even more about what she wanted to do when they got to the lodge. Stephen only knew that because she was closer than before so he could hear her now. The way Quill continued on while the little girl spoke endlessly, and riding piggyback told Stephen that this was somewhat of a regular occurrence.

After a few minutes and everyone was ready to leave, Tony finally relieved the god of Diana and took her over to the car the family would be taking.

"How about we quiet your mouth with donuts Little Miss?" Tony asks as he helps her buckle in.

"I want a maple bar!"

"Mama Bear, we have to stop and get a maple bar for the baby!" Tony says over the hood of the car and Stephen raises an eyebrow when Peter and Harley high five. "Nothing for the other two."

"Hey!" The teens shout simultaneously as they clamber into the car.

"We're getting donuts for all of the cubs, love." Stephen slips into the passenger seat and Tony into the driver's side.

"Then you can deal with them while I focus on driving."

______________________

They were barely checking in at the front desk before the kids all ran back outside to play in the snow. The three sets of parents weren't worried though. The kids would stay together until the adults came out and they also knew to stay close by. The first thing Stephen saw when he and Tony left the lodge after putting their things into their rooms was a trail of decapitated snowmen and murder scenes, and he sighed heavily. Some of the adults follow the trail while others leave to do their own thing, and Natasha looks down at Harley, Peter, Cooper, and Nate when they find them posed among the biggest murder scene. They were of course the victims of killer snowmen and it had Clint bent over laughing his ass off, and Stephen was glad to see the girls a little further off making snow angels. It looked like this murder scene was Harley's idea.

"Is this ketchup?" Tony asks as he closely inspects the closest snowman.

"We had to improvise." Harley says from the ground and Stephen shakes his head.

"Destroy these before you move on to your next activity. I don't want to get complaints from other parents because this gave their kids nightmares."

Peter looks up from cleverly placed snow that made his body look split in half. "Is it really that good?!"

Laura shakes her head from beside Stephen. "Our children might need therapists."

"I'm afraid their therapists will need therapists after they finish with them." The sorcerer says dully, making Clint laugh even harder.

"Good point."

Tony and Clint took a few pictures of the scene after the archer settled down, and the boys destroyed the nightmare fuel before moving on to other snow activities. Peter and Harley eventually moved on to snowboarding (something their parents weren't aware they could do), and the rest of the kids stuck to sledding. Bucky did actually come by to give Diana a chance to sled with Steve's shield, and as she flew down the hill giggling madly, the captain stood to the side...facepalming. Tony and Bucky found it hilarious, and Stephen kept a spell handy in case his daughter went too fast or too far. Steve looked prepared to step in if needed too. The shield was made of metal after all.

When it got dark, everyone went back inside for hot chocolate and sat on the many couches near the fireplace and the indoor fire pit. There was also the living furnace for those that couldn't get close enough to the fires. Quill got a little grumbly about being used as a heat source for someone other than Scott, Cassie, or Diana, but he didn't argue since it didn't last long. Board games that the lodge provided were played, dinner was had, and they all returned to the couches to talk about anything funny or good that happened that day.

The murderous snowmen was well liked by everyone, especially since Tony and Clint showed the pictures.

"...and then BAM! Right into the tree!" Sam exclaims and Bucky immediately points at Scott to direct the attention away from his embarrassing moment.

"Scott knocked over a rack of snowboards and then tripped over them!"

"Oh come on!"

Harley cackles. "Peter faceplanted into the snow once he buckled himself into his snowboard."

"Yeah?! Well you slid right into a family trying to take a picture!"

"This family is a disaster." Stephen groans quietly and Wanda smiles and gently pats his back.

"But we're still a family." She says. "You're a big part of that. If you didn't tell Tony to give us another chance...we wouldn't be here. Tony wouldn't be friends with us again, Scott and Quill might have never met, Bucky and Steve wouldn't have been permanently reunited…" Wanda looks at Stephen. "Peter may have given you the role of a mother, but you gave it meaning."

Stephen chuckles quietly. "I guess I really am the matriarch."

"Yes you are. Without a doubt." She kisses his cheek and then gets up to herd the girls to the stairs with the promise of a makeshift slumber party.

Cassie, Diana, Lila, Laura, and even Natasha follow Wanda upstairs to one of their rooms for their girls night, and some of the guys elect to stay downstairs to tell more stories. Stephen was content to sit back quietly and listen after telling the remaining kids to go upstairs and watch a movie. The boys didn't even argue. The sorcerer knew they were tired and being allowed to rent a movie on pay-per-view was enough for them. They were even tired enough that there was a low chance of them getting rowdy. Once they disappeared upstairs, Tony and Rhodey took a spot on the couch on either side of Stephen, and the sorcerer lays his head on the engineer's shoulder. Tony wraps his arm around Stephen, gently rubbing his thumb across his shoulder, and grabs the sorcerer's hands.

"Your hands okay?"

"Yes. Just enjoying time with this disaster we call family."

Rhodey snorts. "Disaster doesn't seem like the right word. What's a step up from that?"

"An apocalypse." Tony says dryly.

"Yeah...that sounds better."

Stephen hides a smirk. "I was going to say Quill but apocalypse works."

Tony and Rhodey burst into laughter, and the others give them a weird look until Stephen motions for them to ignore them. If they knew what the three were talking about, he wouldn't put it past them to start a friendly argument over it.

...that did sound like a fun idea now that Stephen thought about it. Maybe he would file that away for a day he wanted to sit back and watch the chaos unfold. Chaos he caused for once.

[puckinghell]

Only Once | Tyson Barrie

Plot: today, everything just goes wrong Word count: 1890 Note: I wrote this because I had a bad day but I have no Tyson Barrie. Sad life.

All things considered, you were a pretty good person. At the very least, you always tried to be. You were nice to waiters, even when they got your order wrong. You never cursed at people who cut you off while driving. You let people go in front of you in line at the grocery store if they only had a few products, while you were trying to get through a week’s worth of food. And there were a whole bunch of charities you supported regularly.

But you must’ve done something bad, because your karma today was awful.

It had started out as a fine morning. The sky was blue when you woke up to your alarm and you had slept well. But as soon as you got dressed, your day turned around.

First, you dropped the milk carton. With no milk, you were forced to have your cereal dry, and that really wasn’t a good taste. You were ready to get over it, but when you got into your car to go to work, it didn’t start.

Great. One of those days. You sighed, texted your boyfriend, who was currently still asleep, if he would please take a look at your car - not that Tyson was such a mechanic, but hopefully he’d get the hint and just take your car to the shop for you - and decided to walk to work, instead. When you got there a bit late, your boss threw a fit, because there was an important client there for you and now he had to wait. You were a people pleaser at heart and an ass chewing from your boss was just what you needed for your mood to drop to below zero.

You got through your talk with the client, who was an arrogant asshole, and when you went to send your boss the rapport, your computer crashed. It was at that moment that you considered going home to have a good cry.

But you pushed through, managed to get the computer working again, realized you’d forgotten not only your lunch but your wallet, begged some money of your colleague to at least buy yourself a sandwich, and when the clock finally struck 5, you were ready for the day to be over.

Except it wasn’t, because then, halfway through your walk home, the blue sky turned grey and it started raining like there was no tomorrow.

You stepped into your apartment soaked to the bone, incredibly annoyed, and on the brink of tears.

“Tys?” you called out for your boyfriend, and a “hey babe!” sounded back from the living room, where you found him behind the television.

“Had a good day?” he asked. You almost laughed with how ironic that question was, but decided you didn’t want to dump all your problems on him. The Avs were having a bad stretch and he had enough to worry about, besides, it was rare for him to have some time off and you bet he was exhausted.

“Did you look at my car?” you countered his question instead.

He answered without taking his eyes away from the television. “No, sorry, babe. Practice took a bit longer than expected because Gabe wanted to try a few new things.”

You felt your heart sink. That meant that you’d have to get up extra early tomorrow to walk to work again, and you also had no idea when you’d get time to get your car to the shop. To be honest, you weren’t even really sure how to get a car that didn’t start anywhere. Would you have to call a tow truck?

“Oh,” you mumbled, and sighed. Don’t take it out on him, you told yourself, feeling yourself get more annoyed. “I’m going to take a shower.”

But Tyson didn’t even really seem to hear you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from slamming the bedroom door behind you. Rumbling through your closet to find some comfortable clothes, you tried to push the tears back. You hated how easily you cried, how your first instinct when you were upset was to burst into tears.

Footsteps approached the bedroom door and you wondered, hoped even, that Tyson had noticed your mood and was coming to check up on you.

“Hey babe, have you seen my grey hoodie?” he asked, and disappointment washed over you as you realized he hadn’t noticed anything.

Hadn’t noticed, or just simply didn’t care.

“I don’t know, Tyson, maybe it’s in that pile of clothes on the bathroom floor that I keep telling you to put in the laundry,” you snapped, and his eyes widened in surprise at your outburst. “Maybe you can keep track of your own goddamn stuff, because I’m your girlfriend, not your mother.”

You stomped into the bathroom and slammed that door behind you, too. And that’s when you started to cry.

You quickly peeled off your clothes, still wet from the rain, and stepped into the shower. The hot water mixed with the tears on your face and after about 10 minutes, you felt yourself starting to calm down. And that’s when you started to feel guilty.

It was true that Tyson was a bit behind with his laundry, and he had a bad habit of leaving things scattered around the apartment, but he had just asked you a simple question, and you’d gone all out at him, unloading all your frustrations. It wasn’t fair of you. Especially because you knew that if you’d simply answered his earlier question, and told him you had a bad day, he’d be the most understanding, supportive boyfriend, like he always was.

You put on some yoga pants and one of his Avs hoodies, and searched through the pile of clothes on the floor. With Tyson’s grey hoodie in your hands, you walked towards the living room. Tyson wasn’t there, but you could hear water running in the kitchen, so you made your way there.

He was standing at the sink, putting dishes in the dishwasher. When he heard you approach, he sent you a sheepish smile.

“I figured I’d do that other thing you’ve been asking me to do for a while. I’ll get those clothes in the laundry after this.”

Of course he’d taken your snappy remark to heart. Now you felt even more guilty.

“I found your hoodie,” you mumbled, showing him the fabric in your hands. “Tys, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so…” you swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in your throat that was already forming again. God, hadn’t you cried enough? “Bitchy,” you finished, and instantly, Tyson’s face fell even more.

“No, you weren’t being unreasonable. You did tell me to sort out my shit and I haven’t. I’m sorry.”

Fucking great, now your boyfriend felt awful because of you. That was enough to send you over the edge again, and when Tyson saw the tears spilling over, he cursed under his breath.

“Oh no, don’t cry! I promise I’ll never leave my laundry on the floor again.” He rushed over but stopped in front of you, one arm outstretched, silently asking you if you even wanted him to hug you, or if you were too mad at him. You dropped the hoodie on the floor and threw yourself against his chest.

Instantly his arms wrapped around your back and he pulled you in close, his thumb rubbing calming circles on your back as he hummed soothing words into your ear.

“It-It’s not that, I just had a bad day and I took it out on you and I’m s-sorry,” you sniffed into the fabric of his shirt, that was getting wetter with your tears by the second.

“Shh, it’ll be okay, hey, we’re fine,” Tyson whispered, squeezing you a bit tighter.

“It’s not f-fine, I’m really sorry, I feel like s-such a b-bitch.”

“Don’t say that,” he said, a bit louder. “You know it’s my job to be your personal boxing ball whenever you need to take out some frustration.”

That was so utterly untrue and yet, you knew he meant every word of it. You pictured yourself using Tyson as a boxing ball; with your small stature and his giant one, he probably would barely notice. Despite everything, you smiled.

Noticing that you were starting to calm down, Tyson pulled away, his hands cupping your face as his thumbs brushed the tears away from your cheeks.

“How about we go cuddle on the couch and you can tell me all about your bad day. Unless you prefer yelling at me a bit more.” His eyes were twinkling as he spoke and you lightly smacked his arm, which earned you a laugh. He wrapped his arm around your waist as he guided you towards the couch, pulling you down with him and tucking you into his side.

You told him all about your day and when you were done, he tenderly pressed his lips against your cheek.

“Hey, you know what?” he hummed. “I’m really proud of you.”

You frowned. “I literally just told you that everything I did today was a mess.”

“No, your day was a mess. But you dealt with it.”

“By yelling at you,” you protested. “That’s not a good way to deal with it.”

He shrugged. “Still counts as dealing with it. You had a bad day, and you lived through it. You know, that’s the good thing about bad days. You only have to live them once. Only once, and then you never have to live that bad day again.”

You’d never thought about it before, but when he said it like that, full of conviction, it actually made a lot of sense.

“I’ll drive you to work tomorrow, and then I’ll call someone to take a look at your car.” He chuckled. “We both know I would have had no idea how to fix it anyway.”

You knew he was tired and didn’t want him to get up early just for you, but when you opened your mouth to protest, he pressed a finger against your lips.

“Nope. I’m doing it and you can’t stop me.”

Knowing he was damn stubborn when he wanted to be, you sighed, then nodded. “Thanks, Tys. You’re the best.”

A cheeky expression fell over his face as he grinned. “Even when I don’t pick up my dirty laundry?”

“Even then.” You took hold of his face and kissed him, before grabbing the remote. “And you’ll be even better if you watch a Disney film with me.”

“Yuck, girly.” He pulled a face and then laughed as you elbowed him in the ribs.

“You promised you would watch them with me!” He had, earlier this year when you’d told him about your resolution to watch every single Disney film ever made.

“Yeah, but this is the third time you’ve put on Lady and the Tramp! I promised you I’d watch them with you once!”

You shrugged. “Yeah, but you love me, and I had a bad day, so you’ll watch it again.” Then you shushed him as he tried to speak again, pointing to the television. “Shh, it’s about to start.”

You felt his arms tighten around you and he pressed his face into your hair as you heard him whisper one last protest.

“Only once.”

[k-drabblings]

letters to you (pt. 2)

KIM TAEHYUNG (V) X READER Type | Genre: slice of life au | fluff/angst Word Count: 1738 A/N: it’s been hard finding time to update in general but i have a soft spot for this fic! hope you enjoy. 

One

After Taehyung's first visit, we managed to keep in touch until somewhere around early springtime. The Kakao messages got increasingly sparse as he got closer to his mysterious debut date and college examinations loomed over my head as I entered my final year of high school.  The flutters I had felt were long forgotten in lieu of books and essays. 

It wasn't until summer that I was reminded of Taehyung. Auntie Kim came barging into our house bright and early with excited shouts of his debut. 

I was already awake, studying my butt off upstairs in the lovely solitude of my room. 

"He's releasing the album tomorrow! Tomorrow! My Taehyungie is finally debuting!" 

My heart couldn't help but stir a little at his name, as if it was remembering an old habit. I hesitantly reached for my phone, wondering if it would be out of place to send him a congratulatory message.

[07:55AM] To: Taehyung Grats, superstar. It's about time.

To my surprise, the reply came instantly.

[07:55AM] From: Taehyung Dont tell me my mom woke u all up this early to tell u...  [07:55AM] From: Taehyung But thats just like her isnt it [07:56AM] From: Taehyung Goddamn shes embarrassing [07:56AM] From: Taehyung But thx ;)

I smiled, heart skipping a little faster, but I decided to play it cool and leave him hanging. It didn't necessarily warrant a response anyway. 

It was more than two hours later into my reading when my phone buzzed.

[10:13AM] From: Taehyung Im coming home for a few days next month.

[10:13AM] From: Taehyung Excited to see me? ;)

My stomach suddenly twisted into a knot, butterflies I hadn't felt for months threatening to creep back. Goddamn him and his flirty winking emoticons. 

[10:21AM] To: Taehyung Not really 

[10:21AM] To: Taehyung But you can come anyway I guess

I wondered if I had waited an ample enough amount of time to not look so desperately eager to answer him. Childish, I know, but I couldn’t help it.  I returned to my studies with a renewed energy, suddenly feeling empowered by the thought of having something to look forward to.

Taehyung looked so different that it was hard to believe only two seasons had passed since I last saw him. He was the slightest bit less lanky and his hair was dyed blonde. God, who would have thought he'd look so good with Barbie hair? I stared at him in silence for a few moments before giving him an awkward wave.

"Y/N!"

I could have sworn his voice got deeper, but I didn't have time to mull over the thought really as he scooped me into a big embrace. It knocked the wind out of me -- in a good way. "Nice to see you too, Taehyung," I mumbled into his chest. He smelled like laundry with a hint of musk.  It was strange seeing him in shorts and a tee, legs and arms so bare. Had he always been so tan? 

It was our mother's ideas to catch up over lunch, and although my books were practically screaming at me, I decided to be a little careless and enjoy some time with my long lost friend. It seemed like Taehyung always brought out the irresponsible side of me.

"So how've you been?" Taehyung asked expectantly.

I had never been a fan of small talk, but there was no other way to really begin the conversation. "Alright, I guess. Studying mostly. Actually, only studying.."

"Ah, so once I left, you were no longer a genius."

I couldn't help but crack a smile. 

"No boyfriend?" 

"My textbooks are my boyfriends." I sighed, feeling the nervous guilt of ditching my studies gnawing away at me. I was so determined to get top scores, go to one of the top universities in Seoul, and then the world would be my oyster. It was somewhat reckless to be here comfortably chatting the time away with Taehyung.

He smirked. "Wow, what a player. Didn't think you were like that, Y/N." 

I rolled my eyes before a chuckle escaped my lips. "Enough about my boring life. I bet yours has been crazy exciting. With your debut, and... shows... and singing?" It was too obvious I didn't know anything about the idol lifestyle.

"Yes. Shows and singing. Hit the nail right on the head," he joked. There was a brief pause before he sighed. "It's actually more like crazy busy than crazy exciting." I watched his still-beautiful fingers run through his dyed locks. "But yeah on top of shows and singing, it's a lot of promotions right now... We're trying to win Rookie of the Year and just get ourselves more out there... Grow our fanbase, you know?"

He sounded so desperate for a moment that I almost reached out to touch his hand in comfort. I didn't know anything really, but I could tell he worked his ass off every day, and he was hoping more than anything that his efforts would pay off in the end. I could sympathize with that -- we were kind of in the same boat when I thought of it like that, and it was comforting.

"How long are you here for this time?" I asked timidly. 

"Three days." A loud sigh left his lips. "I know, short as fuck." He was biting his lip nervously, eyes wandering for few seconds before landing on mine. "And I know you're probably busy as hell, but couldn't you make some time for your fave Kpop idol?" A cheeky grin broke out onto his face, and I was instantly reminded of the Taehyung I had grown so comfortable with last winter. And just like that, it was so easy to fall back into his trap.

My books were neglected as I spent the next few days with Taehyung. It was like we had fallen back into our old habits -- going to the cafe in the morning, watching I Hear Your Voice or some other drama in the afternoon, and driving to the mountains or downtown in the evening. 

He still took his coffee much too sweet. And with the way he comfortably settled in next to me besides the couch, shoulder to shoulder, it was like nothing had changed. By the second day, it felt like he had never even left.

I loved the drives the most. The skies were clear and starry, and with the wind blowing through my hair, going anywhere felt like an adventure. The scenic view of town from the cliffs was different now that it was summer. It was so green and lush, as if the colors had all become more vibrant now that he was back. The days were longer and warm, so we spent more time outside. He treated me to ice cream every day because he was "now a working man," as he called it. 

"I missed this," he announced with a sigh, laying back into the grass.

"Hm?" I absentmindedly continued to poke around for the cake bits in my ice cream.

"Just chilling around like this. With you."

The last two words were said so nonchalantly, but they resonated so deeply in my silly heart that my entire body tensed up. 

"You're leaving tomorrow, Taehyung." Was I saying it to remind him... or myself?

He rose from his position and gestured towards the car. "It's good though. You need to study anyway." He grinned. "Genius or nerd, whichever you are, I'm sure you still need to get back to your books. The college exams are in a few months, aren't they?" 

I hadn’t known, but he had overheard my mother yelling at me the previous morning for spending all day with him. It hadn't stopped him from distracting me all day today though.

I nodded, swallowing nervously. I didn't want to think about my looming tests and their gravity on my future outlook. With Taehyung, I could enjoy a reprieve from it all. I didn't want him to leave.

"You'll be fine," he murmured softly, hand messily patting my head. "We'll both work hard, and we'll see each other again before we know it."

My eyes were hopeful as I looked up at his golden face. "When's the next time you'll be back?" He wasn't even gone yet, and I was already looking forward to our reunion.

"Hopefully the holidays." His mumbles were laced with uncertainty, and he tried to give me a reassuring smile. "I'll try to keep in touch, Y/N. Much more than last time."

The way he wrapped his arm around my shoulder made me almost believe he would keep his promise.

He didn't. It was only a few days after he returned to Seoul that the texts stopped coming. I wasn't surprised. From what I heard from Auntie Kim, his group was getting ready for their comeback, and I wasn't in a position to chase for replies either. I was frantically catching up with what I missed, but it didn't help that I'd occasionally get distracted by the thoughts of him already forgetting me.

The leaves turned from green to yellow, oranges, and reds before turning brown and withering off. My birthday passed uneventfully with a casual text from Taehyung. I traded in loose shorts for leggings and sweats, and pulled out my winter gear from the back of the closet. Other than my clothes, however, nothing changed much. Day in and day out, my nose was buried in textbooks, my hand deathly sore from writing notes.

It felt unreal when the examination day finally came. I woke up like any other day, but instead of heading to the school library with books in tow, I headed there with only a few last minute notes and a pencil case. Basically every other kid in my year was walking down the streets with me, hearts nervously thumping as we all knew the test we faced would determine our future.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I was reminded to turn it off. But at the sight of the familiar name that hadn't graced my screen in months, my heart fluttered.

[08:16AM] From: Taehyung Good luck genius

It was nice to think that he was somewhere in the capital city thinking about me this early in the morning. 

With a happy heart, I powered down my mobile device. Perhaps this exam would be my ticket to Seoul, a little closer to Taehyung.

[kamino-ink]

Burn | Seo Changbin

genre ⌁ vampire!au, supernatural!au, gothic horror, angst,,, angst,,, kinda fluff lmao

summary ⌁ your little brother, full of pure innocence and blooming life, was kidnapped by a cult on a remote island - your deadbeat dad doesn’t care to pay the ransom, leaving you to even make sure jeongin is still alive so you can rescue him. the cult is strange, but what’s even stranger is one of the oldest members of it - a mysterious man by the name of seo changbin.

word count ⌁ 8.3k

warning ⌁ violent at times, blood, - I mean it’s inspired by Apostle (great movie it’s on Netflix plz watch it 11/10)

Check out my masterlist!

 Luggage was a pain in the ass, to put it simply. You were forced to rummage through your closet for clothes decent enough for a destination you weren’t even sure had a proper weather broadcasting system - would it be a spot of frequent storms, or would it be covered in the shadows of thick clouds while the sun peeked weakly over the horizon? The problems of travelling to a remote island in, essentially, the middle of nowhere were agonizingly obnoxious and cruel.

 And having to carry the somewhat heavy bag all the way through the main hub of town, where most everyone recognized your face in seconds? That was pure hell - most of the time. Though, considering the circumstances in which you were leaving, the people who would probably question your motives for leaving town stood idly by on the sidewalk, watching you pass by their shadows silently. Everyone knew why you were leaving, though they didn’t expect for you to come back... alive, that is.

 “Please put your bags aside and hand us your tickets for the ship. Once we clear you, please go below deck and take a seat. We are scheduled to leave in about an hour.”

 Your solemn gaze lifts from the wooden panels of the dock at the bay, drifting towards the older gentleman stood by a shattered post that tied the small carrier vessel to the docks. His lips were curled into an oddly bright smile as he dutifully started to scan the tickets of each boarding individual, as if he was looking for something.

 Shit.

 You glanced down at your cream colored ticket, comparing it to the one the man in front of you was holding loosely behind his back. While his was quite normal in appearance, sporting the same cream color and signatures, yours had a red stamp on the bottom right corner - it was the symbol of your family name, which was always stamped onto official certificates since your family name was the one that kept the town running. Having your father as mayor was not working out for you.

 As if some other deity was looking out for your own well being, the woman behind you for some reason decided she had to shuffle through her luggage a couple feet away - though she clumsily dropped the papers she’d been holding under her arm.

 “Here, let me help.” You offer to the brunette, startling her after you’d quietly crouched down beside her arched back.

 “Thank you, mam - I accidently stuffed my cash into a pocket. I’m going to try and make a good first impression by tipping all of the staff.” She explains to you, a complete and utter stranger who is likely about to ruin any chance of her being treated as an equal on the island. Her airy voice rang in your ears as she continued to babble on and on about how excited she was to leave the mainland and join the island colony, something about her husband dying years ago and how she found solace in their scriptures.

 Well, it appears as if you were just another hurdle in her life. Since her attention was solely on finding the green wads of cash in her suitcase, the frail woman didn't even seem to notice that her ticket had been snagged under her shoe. You hoped that she wouldn’t notice how you leaned in just a bit closer, your hand going to quickly tug the slip of paper from under her foot; you switched it with your own, holding it and waiting for her to be done.

 She thanks you warmly, graciously taking what is technically your ticket before she gets back in line. Now feeling a bit more safe, you can only pray that nothing goes wrong when you calmly hand the switched ticket to the gentleman clad in a blue dress shirt and black pants. A droplet of beaded sweat dribbled down the back of your neck as you waited patiently for him to give you passage - what if you were found out? What then? Would you ever get to see your brother again-?

 “Alright mam, you’re free to board the ship. Please make sure to keep hold of your luggage during the trip.”

 You were free to go. After this ship ride to the island, you’d finally be able to start the hunt for your little brother.

 You had to find him.

 The island wasn’t as beautiful as you had been expecting it to be. Then again, you weren’t quite sure how to picture a cult running a colony all on their own.

 The coastline was small, just barely enough sand for more than four people to stand on at a time before they had to be sent uphill. The rest of the island’s otherwise sandy blemish held pillars of cracked stone, creating a sort of eerie gray wall around the bottom section of the island itself.

 The soles of your shoes sink into the grainy yellow sand as you step off of the pathetic excuse of a dock, your long trousers just short enough to not brush against the sand. Unlike most of the other passengers, you’d packed everything messily into a bag you could sling over your shoulders - which you silently patted yourself on the back for while watching as the first four struggled to roll their suitcases uphill or carry the weight of their luggage with their fingers. For a brief moment, you forget of the ticket swap, heading towards the end of the coastline towards a path of grass that led farther up the hill. Then, you look back for just a split second.

 The woman you’d switched tickets with is being held back from the crowd of new arrivals by the entire crew from the ship, the pack of them surrounding her frail figure.

 There was no time to feel guilty - you had done what you needed to do.

 Choosing to brush off any hint of guilt or pity for the widowed woman, you make your way up the hill until you’re stood beside one of the other passengers, a burly, plump man with a skewed mustache that oddly resembled a rat’s tail. Just ahead was the village, with young children running amuck and laughing freely, their parents busying themselves by doing laundry outside or chopping firewood. Not one person there seemed remotely interested in any of the new arrivals, though you didn't think it was too big of a deal. The less attention you could draw to yourself, the better.

 Eventually someone led your group of about nine people further into the village, mentioning how the church was at the very end of the stone path and the trading market had been closed down for a short while - although he neglected to explain why. Right in front of their church there was an older man with brown hair sat at a table, a single paper and pen resting neatly on it’s surface.

 “This is where you’ll tell our village leader, Junmyeon, your names and he’ll give you the keys to your rooms. Since you’re all new, you’ll be group together in a bunker of sorts - don’t worry though, you’ll be able to have your own homes soon enough.” The man hummed, gesturing for the first person to approach the leader waiting patiently at his post.

 Without thinking you step forward, not expressing any emotion as you come to the edge of the table where the leader was waiting. He looked up at you briefly, making eye contact before he grabbed his pen and started to ask questions. “What is your name?”

 “Y/N.”

 “No last name?”

 “I was in an orphanage, sir. My caregivers never told me of my surname, nor did I ever try to find it.” That little comment wasn’t too much of a lie, in all honesty - for a good majority of your life, you’d been holed up in a pathetic orphanage that didn't even have running water. Even now, as young adult, you never knew what your surname from birth had been; you’d taken the name Yang from your father, instead.

 Junmyeon nods in silence, not opting to pry further into your life story. “What can you provide for us, miss? We already have many women who do the cooking and cleaning-”

 “I can chop firewood or do construction.” You interrupt, “I am a working woman, sir. I can handle labor.”

 He pauses, quirking an eyebrow in fascination. All the other women, while extremely intelligent and hard workers, tended to choose work such as laundry or cooking simply so they could be closer to home with their children. “I can’t guarantee you’ll get a spot, but... I can have Kris evaluate how well you do with it all tomorrow.” Junmyeon slides one of the keys from the pile across the table, the dingy golden material scrapping a bit on the rough surface. “This is for the last room on the right. After you get settled, I might suggest getting to know some of the other townspeople or relaxing, as tomorrow will be the start of seeing how well you work.”

 “Thank you, sir.” You utter quietly, turning your back to him.

 “No - thank you, miss Y/N. Welcome to your new home.”

 You had concluded with very little hesitation that this place was entirely, one-hundred percent - almost normal.

 At first, mostly due to your inner rage and turmoil of knowing your brother was being kept captive somewhere on this god forsaken island, you has assumed that the cultists residing in the quaint but bustling village would be like those you read about in the storybooks your father kept in his study for church. The words scrawled along the thick paper of the books would describe in horrifying detail how cultists of any kind would make inhumane sacrifices to their deities; from cutting off the heads of lambs to burning babies alive while they chanted haunting mantras into the night sky.

 But... that didn't seem to be the case at all.

 Everyone was friendly, not one shrouded soul of anger in their midst. Many of the women in the village had made it their duty to approach you first and make good will with you, helping you adjust to life on the remote island by cooking you meals and offering to sew you new garments. One of the women, well, girls - her name was Yeri, and she was maybe a year or two younger than yourself. Each morning for the next five days she would make sure that you got out of bed and went to work (which had been approved of by the second leader, Kris) as you had a very close bond with your bed; mainly in which you never wanted to leave.

 She was Jeongin’s age, too. Every time she’d make a silly joke or play an innocent prank on one of the older women, you’d be reminded of why you’d even come here in the first place; to find your brother - hopefully alive and well.

 Though, one thing you had learned very quickly was that the village was not doing too well. Their crops would leak a sickly black goo sometimes, and a majority of their livestock would mysteriously die in the middle of the night when no one was allowed out of their rooms. You’d easily figured out that the whole ransom issue was brought on by their lack of supplies and goods, but of course that didn’t convince you to pity them any further.

 “Y/N? Aren’t you going to eat?”

 You’re snapped out of your inner monologue by Yeri, the blonde haired girl tilting her head cutely to the side in amusement. The wooden spoon held between your fingers was lifted almost instinctively up to your chapped lips at her question, as if to reassure the younger girl that you hadn’t forgotten about your meal. “Sorry, I suppose I dozed off.” You hum, quirking an eyebrow when an all too mischievous smile starts to work its way onto her pink lips.

 “You’ve been staring at him for at least two minutes, obviously you dozed off!”

 “I was not staring at anyone-”

 “Yes you were, Y/N! Now he’s staring at you, too.” A giggle escapes her lips as she discretely points across the front of her porch, directly towards the hut across from her own. Your eyes drift over to the hut, only to make sudden eye contact with a man donning a long black trench coat and beige trousers. His hair was slicked into a strange hairdo you had never seen a man sport before, part of the curled fringe swaying in the gentle wind. His eyes seem to almost glisten in the sunlight, appearing almost... red.

 And then he turns away, walking back into what you can only assume is his hut.

 You're not sure why, but small flurries of goosebumps had dotted your skin after the eye contact had been broken. You choose to ignore the chill that ran up your spine, instead glancing back over to a now widely grinning Yeri. “Who - who was that? I don’t think I’ve seen him before.”

 “Hm? Oh-! That’s Seo Changbin, he was one of the first people to come here about... I believe three years ago?”

 “Three years? He doesn’t look a day over twenty.”

 “I don’t know, honestly. Apparently he came here when he was about seventeen.”

 You nod in understanding, turning your attention back to the bowl of soup that was only growing colder the longer you waited to finish it. As you lift the spoon back to your waiting lips once more, you swear that you spot a flash of red eyes staring you down from inside the hut the man had gone into.

 Still you ignore it, sipping on your soup before it was time to go back to work.

 “You’re miss... Y/N, correct?”

 You just about jump out of your skin at the intrusion of someone's voice, low and raspy right beside you. With a turn of your head you recognize the man from before - Changbin. “Y-yes, sir. Can I... help you with anything?” The question slips past your lips easily, wondering if he was going to ask why you’d been subconsciously eyeing him down the other week.

 For some reason the man, not too much taller than you, grabs onto your shoulder and tugs you closer - to the point your chest is almost pressed against his own. Your eyes widen in shock, but he doesn’t seem to care; too focused on looking around to see if anyone was paying too much attention to the pair of you nearly inches apart. He leans down suddenly, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You would do well to inform me as to why you haven’t been participating in the bloodletting, doll. I am well aware that you’ve been taking blood from Kevin Moon’s jar.”

 Fuck, the bloodletting.

 Since this entire colony was founded upon the belief of some otherworldly deity, the townspeople had to pay their respects somehow - and in this case, they would spill some of their own blood into mason jars once a week each Sunday and place them outside of their doors, presumably so that they could offer their blood to their god.

 You... really didn't care much for their beliefs; one, because they were a goddamn cult, and two, because you believed in the supernatural before you would a bloody god. And the man was right, you’d been pouring some of your neighbor’s blood into your jar so you wouldn't have to use your own.

 “How - you have no proof, sir.” You object tersely after a moment of stunned silence. Yet he remains authentically calm, his eyes narrowed into slits as he slowly pulls his head back from beside yours.

 “Proof? Doll, I have proof that you’re Yang Jeongin’s darling big sister - would be quite a shame if Junmyeon, Kris, or Minseok found out.” He hisses, as if he was growing impatient. “Do you understand the gravity of your situation, Yang Y/N? One slip up and you could be set to be purified tonight.”

 You can feel them, the hint of tears starting to pool into the corners of your shaking eyes. How? How had you been found out? Were you too careless? Was Changbin just that good and deduced that the woman you’d switched tickets with was the innocent one in all of this? “I - please, sir, I just want my little brother back home - I beg you, don't say anything!”

 Not once did you ever picture yourself close to tears, bowing to a man you barely knew and begging for him to have mercy on you - or rather, Jeongin.

 “If you could let me finish, doll, you’d know that I have no intention of outing your sins to those men.” He murmurs, furrowing his brows in surprise when you make a move and there’s a sharp blade at his throat within seconds, just before he’d finished talking. “You couldn’t hurt me even if you tried - not with that pathetic blade, that is. Smart, though.”

 “Should you plan to keep my secret then that must mean you want something in return. Not to offend you sir, but I won’t be on my knees for a man like this.” You grovel to him, a bit of confusion squandering your brain at how he hadn't flinched or made a move to push you away.

 “While you are... extremely attractive, miss Y/N, I’m afraid that I am a good man and wouldn't ask for something so - risqué.” The dark haired man snorts, a hint of amusement painting his soft chuckle before he spoke again. “Keep that pesky blade at my throat if you might feel more comfortable, but all I ask of you is to follow me into the woods. There’s something I think you might want to see for yourself, and it involves your little brother.”

 Now that caught your attention.

 “Show me, now.”

 “Whatever you say, doll. Come along then, we need to stay out of sight...”

 You felt like you had been walking for hours, with Changbin ahead of you just by a couple feet. Your shoes crunched against the orange and yellow leaves scattered across the grassy ground of the dense woodland, the moon slowly becoming more prominent through the treetops as the sky began to grow darker.

 “Stop here. Don’t make a sound.” Changbin instructs you out of nowhere before crouching down towards the ground, seemingly shifting through the grass and colored leaves until he grabbed what looked to be a stone. You do as he advices, stopping completely in your tracks.

 His fingers grip tightly onto the gray stone in the palm of his hand, then he’s pulling his hand back and throwing the stone towards a tree trunk a few feet away. Within seconds of the stone hitting the bark covered trunk and making a loud bang, you hear another set of feet walking close by.

 From behind a tree not too far away from where the two of you stood in utter silence emerged a grotesque figure - if you could even call it that. The body, which was absolutely torn to shreds with dead skin hanging from the bones and loose organs shifting around in its gut, lurched to where the sound had come from. A bag had been tightly tied over the thing’s head, effectively covering its likely mutilated face.

 Changbin makes a sign for you to wait when he goes back to crouching where he had been just moments ago. The grass was suddenly pulled from the ground up, stuck to the top of a panel that he’d lifted up quietly. He gestures for you to go in, which you do, albeit with a bit of reluctance. You soundlessly drop down into what appears to be a short tunnel, at the end of it there was an oddly warm light seeping into the otherwise pitch black area.

 “Sorry about that little fright back there,” Changbin mutters apologetically after he’d dropped down beside you, making sure the rusty ladder hadn't broken off the rocky crevice before he goes to stand in front of you yet again, “usually I can detect when it’s around - I suppose I got distracted.” This time he glances over at you quickly, reaching down to grab your wrist with his own cold fingers.

 “What you’re about to see may feel... fake, or strange at first. But if you want your brother back you’re going to have to trust me on this entire thing.”

 A soft noise of agreement bubbles from between your lips, knowing that you didn’t have much of a choice since he knew of your deadly secret. Seemingly satisfied with your consent, the man leads you through the thin tunnel and makes sure that neither of you accidently bump into a sharp rock jutting out of the walls. You eventually reach the end of the tunnel that seems to round out at the end into a cavern of sorts, Changbin’s grip tightening slightly on your wrist as if he was... worried.

 When you walk inside the dimply lit cavern, you immediately understand why he had given you a bit of forewarning beforehand.

 The wall to the left was drowning in dying vegetation, sickly looking vines tinted an ugly gray color drooping from various cracks in the stone. A patch of once beautiful red roses hung to the cold floor, their shaky petals close to dust as they brushed against the ground with even the smallest of breaths. In the center of if all was a deathly looking boy - he couldn’t have been any older than Jeongin and Yeri, at least by much.

 His hair was an odd mix of faded orange and gray, dust riddling the top of his head like a powdered wig. His cheeks were stained with a thick layer of grime that hid what appeared to be little brown dots spread all across his nose. The corners of the boy’s lips were curled down, dried blood crusting over the chapped pink skin of his mouth.

 “C-Changbin-” You start to whisper in concern for the boy, wanting desperately to rip the plants off of his skin and rid him of all the disgusting grime riddling his body.

 The man shakes his head, letting go of your wrist as he takes a step closer to the boy, who clearly reacts to his presence and lets out a soft whine that makes you want to cry in sympathy. “This... this is their so called god. He was - part of my clan, but one day he and one of the other younger fledglings decided that they wanted to travel the world. They swore to keep in contact, but we never heard from them again - even after two years.”

 He goes to crouch in front of the boy who he knew, grimacing at his disheveled state. “Felix is his name. Jisung went with him, though I can only guess he died a long time ago, as Felix chooses not to speak of him at all. Before all of us could leave to search for the boys together, another clan attacked and destroyed our homes. I watched my only friends burn alive as they told me to run and find our boys.”

 “It took me about a year to find out that Felix had purchased a boat at the same dock you came from - it’s the only one those bastards use. I bought one as well, only to come here and find a shitty cult worshiping the corpse of my friend. Course they don’t realize that feeding him so much blood at once is only making him weaker, nor do they realize that he’s just a simple boy - not a god.”

 The boy, Felix, lets out what sounds like a strained growl at Changbin’s last statement, causing him to roll his eyes. “You may believe that you’ve been blessed by a goddess, Lix, but there is no god here. There never has been, nor will there ever be.”

 “Why can’t you just... take him away?” You ask almost inaudibly.

 “Trust me, I’ve been trying to for years now. I don’t know why, but if he leaves this cave then he starts to - to burn alive.” Changbin explains gruffly, standing from his previous position on the floor to stand by Felix’s side. “Mixing so many different blood types together and forcing him to drink it all at once is toxic to our system. There’s only so much our bodies can take. Only reason this kid is still alive is because I help him.”

 Mixed blood types? Fledglings and clans? Helping him?

 “Changbin, what - holy shit!” You nearly choke on your own breath at the sight of the man leaning down to Felix’s shoulder and sinking his teeth - no, his fangs into the boy’s graying skin. As if paralyzed in shock, you can’t move your body or your stunned gaze away, quite literally forcing yourself to keep watching as Changbin… drains blood from Felix’s body.

 When he pulls away, pearly white fangs now dripping with bright red blood, you’re quick to notice how the frail boy’s skin starts to become a bit more noticeable and clear, as if the green and black grime was slipping off of him. His hair was no mostly orange, albeit still faded, but there wasn’t any speck of gray or dust on his head. The brown spots spread across his cheeks and nose like little constellations were much more noticeable now, shining in the dim streaks of light from the single lantern hung on a crevice.

 “I take some of the blood those bastards force him to drink so that he can live even a little bit longer... I once asked him if I could just, you know...” He starts to choke up a bit, clueing you in on what he’d been suggesting. Without thinking about the fact that you’d just witnessed the man drinking blood from another person, you step close to him and comfortingly place a hand on his tense shoulder, to which he relaxes just a little. “But Lix refused, said he’d haunt me if I killed him before he decided it was his time to go. He says that he needs to wait for something, and this is where Jeongin is involved.”

 Your gaze meets the otherwise mute boy still tangled in the vegetation, which has now started to bloom again in light of being relieved of the blood. “... I’m listening.”

 “Felix says that he can sense everyone, up there, that is. He can tell that Jeongin is pure - so pure that his blood can heal this place, the island. I don’t know why Lix wants to wait, in all honesty, but... because your brother’s blood is essentially pure, a vampire would have to have the human’s consent before drinking their blood if they wanted to use that healing power for themselves.”

 Oh right, they’re vampires.

 “I know I won’t be able to convince your brother to help Felix on my own - hell I can’t rescue him by myself. He’s trapped in the church cellar, and I... can’t go in, for obvious reasons,” he sighed, running his fingers through is slicked back hair, “we can help each other, Y/N. We get your brother out, get him to feed Felix some of his blood, and my friend can finally rest. Please, for the boys.”

 Save Jeongin, help a vampire’s other vampire friend by feeding him your little brother’s blood, then leave.

 “Jeongin will listen to me, I swear it. I’ll help you - and Felix.”

 “I don’t understand why you won’t come with us, Changbin. We have a nice home in London with plenty of space.”

 Changbin sighs softly at your confused pout, reaching over to ruffle your already messy head of hair in amusement. He pulls back to grab one of the tiny carrots off of his wooden plate, effectively shoving it between your lips as if to shut you up, much to your displeasure. “I - that does sound nice, doll, but since I’ve been feeding off of Felix who’s somehow connected to this damned island, I am also connected. I’ve tried to go with the other men to get supplies from the mainland, but my skin starts to burn and peel.” He mutters, his thin lips turning into a remorseful frown.

 You wince at his sudden gloomy mood, chewing on the orange carrot before you place a hand on his thigh in comfort. “I’ll find a way to come back and take you home, I promise.”

 “Home is wherever you are, doll.” The words slip through his lips with no hints of hesitation, surprising both of you to the point you’re positive your cheeks and his resemble that of a ripe tomato. “This place... it’s hell, and I don’t want you to stay any longer than you need to - or come back. When you and Jeongin leave they’ll know who you are; if you even took a step onto the docks ever again they’d spear you without blinking.”

 “Enough of this depressing talk - let’s talk about the festival.” You respond after a moment of comfortable silence, leaning back against the wooden planks of the hut. Ever since the weeks had started to pass, you and Changbin had been devising a hopefully foolproof plan to rescue your brother and help Felix. Each passing hour, the church was guarded by two people in the front and with one guarding the door to the cellar where Jeongin was kept hidden away from the outside world. Since Changbin couldn’t step into the church himself, he had to create a plan where the guards would be gone long enough for you to sneak inside and free Jeongin - enter the festival.

 At the last day of each month, the village would throw a giant festival to celebrate their god - Felix. What made you suspicious, though, was how the leaders were really pushing the success of this particular festival, especially since they’d been struggling to have a decent harvest and everyone had to ration the meat into thin slices that barely filled anyone up. Changbin guessed that they wanted to make sure everyone was in attendance so they could search the rooms of all the newcomers without arousing suspicion themselves.

 It made sense, of course - but you’d fallen into a simple routine just like the other villagers; hell you’d moved in with Changbin after days of him insisting it was safer in case you were caught somehow. Having a vampire as your housemate was - oddly normal. He didn’t need to go prey on the villagers directly, as he got his blood supply from Felix, technically. It’s not like he was entirely different from a normal human much like yourself, although there were times where he would have to ask you to leave the room “because of your scent being too fucking strong,” whatever that meant.

 “They’re going to be having two of the regular guards out front with them while they search the rooms. We should hopefully have at least thirty minutes to maybe an hour, if we’re lucky. I don’t know how you’re going to get past the guy by the cellar door, though...”

 “I have a plan, don’t worry about it.” You reassure the quiet vampire, lowering your voice as a group of noisy kids starts to walk by the hut. “I can pick the lock on his chains and be out of there in just ten minutes, maybe fifteen if my plan doesn’t work. We need to think about how we’re going to sneak all the way to the docks.”

 Changbin hums in agreement, crossing his arms over his chest as he thinks. “Most of them will be at the festival, of course, but we do need to be as careful as possible. I’ll be on the lookout for guards when we get there.”

 “... I wish you could come with us, Changbin.” Your voice comes out a bit hoarse, raw emotion spilling into your words as you look over to the man with a somber gaze. He chuckles softly, going to wrap one of his arms around your shoulders, his cold touch comforting against your warm skin.

 “So do I, doll. So do I.”

 You weren’t too sure why you had to wear a dress to the festival - hell you were going to be leaving it as soon as Changbin gave you the signal. You look in the mirror with a huff, twirling around slightly and admiring the pretty dress clung to your body. Yeri had leant it to on behalf of her older sister, Irene, since the older woman had outgrown it over the years. It was quite cozy, being made of thicker material; faded yellow sunflowers decorated the cloth nicely, adding a pinch of uniqueness to the traditional dress.

 “You look beautiful, doll.” Changbin tells you warmly as he steps into the bedroom, going to stand just inches behind you, his soft breathing fanning out onto the top of your head. He’s wearing a simple black suit with a yellow bowtie to match your dress color, the material a bit ruffled and loose on his body; though the look suited him quite well. His normally slicked back hair was allowed to breathe for once since you’d finally convinced him to “let the natural soft hair free.”

 He looked good - too good.

 “And you look dashing, Binnie.” You hum, snickering in amusement at how his nose scrunches in a playful annoyance.

 “I told you to stop calling me that, doll,” he whines cutely, unbeknownst to himself as he drops his chin onto your shoulder, looking at your lonely reflection in the mirror, “I’m a creature of the night that feeds off of your kind’s blood, I shouldn’t have such silly petnames.”

 “It’s adorable though, Binnie~ and you’re about as intimidating as a caterpillar, by the way.” You giggle.

 He huffs in faux agitation, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “Mm, you’re adorable.”

 Your breath hitches in your throat at the compliment, and you just about choke on nothing when the vampire lets his sharp fangs trail across your neck down to your shoulder, all the way up to the strap of your dress. He repeats his actions when you say nothing in response, checking on your reflection in the mirror to make sure you aren’t showing signs of being uncomfortable; but this time around, he does it even slower and adds his lips into the mix. The sensation of his lips and fangs grazing your skin sends chills up your spine, the feeling something similar to euphoria.

 You spin yourself around so that your face is now just an inch or two away from Changbin’s, the tables being turned when he seems to stutter a bit at your close proximity.

 “Doll - I want to... to...” He tries to speak, though his small stutters are perfectly clear to you.

 “Then do it, Changbin.” You urge him on quietly, blushing furiously when you feel his chilled fingertips dig into your hips through your dress.

 “If I kiss you now, then I’ll be addicted, doll. I’ll be struggling to keep my hands off of you all night, and we have a job to do.” He breathes out against your lips, but you know full well he’s going to let it happen anyway by the way he leans in closer. “We might not see each other again after tonight, Y/N. Are you okay with that?”

 “Of course not, Binnie. I want you to come home with us - but I will find a way to bring you back one day,” you say determinedly, shushing him when he begins to protest, “no - no arguments. Just... kiss me, please.”

 “As you wish, doll.” He gulps, complying to your wish by finally closing the distance between your lips. His lips, much like the rest of his body, are frigid to the touch - but if anything it heightens the euphoric feeling more so than before, the way his cold lips move slowly against yours. Your hands find solace around his neck, with his fingertips still digging into your hips as if he’s trying to pull you even closer - it wasn't physically possible, but damn it all if he didn't try.

 You stay like that for what feels like years, slowly kissing each other and occasionally fighting for dominance, with Changbin teasingly biting down on your sensitive lips using his fangs while you would retaliate with a move to poke your tongue between his lips. All good things must come to an end, though, as made evident by the town bell ringing to let everyone know the festival was beginning. You both reluctantly pull back, your lips slightly swollen if inspected close enough.

 “Go ahead without me for now. I need to double check and make sure we have everything.” The vampire man breaks the silence, clearly resisting the urge to smash your lips together again.

 You laugh softly and peck his lips, not being as strong willed as him, before going to leave the house. “Yeri will probably try to drag me off to dance, so just look for her if you can’t find me.”

 Changbin nods in understanding, turning his back to you as he rummages through the bag.

 “Oh my gosh Y/N, you look stunning! Changbin is going to want to eat you up!”

 If only you knew, sweet little Yeri.

 “May I remind you that we live together, you silly girl?” You tease her lightheartedly, flicking her nose with a laugh as she pouts and puffs out her cheeks. While you certainly wouldn't miss the townspeople, not including Changbin and the every quiet Felix, you had a soft spot for the girl.

 The shorter girl sticks out her tongue childishly, crossing her arms as a mischievous glint flashes across her brown eyes. “You know, I bet he asked you to move in because he like-”

 “Am I interrupting, ladies?” Your savior pipes up in quiet amusement from beside you, easily wrapping a hand around your waist and giving it a gentle squeeze; everything was ready.

 Yeri blanks out for a good second, gaze snapping onto the way the man has so comfortably pulled you closer to his body. “Oh my god I have to tell Irene, she owes me now!” She squeals in excitement, turning away to sprint through the crowd and find her older sister.

 “Did they... bet on us?” You breathe out in disbelief, shaking your head fondly as the bubbly girl leaves the two of you behind.

 “It appears so, doll,” Changbin snorts, going to discretely pull you into the shadows and away from the growing crowd, “I went ahead and put the bag by the stairs leading into the front door. You do whatever you need to do, then give me the signal and I’ll toss you the bag.”

 You nod as he goes over the plan for the fifth time that same day, his arm still secured tightly at your waist even when you reach the church. “Y/N, if anything goes wrong, run out of the building so I can pummel the bastard-”

 “It’ll be just fine, Binnie. Now, shush and let me do my part.” You effectively shush him by placing yet another peck to his lips, leaving him frozen to the spot by the front door while you quietly open it and waltz inside, swaying a bit. The guard, a man you recalled to be Jackson Wang, raised his chin to come off as more intimidating while he gripped onto his spear.

 “Mam, you are not permitted to-”

 “Oh shush, Jackson,” you say snootily, boldly walking closer and closer until you’re maybe a foot away from his tense form, “you know better, call me Y/N. We are... friends, aren’t we?”

 “W-well I-”

 This is too easy.

 “Good boy, Jackson! Now, I need a favor from you tonight - and tonight only.” You hum, innocently playing with the ends of your hair. Jackson’s mouth gaped open at your sultry attitude and you could see how his grip on the metal spear loosened a bit as he started to relax with your presence - for more than obvious reasons. “You know how I live with Changbin, right? Well, the shorty is seriously strict and won’t let me have any men over - in fact, he locked the door so I couldn't bring anyone home while he’s out in the festival.”

 “But... I do know for a fact that you live alone. Maybe you could... go home and wait for me?” You ask him with a childish pout of your lips, taking it a step forward to speed up the process by placing your hands in the pockets of his dress pants. “Just one night, baby, that’s all I need... although, I might need another. And another. And another-”

 “O-okay!” The muscular guard breathes out shakily, bringing a hand to your cheek and caressing it. “Wait here for a few minutes though, okay? If Junmyeon finds out I ditched for you he’d kill me.”

 “No problem, baby. Now, shoo!” You giggle, sending him a wink as he rushes out of the church doors. You wait a moment before waving through the window, signaling Changbin to toss the bag into the now empty building. You catch it effortlessly before you open one of the hands that had been in his pockets.

 Getting the key was far too easy. Poor Jackson is going to have a shitty punishment tomorrow.

 You twist the key in the lock to the trapdoor, feeling your heartbeat start to accelerate in your chest when you flipped it open. In just seconds you’d be able to see him again - your baby brother. With that thought in mind, you practically leap down the ladder, turning to look around the extremely cramped cellar.

 “Y-Y/N?”

 God you missed his voice.

 “Jeongin - oh my god-” You rush over to him, pulling him into the tightest embrace you can muster and attempting to hold back the waterworks.

 You missed him, so much.

“How did you - why are you?” His voice is strained, likely from dehydration. You don’t fail to notice how sunken his normally plush cheeks have become, nor the creaking of his bones as you unlock his chains with a hairpin and cut off the unnecessary restrains binding his legs and wrists together with a knife from the bag.

 “Angel we need to go, but I promise I’ll tell you everything soon.” You mutter quickly, helping the malnourished boy stand from the cellar flood. He struggles to stand on his own, so you boost him up the ladder and rush to follow him. “I need you to listen to me Jeongin - I have a friend who needs your help before we leave. It’s hard to explain, but I swear no one will hurt you.”

 Jeongin nods weakly, leaning against your side for support as you lead him out of the church. “O-okay. It’ll be fine as l-long as you’re there.” He whispers hoarsely while you help him down the steps, though Changbin is quick to crouch down and force your brother onto his back.

 “Kid, wrap your arms around my neck. We gotta do this fast, alright?”

 “A-are you my sister’s boyfriend, mister?”

 “... I can see why Yeri reminds you of him, doll.” Changbin snorts under his breath, careful to look around for any stray festival goers. The two of you walk through the woods in mostly silence, with you watching Jeongin so closely you’re afraid you might burn holes into the side of his sunken face.

 “Shh, it’s close.” The vampire mutters quietly, clearly sensing the terrifying monster that protected the secret door of the tunnel close by. Since his hands are full, you opt to lean down and pick up a hefty rock, slinging it into a tree a good distance away. Almost immediately the creature wanders towards the sound, unable to see you opening the door and helping Jeongin down to the floor.

 You quickly follow him, hoisting him up with an arm while you look up and wait for Changbin to follow. He peeks over the edge, offering a cheeky smirk before he stands up to climb down.

 Bang!

 Why is there blood on your face...?

 Why was Changbin not climbing down...?

 “Y-Y/N! Run, there’s ‘nother tunnel behind the lante-” The man shouts down at you through the tunnel entrance, giving you no time to process what the ever living fuck was happening before he slammed the hatch shut.

 You can feel it - the dread seeping into your bones. The way your heart starts to clench and unclench madly in your chest even though you try your hardest to regulate your heavy breathing as you struggle to lead an exhausted Jeongin down the tunnel and into the cavern.

 You see Felix, bound in his haunting garden of half-dead plants, waiting for you to arrive. When he sees Jeongin, his white eyes start to tear up - he knows that he’ll finally be free. You help Jeongin over the bundles of flowers so Felix is close enough to reach his neck, but you hesitate a little. “Angel, are you sure? You don’t even know wh-”

 “I don’t c-care, Y/N, just let hi-him do what he needs t-to do.” He silences you with a single statement, to which you oblige. With a soft nod from the human boy, Felix sinks his fangs into his neck, letting out a whine of satisfaction - in seconds you could see the difference in how he appeared. His skin quickly changed into a honey-kissed color, his lips became smoother and red, and his normally faded orange hair brightened considerably. With a ‘pop’ he retracts his fangs, comfortably sinking into the garden that had now flourished from your brother’s blood.

 “I am a god now, you know.” He speaks up suddenly, making you jump in shock at the resounding echo of his deep voice hinted with a foreign accent. “Changbin believes me, he just never wanted to admit it.”

 You laugh in disbelief, helping Jeongin up from the flower patch. “I - I don’t understand, Felix.”

 “I could only communicate with Changbin through our vampire connection, but I was far too weak to speak properly.” He explains softly, sending Jeongin a thankful smile. “Thank you, by the way.”

 “Y-yeah, no problem.” The brunette breathes out shakily.

 Felix looks back to you, lips curling into a bittersweet frown. “He’s critically injured, but not dead. He was shot by Junmyeon, but the creature took care of that.” He lets out a soft sign, inhaling the aroma of all the flowers around him. “Before you leave, please burn me. Use the lantern - when you lift it the secret passage the leaders used will open. Changbin is waiting for you.”

 You nod in silence, helping Jeongin towards the wall. The second you take the lantern off of it’s perch another door opens, to which you gesture for the younger to go on ahead - for his sake.

 “Felix... Changbin thinks of you as his little brother, and as a big sister I can vouch for him in saying that he will miss you, a lot. Forever, actually.” You tell the boy softly, looking him in the eyes as your grip on the handle of the burning lantern tightens in sorrow. “And I just wanted to say that - that I’ll make sure to come back for him.”

 “Sweetheart, did he not tell you?” Felix asks you sincerely, rolling his eyes playfully at your confused pout. “The island is going to burn - it’s like a reset button. As I die, the island dies with me. Changbin might be able to leave before it happens but... he is destined to be the next god of this land.”

 No.

 No.

 No.

 “He’s to proud to admit that he is to be a god, and too concerned for your own well being to tell you the truth. He won’t be restrained like me - the colony did this, no one else. I was only lucky enough to be blessed by the last goddess of this land, she saved my life.”

 “Whatever happens to him, know that Changbin loves you dearly, Y/N. He never would have gone to such lengths for anyone else in his life. Now... it is time for me to rest, please.” He finishes with a warm grin, keeping eye contact with you as you raise the lantern and finally throw it onto his body and the garden surrounding him.

 You don’t stay long, worried about Jeongin and the supposedly waiting Changbin - but you do hear Felix’s last breath; a deep sigh of content.

 “Changbin you bastard!” Is the first thing you say to the bleeding vampire when you emerge from the tunnel, though you still make the effort to hoist an arm under both him and Jeongin’s shoulders. “I cannot believe you didn't tell me about the whole god situation!”

 “Damn kid, I told him not to mention it...” The injured vampire wheezes, clutching hopelessly at the gaping wound in his chest, “you need to go, the village is already burning. You have to reach the docks before the crowd does so you can both get on the ship-”

 You huff in defiance, standing up straighter as you walk faster through the woodland, smelling the burning land close behind. “I am not leaving you, Binnie. We already established this. Lix said there’s a chance we can make it before you have to stay.”

 With that final rebuttal everyone falls silent, not including the occasional grunt of pain from the vampire or the heavy breathing of your exhausted brother. Eventually you reach the top of the hill by the coastline, looking down to see that not too many other people had made it to the boat just yet - and two people were anxiously waiting just a few feet away... wait-

 “You’re finally here- oh my god, what happened?” Yeri screeches in a panic at your limping trio, going to help Jeongin even though she didn’t know who he was to you. Irene is quick to follow, adjusting Jeongin as he starts to whine in pain as well.

 “Long story, I’ll tell you later - help me get Ch- Changbin!” You’d turned your head to the side, only to watch in rising horror as he collapses from your arms onto the dead grass, a pool of his blood spilling onto his chest. You crouch down beside him, ignoring the growing blaze that only seemed to inch closer and closer with each passing second. “B-Binnie, please!”

 He takes a struggled inhale of fresh air, reaching up with a hand to brush a tear from the corner of your eye. “Yo-you have to leave m-me ‘behind, doll. Go home with-”

 “Home is wherever you are, Binnie.” You breathe out with a whimper, leaning down even closer as the flames lick the grass just a yard away.

 You can hear the other three screaming at you to hurry, but you pay then no heed - not yet. You had to taste him one more time, you had to feel him one more time - because you never wanted to forget him.

 You smash your lips onto his, crying softly as he weakly holds your cheek with his bloodied hand. An explosion of love and fireworks erupts between your moving lips, a new sort of euphoria rushing over your body. Underneath your closed eyelids, both you and Changbin’s eyes have started to glaze over in a white color. His blood, now pooling onto the grass, spurts into giant vines that burst through the ground and manage to intertwine into a protective dome around both of you and the three onlookers just inches away from helping you up.

 The fire never touches you.

[detroitbecomeyandere]

His Muse

You hummed to yourself as you climbed into the car after loading up the easels into the back, today you were making a delivery and getting to meet The Carl Manfred. Usually he sent his android out to buy supplies but something must have come up because he placed an order for delivery. You glanced at the backseat filled with two new easels and several large canvases, then again his android wouldn’t have been able to walk all of it home anyways. That was probably why you were asked to deliver it.

 You pulled up to the driveway and rang the buzzer, “Uh hi? This is y/n from Bellini’s Paints? I’m here to drop off the delivery.” You leaned your head out the window and waved at the small camera you could see pointed at the car. The gate swung open and you pulled up into the driveway. You looked around in awe, it was a beautiful house. You were so busy staring at the house and yard you almost missed Markus walking up to you.

 You gave a laugh as you waved at the android, his sweet smile always brightened your day. “Well if it isn’t my favorite customer!” He returned the smile and opened the car door for you to climb out before he turned and started to pull canvases out of the backseat.

 “Y/N, you know Carl’s your favorite customer. Not me.”

 You laughed a bit as his response. “True, but it’s not like I’ve ever met him. Have I?”

 He shook his head in response before looking at the supplies in front of the two of you. He bit his lip for a moment before looking up at you. “Well, if you don’t mind helping me take these in you could meet him?”

 You both began to pick up the supplies and walk inside, idly chatting between yourselves. Most days you would forget Markus wasn’t human, he acted so human. The only thing that always stood out to you was his kindness, that level of sincerity and compassion seemed inhuman to you. You followed behind Markus, trying not to just stop and look around in awe of your surroundings. You did however stop in your tracks as he led you in to a beautiful art room. The walls were glass and showed the backyard, you could see different paint cans everywhere and could only marvel at what looked like an artists dream room. A mechanical whirl caught your attention and you turned to see a large hydraulic lift slowly lowering down a man. Markus walked over to him and detached it from the wheelchair the man was sitting in.

 He rolled over to you, looking up at you with a crooked grin and bright blue eyes. “You must be the girl Markus has told me so much about.”

 You gave a short laugh, he knew about you? “I must be?” You turned to give Markus a questioning look. “I can’t imagine there’s much for him to say about me?”

 Carl looked over his shoulder at Markus who just gave a quick grin and resumed putting away the supplies, quickly walking over to you and relieving you of your packages. “Just that you are a thing of beauty.” He looked you up and down before he wheeled around you in a circle. You resisted the urge to turn with him. “You should come back here after work. I would love to paint you.” You felt your face flush at his words, you weren’t used to someone showing you such attention.

 You opened and closed your mouth a few times, trying to think of a response before you just shut it and nodded your head. Carl watched as Markus led you back outside. He wheeled after the two of you and waved at you before watching you back up out of the driveway.

 The rest of the day felt like it passed by in a blur, you felt your chest constrict when you clocked out and left the building to see Markus standing there. “I’m still in my uniform though?”

 Markus looked around at the different shops. “Do you live nearby?”

 You gave a half shrug, “Enough? I mean it’s not like an hour walk or anything.” You untied your apron and took off the ball cap, wrapping up the apron and then shoving it into the hat. Markus watched and waited as you shoved it all into your bag before you looked at him with a small smile. “Right, to my place for non work clothes then I guess we’re taking the bus?”

 “Lead the way.” In just under a half hour the two of you were standing outside of your apartment, you were trying not to breathe heavily from the brisk pace you had walked at. Part of you didn’t want to admit that you did live almost an hours walk away from work. You felt like he would disapprove. Which was a dumb thought, androids didn’t have emotions or opinions. They couldn’t give you the judgemental look Markus was currently giving you. He just raised an eyebrow as he watched you try to catch your breath without gasping for air. “Don’t put yourself out on my account.”

 He just sassed you. You unlocked the door and tried to take deep breaths through your nose. You felt proud of yourself for not flipping him off. His next words did make you flip him off though, “It’s rather… small.” He looked around the place, taking in the coffee table cluttered with homework from several classes, the stack of laundry you were supposed to fold last night but got caught up doing homework instead. He looked up to see you flipping him off. “That wasn’t supposed to be so offensive, I apologize.”

 You finally put down your hands and you shrugged, “I’m a broke-ass college student. Just be glad I don’t have 5 roommates. Thankfully the job pays well enough for me to afford rent on my own.” You paused and tilted your head, “Well- jobs. Just so you know, it’s a good thing you caught me on a weekday. Weekends are spent cleaning houses of rich snobs who don’t trust androids.”

 He glanced around at the books and papers out on the coffee table. “You’re studying AIs and Robotic Engineering?”

 “Yup! I’m hoping to be the next Kamski!” Markus found himself smiling at the way your eyes lit up at the topic. “But first, lemme go find my nice clothes. I think I have some stuffed in the closet.” Markus went to follow you to the bedroom when you turned and stopped him by putting your hands up. “Alone. I will go and get changed alone. You can wait out here.”

 Markus walked back to the living room as you closed the door, he looked around the apartment. It wasn’t messy, just cramped. In fact the most mess you seemed to have was the homework all over the coffee table. Markus sat down on the couch and began to fold your laundry as he waited for you. He heard the door open and close and turned to see you in a nice blouse and slacks. “You’re touching my laundry.”

 “It seemed the only thing you needed help with. Should I have left it?” You nodded and then just shook your head at him before slipping flats on and running your fingers through your hair. He stood up and looked over your clothes, walking around you in a circle much like Carl earlier. “Is that a corset you’re wearing under that?”

 You patted down the shirt, wondering if it stuck out somehow. “Should I take it off? I like how I look in it.”

 “It’s fine. We should head out now.” The two of you walked over to the bus stop, you turned and gave a small frown at Markus as he stepped into the Androids only section. You walked further back so only the line separated you two. He didn’t say anything, just gave you a confused expression as the two of you stood in the bus.

 The two of you stood in silence as the bus took you to Lafayette Ave. When you reached the stop Markus turned to walk off the bus and you hurried after him, still trying to not stare around in awe at the house. Markus guided you back into the same art room you had seen Carl in before. He turned away from his current painting to give you a smile.

 “Come on, let’s go to a different room. I’ll just get a sketch of you tonight, you never want to rush a work of art you know.” You smiled politely and were led into another room. You couldn’t help but gaze in wonder at the tall bookshelves. “You act like Alice in Wonderland with the way you’re gazing about.”

 You felt the heat rush to your face, “Sorry.” The word tumbled out of your mouth and you nervously smoothed down your shirt as you looked around some more. “I guess I do feel a bit like her. I’d never imagine myself in a place this nice in a million years.” You walked up to a tall stuffed giraffe, your hand pausing just an inch from it before you changed your mind and stepped back.

 “It’s alright to be curious. Could you sit on the couch? Markus hand her a book. Thank you.” You smiled at Markus as he handed you a book, an actual hardcover book . You glanced over at Carl, “Don’t sit so stiffly doll. You can relax. Sit like you usually do and hold the book open.” You slipped off your shoes and curled one leg under you before opening the book, taking a moment to just take in the old book smell. You closed your eyes and smiled, thinking of the books your grandparents used to have. The ones your parents had when you were just a kid, before they started moving around and switching everything to digital for the convenience. After a moment you opened your eyes and felt your face heating up again. Carl was quietly looking up at you as he sketched, but Markus was looking at you in wonder. He probably didn’t understand scent memory or how sentimental humans could be. Then again, as he walked behind Carl and watched him sketch you, you felt yourself smiling because maybe he did understand sentiment.

 You started to read the book, just listening to the sounds of the fire crackling and the sound of his pencil going over the paper to your side. Occasionally he would wheel his chair over to a slightly different spot and continue from there. After a little while you glanced up from the book and jumped a little when you saw Carl was sitting much closer to you. He just gave you a warm smile and resumed his work. “Could you move and sit on the longue?” You closed the book and put it down before standing up and walking over. “Now turn your head and look out the window. Just over your shoulder. Like that.” You stayed in the position, placing both hands on your lap and thankfully not twitching when Carl reached over and pushed your hair back behind your shoulders. If it had been a younger man you would have said he was flirting with you. Soft lingering touches were how he positioned you perfectly before being satisfied with the position.

 After what felt like too long he spoke again, “Done for tonight. I’m sure you must be famished. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

 You almost said no out of instinct but thought of what was even in your pantry at the moment. And since you couldn’t recall and it was another few days before your next paycheck you knew you shouldn’t turn down a free meal. “Sure thing Carl.” You stood back up, brushing down your shirt again. The two of you enjoyed a pleasant dinner together, Markus was playing piano while the two of you talked. You found yourself telling him about your studies and how you tried to balance two jobs and school at the same time and how you wondered how you still managed to stay sane with all of that.

 He frowned a bit when you told him about your second job and how you hated it but you really didn’t have a flexible enough schedule to afford a better second job. “This could be your job.” You froze, wondering if you heard him correctly.

 “What.” You grimaced at the response, but it sounded unbelievable.

 “Quit that job, take less time at Bellini’s, spend more time studying and focusing on what’s important to you.” He reached over and grasped your hand with his own, looking up at you with a soft smile that just asked for you to trust him.

 “I- I don’t know what to say.” You really didn’t, you just met him today and he wanted to hire you as a model? You pulled your hand back from his gently and looked down at your figure. Self-deprecating thoughts filled your mind and you bit your lip to keep from saying them.

 He just smiled at you before picking his cutlery back up. “Say you’ll think about it at least.” You gnawed on your lip as you thought about it. Your thoughts went back and forth on the issue, it couldn’t hurt to take him up on his offer. Could it? He seemed like a nice old man. Harmless even. He was very sweet and really, who would pass up an opportunity like this?

 You nodded to yourself as you made up your mind. “I will then Mr. Manfred.”

 “Call me Carl y/n.”

—

Sugar Daddy Carl is 😩💦👅🤤👌🏻

Always a pleasure doing business with you, Rook!

•Mod Kylie•

[shadowofthelamp]

Mysteries and Memories

Summary:  Other Yugi is curious about his past, and Ryou is interested in both the history of the Items and the fact that he’s a ghost. They decide to talk.

Would you believe I’ve been floating around an idea like this for more than a year? And then I just wrote it out in like an hour at 2am last night and edited it up now. Just go for it, kids. I really like how this came out- I feel actually pretty confident about the characterization, which is nice.

Comments/reblogs//replies/tags are super appreciated!

AO3 Link

Wordcount: 1903

Warnings: None

Ship: Light Other Yugi/Ryou.

“Hello?”

Ryou straightened up as he heard a voice.

“Yugi?”

“It’s… me.”

“Oh, other Yugi then.” Ryou hurried over to unlock the door. “So you wanted to take my offer?”

When he was flustered and glancing away, it was remarkable how little you one could tell him and Yugi apart. They shared a body, of course, but usually Ryou had seen him in duels- confident, ramrod straight, with a barking voice and a confident smirk. Now, he didn’t seem to know what to do. Other than a slight correction of the slouch Yugi always had (really, didn’t he hate being seen as short, why would he slouch, Ryou wondered) the only difference was the way his bangs stuck up like static electricity and how the Puzzle hummed like static from a TV.

“Yes, I… if there’s anything you can do to help, it would be appreciated.”

“Come on in.” Ryou nudged the house slippers towards him with his toe. “I left the Ring in my closet- he didn’t like you being here, but as long as you don’t rob me blind, he’ll just have to deal.”

“I would never-!”

Ryou waved a hand. “Joking, joking. I made some tea so we can talk.” Other Yugi just blinked at that.

“…Okay.” He untied his shoes, then slid the slippers on, plodding into Ryou’s apartment. “It’s kind of a mess in here.”

“I’d say it usually isn’t like this, but it is. It’s livable.” Ryou shrugged. “He doesn’t exactly care about keeping tidy, but as long as he doesn’t cause any more trouble, I’ll let a few dirty dishes slide. Didn’t he help Yugi the other day, when I woke up at the Black Clown?”

“The experience is… fuzzy, but he did.” Other Yugi confirmed.

“See? He’s getting better.” Ryou poured the tea into two glasses. “Sugar?”

“I’ll have one.” Other Yugi sat down, and Ryou plopped a little cube into his drink, before adding two to his own, stirring it around.

“So. You want answers.”

“The Spirit of the Ring seems to have some and I… we don’t exactly get along.” He said slowly.

“I’ve noticed.” Ryou said dryly. “But that puts us on the same playing field- I keep wearing the Ring both because he’s starting to be a bit less of an ass after I helped beat him in the Monster World game, and because I want answers. About who you two are, where the Items came from, anything either of you can give me. If I help you find out who and what you are, then I get what I want.” He leaned forward across the table. “So. Is there anything you remember? Anything at all?”

“I thought I was Yugi for… six months, was it? There was always an itching feeling in the back of my neck that something was off, but he called me out in moments of stress, so all I wanted to do was solve the problem. I had access to his memories, and I assumed any confusion was just due to the fact that I was close to being hurt or something was hurting my friends.” He fiddled with the chain of the Puzzle, links clicking against each other.

“I’m pretty sure he mine knew he was different- he seemed to know you existed, anyways.” Ryou said. “He was trying to impress me, in some weird way. I would have preferred chocolates instead of people in comas, but eh. Live and learn.” Ryou cleared his throat.

“So, he had some idea that he was a separate consciousness, a different soul. He still hasn’t given me a name to call him, though, so although he pretends he’s just holding it back, he doesn’t remember everything either.” He took a sip of his tea. “Let’s lay out what we know. The Items are from Egypt. He’s said he was a robber, stealing valuables like them, and that you were… some kind of protector of them, maybe?”

“That would make sense, but Shadi seems to have that part covered.” He Other Yugi stirred the cubes of sugar, watching them dissolve as heat radiated from the tea. “Sometimes, when the light hit my hands wrong, Yugi’s bracelets and pale skin looked wrong off , like I was wearing a costume. I’m fairly certain I had dark skin.”

Ryou pulled out a small notepad and scribbled that down. “Is there anything else?”

He drummed the nail of his index finger against the table in a sharp staccato. “If there is anything, it’s as if it disappears as soon as I’m aware of it. My soul room is a giant maze, and if I ever find anything, it’s locked away the next time I turn around. It’s frustrating, to say the least.”

“I can imagine.” Ryou said, scratching his pen against the paper. It was something, at least- he’d never seen any soul rooms besides his own. Were they all different or was that something to do with being inside of an Item? Goodness knew that he’d never gotten past the black hole that was the Ring Spirit’s front door, and he’d lost more than a few pieces of soul room that he’d prodded at it with trying. “Your room’s a maze- have you ever tried changing it?”

He nodded. “A few times, but it’s stubborn. I’m in a Puzzle, after all, and it doesn’t like trying to change the rules. What little I can do is always set back once Yugi and I switch, and it’s never more than the entrance.”

“All right, I’m going to try something.” Ryou stood up, walking over to his room and nudging a tall basket full of laundry with his hip on the way. Other Yugi sipped at his tea, looking around the apartment.

Ryou had a video game system set up, as well as notebooks open everywhere. From what he could see, they all had either writings or drawings, probably of Monster World campaigns. He still had the transparent glass cube that had all of them together in it, with Other Yugi holding up a die.

Huh. Either Ryou had fought to keep it or the Ring spirit didn’t care to throw it away. Either one was probably a good sign.

“Found it!” Ryou came out waving a small device that looked sort of like a remote control. It had some colors on the top, set up like piano keys.

“What’s that?”

“An EMF detector. Really, this is more for curiosity’s sake than anything- it helps detect electromagnetic field radiation.”

He just stared blankly at him.

“You can use it to sense a lot of stuff, but right now, it’s useful because it can sense ghosts. I’m just curious how strongly it will detect you, since you’re technically a ghost possessing Yugi right now. The Ring makes it go off even when I’m not wearing it.”

“Huh.” He tilted his head as Ryou approached, and he heard a crackling noise.

“Yep, it’s going to yellow, it can definitely- oh.” He was right in front of Other Yugi now, and the needle strained at red, making an angry buzzing noise. “Huh. I guess it’s stronger when it’s an active possession.”

“I’m not possessing- ”

“I know, I know, you both consented and all that. Still, it was at the edge of pink with the Ring, it’s definitely deep in the red with you. I’ve never tried it when the Ring was on. Maybe this thing isn’t used to active shadow magic?” Ryou hit the side of it, and it started smoking. “Oh. Guess so.” He started walking backwards, and nearly tripped over a chunk of solid foam. Other Yugi jumped up, moving to grab him, when Ryou backed up. “I’m fine! I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I do really need to clean up in here one of these days…” He blew up at his bangs , to get them out of his eyes, turning to walk a few steps and then tossing the EMF meter onto his bed. “Is Yugi watching? I usually don’t,   the Ring spirit gets prickly sometimes if I get in on his time.”

“Not today, but usually.” Other Yugi said. “He said he’d like me to have my space about this.”

“Oh. Well, that was nice of him.” Ryou looked around. “I don’t exactly have much else to offer… want to play a round of duel monsters? No death games or anything, but I didn’t get to play at all during Duelist Kingdom.”

Other Yugi felt around in his pockets. “Let me- ah!” He pulled out his deck. “Yugi usually keeps it in his jacket.”

“Dork.” Ryou said, as if he wasn’t grinning and two feet away from a half-built scale model of a medieval castle.

As it turned out, Ryou was just as ruthless in gaming as the Ring Spirit- if his reckless bravery during the Monster World incident hadn’t convinced Other Yugi of it, this would have done it. He played innocent at first, but used Dark Necrofear to turn his Dark Magician against him. That caused another twinge in his chest, but he wasn’t quite sure why.

“And with dark magic burning, I take out the rest of your life points.” He grinned, shifting the Dark Magician card with the pad of his thumb.

“That was well-played.”

“Well, I got lucky- you had a bad hand at the end there. But yeah, I did pretty well.” He beamed, clearly proud. “Did you get a time limit?”

He glanced at his watch. “Yugi said just be back at the shop by dinner.”

“You should probably go, then.” Ryou handed back the Dark Magician and started collecting his cards.

“I noticed something. When you took the Dark Magician, I… I felt something. I think there’s something with that card.”

Ryou nodded. “I’ll add it to my notes. Just tell me if you come up with anything.” He sighed. “He has a card like that too. Whatever I know, he’ll know, but I don’t think there’s anything you told me that he’d really be able to get much use out of.”

“I appreciate your help anyhow.” He bowed his head, and Ryou reciprocated. “Besides, it was… nice, to not have to deal with life-or-death situations.”

“Don’t I know the feeling. Tell Yugi that either of you are welcome, as long as you call first.” Ryou said, sliding his deck back into its case.

He smiled, setting his own deck back into place. “I’ll be sure to pass it along.”

Ryou rubbed the back of his neck. “And… it was kind of nice, hanging out. After everything with people falling into comas, I kind of backed down on casual friends. This wasn’t as bad as it could have been.”

Other Yugi laughed at that. “I’ll take ‘not a disaster’. We’ll see you at school.”

Ryou smiled, and it was a little crooked but a lot charming. Somehow, in the back of his mind, he saw how girls flocked to him. He had a kind of effortless charm that he buried under a quick dark wit and a tendency to get lost in his own head, if the times he’d showed up late for class due to ‘campaign planning’ was any indication. “See you.”

Other Yugi was caught up in thought enough that he almost forgot his sneakers at the door and left in the slippers, which made Ryou laugh.

He liked the sound.

[katecarteir]

In Just Four Minutes | Chapter Two

“Ed, Edd and Eddy,” Richie cupped Eddie’s chin and shook Eddie’s head from side to side. “First lesson; Stop asking what we’re allowed to do, and start thinking about what we are capable of doing.”

Eddie cocked his brow. “I thought lesson one was you can be whoever you want to be.”

Richie tapped his nose twice then pointed at Eddie with a smirk. “No, no, my love. That is overall course outcome. These lessons are just getting you there.”

[or: Eddie Kaspbrak hadn’t planned on being an absolute cliche the fell in love with his college dorm mate, but ain’t that just the way. To add insult to injury, said room mate has a girlfriend … doesn’t he?]

“Hey, Eds.” Richie called over from his bed. It had been nearly two weeks since Eddie and Richie had become room mates, and Richie didn’t seem to much hesitation to settling in. His side of the room already seemed like a bomb had gone off in it. Granted, it had looked like on move-in day, but Eddie had let himself believe that it was because Richie hadn’t fully unpacked yet. Eddie’s hopes had clearly been misplaced, as Richie’s side of the room had only gotten worse as the days progressed.

It seemed, that in truth, Richie just owned too much shit. He had three cell phones, one which looked as though his parents had purchased for him in the seventh grade that was pink for some odd reason, a basic looking Android with a screen so shattered that Eddie was afraid to even pick it up, and the iPhone that Richie actually used. He had a broken in half skateboard shoved under his bed, and roughly 78 pairs of snapbacks though Eddie had never seen him wear one. Most alarming maybe, was the several pairs of bras that likely belonged to Richie’s girlfriend, though Richie had seemed horrified and uncomfortable when Eddie suggested that Richie just return them to her in order to clear out room in his drawers.

Eddie found the clutter not as bad as he would have expected to. He told himself that it least the mess was just Richie’s things- it wasn’t garbage or rotted food or anything disgusting. He could deal with Richie keeping clean clothes in a laundry basket because his closet was too full. He could.

“Eddie!” Richie cried again, dragging Eddie out from his inner rambles. Eddie turned to his room mate, who was seated on a giant purple bean bag chair on top of his bed. It was a compromise, from when Eddie told him there was no room for it on the floor. “Come look at posters with me!”

“Posters?” Eddie asked, pushing his laptop off his lap and moving towards Richie’s bed. “Are we allowed to put up posers? I thought we weren’t supposed to damage the walls.”

Richie grinned up at him. “We can put up anything on the walls, so long as when we leave it looks like we’d never been here. We can put up posters using sticky tact- then pray to whatever Gods we believe in that it doesn’t rip the paint off. Personally, I’m a fan of the Greek gods, you know? I’m big up in that Percy Jackson fandom. I just think it’s neat…”

Eddie raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips together to keep from grinning too obviously. There was a lot of things Eddie Kaspbrak liked about his room mate. He liked how Richie wasn’t that much taller than him, he liked that Richie seemed to have absolutely no upper body strength and therefore needed to Eddie to open jars and lift things for him, and he even liked how Richie’s hair never seemed to be the same kind of curly two days in a row. But he found that he especially liked how Richie could just… talk… for hours. Jumping from one subject to the next, throwing in jokes and sometimes not even knowing how he’d gotten to the talking point he was at. Eddie had never been particularly good at keeping up a conversation, and with Richie that was never a problem. And it was never quiet for long.

“Anyway!” Richie laughed, doing that thing where his voice jumped a couple of octaves for no obvious reason that Eddie could see. Richie’s cheeks always turned a little pinker after it happened, and it made Eddie want to reach out and poke them. “I was looking at posters, and I was thinking that like we could do some pride ones? Subtly though, you know… not a giant ass pride flag on the wall! Unless you want that..”

Eddie frowned. “Why would we get pride posters? I mean, you don’t have to do that just for me.” Richie’s eyes seemed to freeze, pursing his lips out and tilting his head a little bit while still staring at his computer screen. “I mean, I appreciate it, really. But I was like the only gay kid back home, I’m used it. We don’t need to go all out.”

Richie turned to Eddie and his smile seemed just that much more forced. “All the more reason to go all out! This is college, my man! Run down the halls in nothing more than your underwear and a pride flag as cape! Pain your nails or like… fuck I don’t know. But there’s nobody here to tell you who you’re supposed to be. That’s what’s so great about it. You can be anybody.”

Eddie could take back all his lists of things he liked about Richie Tozier: his overexcited and unconditional acceptance of anything and everything was Eddie’s favourite part. Unable to keep his usual chill, Eddie leaned down and pressed his head against the middle of Richie’s arm. He resented that stupid on-the-bed bean bag chair that made Richie too high up for Eddie to rest his head comfortably on his shoulder.  

“You’re probably the most accepting person I’ve ever met,” Eddie said, mouth moving faster than his brain. “You know, back home, I was The Gay Kid. Nobody else was out or anything. So like, everybody made this big show of being accepting of me because it made them feel better about themselves. Like, they are homophobic if they don’t openly treat me like shit. But they always made a big deal about accepting me for being gay instead of just… accepting it and moving on. Even my best friend, you know, but I guess Bill tried. He was just straight.”

Richie chuckled, reaching up to pat at Eddie’s forehead without looking away from his computer. “I grew up in California, so I feel like maybe we were a little bit more accepting. It was pretty chill to be gay, I knew a lot of gay people. My best friend is gay, and pretty much everybody we hung around with. The gay table. But anything more ‘complicated’ then gay or straight was pretty taboo. Which was… hard. I hated that shit.”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, that stuff wasn’t even allowed to be talked about. Gay was hard enough for people in good ol’ Maine to understand. My mom sure like to believe in bisexuality though, when I told her I was gay. It was like bisexuality was a compromise, not it’s own thing.”

Richie rolled his eyes, and shifted so that Eddie was forced to sit up. “This is way heavy,” Richie chuckled, clearing his throat and scratching at his chin. “Big sad hours in the Reddie dorm! Have you been up on the roof?”

Eddie blinked. “I… Didn’t know we were allowed to be on the dorm roof.”

“Ed, Edd and Eddy,” Richie cupped Eddie’s chin and shook Eddie’s head from side to side. “First lesson; Stop asking what we’re allowed to do, and start thinking about what we are capable of doing.”

Eddie cocked his brow. “I thought lesson one was you can be whoever you want to be.”

Richie tapped his nose twice then pointed at Eddie with a smirk. “No, no, my love. That is overall course outcome. These lessons are just getting you there.” Richie dropped down onto his knees and fiddling around his bed until he pulled out a small metal box with a combination lock. Frowning in confusion, Eddie watched him type in the combination and pop it open. He didn’t understand what was happening until Richie pulled out a plastic baggie that was just a little too full.

“Lesson 1.5,” Richie said with a grin. “Participation completely optional.”

Eddie swallowed roughly, looking at the bag. He had seen his fair share of 1990s after-school specials. He’d made it all the way through middle school and high school without ever being offered weed, never even seeing it outside of television. He cleared his throat and frowned once more, before looking up from the bag and meeting Richie’s gaze. There was something in Richie’s face, maybe the freckles on his nose or the way his eyes danced behind his stupid glasses, but Eddie sort of felt like he’d never trusted anybody more. Richie would never suggest he do anything that would hurt him, Eddie knew that.

“Alright,” Eddie said with a soft laugh. “Let’s go. Why the fuck not?”

Richie let out a squeaky, excited noise and jumped up. He took hold of Eddie’s arm and pulled him to his feet. Eddie swayed slightly, stumbling towards Richie. Richie grabbed hold of Eddie’s waist and held him still before their chests could end pressed together and knocking them to the ground. Richie stared down at him with wide, almost panicked eyes and Eddie swallowed roughly.

“Is.. uh…” Eddie freed himself from Richie’s hold and took two steps back, positive that he was blushing. “Are you going to invite your girlfriend?”

Richie blinked then crinkled his nose up. “Do you… want me to invite Bev? Granted, she’d definitely bring her own weed so that would be like double if you think you’re going to smoke a lot but I doubt you will. If you’ve never done it before- you’ve never, right? I’m just guessing by the look on your face when you saw it but if you haven’t done it before, and you do too much then you’ll green out and that’s disgusting. You seem like the kind of guy who can’t deal with vomit at all. Stan’s like that, you know? Hates the stuff. But yeah, Bev always brings her own weed, it’s like my favourite thing about her.”

Eddie shook his head, frowning. “That’s your favourite thing about her?”

“Well. That and all the other stuff, obviously.” Richie said with a shrug, the blush on his face giving away his embarrassment. Eddie mentally added this to ever-growing list of things about his room mate that just made no goddamn sense at all. “Let’s go, Eds.”

Eddie followed Richie as he skipped out of the room, still shaking his head.

xxx

“This is the building Bev lived in last year,” Richie said happily, speaking over his shoulder as he guided Eddie up the set of stairs that he definitely hadn’t noticed before. “She, Stan and Mike got into one of those non-school funded buildings, one of the really nice ones by the Chem buildings. Apparently, that’s like the hardest one to move into so it’s really impressive that they got in. Stan and Mike acted all butt hurt when they were only offered a two-bedroom because they’d have to share, but that was before they came out as a couple- even though we’d known for months they were together- so it was all just a show.”

“Why didn’t you get a place with them?” Eddie asked, fiddling with the zipper on his hoodie. It was a little bit too warm to be wearing it, but Richie had stuffed the weed into his pockets so Eddie hadn’t had much of a choice in the matter.

“Eh…” Richie said, uncommittedly, with a shrug. “I have a full ride here, so part of the deal with the school is that I have to live on-res for my first year. It’s not so bad, though. I’m kind of glad.”

Eddie laughed in disbelief as he and Richie sat down crossed legged on the gravel roof top. He pulled the weed and papers and a small metal circular thing that Eddie couldn’t even begin to guess what it was, and handed them to Richie. “You’re glad you have to stay in some nasty college dorm instead of a fancy apartment with your best friends and girlfriend?”

Richie took some of the weed and dropped into the metal circle, pressing the lid back on and quickly grinding the top and bottom together. He finished, then looked up at Eddie with a small smile. “Yeah. Because if I hadn’t been forced to dorm, then I wouldn’t have met you, Eds.”

Eddie bit down on his lip, trying not to burn Richie with the force of the beam he wanted to let out, and watched Richie take the grinded up weed out of the metal circle and pressing into the rolling papers.  

“Okay,” Richie said, holding the finished joint out in front of him. “Sometimes I get… a little weird. So if anything goes… weird… just take out my cell and call Bev. She’ll know what to do.”

Eddie stared at Richie with wide eyes. “Weird how exactly?”

Richie shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “Oh, you know… I sometimes get pretty spaced out and drift away from reality a little bit when I’m high.”

“That doesn’t sound normal. Is that normal?” Eddie asked, hearing the nervous pitch in his voice. Richie just grinned at him.

“Nothing about me is normal, man. You’ll have to learn that. Lesson 0.”

Eddie chuckled and watched as Richie lit the joint up.

Eddie was a little surprised at how it felt. If it wasn’t for the way his head seemed to float when he moved, or how his legs would occasionally twitch out of his control, he wouldn’t have known he was high at all. Maybe his blinking was a little slow, eyes staying closed a little bit too long, but it wasn’t anything like the terrifying experiences that day time television show cased.

Richie hadn’t seemed to have slipped out of reality like he’d warned that he might. He was laying flat on his back, head resting in Eddie’s lap, slowly working at the second joint that Eddie had declined, and talking a good mile a minute. Eddie wasn’t sure what he was talking about now. It had been penguins at one point, but Eddie was pretty sure he’d just heard something about guitar.

“Eds… EdsEdsEds…” Richie was suddenly swatting his hand against Eddie’s nose and giggling. “EDDIE. Do you want to go get Chinese food? There’s this great little place downtown, it’s so fucking amazing, best Chinese food in all of Cali I fucking promise. Do you want Chinese food? I really fucking want Chinese food right now, dude. Fuck.”

Eddie giggled and knocked Richie’s slapping hand away from his face. “I don’t think I can walk anyway. My legs keep twitching.”

Richie hummed, letting his eyes fluttering shut. “You’re zooming, bud. That’s the fucking best.”

Eddie laughed again. “I’m what? What is that?” He asked but Richie was already flipping onto his stomach and looking up at Eddie with wide, hopeful eyes.

“What if I…” Richie asked, staring up at him, completely unwavering. It was the longest that Eddie had ever seen Richie make eye contact with somebody. “I can call Bev, get her to bring us Chinese up here? Then you don’t have to walk and we can still get Chinese food.”

Eddie hadn’t been hungry before, but now that it seemed as though Richie had said “Chinese food” about fifteen times in the last minute, he couldn’t deny that it sounded really fucking good. “Yeah, yeah, alright,” he said, petting mindlessly at the side of Richie’s face.

“Hey…Richie,” Eddie said because… well, fuck, Eddie didn’t know why he was saying it. Maybe he was way higher than he thought. Was weed like alcohol? Did it make just blurt out the most random of things that you should definitely never ask? “Are you in love with Bev?”

Richie blinked up at him. Eddie startled at his own question and moved to pull his hand away. Richie let out a pitiful whine and took Eddie’s hand and brought back to the side of his face. Richie didn’t answer until Eddie resumed petting at him. “I love Beverly very much…” He said sleepily. Eddie frowned, knowing that was not the answer to his question. He found though, that he couldn’t focus on having a conversation and petting Richie’s face.

He still petting Richie when the door to the roof knocked open. Eddie didn’t even have the chance to be concerned before he was seeing Mike carrying two brown paper bags of Chinese food with Beverly perched on his shoulders.

It wasn’t until they were walking back into their dorm room when the darkness had overcome the roof, and Eddie had lost his high but Richie was still slightly out of it, that Eddie found himself thinking about how Richie hadn’t answered the question. Richie came to stand at the end of Eddie’s bed and smiled at him bashfully.

“Can I get in with you?’ Richie asked, with a small smile. “Sorry, I get really cuddley when I start to come down. And sleepy.”

Eddie wondered to himself then, that they’d just been with Beverly. If Richie had known he’d want to cuddle when he got back, then why didn’t he just go home with his girlfriend? But Eddie was a simple man, with simple needs, so he lifted the blankets and let Richie crawl in beside him.

[feelingsdusk-writes]

Fides

Chapter 3

Stiles hasn’t slept a wink. His head is pounding a little bit and his eyes are tight and stinging. He’s been thinking about what to do and he still feels conflicted even after so many hours mulling over it. He turns in bed to glare at the glowing numbers of the clock in his nightstand. The alarm will go off in less than an hour and he resists the need to growl in frustration.

He just doesn’t understand. He’s a good kid. His room is clean and tidy, hell, the whole house is. He does the laundry, buys the groceries and cooks. He has either the best or one of the best grades of his whole year. What twelve-year-old does all that? What's more, what twelve-year-old with ADHD does that? And ok, he sometimes hacks to dig dirt and take revenge when people mess with him, but that’s just self-defense, because he’s never gone after anyone that hadn’t gone after him first. More importantly to the case at hand, he’s never been caught, not even when he acted all crazy when he was eight and his schoolmates behaved like it was the hunting season of the one-of-a-kind specimen named Stiles. Whatever he does, he always makes sure that there’s no way it could be traced back to him, that he has such an airtight alibi that it would be absurd to think it was him. Which means that his dad doesn’t know about that and he’s never been called to the school before yesterday. So why? Why is he so ready to not trust Stiles? If he hasn’t given him any real reason to distrust him, is it because he’s a cop and that general attitude is always seeping through the cracks until it taints his personal life too? He doesn’t understand and it’s exhausting, because letting all those assholes at school walk over him until nothing remains is not an option and he doesn’t know what else he can do to make things better with his dad.

(And, honestly, he’s starting, slowly, very slowly, to not give a damn.)

(Even though he doesn’t want to even contemplate that terrifying possibility because his dad is the only one he has left.)

One part of Stiles (the part that is brimming with resentment and anger about how things have been since his mom died) wants to just defy his dad with a cynical oops, sorry, I forgot to set the alarm. That part of him also wants to just send everything to hell and start giving his dad a real reason to distrust him, forcing the man to feel deeply the absence of everything that he has been overlooking or maybe taking for granted every single day ever since Stiles started taking care of almost everything around the house.

The other part of him (a colder, calmer and more practical one) knows how to pick his battles and also that this isn’t one that he can win. That part of him also realizes that if the general situation he lives in (with only those little sporadic fights against his dad) exhausts him, being in constant battle would be unbearable. Especially since he’s not on equal footing and his dad holds all the power. It would be like one man going against an imperium, and even though in movies that works, he’s more than mature enough to know who would win in his case.

Still, it rankles that there’s no way he can turn the whole situation in his favor unless he gets the twins to confess. Even if he aces the exam today, his dad is so convinced that he cheated that he’ll think that he busted his ass off studying and then left the textbook back on the kitchen table just for show. Or if he doesn’t think that, he’ll see his face this morning and think that he spent the whole night awake studying. He regrets so much not getting up to throw the textbook out of his room… except that wouldn’t have gone well either because it would have been like a declaration of war.

One thing is for sure, even if he can’t get the twins to confess, he’s going to make them regret it with every fiber of their beings.

Hah! Who is he kidding? He’s so pissed off that he’s going to do that either way.

Stiles sighs and reaches to turn off the alarm before it can even sound. He rubs his face frustrated and then heaves himself up with a grunt. As he does so, small dimly glowing dots start coming from inside the terrarium. A tiny part of him wonders about the magic they’ve used on the terrarium that makes it so that the glow they emit can’t be seen when they’re inside, but he dismisses the thought, too tired to care about that right now.

Odette barrels into his face and it takes him a moment to process that she’s hugging him. Ehaldun hovers behind her shyly, prompting a fond smile out of Stiles. He raises his hand and the kid first pries his sister from Stiles’ cheek and gives him a quick hug before making her sit with him on his palm.

“How are you?” he murmurs softly as he crosses his legs to sit more comfortably. “Did she hurt you?”

“Thankfully it was nothing but a scare, Stiles,” Eglantine interrupts before they can answer, gliding closer until she stands on his palm too. She keeps reaching to touch her children, as if to reassure herself. “We arrived before she could do more. But you need to be careful, she’s really dangerous.”

“I gathered that,” he nods frowning. Just what he needs today, more problems. Awesome.

“She’s a huntress,” Lorelle interjects as she comes near with Aelfdene in tow. Both elders look grim and wary. They keep exchanging covert looks that put Stiles instantly on edge.

“A huntress… of supernaturals, you mean,” he guesses instantly and the elders nod. And that’s bad news because if Stiles is really a spark, that means that he’s a supernatural too, and therefore that places him within their sights. “Is it some kind of sport for them? Or a crusade?”

“For some it’s both. We’re abominations to them,” the elder sighs, world-weary and just her tired expression makes her look way older than she already is.

“An abomination, wonderful,” Stiles sighs, sarcasm thick, and rubs his eyes tiredly with his free hand. Then it dawns on him. “Just some?“

“Most old families have a code of conduct they’re supposed to follow that forbids them to attack innocents.” Aelfdene snorts at Lorelle’s words and he’s echoed by many.

“Supposed?”

“What do you think happened to our home?” Beriadan snaps but Stiles doesn’t take it to heart, knowing it’s not directed at him. She isn’t even looking at him, her gaze lost as if she’s seeing things that aren’t there.

“Was it her?” he asks calmly instead.

“We don’t know,” Lorelle sighs again. Aelfdene's face is pinched, he obviously still doesn't want to rely on Stiles this much but knows that there's no other way. For the better or the worse, at this moment they depend on him to survive.

“It happened too fast,” a man to her left adds, pained, echoed by others that speak too softly for Stiles to understand.

“We were… and suddenly there was fire everywhere,” a girl chokes out as she embraces another girl. “When we tried to fly out…”

“Whoever they were, they sprayed something on us and it was like poison,” the other girl finishes.

“The ones of us that managed to fly further and hide survived,” Lorelle takes over. “We managed to regroup after we regained consciousness, even though we were incredibly sick. It took days before some of us felt good enough to sneak in to search for any other survivors. There was nothing left.”

“Could the hunters have taken anyone with them?” Stiles asks immediately and both Lorelle and Aelfdene shake his head. “Are you sure? You said you were unconscious for a while…”

“We have our ways, Stiles. None of them survived,” Aelfdene’s response is needlessly harsh, sharp and unequivocal. In the face of that, Stiles holds his tongue and nods.

“I’m sure that she didn’t see me but I’ll be careful,” he concedes simply as he lowers his hand onto his nightstand to let it’s occupants get off.

“But are you completely sure?” Eglantine prods gently.

Stiles gets it. He saved the kids and they’re grateful, so they don’t want anything bad to happen to him. But also, if that woman even remotely suspects that Stiles is involved, what stops her from simply breaking into the house when he’s at school to check it out? His address is on his record, and she probably has access to that. Moreover, the terrarium is not exactly inconspicuous. A normal person would see the ewok village and wouldn’t even think to associate it to fairies, but she is a huntress, not a normal person. And in the remote possibility that she didn’t immediately associate the terrarium as a fairy village, Stiles still has the box he stole from her in his closet.

There are four things that could get him caught: the traffic cameras, his fingerprints, the printer and the glittery box.

If that huntress has access to the traffic cameras or can get her hands on the feed from the shops that have cameras too, she won’t find anything. Stiles knows the blind spots of the town like the back of his hand and unless someone installed a new camera on the last twenty hours that he doesn’t know of, he’s safe. He’ll check it out just in case.

As for the fingerprints he may have left while sneaking around school, his hands were covered by his sleeves both when he snuck in and out and when he opened or closed the doors as he searched around. If he slipped up without noticing, there will be so many other fingerprints that his will be lost. Maybe this precaution seems too much, but in Stiles’ opinion it never hurts to be careful and in the slim chance that she checked for fingerprints, it would have been a problem if his fingerprints appeared on every door of the school. Even with his heart pounding with fear and adrenaline at that last moment, he had the presence of mind to cover his hands with his sleeves as he climbed out the window. The only time he forgot himself was when he checked the box, which is why he didn’t leave it behind.

And now the only doubt left is if he left some kind of trace when he hacked into the printer or not, because he didn’t use his backup phone for that. Yesterday he used a very simple code to hack into the printer, basically giving it orders to print indefinitely the last archive in its memory. He revises the code mentally and yes, no one will be able to link him to it. If they check who sent the order to print, it will show the owner of the last printed archive. And even if that hunter suspects foul play, because Stiles can see that the printer turning on just before the captive fairies disappeared is too much of a coincidence, no one knows that he has that kind of skill or even suspects. He started learning after he lost all his friends and he has never flaunted it. And when he uses it to get revenge it’s because he can’t do it any other way, which means that enough time has passed and people on the receiving end of it, whom also expect a more hands-on approach from him, don’t link it to back to Stiles.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Once I get rid of the box, we’re clear. But it never hurts to be careful, so you should strengthen your wards and maybe… place something on the doors and windows that alerts you if anyone other than me or my dad comes in? That way you can hide? Is that a thing?”

Lorelle and Aelfdene exchange a short glance, seemingly debating silently about something, before the first talks. Again Aelfdene's expression sours, clearly against sharing more information that could be used against them but letting Lorelle have her way. “We can place some magic to alert us if anyone enters the house but… we can’t be as selective as that. Besides, if she is the one that attacked us, she already knows how to circumvent it and it would only serve to confirm our presence to her if she came to investigate on a hunch.”

Stiles hums as he gathers a change of clothes. “And what about placing a sentry? You have those communication runes, right? Place people on guard to alert you of intruders and that will give you enough time to hide in case of an emergency. At least until we can think of a better solution.”

“We can do that,” Eglantine nods, echoed by Beriadan and some other guards, and then sighs. “It’s such a shame, though.”

“Eglantine!” Aelfwine admonishes.

“What! I’m only saying…”

“What? What is a shame?” Stiles asks, frowning.

“I swear, Eglantine! You have no shame! We can’t have him more involved…”

“This has nothing to do with shame! And he’s already involved, there’s no turning back!”

“She’s right, Aelfwine,” Beriadan interjects.

“He’s done more than enough and we’ve already put him in danger by moving into his home!”

“We know that, but leaving him defenseless would be doing him a disservice,” Beriadan answers calmly.

“Exactly! It is more than enough reason for him-”

“You only want-”

“Don’t insult me! All of us would benefit from-”

“Eglantine, Beriadan, Aelfwine, that’s enough,” Aelfdene cuts in sharply, Lorelle sighing exasperated beside him.

“Explanation, please?” Stiles demands crossing his arms and frowning.

“Spark magic is stronger in those kinds of wards,” Beriadan answers plainly, ignoring Aelfwine’s protests, “but you’re not trained and we don’t have that kind of knowledge.”

Stiles sits on the bed mulling over that. He gets why Aelfwine is protesting but he likes Eglantine and Beriadan’s direct approach more. So, the way he sees it, the situation is like the following. He doesn’t owe them anything but he’s letting them stay and he still risked himself to go looking for the kids, possibly placing himself on the radar of the hunters by doing so. This has made the fairies in general (especially Eglantine and her kids) warm up to him. Still, some of them fear that since they can’t offer him anything in exchange, he’ll change his mind and kick them out, which, admittedly, would be the sensible thing to do. Eglantine owes her kids’ life to him and she’s deeply grateful, which is why she wants him to be as prepared as he can just in case. Beriadan is more practical about the whole issue: if Stiles knows more magic, he can protect himself and the fairies (which she assumes he would do, because he has already showed the inclination to do so) better. Aelfwine, on the other hand, thinks that they should cut his involvement to keep Stiles safe. And Aelfdene is trying to shut them up because he fears that he’ll make them leave if they confirm that they can only give him information about the supernatural world and no real training.

While he appreciates Aelfwine’s concern, out of the four he likes Eglantine and Beriadan’s approach the best. Lorelle and Aelfdene, while he understands, he's not very happy with.

“Okay,” he starts after a moment, “let’s be clear: I hate when people lie to me. It pisses me off like you wouldn’t believe. So don’t lie to me or try to manipulate me, period. Apart from the moral part of it, which I don’t care about,” he makes a dismissive gesture with his hand, “want to know why in this case? Because I could have been trying to guess how my powers work ever since you told me what I was, instead of waiting for you to teach me the way more safely. And now that we need it, I don’t have even the foggiest clue on how to use them. Don’t get me wrong, I understand that you were looking for your people in extreme circumstances and you didn’t know me, but I think that by now I’ve proven that I’m at least a little bit trustworthy, haven’t I? When you chose to come here you said that my magic marked it as a safe place, right? So something in it must have told you that I wouldn’t harm you? In any case, trusting me or not, you have to decide if you’re going to work with me or not, because I’m not going to harm you, but I’m not going to get harmed because of you either, just because you knowingly kept things that I needed to know from me. Think about it.”

Stiles doesn’t push it anymore. If the situation was reversed, he knows it would take more time for him to trust them, but he’d be willing to give the benefit of doubt after what happened yesterday. He leaves them to chew on the bone he’s left them and starts getting prepared to leave for school. It’s very early still, but it’s not like he has anything else to do.

First he makes sure to hang all the clothes he used yesterday and then he looks at the box, thinking about how to destroy it. It’s cardboard, so he decides to wet it until he can just make a ball (making sure the glitter stays in the center of it) to throw to the trash. He sneaks into the kitchen silently to grab the cleaning bucket and then he leaves the box soaking hidden inside his closet while he takes a quick shower.

When he finishes, most of the fairies have gone back to the terrarium. Only the elders remain, and neither of them talk as he makes a ball with the soaked box and puts it inside a plastic bag to throw out hidden among other trash. He also throws the water from the bucket to the toilet and makes sure that there’s isn’t any glitter left on either of them.

“We can teach you the runes. The basics are the same for everyone, it’s the way of using or activating them that varies,” Lorelle says finally. Aelfdene remains stony at her side but he looks resigned about the whole thing, even though he obviously still doesn't like the situation one bit. “Of course there’s more to spark magic than just runes, but apart from stories about it that may or may not be truthful, sadly we have nothing more to give you. We can share general knowledge about the supernatural world too, but, again, it may be incomplete or off the mark without our knowledge.”

“Ok, I can work with that,” Stiles replies simply as he goes to pick up his bag. He waves goodbye to a wildly gesturing Odette, whom is peeking over the top of the crystal wall of the terrarium, copied more sedately by Ehaldun. When he receives some verbal goodbyes from the rest of the fairies, he answers to those too. “If you’re going to place those sentries, remember to wait until my dad leaves… or hide very well.”

“We will.”

He looks at the textbook still lying where it fell beside the bed and then sighs tiredly as he bends to pick it up. It’s going to be a long day.

(But at least he’s finally getting somewhere with the fairies.)

—

By the time he makes it to school, the cold and crispy morning air has taken care of the last vestiges of drowsiness that had remained stubbornly even after his cold shower. He has taken his Adderall, but it’s not magical, so he’s welcomed the cold weather on his way there.

It’s too early and still dark, so he locks his bike and prepares to eat the pop tarts that he prepared before leaving, not wanting to see his dad today. They’re cold by now, but he doesn’t really care. There are some cars in the parking lot, including the ones he assumes to be the huntress’ and the security guard’s. He debates for a moment as he munches a tart and then he decides to try the entrance door to see if it’s open, because the cold was nice when he was moving, but right now it’s a bit too much. He doesn’t think he’ll have a problem because he does have a legitimate reason to be here this early… Well, not so early, but he has enough indignation and anger about the whole situation to draw an excuse from, so he decides to risk it. With any luck, this will help cement the idea in the huntress’ mind that he has nothing to do with her disappeared hostages.

Stiles pushes on the door and it opens easily. He finishes the first pop tart as he crosses the hallway leisurely and when he takes the stairs he’s halfway through his second. As he climbs them, he wonders if Eglantine’s runes are still there. This morning he didn’t think of it, but should he try to erase them? They left three marks before they had to beat a hasty retreat. He’ll have to ask Eglantine later because if the hunters found a way to evade their wards, maybe they can see their runes too? In any case, he’s not going to do anything right now, because, one, he can’t see them himself and he only remembers vaguely where she put them on the door and the stairs, and two, he can’t risk getting caught doing it. If that huntress knows they’re there, she’ll be keeping an eye on them and Stiles is not going to fall into that trap. Besides, unless the huntress knows how to track the residual magic that Eglantine may have left on them, it’s not like they’re very incriminating. They actually help Stiles because she may think that only other fairies were involved in the rescue.

Just as he’s turning to leave the stairs a hand falls harshly on his shoulder, making him choke with a mouthful. “Well, well, what do we have here?” a woman’s voice says. “Did you forget something, mmm?“

And of course the very first thing that happens to him is that he crosses paths with the huntress. Still, he has more pressing things to care about right now, like not dying because he choked on a pop tart. Well, at least this answers the question, doesn’t it? She can somehow see the runes because, if he recalls well, there’s one on the door behind her and another one on the wall just beside him. Too much of a coincidence that she’s waiting right there. Stiles reminds himself that he hasn’t done anything that indicates that he was looking for the runes to erase them. In other words, she’s fishing and taking advantage of having surprised him to see if he spills anything.

“Oh, my god, you nearly killed me,” he lets out in a strained voice when he finally stops coughing his lungs out. His heart is still rabbiting in his chest and he tries to control his breathing. He throws at her a wary look, like he would to any stranger that grabbed him out of the blue, and he tries to escape her hold. She not only doesn’t let go but tightens her grip.

“Ah, ah, ah,“ she tuts, and her smile is really unsettling. “No escaping for you. Name?”

“You’re hurting me, let go,” he grumbles as he glares at her heatedly. Then he purposely raises his voice a few notches. “Ok, this is officially the worst day ever. First my dad grounds me and now this? This is the worst! But, hey, why not? Punish me for something I didn’t do too and join the club!”

“What?” the woman says, clearly surprised.

“Ms. Sterling, is everything okay?” A male voice reaches them. Score, Stiles thinks when he recognizes the night guard. “Another one?”

“So it seems,” she answers and then she starts pulling him in the direction of the principal’s office. “I’m going to get this one to the principal too.”

“Need any help?”

“I can manage, don’t worry.”

“Maybe just in case…”

If she’s not happy with the night guard dogging their steps, Stiles can’t tell from her expression, but she does stop trying to puncture his skin with her fingers, even if she keeps her hand on his shoulder to steer him in the direction of the principal’s office, so Stiles is thankful for his presence. Stiles just keeps the facade of a disgruntled child the whole way there and ignores the conversation the two adults maintain.

She knocks on the door firmly but doesn’t wait for the principal to bid them in. She pushes Stiles into the room, just as the security guard leaves with a wave.

“I have another one for you, Emily,” she says.

“Stiles?” Mr. Andrews exclaims before the principal can get a word in.

Stiles takes stock of the room quickly. The twins are there, along with whom he thinks are their parents, Mr. Andrews and Mrs. Callahan, the principal. He doesn’t know what’s happening, but hell if he’s not going to take advantage of this.

“You know him then?”

“He’s one of my students,” he replies sighing.

“I caught him sneaking in-”

“I wasn’t sneaking in,” Stiles interrupts with an angry face. “You told me to be here to retake that exam and here I am. But for the record, I didn’t cheat and it’s really stupid to think that I would when I always have good grades. This is unfair and the only reason I’m here now is because my dad will ground me for forever if I’m not. And I can prove that I wasn’t the one cheating and it will be even more unfair if you don’t let me do it. And just so you know…“

“You can,” Mr. Andrews says sounding more interested than Stiles expected.

“I can?” Stiles blinks for a second. “I mean, yeah, I can.”

“Prove it, then. There’s not going to be a better time than this, now that we’re all here.” When the twins and their parents start to protest, he raises his hand, successfully silencing them. “If they didn’t cheat, they shouldn’t be worried. They did get a 98% after all. So Stiles, do go on.”

Okay, this is going way better than Stiles expected and it’s a little confusing, but he’s not going to let this opportunity pass, so he shakes it off quickly and barrels on. “Ask me anything and I’ll answer.”

“That just proves that you studied for today, Stiles.”

“I know, but I bet you anything you want that if you ask any of them,” he answers triumphantly, savoring how pale the twins are becoming by the minute, “they won’t have the answers.”

“And if they do?”

“I know they won’t, or not enough to get a 98% anyway.”

It turns out that Stiles is right and they don’t. With Mr. Andrews grilling them and the added pressure of their parents and the principal’s presence, the twins break halfway through. Everyone knows that Mr. Andrews always grades the exams two or three days after they take them, so they snuck into school to rewrite their exams because they had done pretty badly. When they were doing it, they had the idea of copying Stiles’ exam to make it seem like Stiles was the one that had cheated. And it worked, but then they caught wind of Mr. Andrews letting him retake the exam because they heard their parents talking about it. Not knowing what else to do, they decided to sneak in yesterday night again to try to steal the new exam from the teachers' room, because even though only Stiles had to retake the exam, they were worried that he’d do so well that it would make Mr. Andrews suspicious and he’d make them take it again too, and there was no way they could cram everything in just one afternoon to get a similar grade a second time. Stiles nearly cackles when he hears it, but it turns out they got caught because the printer suddenly turned on. Of course, Mr. Andrews grew suspicious after Ms. Sterling and the night guard caught them trying to steal the second exam, which is why he let Stiles try to prove his innocence.

Karma. The name is Karma. Very nice to meet you.

What’s even better is that the twins don’t even get to spread rumors about Stiles cheating because they’re getting suspended for the rest of the week for doing exactly that and trying to incriminate Stiles and an entire week in addition to that for sneaking into the school to steal the exams, which is going to be on their record permanently.

Mr. Andrews apologizes as he guides him out of the office and promises to call his dad, which at this point, to be honest, he doesn’t care much about, because this is nothing but a bittersweet victory and it doesn’t make everything okay again. An apology isn’t going to erase how deeply his dad’s refusal to even listen to him or to let him prove his innocence hurts. This is just the best outcome he can get out of this all around shitty situation because at least his father will now have proof that he didn’t cheat and Stiles won’t get punished for something he didn’t do.

“I’ll take him,” Sterling offers when Mr. Andrews talks about getting him at least a cocoa from the kitchens to make up for having to wait nearly an hour until class starts, and no. Just no.

“You should try to sleep for a bit, Kaitlyn, you were awake all night, after all…”

“Kate, please,“ she smiles and why is Stiles so creeped out by it? Mr. Andrews seems to like it quite fine.

“Kate. Charlie, then, please.”

It’s like that tale about the spider and the fly, and Mr. Andrews is falling so hard for the act that Stiles is nauseated. He wonders if it would be too obvious to just let himself fall to the ground and then crawl the hell out of here before she devours him too… But of course it would be and he has watched way too many cartoons.

“Charlie,” she lilts as she smiles coyly, taking the man’s hand to shake it. “And I don’t mind taking him because I could use one now too.“ And then she winks, of all things. “Besides, I don’t have class until fifth period and I can take a nap after I take him to the cafeteria.”

“If you’re sure you don’t mind…”

Farewell Charlie Andrews…

“I don’t.”

“Here, then,” he nods as he passes her the keys to open the kitchen’s door.

… may you rest in peace.

“Come on, Stiles,” she says as she passes her arm over his shoulders. Just for a second, Stiles feels like a little mouse cornered by a snake and he shudders. He’s pretty sure her smile acquires a shark edge to it in response and has to stomp on the urge to tell her what exactly his father does for a living and yes, he does carry a gun and knows how to use it, so get your damn paws off me lest you lose them. “Let’s get you something warm,” she adds as she rubs his arm comfortingly.

She doesn’t talk again until they’re sitting facing each other at the nearest table with a mug full of cocoa each. Stiles doesn’t let that get him nervous or lure him into a false sense of security, even though if outwardly he makes it look like the latter.

Maturity wise, Stiles is pretty advanced for his age. It’s not only because of what happened with his dad, but because the better he got at hacking, the older the crowd he moved with got, so he learned fast about topics that a kid his age should have no business knowing about to pass off as a much older person on the net, or he wouldn’t have been taken seriously due to his age. If it wasn’t for that, he’s sure one Kaitlyn Sterling would have him for breakfast very easily and then ask for seconds. Even so, as things are now, he’s not sure if he’s going to get out of this conversation unscathed, and he can’t afford to make any mistake in this.

“Rough night?“ she asks commiserating, and when Stiles just shrugs and keeps looking at his mug fixedly, she reaches to touch his hand. “You have panda eyes.”

He has to throw her a bone or she’s going to continue digging until she gets a reaction out of him. Either he controls where this conversation goes or she’s going to eat him alive. This is nothing like interacting with his peers or even stupid teenagers, where he has to be careful with what his face is giving up but not overly so, because it’s how he twists his words that gets him what he wants. Not even the people he talks to on the net, whom are much older and experienced, are this difficult to manage either, because he doesn’t have to worry about what face he’s making when someone surprises him or nearly gets the upper hand. Sterling is using a tactic Stiles has used before, where she gets information whether he talks or not. So right here, right now, he has to have an almost impossibly tight control of his facial expression and his body language on top of what comes out of his mouth, to avoid giving up anything.

“My dad didn’t believe me when I told him I hadn’t cheated,” he mumbles before she can push more.

“So you couldn’t sleep.” When he just nods in answer, she continues unfazed by his closed off attitude. “I understand, you know? After all you didn’t cheat and he didn’t believe you.“

“Yeah. I tried to prove to him that I hadn’t cheated but he wouldn’t listen.” His fingers clench around the mug unconsciously and she pats his hand.

“That must have been so frustrating…” she nods, removing her hand from where it was still resting on top of his.

“It was. I haven’t done anything to them and they keep coming after me.”

Her expression turns completely serious. She’s good, so good at this, and if he didn’t already know that she’s basically a murderer, he’d be fooled. “I hope you aren’t thinking about getting into trouble to get revenge, though, Stiles. I know it’s tempting after what they’ve done but-”

“Why would I?” he interjects. “I never thought about that,” she raises both eyebrows skeptically but keeping her amicable expression, and he flushes before he can control it. Damn it. “Ok, maybe I did, but that was only if I couldn’t convince Mr. Andrews about letting me prove that I hadn’t cheated or making them repeat the exam too.”

“Seriously?” she asks, keeping the same skeptic yet friendly face.

“They’ve gotten suspended and grounded, and on top of that they won’t be able to spread rumors about me,” he shrugs. “It can’t get any better than that and I don’t want my dad to tell me off again. Or even worse, ground me.”

“I used to argue a lot with my mom too. It pissed me off so much! Sometimes I was so angry that I would climb out the window and disappear for the whole night. I was such a brat,“ she laughs self-deprecatingly as she explains what she used to do on those nights.

“Oh my god, my dad would kill me if I did that.” He feigns an earnest expression to cover an alarmed one. She suspects him all right and he doesn’t know why. Judging by the line of questioning she’s taken, maybe she’s just shooting in the dark because of this whole exam robbery thing. Because if she has heard about him before, she knows he likes to get back at the people that cross him and sneaking into school to get the twins caught wouldn’t be too far off. He has the feeling, though, that she doesn’t think that he rescued the fairies or her questions wouldn’t be this obvious… or amicable for that matter. Maybe she thinks that he saw someone else and she’s trying to get it out of him? Still, she wants to talk? Okay, they’re going to talk, but about her. “What did your mom do?”

“Ground me, of course,” she laughs and Stiles snickers before he can think of it. “What else? But she couldn’t take away the fun I’d had already,” she adds with a wink, making him smile back unconsciously again.

One thing is for sure, if it wasn’t because she doesn’t think him guilty and she’s going in with kid gloves, she’d have caught him very easily, and Stiles needs to brush up those skills pronto if these conversations with her are going to be a thing. And unless this particular conversation serves to prove to her that he has nothing to do with the fairies’ Houdini act, he’s pretty sure they are until she gets what she wants from him.

“I’d never dare, you know? My dad is the sheriff and all his deputies have known me since I was a baby. I’d be brought back home by the ears not even five minutes after leaving home. I wouldn’t be surprised if my dad had put in one of those pet microchips with the way he always knows where I am and what I’m doing.” She starts laughing and he scowls as he mumbles. “Not funny.”

“It kind of is, though.”

“No it’s not,” he pouts and she laughs harder.

“Well, kiddo, that just means that you have to be craftier about it, that’s all.”

“Are you seriously telling me to misbehave? What kind of teacher are you?”

“A fun one?” She joins Stiles when he snickers and then she yawns spectacularly. “And a dead one too. Sorry to cut this short, kiddo, but I’m going to hide in an AV room and sleep for a couple of hours at least. Do you mind if I leave you alone? I can…”

“That’s ok,” he cuts in. “I don’t mind, I’ll just read for a bit.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

“See you around then.”

“Sleep well.”

Somehow he’s dodged the bullet. Unbelievable. Now he’s not going to move at all from his seat for the next twenty minutes at this obvious trap. And unless Eglantine tells him that those marks can be used to track her, he’s going to forget they even exist.

—

He gets through the day trying to not fall asleep every minute and succeeding mostly, even though he loses the count on how many times he has to splash his face with cold water to help himself. He doesn’t see Sterling again but he can’t shake the feeling of being watched, so he mentally cheers when the last bell sounds and he can go home.

“I’m home!” he calls as he enters, feeling a little weird, because he hasn’t said that in a long time. Still, it’s a way to let the fairies know it’s him and he takes note mentally to work out a code with them so, in case something is wrong and they have to hide, he can let them know beforehand and without being suspicious. “Hi, Beriadan,” he greets her as he takes a look around. Another fairy pops out from behind a picture on the shelf near the door to the backyard and waves at him, which he responds in kind.

“Hello, Stiles. Rough day?” she asks with a wave as she glides near. “Any problems?”

“More like long,” he answers sheepish, rubbing the back of his head with a sigh. “A really long, long day. And nope, no problems so far but we’ll see how that goes. It’s too early to tell. Everything fine here? Anything suspicious?”

“Not that we noticed. We placed the sentries after your father left like you suggested, but we haven’t dared to place proximity runes on the perimeter. At this point, seeing what happened, doing that might actually give our presence away rather than help us.” Stiles hums in answer, frowning, but before he can get a word in, Beriadan continues speaking, obviously opting for the direct route. “How did the exam go?”

He clears his throat feeling pretty uncomfortable about the fact that probably every fairy listened to the delightful conversation he had with his dad yesterday. “I didn’t have to take it in the end. They caught the ones responsible before that.”

She looks at him for a moment, gaze penetrating. “You don’t seem too happy about that.”

“I am. It saved me the hassle of having to find a way to make them confess,” he shrugs flippantly and her lips twitch reluctantly. “Is Eglantine upstairs? I need to ask her something.”

“Yeah,” she replies simply, letting the matter go. Stiles sighs inwardly in relief and advances towards the stairs. “At the library, I think. She was trying to compile everything for your lesson.” When she sees the smile that stretches on his face, she rolls her eyes. Then when that same smile vanishes, she frowns. “Is everything okay?”

As he expected, there’s an apology brownie waiting for him on the kitchen counter. He can see it from where he stands and he has to stomp on the desire to throw it through the window. He manages to contain himself by very little. “Yeah. Everything’s cool.”

“Sure?”

“Yep,” he says, mustering a smile. “Talk to you later, Beriadan, I need to talk to Eglantine,” he adds as he climbs the stairs, ignoring the brownie altogether.

Stiles nods to the two guards outside the terrarium (Alvara and Fafnir, if he recalls well) as he enters his bedroom, letting his bag fall beside his desk chair. Just as he’s bending to untie his sneakers, Odette comes barreling out from the terrarium and into his face like this morning. Stiles can see already that this is going to become a thing and he can’t decide if he likes it or not. Ehaldun comes right behind her with a shy wave and then grabs his sister’s shirt to pull her away from him, obviously noticing his discomfort. Stiles sighs inwardly, battle already lost, before reaching to pull the kid near, so he can follow his sister’s steps too. The little boy’s flush shouldn’t be this cute, and Stiles has just found out that maybe he’s a sucker for little kids. He lets Odette babble about anything and everything as he opens his laptop and turns it on, only intervening to pull Ehaldun into the conversation when he notices he wants to say something but he’s too shy to interrupt.

“Is your mom available?” Stiles asks after he finishes the quick check of the security cameras but finds nothing new. Unless someone put a personal camera with no intranet or connection to the Internet, he’s safe. “I need to ask her something.”

“I’ll get mom!” Odette exclaims happily before she rushes into the terrarium.

Stiles catches a strange expression on Ehaldun’s face as she leaves before the kid can cover it. Ever since he met the two siblings, the boy hasn’t let his little sister out of his sight. In fact, this has been the first time he hasn’t trailed after her after she’s moved farther than an arm’s length of distance from him and also the first time he’s seen him alone. It doesn’t take a genius to know the cause of this behavior, after all that’s happened to them. First the attack on their colony and then the whole failed school trip debacle. It’s no wonder that he doesn’t want to let her out of his sight. Odette doesn’t seem so affected by what happened to the colony (as opposed to her encounter with the huntress, which left her shaken), so Stiles guesses that either she wasn’t present or she was too young to fully understand what was happening.

In any case, Ehaldun wasn’t so lucky.

“Wanna play a game?” Stiles asks because the kid looks deeply uncomfortable with the silence and it’s almost painful to watch.

“A game?” Ehaldun repeats softly, his voice almost inaudible. He looks interested, though, so Stiles counts that as a win.

“Here, this is fun,” he replies as he opens the Minesweeper and starts playing a round to show him how it works. “It’s a puzzle game. You see that board?” Ehaldun nods, flying to hover Stiles’ shoulder to watch what he does. “You have to clear it. Under each square there are either mines or a number. If there’s a number, like here,” he points to a two he’s just uncovered. “This means that there are two mines around that square. You have to avoid those mines. If you hit them, it’s game over.” Stiles continues playing and the kid finally relaxes enough to sit on Stiles’ shoulder and starts piping suggestions on where to click. It’s almost too adorable the way Ehaldun jumps, startled when they make a mistake and the mines go off. “Wanna try?” Stiles offers, trying not to snicker at his pout and determined look.

“Yes, please,” he replies, nodding eagerly.

“Can you move the mouse? If it’s too difficult I can set it up with the keyboard. Try first and we’ll see.”

“Okay.”

Stiles mentally pats his shoulder, satisfied. Admittedly, he doesn’t know the kid much, even though Odette has dragged him almost daily to watch Stiles do his homework or other things, but this is the most excited he’s seen Ehaldun since he’s known him. He normally sits back and just observes with a closed off expression, only answering to his sister when she badgers him.

“Keyboard, it is,” Stiles says when it’s obvious that with the mouse it’s too awkward. “Gimme a moment.”

“Sorry,” Ehaldun mumbles, face red in shame.

“What for?”

“I-I…”

“You don’t,” he replies simply to what he knows the kid is going to say. “Here you go. Use the cross here to command the selection up, down, right or left. To select the square you press the enter.”

“What’s that?” Odette cries happily, Eglantine coming more sedately behind here. “I wanna play too. Can I? Please? Please?”

When Ehaldun looks like he’s about to let his sister go at it in his place, Stiles intervenes. “Here, Odette,” he stops the boy as he speaks, making him a gesture to keep on playing. He opens a duplicate window with the same game and explains to her the rules quickly before letting her play with another part of the keyboard. Stiles tunes them out as he turns his attention to Eglantine. There’s a strange expression on her face but he dismisses it to get to the matter at hand. “Remember where you left those two runes at the door of the hall that connects the two buildings and the stairs?” She nods. “When I got to school this morning, that huntress was waiting right at that exact place.” She startles and he rushes to explain what happened, distractedly reaching to help Odette when she seems to get too frustrated. “It could be a coincidence, sure, because, strategically, that’s a place where I would hide to catch someone. You can control a bigger area there. But I think that it confirms that Sterling either can see those runes somehow or rune magic leaves some kind of sign and she knows what to look for. Now my question is: if she can see them, can she trace the user or can she just see them if they are on her way?”

“That’s impossible.”

“Well, obviously…”

“No, Stiles. I mean it, it’s impossible,” she interrupts vehemently. “There are two ways of doing runic magic: either you use some kind of ink to write the rune or your own innate magic. If I had used ink, sure, a smidgen of the caster’s energy always remains on it, because it mixes with that ink or whatever you used to write it no matter how much you try to avoid it and makes it impossible for the array to consume it. But I didn’t do that, I used the second method. It takes more energy to do it, but the moment you stop feeding the runes magic, they disappear.”

“Does that happen immediately?” he asks after a moment of consideration.

Eglantine frowns, crossing her arms contemplatively. She smiles warmly when Odette lets out a startled scream when the mines go off, followed by a happy giggle as she starts another round. Ehaldun smiles triumphantly when he clears the board and Stiles smiles back, making the kid flush. A couple of older kids come out, obviously drawn out by the noise they’re making. They settle for taking turns without Stiles’ intervention so he turns his attention back to Eglantine.

“I don’t know the exact time, but I think it takes a bit for the runes to consume the remaining energy once you stop feeding them. A couple of minutes or more depending on the array? In any case, whether it is traced with ink or magic, the array converts the magic, acting as a filter, essentially changing it’s nature and leaving it unrecognizable. We’ve tried tracking it before and it’s impossible.”

“And are you completely sure about that?” She nods and he hums in response. “Can we do an experiment? To see how long it takes for a communication rune to fade, I mean. Maybe Sterling saw them before they faded?”

Eglantine places the array on the table. After approximately the same amount of time that she kept them up at the school, she stops feeding them. It takes about twenty minutes to fade. They make more tests with various different arrays and it turns out that depending on the one used, it needs more or less energy to function.

Conclusion? It’s possible that the huntress found them before they faded. So, either, best case scenario, it’s pure coincidence that she’s was right there waiting for him (which means that, if she was the one to destroy the colony, she was lucky, she crossed paths with a fairy and then she followed them home) or, worst case scenario, she can see runic magic, or the signs left by it somehow. In any case, seeing that Sterling can’t track a magic that is long gone by now, it’s better that Stiles does his best to not raise her suspicions. The sooner she forgets about him, the better.

With that out of the way, since they’re already talking about runes, they work out a schedule for the lessons. Eglantine will start with the basics, since she’s the one that usually teaches that to the kids. When he masters that, either Beriadan or Aelfwine, depending on their availability, will take over to teach him the rest. The elders will impart their vast knowledge about the supernatural world in between those lessons. If any of them is otherwise occupied, other fairies will take over the lessons.

At dinner time, his dad calls to tell him he will be late and to apologize, in that order and very awkwardly.

Stiles does throw the brownie into the trash in the end.

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