#its especially apparent in their little middle bangs i think

[the-gayest-sky-kid]

mostly tracing over the pharos concept art but this is just for fun. chuuya and the bestie (boy he is sealed within)

[selfindulgentpixies]

The hands that hold you

Part 7 of my SatoSugu x Gn!reader series is here! And yes it finally has an official name!

I'll put together a masterpost with links to all the parts and the title soon and have it linked in my pinned post. This is another soft chapter. There was more I was considering including but I really wanted to get this update out here. There's also art to go with it that will be at the end that you'll also be able to find on my art blog when I post it. For now enjoy a really fluffy chapter before things get rough again. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

CW: Reader is referred to with they/them pronouns, chan is sometimes attached to reader's name. Polyamory though that's part of why you're here i'm sure

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It’s been roughly two weeks since the failed mission when you find yourself called into Yaga’s office. When you make your way in and sit in front of him he places a new ID in the middle of the desk and pushes it toward you. You blink at him in confusion before taking it. It’s just like your curren’t ID until you notice a key change. “Wait… I’m being promoted to second grade sorcerer?” You look at him, surprise pushing your eyebrows toward your hairline. 

Yaga sighs but then smiles. “After that last mission, despite it ending how it did, Suguru and Satoru recommended you for promotion. Apparently you managed to impress them which is uncommon for the two of them” 

You turn the ID in your hand before slipping into your pocket. “I suppose it is.” 

Your hand is in your pocket thumbing over your new ID as you walk. In theory you should be happy about the promotion but you wanted to be sure you actually deserved it. You weren't sure you did honestly. You wonder if you should text either of your boyfriends about it. Your boyfriends… you feel your face heat up and you stop walking and lean against the hallway wall. You were not used to being able to think of them that way yet. It was so new. It was also the source of your current worry of whether or not you actually deserve the promotion. It felt a little too much like nepotism that the two of them endorsed your rise in grade.

Suddenly someone’s arm is resting on your shoulder and you and you don’t even need to look to see who it is. “Goodmorning, Haibara-kun.” You smile. 

He leans forward with a grin. “Good morning! It’s good to finally see you up and out of bed.”Nanami and I were starting to wonder when you’d be joining us again. “

“You know how Yaga is about me. He honestly made me stay on bed rest longer than I needed to be. At least I think so.” You push off from the wall and from under Haibara’s arm. 

“It’s good he cares so much though. It’s better to be safe than sorry by going out into the field before you’re ready,” He reasons. 

“I suppose… but it was painfully boring. Especially when everyone else was busy. I hate staying still for so long. Even if it was kinda nice to catch up on playing games…” 

“You were playing harvest moon or drawing most of the time when Nanami and I would come in and visit.” 

“Speaking of.. Where is Nanami? Normally the two of you are like a set,” you prod despite knowing its potential to backfire. 

Hairbara hums. “I’m actually about to go meet him. There’s a new bakery opening up he wants to go to. Wait, I know! How about you go with me. He’ll want to see that you’re up and moving around too.” And oh no he’s looking at you with those excited puppy dog eyes and you can’t find it in you to say no. Besides, you'd missed hanging out with your friends. 

“Yeah okay, I’ll go with. As long as you don’t think Nanami will mind.” 

Haibara gives a lil cheer and gives you a thumbs up. “Like I said, he’ll be glad to see you up and on your feet again.” 

Which is how you found yourself in a cozy little bakery, decorated in warm and earthy tones. The smell of all sorts of baked goods floating through the air. “You know you didn’t have to pay for me, Nanami.” 

He gives a small huff, his bangs coming loose and falling in his face so he has to push them back. “It’s fine. Think of it as a ‘glad you’re doing better’ gift.. Or something.” 

Haibara pipes in. “See I told you he would be glad to see you.” 

“That you did,” you say with a small laugh.  

“Annnd now that you’re fully recovered, on the note of I told you so’s…” Haibara’s grin threatened to split his face.

“Oh no..” You feel your face heating already knowing what he’s going to say. 

“So you’re really dating both Geto-senpai and Gojo-senpai now? I knew they liked you!” 

You groan. “Yeah yeah, you were right and I was oblivious.” You pointedly take a bite of your sandwich to try and spare yourself from saying more on the topic. 

Nanami makes a small sound before speaking up. “I mean I get Geto-senpai but I’m surprised you like Gojo-senpai too. Is it just because they’re a package deal or-” You cut him off, a small flare of irritation sparking in your chest as well as another emotion you can’t quite place in the moment. 

You swallow your bite a lil too soon so you can interject. “I like them both.” 

It must be something in your tone or the look on your face, you’re not entirely sure, but Nanami rubs the back of his neck glancing away, suddenly looking abashed. “Sorry.” 

“It’s-” you sigh “It’s fine. Just.. Don’t insinuate that I shouldn’t like Satoru just as much as I like Suguru okay?” Your shoulders sag slightly.

Nanami nods and Haibara looks between the two of you with a bit of confusion.”Am I missing something?” 

You shake your head. “No everything is fine.” You pause. “Actually can I get your guy’s opinion on something?” 

Both of them look at you. “Of course!” “Sure…” 

You take your new ID out of your pocket and place it in the middle of the table. “I uh.. Got promoted. Apparently Suguru and Satoru made the recommendation. But it just feels kinda off since I’m dating them now. I’m not sure I actually deserve it-”

Nanami shakes his head. “I doubt that. Why would they recommend you for something that would put you in more danger if they didn’t think you could handle it?” 

You blink. You hadn’t thought of it that way. “I suppose that makes sense...” 

Nanami folds his hands on the table next to his half eaten lunch. “Think about it. Being a second grade means that you’ll not only take on harder missions but will also be sent on some solo. If I cared about someone I wouldn’t recommend them to do dangerous things they couldn't handle for what.. A pay raise? Clout? If they recommended you be promoted that means they think you deserve it and more importantly can handle it.” Haibara is nodding along enthusiastically as Nanami talks. 

You nod, your doubts about the situation lifting. “Yeah that.. Thanks, Nanami.” 

He shrugs. “Just telling you what makes the most sense.” 

“We should go do something to celebrate your promotion!”

“I mean we’re already out to eat…” You feel a bit bashful at the idea. “And Nanami-kun already paid for lunch for me because of my recovery.” 

“Well then I can like.. Pay for ice cream ooor… we could go to an arcade! We should do something before you start getting sent out more.”  Haibara suggests while giving you his best puppy dog eyes. 

You sigh and smile. Really how can you say no to those big brown eyes and that pout. Nobody had bigger golden retriever energy than your friend. “Yeah okay, we can go to an arcade and maybe get a treat after.” 

Haibara cheers and pumps a fist into the air. It draws the attention of other patrons and Nanami lowers his head looking a bit embarrassed but still has the slightest smile curling his lips. 

The arcade is all lights and chimes of game music, the chatter of teenagers filling the space. The three of you lose several hours there with even Nanami being full of his share of smiles and laughter. How often do the three of you get to just be young like this? Not often enough surely. Never enough.  The three of you are contemplating where to go for icecream when you spot the claw machine. It was a nicer one, charged a bit more than the others. That’s not what caught your attention about it though. 

You wander over to the machine and almost like they were meant for you to see there’s a white cat plush with a blue ribbon and a bunny that’s such a dark shade of purple it’s nearly black with a gold ribbon opposite it across the machine. You’re taking out your money without even thinking about it. 

Nanami cuts into your thoughts. “You know it’s probably rigged right? In some of these machines the claw only properly grips things after so many attempts before it resets.” 

You turn toward him with a pout. “I wanna try anyway.” 

The blonde boy lets out a sigh. He knows that look on your face. You’ve already decided to throw your money away at this machine to get whatever it was you were fixated on. “What are you gonna try to win anyway?” He raises a brow when you suddenly look away from him bashfully and focus on putting in your money. “Well?”

“It’s two things actually” Oh so they were probably gonna be here for it a bit. And then you point at the white cat with blue eyes and bow then towards a similar dark purple rabbit with a gold bow. 

He blinks slowly, gears turning in his brain leading him to a conclusion that Haibara voices. “They kinda remind me of Gojo and Geto-senpai!” 

The silence is deafening between the three of you as you duck your head and send the claw toward the cat, the machine making a low buzz with the movement. The claw lowers and grips the cat by the bow, it raises, the machine buzzes lowly as it’s brought toward the chute and dropped in. You quietly lean down and take it out, and you hide your face in it. 

“That’s exactly why you want them, isn’t it?” Haibara nudges your shoulder with a smile. At your slight nod he speaks again. “Well I think that’s super sweet of you.” 

You glance at him for a moment, he doesn’t seem like he’s making fun of you, though being Haibara he’s never made fun of you in a way that would actually hurt. Just light teasing. His smile is earnest and you decide he means it. You hold the cat plush out to him. “Can you hold this while I win the other one?” 

“Of course!” He takes the plush. He can understand why you wouldn’t want to set it down anywhere in here. It’s a pristine white. 

The rabbit is harder to get unfortunately. You manage to pick it up several times but the claw always loses its grip or your aim is just slightly off. It’s been a half hour of attempts and you’re low on change and the energy around you is getting increasingly gloomy. Nanami hates being right sometimes. Which is why he gently nudges you aside. 

“Here let me try for it.” He doesn’t look at you as he says this but he still catches how your face lights up out of the corner of his eye and can’t help but smile a little. 

When he gets the plush on the first try and successfully drops it down the chute he is not expecting you to jump up and hug him. His cheeks go pink and he stands rigid. “H-hey-” 

“Thank you thank thank you!” You chant as you hug him tight before letting go and dropping back down to retrieve the rabbit. Haibara is laughing at your antics and Nanami gives him a half hearted glare. Truly it was nice for them both to see you so excited after everything that had happened recently. You bounce on the balls of your feet and retrieve the cat plush from Haibara. “Sooo icecream?” 

The sky is painted in brilliant hues of oranges and pinks as you and the other two first years finish ascending the steps to jujutsu tech, the summer heat having only broken somewhat by the time the three of you had to make the climb. You and Haibara collapse shoulder to shoulder on the ground. Nanami looks at the two of you as if to say ‘really?’ even though his bangs are clinging to his face with sweat and his face is flushed. “I really hate these stupid stairs.” You say this and there’s multiple reasons why that’s the case but at the moment it’s because of how much worse they make the heat seem.

The three of you rest in silence for several minutes before you speak up. “Thanks a lot for today you guys.. I had a lot of fun.” You stand and brush yourself off. 

“Of course! We’ve all been so busy lately and you were stuck in bed so long we needed to get out and do something fun.” Haibara says as he hops to his feet. “Hopefully we’ll get a chance to do it again soon.” 

“Preferably without you throwing your money at a rigged machine next time.” Nanami prods but you can tell from his voice he’s only teasing you. You stick your tongue out at him and shortly after you part ways from them.

It’s only after you’ve showered and placed a gift each in Satoru’s and Suguru’s rooms that you finally flop into your bed dramatically. You were exhausted. Today was the most active you’d been able to be in two weeks. You wished that even one of your boyfriend’s were on campus so you could curl up with one of them but they’d both been being sent on back to back missions after those first couple days of your recovery. Summer really was a terrible time for sorcerers. It didn’t seem fair that the two of them were tossed right back into the field. 

You pout and roll onto your stomach. You only got to see either of them in passing when they’d stop in to check with you between missions so you could physically see they were both alright. Otherwise you’d just been texting or calling when they had the chance. 

You perk up slightly when you hear a knock at the door, and now that you’re looking for it you feel Satoru’s energy. “You can come in ‘toru.” you’ve hardly finished speaking before your door slides open and Satoru enters your mostly dark room. He closes your door as an afterthought before making his way to you. Before you say anything else he’s flopping all of his lanky weight on top of you. “Satoru, you're too big for this! Ahh! Did you just get out of the shower?!” You try very hard to squirm away from him.

He ignores your protests and squishes you against the bed, his hair dripping water onto your face and pillow as he kisses your cheek obnoxiously and laughs when you try to shove his face away. “Stooop at least go dry your hair off first!” 

“I don’t think I will~” he sing songs though there’s a slight tiredness to it. He squishes his cheek against yours, his wet hair rests against your face and pillow. 

“Satoruuuuuu” You draw out his name in a whine. 

He hums and props himself up on an elbow, just looking down at you with bright eyes. Even in the moonlight you can see he’s tired though. He sets something on your chest you hadn’t noticed him bring in before given how he’d immediately smothered you in his affection. “Found the gift you left for me.” 

You feel your cheeks heat slightly as you scoot to sit up, catching the plush cat before it can tumble off your chest. “Do you like it?” You worry that the gifts you got for Satoru and Suguru would be seen as too childish despite your earlier determination and enthusiasm to get the plush toys. 

Satoru begins to tangle his legs with yours and curl around you. “Of course. It means my sweet ___-chan is thinking of me while I’m gone.” He takes the plush cat and places it on the bed next to you as he drags you down. “It’s cute. Also liked the box of sweets you left with it.” 

“..Did you eat the sweets already, Satoru?’ 

“I was hungry when I got back…” 

You sigh heavily but smile a little. “Well, I’m glad you liked what I got for you.” you bask in his presence before you speak again. “Two things though, you’re going to make us both sick by laying in my bed with soaking wet hair, and two my bed really isn’t big enough for both of us. You’re going to fall over the edge and drag me with you.” 

“What a romantic way to go then. Falling to our doom tangled together,” His tone is dramatic but there’s a boyish grin splitting his features, teeth bright in the moonlight.  You swat him on the chest drawing an “Oof!” from him as well as a laugh. It makes warmth bloom in your chest. 

“I mean it. We should either go to your room or to Suguru’s room so we’re there when he gets back. Also let me dry your hair if you’re too tired to do it.” Because honestly you’re pretty sure that's why he hasn’t done it yet.

He hums, seemingly considering your suggestions. “I suppose.. “ He pecks your lips before disentangling himself from you. Really he’d never turn down a chance to have you take care of him, and you do take care of him. You direct him to your blow dryer and you spend the next stretch of time drying his hair into a cloud of fluff, gently running your fingers through the strands and massaging his scalp. When his weight settles heavy against your legs from his place sitting with crossed legs on the floor you wonder if he managed to doze off. You click off the dryer and set it aside, continuing to card your fingers through his hair. 

“You still with me?” Your voice is soft and filled with affection. 

He nods and then yawns. “Yeah I’m awake.” He tips his head back to smile at you tiredly. “You sure we can’t just sleep in here?” 

“My bed is way too small for you even if you were alone let alone with us both on it. So pick, your room or Suguru’s? I’m sure he’ll be glad to see us waiting for him even if he shoves us over to get in bed.”

Satoru huffs. “You mean shoves me. He’d never push you out of the way and you know it.” 

You smile. “I know.” You lean down and rest your chin on top of Satoru’s head. “So what’s the verdict?” 

“Suguru’s room is closer than mine,” he states sleepiness lacing his words. 

You nod before sitting up straight and giving him a nudge to get up. You don’t point out how the difference in distance isn’t that much. Satoru stands and turns toward you with a long and languid stretch, his t-shirt riding up to expose his stomach. You poke his stomach making his muscles jump. When he glances down at you with narrowed eyes you blink up at him innocently.

You know what he’s about to do so you quickly swipe the cat plush before darting around him to the door. Unfortunately for you in the time it takes you to open the door he’s got you and the two of you tumble into the hall with him viciously attacking your sides with tickles. You squeal and kick trying to escape. 

“And what are the two of you doing?” A tired voice yet still amused voice drifts over the two of you. 

You’re still wheezing with giggles when both you and Satoru look up to see Suguru standing in the hall with a towel and a set of clean clothes over his arm. One can only assume he was on his way to the showers. His hair is half free of its bun and on the side where his hair is falling loose his face is smeared with grime. 

“Suguru!” You cheer, or are you pleading for assistance? 

“They’re being punished for the most grievous of crimes.” Satoru says all too seriously as he lets his face fall to your soft stomach drawing a grunt out of you. 

“I poked his stomach while he was stretching.”

This makes the dark haired boy snort. “Guess you get to deal with the consequences then.” He says with a smile as he steps around the two of you. 

“Noooo Suguru! Save me-” You’re cut off by another fit of laughter as Satoru resumes his assault. 

Suguru throws you a wave over his shoulder, leaving you at Satoru’s mercy. Chuckling when after he turns a corner he hears Satoru yelp indignantly. “You bit me!” 

“I-I” you gasp and giggle. “-I couldn’t breathe!” is the last thing he hears before he’s out of earshot. 

—

When Suguru returns from his shower it’s to Satoru sprawled half on top of you across his bed while you sit up playing on your phone while propped up against his head board. Apparently Satoru had forgiven you for biting him if the way his face was pressed into your stomach was any indication. 

You stop what you’re doing to greet him. “Feeling any better after your shower?” You were glad to see there was only minimal irritation on his face where the grime had been.

Suguru makes a noise that you interpret as confirmation. His hair is half wrapped in a towel as he makes his way into the room. He’s going for his blow dryer. At least he intended to dry his hair before bed unlike someone. 

“Do you want me to do it?” You ask, you’re tired yourself but for fun reasons unlike either of your boyfriends. 

Satoru whines, surprisingly awake. “Nooo then you have to move if you do that.” 

“Or I can just sit on you,” Suguru says dryly. 

“You wouldn't.” 

“Oh I wouldn’t just like __-chan wouldn’t bite you.” 

Satoru turns his head and narrows his gaze at Suguru for a moment before making a grumpy sound and rolling off you so he’s no longer sprawled across you and the bed, allowing you to shuffle to the edge. You repeat a similar process to what you had with Satoru, though Suguru’s hair takes more time since it’s longer and because you work some product into his hair. You lean down and kiss the top of his head once you’re done. “All set.” 

Suguru turns on the floor and wraps his arms around your middle before pressing a kiss to your sternum. “Thank you,” the words are murmured gently against your sleep shirt and you card your finger through his hair. The soft moment is only somewhat broken by Satoru snoringloudly on the other side of the bed. Suguru rolls his eyes and then stands. He urges you toward the middle of the bed so he can flop in, slinging an arm across your middle. “You didn’t have to wait up for me, you know?”

“But I wanted to,” you half cut off at the end in a yawn. 

You think Suguru sighs before he presses a kiss to your hair. “You’re too sweet, you know that?” 

You hum sleepily, not confirming nor denying. “Did you see your gift when you got back?” 

“I did, it’s cute.” He smiles against your hair. 

“Not too kiddish of a gift?” you ask shyly. 

Suguru squeezes you with the arm he slung across you earlier. “Not at all. Definitely helps prove my point that you’re too sweet. Saw the stuffed cat too when you and Satoru were flailing around in the hall. So you got us matching gifts. Did you get yourself one?” 

You shake your head. “No, just for the two of you. I gave the machine enough money as it was.” 

“Hmm?”

“Ah, I uh won them from a claw machine game today while I was out with Nanami and Haibara. I got the cat pretty easy but you can ask Haibara and Nanami how well getting the rabbit went. Nanami felt so bad for me after a half hour of failed attempts that he actually won it…” you trail of embarrassed. You’re not sure why you admitted that. 

“Went to all that trouble to make sure I got a gift too.” He kisses your forehead and gives you a moment to react and close your eyes before kissing your eyelids, then gently kissing your lips which you reciprocate, smiling into the kiss.

“Of course, you deserve it.” You glance away from him and he feels warmth swell in his chest. He gives you another gentle kiss before shuffling down the bed slightly so he can lay his head on your chest above your heart, listening to how it beats rabbit quick at his actions. He falls asleep like that, not even caring that it leaves his feet partially hanging off the bed. You absently card your fingers through his soft hair as you lay there, waiting for sleep to take you as well.

Art by me of the stuffed animals reader won. My art account is @rossithepixie

___

And here it is! I hope you guys enjoyed this one. It was getting pretty long and I really wanted to get out the next chapter since it's been a couple weeks because I got too sick to write very much. I've already started on chapter 8 so hopefully as long as my health holds there won't be as much of a delay.

Tag list: @strawberrystepmom @nanamikentoseyebags @gojoest @icy-spicy @sleezzsister @moonsua1 @yuuuumii @yokaimoon @chibiizzy @porridgesblog @suhmie @defacatestenderly

[oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat]

Preview of Playlists

So, apparently y'all care about my thoughts and opinions for some reason.

This is a lil preview of the kind of songs that I think would fit the Sides, and maybe some other characters too.

I spent all day analyzing the Sides' official playlists to make sure this specific list was as in-character as I could get it. A lot of the songs moving forward may be very ooc. Plus, it was also the first time hearing the Sides' playlists, so that was fun.

For future reference, all of the songs were thought of/picked BEFORE I ever listened to the playlists. So, prepare for inaccuracy.

These ones are explained, but the bigger lists/playlists may not be. I want to give more in-depth analyses of these, but I don't have room. Always feel free to ask about the songs I choose!

Trigger/Content Warning: Putting Others First/SvS Redux spoilers, themes of self-doubt & self-deprecation, discussions of--> religious themes, morals & morality & moral-related mindsets, worthlessness & self-doubt (suicidal undertones?), Hero/Saviour Complex & perfectionism

•Read under the cut•

[Masterlist]

Logan

> Infinitesimal by Mother Mother

I've mentioned this one before in another post (this post). It has a big theme of space and stars and mentions the Big Bang. It fits the general vibe of Logan's official playlist, with all the facts included in his songs. So, as I've said before, it includes facts and scientific things in the lyrics. Its main theme revolves around the word and meaning of "infinitesimal", which is a neat lil reference to that one mistake Logan made in canon. It also has a part of the song where it speaks rather than sings, which is when it talks more about the facts. The lyrics, "Strangely, I've been feeling like a big bang / 'Cause I've been making mountains out of concaves" has a lil saying or a reference to a saying. Making "mountains out of concaves" is essentially making something out to be bigger than it really is. When something feels or seems like it's a bigger deal than it really is (cognitive distortions, anyone?). Also, the lyrics, "Like my soul, just like my soul / You think it's so infinitesimal" are important. It makes me think how Logan may feel like his input or problems or feelings are not very important compared to others. As far as I can see in the main canon storyline, he keeps getting disregarded. If it's not logic and facts, he seems to be made fun of as if it's not a big deal.

Patton

> Gilded Lily by Cults

It was a little easy picking this one, tbh. It mentions a "slow heart", and doesn't that just scream Patton? I know it's more on the angstier side of things, but it fits (in my opinion). Especially with all the drama and self-doubt that popped up in POF/SvS Redux. The lyrics, "But with my double vision, how was I supposed to see the way?" is quite literally and basically what happened with Patton as Morality. He usually has a black-and-white mindset, but then got hit with the reality that life isn't always like that. Life, and humanity, is very grey. There's a lot of in-betweens. Also, the lyrics, "Always the fool with the slowest heart" is just- yeah. Yep, that's Patton. He seems to be confused a lot in canon and is slow to certain realizations. It can take him a bit to catch up to the others in some regards. Then, of course, the lyrics, "Haven't I given enough?" has multiple meanings and uses for Patton specifically. He tries so hard to do the right thing, have the "right" morals, and yet it never seems to be enough in the grand scheme of things. He gives a lot of love, but sometimes he can be overbearing and is learning a middle ground for that. Lastly, the lyrics, "Now that it's been long enough to talk about it" makes me think of upcoming episodes, aka: the season finale. Perhaps the previous episode(s) will be addressed, or at least affect, the future videos? (Another theory for another time; I have a lot of theories, sorry).

Roman

> Average by Sushi Soucy

This song has been on my mind, and it seemed to fit Roman. I'm not very good with getting songs right for Roman, but I think this is the most accurate that I've picked. The themes of self-doubt, the topic of acting, feeling like you're worthless because you can't be perfect/the best? Yeah, definitely Roman. He is a perfectionist, and debatably has a Hero/Saviour Complex going on. As Thomas' Ego, he is very fragile. Comments are taken to heart, no matter how harmless they were intended to be. He's very insecure. The lyrics, "If you never show off, your only critic is yourself" seems to describe Roman pretty well. He is a critic of himself: he must be perfect, a classic Disney hero, a protective prince of the innocent. He critiques himself harshly, as addressed in an earlier episode (Am I Original?). He still does throughout the series, though it's more in the background. He believes himself a failure if he cannot be the best at what he is and what he does. Also, the lyrics, "You got the skills of an idiot who got too much praise" reminds me of Roman. Being praised for his results and habits, especially with his perfectionist mindset, really f*cked with him. He isn't prepared, mentally nor emotionally, to take rejection or be less-than in any way. If his work isn't the absolute greatest, then it's sh*t. That's his mindset. He may think he's worthless if he cannot produce excellence every time. If he's worthless, then... what's the point? What's the point of him creating if it's not received well? He also seems to be clinging to every single praise, no matter how little it is.

Virgil

> Wolf in Sheep's Clothing (feat. Willaim Beckett) by Set it Off

It took me a while because a lot of the songs I have for Virgil are more about him and Janus specifically, rather than just him. But, here we are! I choose a song by Set It Off because a good amount of their songs remind me of Virgil, and I think he'd like the band in general. This specific song I picked because it makes me think of how Virgil may view/may feel about Janus and Remus, and all their recent appearances/involvement. It's clear in canon that whatever happened for Virgil to leave the dark Sides, it was mainly between Virgil and Janus. He feels betrayed and hurt. Remus- well, he's just unsettled by him. Not much drama goes on between those two. The lyrics, "Beware, beware, be skeptical / Of their smiles, their smiles of plated gold / Deceit so natural" are important. It literally says "deceit", so it fits with Virgil's and Janus' enemy-thing going on. He's warned the others and c!Thomas against lying before. Remember the episode, A New Year of Lying to Myself... In Song!, where they sing a song about lying? How Virgil was so insistent that c!Thomas be truthful with himself, rather than make promises he knew he'd break? Yeah, Virgil has been very opposed to deception from the beginning (probably because of his relationship with Janus). ALSO: this song is literally about a "wolf in sheep's clothing", or someone who is disguising themself as more innocent and "good" than they really are. Again, this is how Virgil views Janus. It may not be the truth of the situation, cause it's Virgil's opinions and thoughts. I have a lot more to say, but this is already really long. Ask about it if you want me to explain more.

Janus

> Until It Doesn't Hurt by Mother Mother

Listen, okay. Knowing Janus' official playlist and the amount of jazz/jazz-adjacent songs that were there, this one fit that jazzy trend. Plus, with all the recent angst of POF/SvS Redux, it makes me think of Janus. I'd imagine he'd just let things be because he doesn't want to make it worse. Janus is petty, yes. BUT, he's also trying to be accepted and stay accepted, so I doubt he wants to f*ck things up more than they already are. This song also gives into Janus' more petty and vengeful side. The lyrics, "I wanna tear all my bridges down" reminds me of how petty and selfish Janus can be. He wants to tear down all the bridges that don't serve him. All those connections that aren't good or self-serving in a way. All those "alliances" that seem to be turning into the opposites, the connections with people who've turned into rivals or even enemies. All in the name of self-preservation and self-care. He doesn't want to keep connections that could hurt him. Also, the lyrics, "I wanna swallow all the light" are important for Janus, in my opinion. It reminds me of pre-SvS/pre-POF Janus, specifically him in Can Lying Be Good? when he was first introduced. Back when everyone (including us Fanders) believed him to be nothing but a villainous antagonist, put in place to "swallow all the light". To be the darkness that balanced out the light Sides. Makes me think of how Roman hurt Janus in POF/SvS Redux, and how Janus could be tempted to hurt the others back because he is petty. More to say on these specific lyrics, but I'm running out of room. Lastly, the lyrics, "If I can't make it right / Then I won't make it worse" are something to discuss. Janus knows he messed up with the famous line, "Roman, thank God you don't have a mustache. Otherwise, between you and Remus- well, I wouldn't know who the evil twin is." Cause that was a very low blow. They BOTH attacked each other's insecurities, but I wonder if that specific line also affected Remus, as well? (A theory for another time). Anyway, I like to think Janus knows he can't make it better right now, so he refuses to make it worse by trying to do anything.

Remus

> Can't Go to Hell by Sin Shake Sin

Not going to lie, it took me very long to pick just one for Remus. I apparently had a lot that seemed to fit him perfectly and canonically, and that seemed to work for his official playlist. The reason I picked this one specifically is because of the religious themes and the cover art is a familiar sight for those of us who saw that one easter egg in Moving On (Part 2?). Plus, it fits Remus' general vibe of being a chaotic and reckless gremlin. The lyrics, "Deafened by the naive while we silence the wise" is just yus. Kind of a nod to Remus being repressed/ignored, and sharing that in common with Logan (think back to that one scene in WTIT, the orange outburst Logan had). Also, the lyrics, "This romance with ignorance has left us behind" speaks volumes to c!Thomas being ignorant to some things about himself. For example, before he confronted Remus and his existence, or even before he confronted his capacity for deception and learned about Janus. Ignorance, or Denial (also Janus? That's a theory for another time), has left c!Thomas in the dark for a lot of things. It "left him behind" in regards to knowing himself, and it only seemed to created problems for him. Also, Remus seems to reference Hell a lot, so the point of "we're already in Hell" makes me think of him.

[gritsandbrits]

They heard all that caterwauling now they know where we are! D8<

I thought you liked my caterwauling!

Yeah, when it's not deadly!

June, in the pilot, tired as hell and just as mad.

I tapped my toe on the ground as I stood guard next to my friends. The dark blue dress I wore did little to relieve me from the acrid midnight air. I was supposed to be in bed by 9. I loved my sleep, especially on days when I had to go to work early in the mornings. I groused in envy. The sun got to enjoy its rest, meanwhile I'm outside in the middle of the night in the cemetery of all places. Call me crazy, but I wouldn't dare be messing around with dead people! Not only was it sinful - like what we're doing now could be considered saintly - but also weird as fuck. But the cemetery was one the best & last place for the feds to look.

See, my aunt and uncle ran an underground bar, apparently from the very beginning of the ban booze and it was pretty popular in our area. Even I attended a few parties. But all that came crashing down when someone decided to turn Uncle Atlas into dog chow. Now poor Aunt Mitzi struggled to hold the fort down and the day job at the eatery. I had to put my own dreams on hold to get a bookkeeping job to help her out. It wasn't easy, but the bar had been in our lives for years and we weren't about to let it go.

Even if it means continuing my uncle's other business venture.

Freckles and Ivy were digging up a grave where the treasure was buried. I was to keep watch for any prying eyes. So far I'd only caught a few nightbirds and Rocky singing his ass off with the violin. I liked him, not like that, but what he was doing defeated the purpose of rumrunning in the first place. Singing should be left to the stage, not being a potential hazard for rivals to scope you out.

I sighed and leaned against a willow tree to look at the moon above. Singing was one of the few things I was truly good at and enjoyed. I missed the booming roars of the audience clapping and cheering me on.

There was one thing however, I did let go. Just thinking about it made me want to stop to me knees and cry. But who said life was fair? The only momento I had was the sparkling silver necklace in my pocket. I thumbed it now to keep myself calm.

Rocky stopped his antics and bounced over to us.

The two began to scuffle with each other. I jumped in, "quiet you two! You're acting like a couple of spoiled kittens!"

Right after I said that lights popped out from behind us, causing Ivy to yelp almost out of her fur!

I froze. Before us was another car. The headlights made it impossible to cmake out the silhouettes inside. I raised my arm up to shielded my face.

"Guys get up get up!" I hissed, not even bothering to conceal the fear laced in my voice. Rocky and Freckles looked up in horror.

Terrified we all scurried back into the car.

"Hurry Ivy!" I whispered-yelled as I banged my paw against the seat. Ivy's fingers darted for the brakes. The car jerked back and slid away.

"Where did you learn to drive like that?" Asked Rocky.

"I didn't!" Ivy replied.

The other car stopped and a couple of people got out. I adjusted my glasses and observed them. Two of them shared the same white fur & darker stripes, and had different body types. Based on their clothed and the lady's hairstyle it didn't take an hour for me to realize who they are.

Oh yeah we needed to hurry and get out of there.

Then I saw there someone else with them. Someone I swore I never wanted to see again. Someone who seems to know all of a your secrets fron first glance. Someone who'll murder you with a pencil then write in the accounting books with the blood still dripping off.

As a matter of fact he technically was our accountant...until he ditched us, and stole My heart along with him.

Mordecai. Fucking. Heller. If you thought Serafine and Noah were bad...at least they were honest about who they were. My breath caught in my throat as I see him now slinking behind the dastardly duo. I wanted to claw his stupid green eyes out but that directly opposed my need for kissing him silly. His eyes never failed to take my breath away, they were emeralds carved in living flesh.

Wait what am I doing? I'm supposed to be trying to get up out of here!

He couldn't.

[fanmoose12]

Hi fanmoose! Got a prompt for you, if you're interested: Levi seeing the 104th and the vets preparing gifts for Hange's birthday, but he's wondering what to give them so he goes above and beyond... all the Scouts are taken by surprise.

Thanks, and good luck!

i changed a couple of things..... hope you still enjoy it! thanks for the prompt <3

Jean got a notebook. Armin made a new quill, using a feather from the owl he and Mikasa caught. Connie brought from his home village a whole basket of peers Hange loved so much. Sasha was responsible for baking a cake.

Nifa made her favorite brownies. Mike decided to gift Hange a new jacket, Nanaba bought a new pair of shoes, Erwin got her a new pair of glasses and a microscope she was whining about for so long. Moblit drew a fucking portrait of her.

Even Eren, as obtuse as he was, prepared a present for Hange.

“My mom was very good at sewing,” he shared with Levi, in the middle of his training, “she didn’t teach me how to do it,” at that, his voice lost some of its edge, tints of sadness appearing, “but Mikasa knows how to sew and she promised to help me with it!”

Levi could only arch an eyebrow. “And how is that related to a gift for Hange?”

Eren leaned closer with a hand next to his mouth, looking so serious, like he was going to tell the biggest secret in the world. “I’m going to sew a plushie for Squad Leader.”

“A plushie? A fucking toy with your titan’s face?”

There was a beat of silence. Then… “Damn it.” Eren took head in his hands, tugging at his hair with alarming desperation. “Damn it! I should have sewed the plushie of my Titan! Hange-san loves it!”

Yeah, as much as it annoyed Levi, there was certainly no way he could deny that.

“So… what did you sew instead?”

Peaking beneath his fingers, Eren mumbled. “A plushie of me holding a heart that says ‘I love you, Hange’.”

Fuck… as dense as Eren was, Levi had to admit… the gift was not bad at all. Especially for Eren. Especially comparing to his gift, which consisted of…

Nothing.

Just two days were left before Hange’s birthday, and he still no idea what to give her. Hange was probably expecting a present from him. Or, maybe, she was not. She was nice like that – always giving without asking for something in return. Hange was also kind, she thought he was her friend, and even more than that. Best friend, she once told him. And Levi had to admit. He felt it too. Hange was his friend. The first one he made in Survey Corps. The closest one he had.

Some friend he was, apparently. Not even preparing a gift for her.

Sensibly, he knew that he was making a problem out of nothing. He could give Hange something simple – a shampoo she obviously didn’t possess; a book she would probably like and squeal in his ear about; a new shirt or a bottle of good wine.

Hange would probably enjoy these kinds of gift. They were certainly useful. But were they meaningful? Would Hange remember them, ten years from now?

He wanted her to. Hange was his friend, perhaps, even something more. He wanted only the best for her. That’s why picking up a gift was such a problem.

With only two days left, Levi was getting desperate. He was thinking about seeking out help, but just before he gathered the strength…

The help came to him themselves.

“Good day, Levi,” with a good-natured smile, Erwin invaded his office, Mike and Nanaba trailing after him. “Are you busy?”

Levi pointedly looked at the mountain of paperwork on his desk. “Yes,” he drew, “All thanks to you, Erwin.”

“Well, you can take a break,” Erwin waved his hand dismissively, and took a seat on the opposite end of Levi’s desk. Nanaba and Mike occupied the sofa. “We came to discuss something very important,” the smile was gone, as Erwin clenched his jaw and knitted his eyebrows in a hard line. Looking at that expression, Levi felt his stomach sinking. What was this all about? If it was about their upcoming expedition, then where was… “A little birdie shared with us,” Erwin interrupted his heavy thoughts, “That you still have no present for Hange.”

What? Levi gawked at his guests, switching his confused gaze from one to the other.

“And what is the name of that birdie?” He would find that birdie and give them a piece of his mind, for sure. Who dared get poke his nose into his personal matters?

“Please, Levi,” Mike joined the conversation, “You couldn’t get more obvious. I can smell your desperation from miles away.”

Levi’s annoyance rose. Birdies, smelling desperation. Could they talk like normal people?

Seeing his increasing frustration, Nanaba decided to come to rescue. She smiled, tucking a lock of her hair behind an ear. “I overheard your conversation with Eren. You looked a bit distressed, honestly I thought you were going to kick his ass again… And since I doubt Hange is enamored with Eren in that way, I concluded that you…”

“Are angry not because the boy is a titan and spends too much time with Hange, but because he already has a gift prepared, when you do not.” Erwin finished.

Well… the conclusion was sound, at least. But that didn’t mean that Levi felt any less annoyed.

“So?” he raised an eyebrow, staring judgingly at his intruders. “What do you want from me?”

“We want to help, of course,” the smile was back at Erwin’s lips. “And we have some ideas.”

“Such as?”

Nanaba bounced from her seat, crossing the room to bang her palms against the surface of Levi’s desk. He jumped slightly, certainly not expecting it.

“You know what Hange really likes?”

“Books?” Levi tried. “Science? Titans? Books about titan’s science?”

“No, dummy,” Nanaba shook her head, “Hange likes you.”

It took him a long moment to comprehend. Even then, the only thing Levi could get out of his mouth was a very faint, “Eh?”

“We all know how much Hans makes you happy.” Mike said.

They did? How so?

“You spend a lot of time with Hange,” Erwin noted, answering his unasked question.

“And you allow her to do things that you deny everyone else,” Nanaba continued.

“And when she is with you, that constipated expression disappears from your face.” Mike finished.

He… didn’t have a constipated expression. And while Hange did make his days more pleasant and his survival that easier and more enjoyable… Levi was sure that no one knew about it, but him.

“Listen, we all know that you like Hange, and we’re telling you that Hange likes you. That’s why…” Erwin lifted his chin, his smile becoming nearly devilish. Were they still talking about a simple birthday gift? “I made a reservation in a restaurant in Sina. Take Hange there, eat good food, drink some wine, have a good night… Make Hange happy.”

Their suggestion was certainly better than Levi’s nothing. However…

“What you’re offering seems a lot like fraternization. Isn’t that illegal?” he narrowed his eyes at Erwin, skepticism oozing from him. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Perish the thought!” not swayed by Levi’s scary expression, Erwin chuckled. “You’re correct, technically, two officers are not allowed to enter romantic relationship, but I think it’s a little too late for that.” Huh? Just how Levi was meant to interpret that? “Besides… think about humanity, Levi! If you and Hange were to conceive a child…” the expression on Erwin’s face was so dreamy, Levi felt chills at the base of his spine. “A child born from the union of humanity’s strongest and smartest… It could very well save our world!”

Levi stared at his Commander, at loss of words. Saying ‘you’re fucked up in the head, Erwin’ seemed a little too rude even for him, considering that Erwin was his superior officer. Still… he was fucked up in the head.

“Don’t listen to him,” Nanaba spoke, attracting Levi’s attention. “But think about our offer. An evening like that will really make Hange happy. You want that, don’t you?”

Did he want to make Hange happy? More than anything…

“Do it for Hange,” Nanaba urged.

“Do it for love,” Mike added.

“Do it for humanity!” Erwin passionately concluded.

Fucked up in the head, Levi thought. All of them were. Himself, included. But what was he going to lose? Besides, their offer was better than anything he could have come up with.

“Alright,” he surrendered, a sigh escaping him. “I’ll do it.”

Nanaba cheered. Mike nodded at him with a smile. Erwin looked like he was about to cry. Then, to Levi’s horror, he saluted.

“Get out of my office now,” he shooed them away, lowering his gaze back to the papers. “I need to work.”

“Just another quick thing,” Nanaba patted his shoulder with a cheerful smile. “Walk Hange to the door of her room after the dinner. And make sure that you return after nine o’clock.”

Ah. So they had an ulterior motive. Of course. Levi shouldn’t be surprised.

“You’re planning something for Hange, I take it?”

“A little party,” Mike confessed. “We’ll deal with food and drinks, but you’re in charge of getting Hange there in time.”

Levi didn’t remember agreeing to be in charge of Hange, but… he didn’t like the idea of anyone else doing it in his stead.

“Nine o’clock, four-eyes’ room, I got it. Now get out of my office.”

Nanaba, Erwin and Mike didn’t need to be told twice.

___

After finding a solution to his main dilemma, Levi was now met with another, no less important and challenging than the previous one.

Erwin and the others got him a reservation at the restaurant. But... now he needed to invite Hange there.

His first attempt, executed not long after Erwin, Nanaba and Mike left his office, failed spectacularly, despite his expectations. He naively thought that a simple note, carried to Hange via Moblit, would suffice. But, perhaps, the note didn’t reach its destination. Or Hange forgot to read it. Or she somehow misinterpreted the sentence ‘do you want to dine together?’. Or the fault laid in the absence of Levi’s signature.

Nevertheless, he needed to do better.

His next attempt was slightly more successful. At least, he got some kind of reaction. Still not reaction he had needed. Apparently, there were ways that one could misunderstand the simple phrase ‘hey, four-eyes, want to eat with me?’. Levi had expected a very enthusiastic ‘yes’. Instead he received ‘I’ll see you at the dinner’ and a door to his face.

Evidently, he had to do not only better, but also be a little clearer about his intentions.

After lots of pondering, Levi decided that nothing could be clearer than throwing a shiny new black jacket from Mike at Hange and barking, “Get dressed, Hange. We’re going out.”

That got him an intrigued ‘oooh’ and a promise to be ready in five minutes.

Levi smirked to himself. Finally, his plan had worked. Finally, he got through that brilliant and extremely dense head.

___

At first, the dinner was, for the lack of better word,extremely awkward.

Erwin failed to mention just how fancy the restaurant would be. Turned out, it was fancy. Very fancy. Fancier than anything Levi had seen in his life. Even Hange, despite not being a street rat from Underground, was feeling a little off.

“Everyone is staring at us,” she whispered to him, leaning over the table to do so.

Hange was right. Everyone was gawking at them. Perhaps, the reason for it was their clothes. Both of them were dressed in their best suits. Still, their best didn’t even begin to reach the best of the gathered crowd. Perhaps, other guests were weirded out by Hange’s loud cheer at the sight of meat in the menu.

Or, perhaps, their reputation preceded them, and everyone in here knew about humanity’s strongest soldier and crazy titan scientist, two of Erwin Smith’s loyal devils.

Whatever the case was, Levi didn’t like the obvious staring. They came here to eat and have a good time, not be observed like clowns in the circus.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered back to her. He really was. It was Erwin’s mistake, but it was Hange’s birthday and it was his fault for not checking the restaurant beforehand. He was a scout, for fuck’s sake. It was his job.

“Don’t even start,” Hange huffed, waving her hand dismissively. “Not the first time I receive that sort of treatment. Probably not the last one as well.”

Hange paused, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “And if they want to look at us so much, let’s give them something to stare at.”

Levi’s lips twitched up. “And what do you suggest?”

“Let’s order the priciest meals they have, eat them like animals they think we are, and then run away and let Erwin deal with that.”

There were many reasons why Levi loved Hange. This was one of them.

___

True to Hange’s plan, they were at their worst behavior. They used spoons instead of forks, they drank straight from the bottle, Hange ate the dessert with her hands, smearing cake all over her mouth, cheeks, palms and shirt. Barely keeping himself from laughing out loud, Levi wiped it all with his cravat, as Hange cooed at his chivalry.

Two hours later, their stomachs were full, the crowd was scandalized, their hearts were merry and their eyes were shining with unbridled mischief.

“I think we’ve succeeded at making the worst impression possible,” Hange spoke, following it with a loud laughter. Several guest scoffed at the volume. Levi showed all of them his scariest scowl. The rich fuckers returned their attention to their plates in record time.

“It’s time we make our exit,” he agreed.

He looked at Hange more closely, thinking if he should take the risk. She had been touching him freely throughout the whole evening. She pressed their calves together under the table, she ran a hand through his arm, she let him touch her face and tilt her chin. She didn’t seem opposed to the idea, so… Levi took a deep sighed, searching for every bit of courage inside of him. Once all of it was gathered, he took Hange by the hand, helping her to stand up.

To his surprise and huge relief, she didn’t shake his hand off. On the contrary, she squeezed his palm and interlaced their fingers.

Hand in hand, they started towards walking out of the restaurant. On his way there, Levi discreetly pushed a plate of soup at some wealthy lady, staining her light creamy dress and receiving a indignant cry and a joyous giggle from Hange.

After that, they had to speed up a little. It was Hange’s birthday. Levi didn’t want to spend it in the prison cell.

Once they were outside and some distance away from the restaurant, Hange stopped.

“Shit, Levi! Had you seen her face? She was—”

She didn’t finish. Hange leaned against the wall and threw her head back, laughing without abandon. She doubled over, hugging her stomach, her mirth not ceasing. Finding her mood strangely infectious, Levi couldn’t help but chuckle too.

Still snickering to herself, Hange looked up to meet his gaze. Her whole body was shaking from the laughter, and tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. Disheveled, red-faced and laughing, she was the most beautiful sight Levi had ever seen. The moonlight and faint stars only accentuated her beauty.

Levi was lost in watching her.

Subconsciously, in a mindless attempt to get a better look at the wonder that was Hange Zoe, he leaned in.

Hange leaned in too, her hand finding place at his shoulder. She moved that hand slightly, closer to his neck. Her fingers ghosted around his hairline, making him shiver.

He was looking in her eyes. Hange was looking at his lips.

The world around the two of them faded, the sounds of a street at night, the singing from the nearby pub disappearing to the background.

Levi didn’t know, had failed to register who moved first. But a moment later, his hand was on her waist, and Hange buried her fingers in his hair. And then, they were kissing – sloppily, desperately, without skill but with lots of passion.

Levi felt like he was struck by lightning. Nothing he had ever done before felt even remotely as good as kissing Hange did.

As the kiss progressed, becoming deeper, Levi found himself pressed against the wall.

Hange was everywhere – her tongue was in his mouth, her palms on his cheeks, her knee was rising, resting against his crotch. It was almost too much. And yet, not enough.

“Hange, Hange,” with some difficulty, he separated himself from her hot mouth and soft lips. “Hange, if someone sees us—”

“Oh, right,” still pressed dangerously close to him, she giggled. “Erwin would have a heart attack if we get jailed for making out on the streets. He’d deem us a disappointment to humanity.”

“Back to barracks then?”

Hange licked her lips and winked. Levi felt another strong surge of desire. “We can continue there.”

After that kind of promise, Levi hurried to find where they left their horses. He all but raced there, and jumped on his loyal stallion, grasping the reins a little too tightly.

Hange followed his suit. “Who arrives at the barracks first, gets to be on top?” she challenged.

Without waiting for his reply, she started off. Cursing, Levi struggled to keep up.

That day, he learned one essential lesson. Riding a horse with a raging boner was a fucking torture.

___

Hange was the first one to reach the stumbles. Dismounting her horse, she ran up to Levi, pulling him off the saddle and instantly connecting their lips. Levi would have liked to complain, but… who was he kidding?

Without another word, he brought Hange closer, putting his hand on her hip.

Just as the first one, the second kiss was amazing, enough to knock his breath out and make his knees buckle underneath him.

“If that’s my birthday gift,” Hange murmured, panting after they broke apart. “Then it’s the best one I ever had.”

And here Levi thought that there was nothing more enjoyable than kissing Hange. But as he saw her gentle smile, the adoring expression in her twinkling eyes, he was ready to melt in her arms.

However, he wouldn’t be himself if he passed an opportunity to use a sarcastic quip. “Is it better than Erwin’s microscope? Than Eren’s plushie?”

Hange put a finger to her chin, looking up with a thoughtful expression. “The microscope is really good, and that plushie is so adorable…” Levi’s good spirits vanished, as something ugly found its place inside his chest. Before it could manifest in a scowl, Hange caught his lips with hers once again.

“But nothing is better than you, shorty,” she confessed as they separated.

Hange likes you, Nanaba had said. She wasn’t wrong, it seemed.

“Your room or mine?” he asked, already tugging off Hange’s jacket.

“Mine. I was the one to win, after all,” she smirked, rapidly turning away and starting to run. Levi had no choice but to chase her.

___

He caught up with her near the entrance. Ceasing the moment, he wrapped arms around her waist, pressing her to him. Hange’s giggle turned into a moan. Levi delighted in that.

Exchanging messy kisses, they tumbled through the front door. Unable to break away from each other, they clumsily walked through the barracks, tripping and stumbling. And, despite the growing desire, they didn’t hurry as well. They stopped near the stairwell, so Hange could put a hickey on a spot above his collarbone. They paused at the middle of the hallway, so Levi could grind against her. Hange pressed him against the wall to whisper, “Fuck, Levi, this feels so good.”

When they reached the bedroom, Levi was ready to cheer. It was the longest walk through the barracks he had ever had. Was Hange’s room always that far away from the entrance?

With her hands shaking, she searched through her pockets for a key. She found it after a long minute that Levi spent kissing her neck. Once she fished it out, she put the key in the keyhole, and decided to celebrate that grand achievement with another breathtaking kiss.

Getting a little too eager, Levi pushed Hange forward. That was his mistake.

Apparently, the door to her room wasn’t closed. And, apparently,the room also wasn’t empty.

Unfortunately, Levi realized that and remembered the second part of Erwin’s plan a second too late. After he had heard the loud and cheerful ‘Happy birthday, Hange!’

With his arms still around Hange, he froze. Everyone else in the room froze too. The awkward silence settled over.

Levi’s thought frantically moved around his head, jumping from one corner to another. What should he do? Apologize? Let Hange go? Tell all of them to fuck off so he and Hange could finish what they had started?

However, he didn’t get to decide what to do with the unexpected audience. Hange chose for him.

“Guys!” she clasped her hands joyfully, her smile brighter than all the candles that stood around the room combined. “That’s so sweet! Thank you!”

She pulled away from Levi, sprinting to get to her friends. She gave a tight hug to Erwin, Mike, Nanaba, Moblit, Nifa, Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Sasha, Jean, Connie… Levi thought the string of people who wanted Hange’s attention would never end.

After hugs, came cake, and after cake was wine. He felt ignored, he felt utterly forgotten. He contemplated if he should go back to his room. He wanted Hange to kiss him again.

But instead he was sulking in the corner, munching on a cake Sasha had prepared. At least, the cake was good. But his frustration left a bitter taste in his mouth.

As his plate was emptied, Levi thought once again about leaving. But in that exact moment, seemingly out of nowhere, Hange appeared by his side.

“Planning to ditch the party early?” she wiggled her eyebrows, staring at him with unmasked mischief.

“It’s your birthday, not mine, four-eyes.”

“Exactly!” Hange threw an arm over his shoulders. “You’re my guest of honor!”

Ignoring the awakening of butterflies in his stomach and chalking them up to the effects of Sasha’s cake, Levi grunted, “Meaning?”

“Meaning I want you to stay!”

Levi rolled his eyes. He couldn’t really say no to Hange today, right? Although, he had troubles saying no to her any other day as well…

“And thank you for spending the whole evening with me,” Hange punctuated her gratitude with a kiss to his cheek. The butterflies were now flying freely, making Levi dizzy. It was hard to deny their origin anymore, with the trigger standing so close to him. “It was the best birthday I ever had.”

Well, that was all the gratitude Levi needed.

Before she left his side to receive more birthday wishes from their friends, Hange put her mouth above his ear, lowering her voice to a whisper, “Stay until the end, shorty. I’m not finished with you.”

She bounced off before he could give an answer. Perhaps, it was fairly obvious to her.

After all, how he could refuse Hange on the day of her birthday? How could he say no to receiving more of her attentions, and kisses?

With a satisfied hum, Levi settled against the wall, aiming his glare at all the guests. He couldn’t wait until all of them would leave. He couldn’t wait to have Hange all to himself.

[toomanyrobins]

a little birdie told me pt. 8

Summary: Y/N “Birdie” Parker left New York and her family three years ago in the middle of the night. Now, a call for help to her best friend brings her back into the fold of the Three Families and their “business”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Parker!Reader

Content warning: physical abuse, miscarriage, cursing, mentions of forced marriage, sex, mentions of alcohol and inebriation

Word Count: 2k

Notes: Thank you for the patience this part week! Hope that this part makes up for the wait! 💛 

Series masterlist // next part As the party reached its head, Y/N offered to take Jamie up to the room. She still didn’t love crowds and especially didn’t love so many strangers touching her. Steve had tried to convince her to stay, but when he saw the anxious look in her eyes, he nodded in understanding and thanked her for her help. A feeling of relief washed over her as the door clicked shut and she could kick off her heels. The first thing she did was put Jamie into his pajamas and change out of her dress. She dug around her bag for the nightie she packed, but there was a chill in the air so she grabbed one of Steve’s sweatshirts to put on top. Jamie was still wired from all of the excitement, so she decided to lay down on the couch in the sitting room and put on a movie. Y/N traced her fingers along his back, letting her mind wander to Steve. Eventually, Jamie started to settle and they both were dozing on the couch, the movie playing in the background. She was half asleep when the door of Steve’s hotel room banged open, making her jump. She immediately checked on the baby, but he continued to sleep like a log. She sat up slowly and looked at the men leaning against Steve for support, “Are you guys drunk?”

Bucky’s eyes were practically crossed, “No…”

“Really?” she quirked an eyebrow, “Then say the alphabet backwards.”

Bucky and Sam all shared a look. There was silence for a second and then the latter spoke, “What the hell is the last letter of the alphabet?”

Y/N laughed under her breath “Yeah, okay. Thank you, Sam, I think that answered my question.” She was trying not to show her amusement at the situation as Steve was holding the two men up. “Boys, go to my room and sleep it off. Steve, I’ll stay and help take care of Jamie for the night.” The blond nodded and walked into the bedroom.

Bucky sidled up beside her and kissed her forehead, “Thanks Birdie. You’re the best. I can see why the punk never shuts up about you.” Y/N’s cheeks grew warm.

“God, Barnes, you do not know how to keep a secret. Nearly revealing that Steve’s got a thing for Birdie. Get your shit together.” Sam slapped the brunet upside the head and the two men stumbled off to the adjoining room, leaving Y/N to absorb the information that was just drunkenly revealed to her.

She shook her head, that could be dealt with at a later date. Y/N put the sleeping Jamie into his crab and walked into the bedroom. Steve was starfished on the bed, his eyes shut. “You have got to shower. You smell like you’re wearing the entire contents of a keg.”

“Bucky spilled his beer on me. I’m so tired, sweetheart.”

She forced him off of the bed. “You can sleep after you shower.” He grumbled, but started undressing. She squeaked, turning around, and stayed that way until she heard the shower turn on. In an attempt to keep herself distracted, she went back out into the sitting room to check on Jamie and make sure the drunk duo wouldn’t bother him. Thankfully, all three of them were both already passed out. She snapped a quick photo and sent it to Becca to let her know that her fiance was safe and sound before going back into the bedroom.

When Steve came out of the bathroom, he found Y/N sitting on the bed. He was only wearing a towel and she couldn’t tear her gaze away from him. He leaned against the door, just admiring her. He traced up her legs to where his hoodie brushed her thighs. He had seen a peek of lace when she’d leaned over and knew saw was wearing something underneath. When his eyes finally met hers, she tilted her head, “You okay, Stevie?”

“Yeah, just thinking.”

“That’s a dangerous thing to be doing at 2 in the morning. What’s wrong?”

He weighed his options and the drinks he had had earlier boosted his confidence, “I should’ve kissed you when I noticed we had mistletoe above us earlier.”

Y/N squeaked, “What?”

“When we were dancing, we spun under mistletoe and I should’ve kissed you.”

“It is probably bad luck to ignore the Christmas Spirit.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Steve was across the room and kissing her. He peeled his sweatshirt off of her, Y/N threading her hands through his damp hair before it hit the floor. She pushed him gently so that he was sitting on the bed. One leg was thrown over so that she was straddling him, the towel the only thing between them. Y/N pulled back and looked down at him. His eyes were blown, looking at her like she was the only other person in the world. He flipped them over, towel falling off, so that she laying on the bed, her nightie bunching up to reveal that she was bare underneath. They both moaned as he touched her, feeling how wet she was for him, “Nothing underneath, sweetheart?”

“I haven’t been wearing any all night.” His eyes darkened at that and he tore the flimsy dress off of her, “Steve!”

“I’ll buy you a new one.” In a split second, he was back on her. His mouth traveled over her, leaving marks down her neck and chest. Her wrists were captured in one of his hands, leaving her completely exposed. Y/N keened underneath him as his teeth grazed over her nipple. She ground her hips up against him, looking for any friction she could get. His hand tangled into her hair and all she could focus on was how addictive he was. This moment had been a long time coming and neither ever wanted it to stop. Both were scared that this moment would end and inescapable awkwardness would settle in.

Heat grew from Y/N’s core, as Steve returned his attention to her neck. Her whole body was tingling, as she felt his muscular frame over hers and his arms trapping her in place. He was claiming her, sucking and biting marks all over her chest.  She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him close and rolled her hips against him. “Fuck, sweetheart. Touch me.” Y/N slid her hands down and ran her nails over his abdomen. She felt his abs contract underneath her fingers. She pulled her hand away as he bit a spot on her neck and she arched against him. Steve smiled down at her, “Good girl.” She sucked in a breath and he smirked knowingly at her. All rational thought was replaced with the need for the other to touch them. She felt the heat of his mouth against her and his rough hands on her thighs. Steve held her legs apart and knelt down. “Are you going to keep being a good girl for me, Birdie?”

“Yes,” she sobbed, “Please, just touch me.”

“I am touching you, sweetheart.”

“Dammit, Stevie. I’ll do anything, just make me cum.”

“Anything, huh? I’m going to have to remember that.” Y/N whimpered and he finally gave her what she needed. She tangled her hand on his hair, as the other gripped the pillow above her. Steve’s teasing fingers made her cry out, as he continued his assault on her clit. He felt her fluttering around him and couldn’t wait to be inside of her any longer, “Are you sure, Birdie?”

“God, stop teasing and fuck me.” He kissed Y/N once more, before filling her completely. He slammed into her, then pulling almost completely out before claiming her again. She had never felt so full before, back arching as she called out his name. Steve buried his head against her neck, the room filled with their moans. She spread her legs and held tightly to his shoulders, as he pounded into her. The change in angle meant he was hitting that perfect spot and Y/N felt herself getting close. She slipped her hand down to rub her clit and clenched around Steve, her toes curling. He thrust a few more times before burying himself inside her completely.

The room was silent, except for them trying to catch their breaths and their heart rates to slow. Once he was slightly more clear-headed, Steve rolled them over so that she was laying on his chest. Neither spoke as Y/N lazily traced over one of the tattoos on his chest, eventually lulling them both into sleep.

The next morning, Jamie’s crying woke the sleeping pair. Steve groaned and buried his head into the pillows. Y/N rolled out of his grip, “Go back to sleep, I got him.” She pulled on a pair of leggings from her bag and Steve’s sweatshirt off the floor. She ignored the soreness between her legs as she padded into the sitting room and picked Jamie up. She settled him down and called for room service.

She played with the baby until the breakfast arrived and sent Becca a text inviting her to join for breakfast in the room. Y/N was in her own little world thinking about Steve and their night.  Jamie had just started to have his bottle when a high-pitched shriek came from the adjoining room. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Bucky ripped the door open. “Sam, what the hell! I am not my sister!” Y/N choked on her laughter as the three men came out to stand in the living room, a mix of confusion and disgust on their faces.

When Steve had tumbled out, his hair was pointing in all directions and he had just a towel around him. Y/N could barely answer him when he asked what had happened because of how hard she was laughing, “Bucky is learning how Sam wakes his sister up in the morning apparently.”

“We never speak of this again!” The brunet pointed a threatening finger, “God, my head hurts!”

“I’m surprised you can stand up straight with how much you had to drink last night. I’ve got room service waiting for you if you’re hungry..”

“You are a goddess!” Sam exclaimed and rushed for the caffeine. Steve went to walk back into the room and get changed, when the dark-skinned man choked on his drink. “Well your back is telling me what you got up to last night, Rogers.” Raised red lines were all over his back where Y/N had clung to him the night before. He didn’t even try to look ashamed as he flashed them a grin and walked away. She, however, was embarrassed and Bucky took Jamie from her so that she could let Becca into the suite. He refused to meet his sister’s eyes and the others couldn’t stop giggling at the situation.

When they told the youngest Barnes what had happened, including the scratch marks on Steve’s back, she grinned, “Oh, so mommy and daddy finally got together.” Hearing herself referred to as Jamie’s mother made Y/N sick to her stomach. Suddenly, the realization of what last night could mean sent chills down her spine. Every uncertainty and fear from before she came home was flooding back and Y/N knew she had to get out of there.

“I just remembered that I need to go,” Y/N grabbed her bag and bolted out of the room.

Steve called after her, but she was in her own head. He whirled back around to look at his friends, “What the hell just happened?”

Y/N had rushed out and called an Uber back to her parent’s house. She snuck up to her room, hoping that everyone was still at the Ivory. Essentials were thrown into a duffle and stored in the back of her closet, nearly a carbon copy of what had happened 4 years earlier. That damned holiday party seemed to always lead to her running.

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

@founding-fuck-bois​

@animegirlgeeky​

@inlovewiththefictionalcharacters​

@directorsnarrative​

@marvelofwitch​

@hollandstanevans

[heyheydidjaknow]

Chapter 11

Guess who's back? Back again. Back three hours late, but back nonetheless. I'd feel more sorry if I was more sorry. This is officially the longest chapter as of now, so, yay. Someone challenged me to not swear for a chapter, and I believe I fulfilled that requirement. I'm just gonna go sleep.

Update: APPARENTLY, TUMBLR DOES THE TRANSFER FORMATTING THING ON LAPTOPS AND I HATE EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE RIGHT NOW SO MUCH. I usually do all my editing on my phone, so I knew no such luxury. I have never been more pissed. That is a lie, but my anger is still very genuine.

Chapter 11

“Where were you?”

The younger brother looks up at his senior. “Huh?”

“You were gone all night.” Leonardo leans against the door, crossing his arms. “Don’t look so surprised; I started getting up early to meditate.”

He shrugs in feigned nonchalance, already dreading the ensuing conversation. “Out.”

“And where’s ‘Out’?”

Donnie slides out of his chair, deciding his straining eyes need a break. “Just went to check on Y/N is all.” He rubs them with his arm, quietly noting the sounds of fighting in the dojo were starting to cease as he sits on the couch. His rounds of sparring with Leonardo were finished a little over an hour ago; a part of him is grateful it took him this long to corner him.

This got a raised brow. “You were checking on her for hours?”

He does not look him in the eye. “It’s not impossible.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“It wasn’t that late,” he argues.

“Donnie,” he presses, “you didn’t get home until five in the morning. Where were you?”

He feels his face heat up. “I said.”

Leo leans down to look his brother in the eye. “Final answer?”

He swallows a yawn. “Look, I know it was stupid—”

“I didn’t say it was stupid.”

“No,” he snips, mildly irritable from a lack of sleep. “You implied it.”

The doors to the dojo slide open, the disgruntled look on Raphael’s face all the evidence the other two need to know who won.

Mikey dives onto the couch, sprawling out next to his slightly older brother. “Did you ask yet?”

“I did.” He glances at the disgruntled boy. “Donnie was, apparently, at Y/N’s all night.”

The reaction is immediate.

“Details!” The small victor sits up, leaning forward on his knees in usual attentiveness. “Was she good?”

“What did you—shut up, Mikey.” Raph’s attention snaps back to his tallest brother. “What did you do to her? Did you—”

“Wait, hold on!” Donnie’s face feels uncomfortably hot. “N-Nothing happened!”

“Yeah, sure.” The second eldest rolls his eyes. “You think we fell off the truck yesterday? Who stays with a girl all night in her room without something happening? Nobody,” he cuts him off before he can defend himself.

The youngest’s voice rises over his brother’s before he can continue. “Dude, big picture!” He gestures to his brown-eyed brother. “He got with a girl first! He has valid info or whatever he says and stuff!”

“What are you two even talking about?” He wrings his hands. “Look, nothing happened!”

“Then what were you doing at her house,” Raphael eggs. “You weren’t just sitting there, right?”

“… no.”

“Then what were you doing there?”

He pauses, the two excitable boys waiting on bated breath. “She wanted me to spend the night,” he explains carefully, “because she was having bad nightmares and didn’t want to sleep alone.” He leans back, tossing his hands in the air. “That’s all.”

Silence falls.

“So,” clarifies Raphael, “you spent however many hours in her room, in her bed, and you didn’t make a move?”

“I—look!” The conversation is taking a shift for the worse. “I was trying to be nice! The last thing she needed was me doing whatever you’re insinuating!”

“He has a point,” Michelangelo nods knowingly. “Brownie points are key.”

“When did I say I was doing this for brownie points?”

“Look,” the eldest interjects. “Regardless of whether or not he was doing the ‘smart’ thing—” air quotes, “my bigger concern is that you didn’t bother calling to let us know where you were. You could’ve—Raph, do you have something to say?”

He rolls his eyes. “Are you really gonna act like you wouldn’t do the exact same thing if it were you?”

The leader pauses. “Would you like to take this somewhere more private?”

“Sure.” A venomous smile curls Raph’s lips. “Dojo?”

“Bring it.”

As the two leave, Donnie looks back over at Mikey. “Okay,” he sighs, “did I miss something?”

A shrug. “Man," he grins brazenly, "bold of you to assume I follow half of the things you guys say.”

He pulls his T-Phone from his utility belt. “Do you think I did the right thing? Honestly?”

Another shrug. “I dunno.” He looks over his older brother’s shoulder, reading the text on the screen curiously. “Can’t have gone too bad, though, if you two’ve been textin’ all day.

He pushes his head away with his free hand. “It hasn’t been all day,” he corrects. “She just filled me in on this week’s episode and we just kept talking after that.” He smiles faintly. “Although, she did check to see if I got home alright.”

“Hey, that’s totally progress!” He grins encouragingly. “I mean, the bed thing was bigger progress, but this is also progress.”

You push through the turnstile with a bit of difficulty, hopping on your good leg as you pull the walker over the divider using your free hand with an embarrassing clatter. “Sorry,” you wince, feeling your face heat up as you slide down the railing. “I’m still getting used to—”

“Holy—are you alright?” The distress is apparent in the youngest’s voice as he sees you for the first time in a month. “You look like you—”

“I’m aware,” you cut him off dryly, holding a paper bag as you stumble over to the couch. “Whatever you’re about to say, I’m aware.” You put it down in Donnie’s lap. “Here.”

He blinks, picking it up as you regain your bearings. “What is it?”

“Not poison or snakes. Open it.”

“Yo,” Mikey interrupts, pointing at your banged-up leg, “can I draw on your white thing?”

It takes you a second to figure out what he is referring to. “Oh, you mean—yeah.” You lean your head back against the back of the couch. “Just know that I’ll take white-out to anything that could get me kicked out of school.”

“Deal!” He runs off to your room as his brother pulls the bag open, pulling the pastry from its confinement.

“What is it,” he repeats, icing already on his fingers.

“Cupcake.”

He fingers the wrapper, his brick stare seeming almost to dissect it. “What is it for?”

“Besides being messy?” You smile gently as you watch him try to figure it out, feeling your heart swell. “It’s food.”

“How much of it is edible?”

“Everything except the paper bit.”

He peels the liner back. “And how do you eat it, exactly?”

You lean forward on your arms. “The goal is to eat the frosting and the cake part at the same time, so however you accomplish that.”

He smiles sheepishly, eyes softening as he looks back at you. “Is it possible to eat it without the frosting getting on your face?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

He tentatively holds eye contact with you as he takes a bite, unsurprisingly getting icing sticking to the space around his upper lip. You wait tentatively as he licks the excess off, blinking in delighted surprise. “What’s in this, exactly?”

You feel yourself beam at his tone. “It’s nothing too special,” you shrug nonchalantly, bubbling with excitement. “It’s a personal favorite; red velvet with cream cheese frosting.”

He takes another bite. “Do you have more? Follow-up question,” you note his speech quickening, “can you make more?”

“Totally,” you nod in agreement. “I wanted to make you something as thanks for—”

“Back!”

Donnie shoves the rest of it in his mouth as soon as you two hear him.

“Sorry for the wait; I couldn’t find my stuff.” He plops down with a cardboard box filled with various discarded art supplies. “I’d use spray paint, but he—” he nods to his brother, currently trying to choke the rest of the cupcake down—“said I’m not allowed because of fumes or somethin’, so.”

“Fair.” You allow him to drape your calf over his legs, digging into the cardboard box he was carrying and pulling out a pencil. “Got any plans?”

“You’ll see,” he grins, starting to sketch shapes out.

The taller of the two wipes the excess frosting off his fingers. “Oh,” he snaps his fingers, “when you two are done with that, Y/N, I still gotta do that physical.”

“Physical?”

He clears his throat in preparation for a very redundant explanation. “A physical,” he explains calmly to his over-excited brother, “as in a physical examination, not whatever you’re thinking of.”

He blinks. “Like a doctor’s visit?”

“Donnie was asking about my recovery time,” you add helpfully. “Apparently, it’s weirdly long, but I don’t have any weird medical problems, so he wanted to see what the deal was.”

“That, and your comment about how ‘insanely high’ we jump, apparently.”

“Do not air quote that!” You lean your head back to look at him, hair falling onto his lap. “Not when you guys put high jumping to shame.”

He adamantly avoids eye contact, face warming. “It’s not that high,” he mumbles. “Especially if we’re bringing a sport like high jumping into this.”

“I respectfully disagree.” You lay your head down properly, looking up at him from his thighs. “Considering your falling form, it is a miracle you still have working hips.”

“What’s wrong with my form?”

“It doesn’t include a parachute.”

“Okay,” Mikey interjects, “it may not last unless you cover it with something. Just, FYI.”

You lean your head up to look at him. “Noted,” you nod. “I’ll pick up varnish or something on my way home.”

He nods. “Oh,” he asks innocently, “mind turning over? I have to get the other side and I don’t want to hurt you.”

For some inexplicable reason, the boy you are currently laying on looks as though someone has put a gun to his head.

You do as asked with a bit of difficulty, bringing your knee closer to your chest as it is now closest to the back of the couch. “Like that?”

“Perfect. Thanks.”

You look up at Donnie. “Let me know if you need me to move,” you smile. “If your thighs go numb or anything.”

His voice is oddly tight. “You’re good.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Sure? You sound very uncomfortable.”

“Never better.”

“He’s alright,” Mikey reassures you, shooting a thumbs up at his brother behind your back.

“...Alright.” Your eyes focus absentmindedly on what you thought was a couch cushion; upon further inspection, it appears to be a repurposed training mat. You bring the arm not currently pinned to your side under your head, humming an earworm softly.

The boy currently under you is silently panicking as your fingers squeeze gently around his knee, making a conscious effort to stare at the television and only at the television with his hands hovering awkwardly over you. Surprisingly enough, out of the corner of his eye, he does not catch his younger brother trying to stare at you weirdly, sincerely focused on drawing.

You feel him, eventually, resting his hands down, one resting in between your shoulder blades, the other in your hair, twisting a lock of it around his fingers gently. “Still alright,” you ask.

His voice is almost airy, now. “Mhm.”

‘This is nice.’ You trace little designs into the mat as your mind begins to wander, the boys starting to talk about something you struggle to pay attention to. This is not the closest you have been to him physically, but it is nice not to be crying this time around. "Domestic, almost, even if he doesn't think so.’

‘I should learn how to braid.’ Braiding is not something he has necessarily needed to know how to do in the past, but as he wraps the fibers around themselves, curious about the texture, he wishes that he knew; using your hair as a material of sorts would certainly be interesting, and he knows he has the dexterity for it. Admittedly, the conversation is less of a conversation and more of a speech on his brother’s part, but he tries to pay attention.

“So,” Mikey continues, digging into the box and pulling out a pencil sharpener, “he’s watching this guy all stealth-like, right? The guy’s out here, giving out his plans like they’re candy or whatever, and he’s just kinda recording it on one of those little tape recorders you used for that one thing a couple weeks ago-- you know the ones, and-- you don’t mind spoilers-- long story short, the guy gets caught, and when the crew got there, he was totally messed up.”

“Sounds like Batman,” you mumble sleepily-- ‘He really is warm.’

“Huh?”

“Your story.” You hoist yourself up, looking over your shoulder back at him. “Sounds like this Batman cartoon.”

“Batman?”

“Universe…” you stifle a yawn. “My universe has this thing called Batman, and there's a crossover thing in a different iteration of this universe. I guess you wouldn’t know about that, would you?”

“Different iteration?” Donatello looks down at your head in his lap, desperately in need of a cold shower.

You feel Michelangelo bend your leg forward. You nod in confirmation, trying to will yourself awake. “Didn’t I… did I?” You lay your head back down properly. “You guys are, like… mega-famous down-- back-- there.”

“I’m not sure if you did.”

“Well,” you giggle sleepily, “you are.” You try to count on your fingers. “You’ve got the original comic, the old cartoon, the two-thousand three animated show, the CGI movie, this one, the two live-action movies, the twenty-eighteen animated one-- gorgeous animation by the by that I have to show you later, Mikey-- that crossover movie with Batman, the live-action show, the other, older live-action movie, the IDW comic series, that weird one with the hats-- there’s a ton.”

“Dude, that is sick!” The resident artist grins. “I bet they were awesome.”

You consider telling him about the IDW comic. You quickly decide against it.

“How long have we-- as a property-- existed, exactly?”

“I dunno.” You shrug. “The first animated show was the eighties, I think.”

“...huh.”

You notice him fiddling with your hair, finally. You don’t mind.

“It’s been too long.”

You freeze, suddenly very awake and painfully aware of your current position.

One of the few good things about having your own apartment: you seem to have forgotten the fear of being walked in on.

“Please, relax.” You hear his smile. It does not help matters. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

The other two, astonishingly, do not seem nearly as anxious as you are.

You look up at him from your spot on his son’s lap. “You look as healthy as ever.” ‘I miss my grandpa. Is Grandma okay?’ You were unable to find your relatives on your father’s side through social media-- they could be dead for all you know.

“No thanks to my diet,” he chuckles. Yoshi walks out of your field of view. “Don’t mind me; how long have they been in the dojo?”

“Half an hour?” You hear the jostling of the box and the snap of an uncapped pen.

You hear him sigh. “Let’s just hope nobody’s died,” he mutters, walking into the dojo.

The three of you strain your ears to-- unsuccessfully-- hear what is going on. The door snaps open as the two brothers leave together in heated silence.

Mikey shakes what you can now identify as a paint pen. “Who won?”

“Nobody.” Leo’s voice, snippy. “Is she out?”

“She is not.” You turn your arm awkwardly to wave back at him.

“Then,” he shrugs, “nice to see you.”

“Likewise.”

“So,” Raph interjects, apparently very interested in the current situation, “can someone please explain what, exactly, is going on here?”

“I’m painting her white thing.”

“Of course. Donnie?”

The mortification would be apparent if you were looking at him.

“Nothin? Okay then.” You shut your eyes as he sits down on the other side of you. “You look terrible. Nice scar.”

“I am too close to very sensitive areas for you to give me a hard time, Raphael,” you warn.

“Whatever.”

“I’m heading out.” Leo nonchalantly bounds the steps, hopping over a divider.

“Tell her I say hi,” you call back. “Remember, consent is key, yellow roses lead to friendzoning, and to always use a condom.”

“... No comment.” He runs off.

“I have so many questions.”

“Ask me later.”

It takes him about twenty more minutes to finish covering the entirety of your cast in brightly colored characters and objects; if you have to describe it, you will say that the style is contemporary pop illustration with composition reminiscent of the renaissance period if the single art class you have taken is serving you right.

“This,” you smile, a little misty-eyed for some reason, “is absolutely gorgeous. Thanks, Mikey.”

He beams. “You’re totally welcome! If you ever get more white things, I’ll draw on those too, if you want.”

“Dude, for sure.” You nod in agreement, looking back at Donnie. “Isn’t it cool?”

Donatello has been quietly jabbed at for the past twenty minutes and is mostly desensitized to the quality of his brother’s art; frankly, it is not his area, and he cannot judge it one way or the other. Despite this, he gives his brother a thumbs up. “Very.”

“Don’t stroke his ego so much,” teases their older brother. “Donnie’ll get jealous.”

“Hate to steal her from you all,” he interrupts, “but I still have a physical to do, so if you would be so kind as to shut up, that would be great.”

‘Green with envy. Is that racist? No clue. Pretty colors.’ Donnie is talking to you. “Huh?”

“I asked if you were still on board.”

You nod. “Mind grabbing my walker?”

He shoots his snickering brother a glare. “Want me to just carry you to the lab?”

Panic. Immediate panic. “You sure you can carry me?”

He shrugs, smiling. “It’s only a few feet. Besides,” he points out, “aren’t you the one always going on about how strong we are by normal standards?”

You do not have a rational way to explain why the idea of being off of solid ground, held up by someone who can potentially drop you, is distressing. You also do not want to insult him in any shape, way, or form. “Promise you won’t drop me?” Your stomach turns.

“Swear it.”

“Can I paint your walker while you guys are doing that?”

“Of all the things you could've chosen--”

“Lay off.” He offers his arms. “You can trust me, I promise.”

You pause. The statement is entirely true, but your gut is screaming at you not to do that. The same gut told you that slamming your body into the person driving the car you were tied up in was a good idea.

You latch your arms around his neck, burying your eyes in the crook of his neck as to not see when and in what direction he is moving you. “Please,” you mumble, trying not to blatantly beg, “do not drop me.”

He does not exactly understand why you are clinging to him so tightly, but he is hardly one to complain. He slides an arm under your knees, picking you up.

Raphael is heckling you. You are more concerned with your body inaccurately telling you that you are going to die from this. Tears prick your eyes as you try to breathe.

He looks down at you, mind wandering as he walks away from his brothers. You look so sweet to him, shaking like a leaf in his arms. Cute. He had thought the same thing when you had started clinging to him during that movie forever ago, when you held his hand last night and pulled him back onto the bed with you. You are not normally openly vulnerable and, although he is hardly one to talk about vulnerability, it is always a sight to behold.

“Please don’t drop me.” He is not exactly sure if you are aware of your own, almost silent begging as you repeat the phrase over and over. ‘You trust me.’ His heart melts.

It takes no time to get you to his lab. He sets you down on a chair, but you do not seem to understand that as you still cling tightly to his neck.

He chuckles nervously. “I need my body to perform the physical, Y/N.”

You were not aware he had put you down. Your eyes snap open as you let your shaking, iron grip relax. “Sorry,” you mumble, face going a gorgeous shade of pink.

“No prob.” ‘Prob?’ His face changes color to match yours.

“So.” He claps his hands together just a bit too hard, slamming the door closed when he hears his brothers’ snickering. “Let’s get started.”

--

You sit on your couch, applying another coat of varnish to your cast as you listen to a cooking show because something something exposure therapy. Also, listening to people scream at one another about food textures is soothing.

Your results were not surprising to you; by the standards of humans in this universe, you are a walking talking coma patient. It was a bit funny, watching him freak out about a blood pressure that you knew-- through the help of google-- was completely normal. You are fine for the most part, if he was using the tools given correctly, and so, you are currently preoccupied with making sure the gorgeous painting on your fiberglass prison is going to stay gorgeous. The only thing he had insisted on, really, was that you not cook, after seeing your crudely applied bandages on your fingers.

You lean back into an actual couch, pulling out your phone and scrolling through pictures of gloves again. You are determined to find a good pair; the deep scars on your hands are not fading any time soon.

You can hear the window slide open. “If you’re planning on killing me--” you stop when you look up to see the look on Donnie’s face. “Something up?”

He says absolutely nothing, leaning his staff against the wall, closing the window in a daze and he stands next to the sofa. “Are you busy?”

“No.”

“Good.” His eyes glance at the space next to you. “Can I stay here for a bit?”

“As long as you like.”

He lays his head on your lap as he sits down, staring blankly at the television screen. He immediately understands why you like this-- your thighs are incredibly soft.

You immediately understand why he was awkward. You have no idea where to put your hands, but you eventually settle on his head as you turn the volume down. “What’s up?”

He takes a deep breath, licking his teeth as he sighs. “I,” he explains, “just realized what my reality is right now and I-- okay, I know this sounds stupid--”

“Not at all.”

“It does,” he insists. “I know it sounds stupid because I realized it did when I was working it out, but I just-- hear me out, okay?” His voice oozes exhaustion.

“I’m hearing you.” You listen to him, laying your phone face down on the coffee table. “Hit me.”

He takes another breath. “I just fought a giant… thing.” He rolls over, looking up at you. “Mikey called it Jacob or something, and it was about twenty feet tall and it looked like something out of a monster movie and it destroyed us in a fight.” You hear his voice rising, and you just nod along, letting him talk. “It wiped the floor with us. And the only reason it existed was that Leo, apparently, got a girlfriend named Karai-- you know her?”

“Hot alt chick with the wicked eyeshadow and eyeliner that could kill?” You nod. “Yeah, I’m familiar.”

“Her-- wait, should I…?” He trails off, shakes his head. “Another time.” He covers the side of his face with his hand, gesturing animatedly with his other. “Anyways, apparently he met this girl because she wanted to do a heist with him-- this girl, working for the Foot, of all people-- sixteen or whatever-- she goes and just touches a button to mix the DNAs of all the creatures an alien race could find on Earth, and then bails.” He realizes he is shouting, lowers his voice. “The alien creatures, in case you forgot, that look like brains and waddle around on tentacles which, by the way, makes no evolutionary sense whatsoever, decided to create a button that mixes the entirety of their samples of DNA together in a smorgasbord of wrong, okay?”

“Uhuh.” You nod along. You know what he means, even if the word he used was technically not correct.

“This thing,” he continues, officially ranting, “destroyed a building! It set the whole thing on fire, which was probably only Kraang, but also maybe had normal people in it, which is concerning.” He rubs his eyes aggressively. “So, to recap, an alienish creature named Jason or whatever got created by Leo’s crush and destroyed a building and that was just what happened today!” He raises his hands in the air, almost accidentally hitting you in the face. “I didn’t bat an eye at this!”

“Man, I feel you.”

“And I understand,” he continues, “the irony of telling you this, considering I am a giant, talking turtle created by the very same mutagen that created Justin or whatever its stupid name was, was taught ninjutsu by my ninja master father who is also a rat, and that you have already previously died--”

“All very bizarre things,” you agree.

“-- but this is just…” he sighs. “My life is getting so… weird? It was already weird, I know, but more so than I thought it reasonably should be.”

You wipe a bit of oil you notice on his cheek off with your thumb. “This world is a weird one,” you admit.

His voice is lower now as he follows your hand with his eyes. “I…” He takes breath. “I just wish we were more normal, you know? That our lives were more normal, that our existences made more sense, you know?”

You cup his face in your hand gently, remembering how your mother used to do the same for you. “I do.”

You feel him leaning into your touch. “I wish,” he mumbles, almost to himself, “that I was a normal, human teenager who went to school and didn’t know how to use a bo staff and had three, normal brothers who could try to get girlfriends without worrying about whether or not they wanted to kill them.”

You sigh, running your thumbs along the edge of his eye socket, feeling the soft skin shift under you. “You’re very well adjusted for a teenager trained in the art of assassination,” you joke softly.

He chuckles dryly, closing his eyes. “My mother is an empty canister in a locked cabinet in the kitchen.” He exhales slowly. “My stepmom was murdered by a man now actively trying to murder me and my entire family because of a decades long feud. Well adjusted is probably the highest compliment you could give me.”

“I’ve given you higher.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” You glance up at the television screen, then back at him. “You’re holding up better than I am, and you’ve been fearing for your life since you were real little.”

“Apples and oranges.” He rests his hand on yours.

“Look,” you shrug, “the way I see it, life is a series of events that all string together to the present.”

“Butterfly effect.”

“Exactly.” You smile down at him. “And if things didn’t happen exactly as they did, we never would’ve met, the world would be totally screwed, and we would be missing out on one of the greatest minds on the planet.”

He looks to see if you are being serious.

You are.

“You also wouldn’t have a broken leg and messed up hands,” he points out ruefully.

“Meeting you was worth it.”

He reaches up, running his fingers along the scar on your face. “I disagree.”

“It’s my body, and my physical detriment. It doesn’t matter if you’re stupid enough to think it wasn’t worth it.”

You feel his body relax

You two shut up for a bit, watching the show absentmindedly.

After a while, he pipes up. “It’s alright if you say no,” he starts tentatively, “but is it alright if I stay here again tonight?”

“Will your brothers mind?”

“They don’t care so long as I’m home before sunrise,” he shrugs. “I just like it here. Smells better.”

You smile brightly. “Sure,” you agree easily. “I sleep better with you here, anyways; I don’t worry about people sneaking in through the window.” You check the varnish. “I just have to wait for this to dry the rest of the way, first. You’re free to go to bed without me, though.”

In all honesty, you’re just happy not to be alone.

He nods, standing up and drawing the curtains. He sits down on the bed, untying the mask behind his head. ‘I could get used to this.’ He smiles slightly, slipping a hand into his utility belt and texting his brothers where he was to avoid his brother’s scolding in the morning. He slips that off too, dropping both onto the side of the bed and starting on the wraps on his feet and hands; he had learned his lesson when he had gotten up morning before, having gotten a few hours sleep at home, to large, noticeable indentations in his flesh where the foreign objects had been.

You glance over. “Do those go in the wash?”

He looks back. “Not usually, no.”

“Do you want me to wash them?”

‘You are too considerate.’ He shakes his head. “It’s alright.”

You shrug, putting your hands up. “Suit yourself.” You cross your hands across your stomach, staring absentmindedly back at the screen. “You can use the shower in the morning, but please do not use all of the hot water. Fridge is open if you need breakfast.”

“Nah,” he sighs, slipping the clothes into his utility belt. “I’ll eat at home.”

You nod in acknowledgement.

It occurs to him as he sets his knee and elbow pads with the rest of his things that, technically, he is stripping in front of you, and you are not batting an eye. As soon as that clocks, it also dawns on him that you are showing the most skin he has ever seen-- an A-shirt and gym shorts-- which had not even registered until he was laying in your bed. You are relaxed and in your warm apartment, watching a television program with him in your bed. You are awake and absolutely gorgeous and you feel safer with him of all people.

His heart swells as he slides under the blankets, the sound of the television white noise at this point.

You glance back at him, the phrase “Snug as a bug in a rug," coming to mind as you look over at him, struggling to keep his eyes open. “You gonna fall asleep?”

His face warms. He nods. "It's been a really long day," he admits.

“Then goodnight,” you smile. “Sweet dreams.”

He smiles sleepily. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he shuts his eyes.

You swallow.

You forgot how much you missed this.

Table of Contents

Chapter 10

Chapter 12

[notveryglittery]

battle weary

summary: he was supposed to have cried until he couldn’t anymore, put away all of his problems, and go about the next day like nothing had hurt him at all. wc: 2,850 / ship: platonic prinxiety (roman & virgil) warnings: lots of hurt feelings, mentions of manipulation and lying, brief questioning of one’s existence. lmk if i need to add anything! author’s note: y’all have @blinksinbewilderment​ to thank for this one. i was supposed to write roman-centric royality hurt/comfort first!! no biggie, though, this was pretty cathartic :) thank you @sleepless-in-starbucks​ for beta reading!

spoilers for “putting others first”!!!!  read on ao3 

— — — — — — — — — —

Roman’s head was so full of confusion and pain and swirling thoughts, he was sure he’d fall over from the dizziness of it. A dull ache was beginning to spread throughout his skull, reminding him of how hard he’d tried — of backtracking on insults and stumbling over opinions and attempting to fix what he’d broken. He could barely sift through what they had discussed. Selfishness was okay sometimes, Patton had sided with Deceit, they’d gone to the wedding for nothing. Roman had given up the callback, had ruined their chance at a breakout role, for nothing.

Tears stung hot at the corners of his eyes. He wiped them away, frustration bubbling up his throat, threatening to spill out in sobs or… or screams or curses or something, he didn’t know, he didn’t know if he wanted to know. Roman finally moved from where he stood, the spot he’d been rooted to since he sunk out, since Thomas lied about Roman being his hero, since Patton lied about loving him, since they both ignored Deceit manipulating and using and lying to them, to him. He barely made it up the stairs, each step feeling higher as he climbed, the intended destination of his safe and quiet room feeling harder and harder to reach.

He hadn’t even realized he’d passed Virgil’s door until it was opening and his voice was breaking through the fog Roman was losing himself in.

“Hey, Ro, c’mere.”

Alright then. Showtime, apparently.

Plastering on a smile and standing up straight, he squared his shoulders before turning to face Virgil. He looked tired but relaxed, purple plaid pajama pants on to match his hoodie. He must’ve been in the middle of a project because his hair was pushed back with a headband. Before Roman could ask what Virgil required of him, his hand was taken and he was pulled across the threshold. The room was considerably brighter than usual with the setting sun casting rays of light through the window, where the spider curtains had been tied back.

Virgil guided Roman to the bed, where he sat him down, before going to retrieve something from the closet.

“Not that I don’t appreciate your company,” Roman began, managing a genuine yet sarcastic tone, “but I am… quite spent from filming today. Will this take long?”

“Depends on how cooperative you are.” Virgil said, backing out of the closet and carrying something rather large, hidden under a blanket.

Cooperative. Hah. Roman allowed himself a bitter smile. He’d been cooperative all day and look where it had gotten him. “Very well,” he agreed, scooting over when Virgil sat down beside him.

Virgil handed the box over to Roman and removed its cover. The Disney princess wrapping paper had to have been from years ago, dug out of storage just for this. He glanced at Virgil, who looked like he might be shaking from nerves — it was hard to tell, though, whether they were the good or bad kind.

“What’s this?” Roman asked instead of opening it.

Virgil seemed confused by the question. “What’s it look like? It’s a gift. Duh?”

“I haven’t done anything to deserve it,” Roman said, frowning.

Virgil’s brows furrowed. “Well, not that you need to do anything to deserve a present every now and again, but… Okay, it’s for today’s episode. Is that a good enough reason?”

Roman’s grip on the box tightened a little. The sound of crinkling paper grated on his ears. That just made it worse. He’d blown up at Thomas and Patton, he’d laughed at Deceit’s name. Of course today’s episode wasn’t a good reason.

“I don’t think I can accept this.” Roman held the box out for Virgil to take back.

Virgil didn’t look annoyed or frustrated with Roman’s denial, which felt unfair. Everybody else was already mad at him, what was one more? Virgil took the present and set it on the floor before he pivoted, pulling his legs up onto the bed, and facing Roman.

“Alright. What happened today?”

“Nothing,” Roman answered immediately.

Virgil narrowed his eyes. “Let’s not invite anyone unwanted to my room, okay?”

Roman doubted Deceit was even paying attention to any lies in the Mindscape. He was probably too busy living it up, celebrating his acceptance, relishing in the glow of approval from Patton and Thomas.

“I led our chat to the trolley problem and sorta put the lives of Thomas’ friends in danger. Surprised you didn’t feel that one.” How could he have done something so stupid? Especially after they all knew Thomas didn’t take well to putting Joan in harm’s way.

Virgil folded his arms over his chest. “Locked myself in here and kept very busy to avoid it all.”

Roman wasn’t sure how Virgil could have possibly not noticed the trashing of the living room and Patton’s boss battle, but he wasn’t going to question it. “Deceit took Logan’s place, again. Did a better job of it this time.”

Virgil tensed.

“Said how the way he manipulated me in the courtroom was just a prank. Funny. Wholesome.” Roman couldn’t be sure if it was a miracle or a testament to how well an actor he was that kept his voice steady. “I suppose I shouldn’t put words in his mouth. He probably just didn’t realize what I was saying. Clearly, for Patton and Thomas to agree with him, he can’t be as bad as I’m making him out to be.”

“Roman,” Virgil interrupted, tone edging with panic before he took a deep breath, which Roman unconsciously mirrored. “Back up. Hold on.”

Getting up from the bed, Virgil went shuffling through his drawers before pulling out his old jacket. It was folded neatly. “Outta the costume,” Virgil demanded, “we’re getting cozy.”

Too tired to argue, Roman freed himself of the constricting top and pulled the hoodie on over his undershirt. Virgil unceremoniously shoved a bunch of stuff onto the floor and settled at the head of the bed, with his back against the wall. He gestured for Roman to join him.

This was definitely on the list of things Roman didn’t deserve. … Still. The hoodie seemed to carry with it feelings of protection and determination and while he was sure he hadn’t earned being cozy, much less anyone to be cozy with, he didn’t quite have the energy to disagree. Not anymore. So he sat himself beside Virgil and took to breathing deeply while Virgil started talking.

“If anyone is familiar with being tricked and lied to by that snake, it’s me. I fell for it. A lot. He was crueler, when we were young. If…” he paused. Roman felt him move but he didn’t look, in case Virgil wanted some privacy. “If he’s got Thomas…” He huffed. “Thomas and Patton on his side…”

“We went to the wedding for nothing.”

“We went to the wedding to support Lee and Mary Lee.”

“Yeah, and Thomas was miserable and angry and regretful. Because of me.”

“Now, wait—”

“He lost his chance at fame because I sentenced him to the wedding. I gave up my dr— his… our dream.” Roman swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat. “In the act of selflessness. Because going to the callback was selfish and bad. I… I wanted to go to the callback. More than anything. Which makes me selfish and bad. Which means I don’t deserve gifts or to be cozy or to have a seat at the table or—”

Virgil’s arm shot up, looped around Roman’s neck, and yanked him down. The startled noise in response was muffled by the pillow he found his face shoved into. He adjusted, realizing that his head was resting now on a cushion on Virgil’s lap. Virgil sunk a hand into Roman’s hair and began combing his fingers through. He shifted so that his neck and back weren’t quite as uncomfortable in this new position but stayed put otherwise.

“I’m not trying to stop you from saying what you want or need to,” Virgil began, keeping his gaze at a spot on the far wall. “It’s just that you were magnifying. Princey, sometimes we’re told one thing for so long that anything that opposes it default becomes wrong. And then we find out that that isn’t true. It shakes everything else out of place.” He took a moment to brush the bangs out of Roman’s face. “It’s a lot to handle, much less if it’s coming from someone you trust.”

Virgil sighed and looked down at Roman. He smiled, only slightly. “I know it’s hard to be open about your feelings. You’re really good at hiding behind a mask.”

Roman bristled, denial on the tip of his tongue. “You would know.”

Virgil’s hand stilled as he grimaced.

“I’m sorry,” Roman said hurriedly. Panic raced through his veins. “That was out of line.”

Sighing, Virgil continued scratching gently at Roman’s scalp. “No, you’re right. It was a big secret to keep from Thomas for so long.”

“I guess… At least he’s had some time to think about it. Since all this happened and distracted him,” Roman offered.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks.” He tugged a strand of Roman’s hair. “Back on track. You need to let us in, Ro. I’m guessing you had a lot to say when they pulled the rug out from under you?”

Roman hesitated, guilt squeezing painfully around his heart. He closed his eyes. “You could say that."

Virgil waited patiently.

"... He told us his name."

There was a long stretch of silence. So much so that Roman was afraid to even breathe.

"You laughed, didn't you?"

"I… yeah. And he. He compared me to…" Roman brought his arms up, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes.

Virgil jolted, as if he were going to get up, but the weight of Roman's head on his lap stopped him. "He did what?"

A part of Roman was flooded with relief at the anger in Virgil's tone. Another part of Roman broke into pieces at the reminder that Thomas and Patton hadn't even tried to stand up for him.

"He may have had a point."

"Absolutely the fuck he did not." There was an electricity in the air now, as if Virgil's emotions were sparking off of him. "Sure, you laughing at an act of vulnerability isn't great. Comparing someone to everything they try not to be, that's… What the fuck?!"

"It's okay," Roman tried to say but the words got stuck, his throat closing up around them, as tears leaked unbidden from his eyes despite his best efforts.

"Ah, no, listen—" Virgil nudged Roman's hands away and then lifted him back up, cradling him against his chest. "You can cry, Roman. That's alright."

It wasn't, he wanted to argue, but shielded here from the disapproval of those that mattered to him most, and the crushing weight of failure, and the terror of not even knowing what the point of his existence was anymore… Virgil's arms held him close and tight, safe from harm, even if just for a few minutes… His shoulders shook as he sobbed, though hardly a sound came out.

Roman wasn't sure how long he stayed like that for but by the time he pulled back from Virgil, the room was considerably darker and the sky outside the window was black.

"Better?" Virgil asked, handing him a box of tissues.

"I don't know," Roman responded, voice hoarse and tone defeated. He wiped his face dry. "I don't think so."

"Might have a couple more bottles to empty, then."

"Pass."

Virgil turned on the bedside lamp. Roman flinched at the artificial light.

"I think the next step here is talking to Patton."

"I don't want to," Roman whined, not unlike a petulant child that didn't want to speak to their parents after being grounded.

"I'm not going to make you," Virgil promised. "You need to decide what happens first. Breaking down those walls between right and wrong, good and bad, with Patton? Apologizing to Janus for reacting the way you did but expressing clearly to him the damage he caused from the way he's treated you in the past? Opening up and trusting Thomas with your insecurities?"

"Can't I just go back to debating healthy sleep schedules with Logan?"

"You know he'd agree with me and send you right back to making this decision."

"Could you…" Roman hesitated, fidgeting.

Again, Virgil waited patiently. Roman wondered how he’d gotten so lucky. For all intents and purposes, he was supposed to have gone back to his own room to wallow in his misery and confusion. He was supposed to have cried until he couldn’t anymore, put away all of his problems, and go about the next day like nothing had hurt him at all. Instead, Virgil had diverted his course completely, and now he wasn’t alone while trying to put himself back together. It was… relieving. And terrifying.

“Could you… be with me? When I talk to them?”

Virgil grinned. “I’m proud of you for asking. That couldn’t have been easy.”

Roman thought that sentiment alone might tip him over the edge again, but he managed somehow to not burst into tears anew.

“I can do that, yeah. I’ll hang out on the other side of the room with my headphones on but I won’t actually listen to any music. That way, if you need help, you can call for me, and I’ll hear you. Is that okay?”

Roman nodded, not sure that he could keep his voice even if he spoke.

“I know there’s still a lot to unpack. I’m not saying that you are bad or wrong, but I think everyone involved in that conversation did and said some things that were bad or wrong. Obviously, I wasn’t there, but I can imagine things got heated and that you weren’t the only one to leave feeling bitterly, jittery, and not very glittery.”

Roman cracked a smile. “Patton turned into a giant frog monster.”

“What?!” Virgil exclaimed with a rough laugh. “Okay, wait, let’s go to your room. We’re having a sleepover tonight and you’re going to tell me what the hell happened earlier.”

Roman lit up, looking genuinely happy. Virgil’s heart ached, realizing how long it’d been since he’d seen such real emotion on Roman’s face. “Can you get snacks? There’s edible cookie dough in the fridge.”

“Yeah sure but don’t expect me to encourage your sweet tooth again after this,” Virgil teased, getting out of bed and helping Roman up too.

Roman picked the box up off the floor, clutching it to his chest. “Can I still have this?”

“Duh,” Virgil answered. “Go get the pillow fort set up, I’ll be there ASAP.”

Virgil opened the door, checking that the hall was clear, before gesturing for Roman to step out first. Before they could part ways completely, he caught Roman by the shoulder.

“I’m… really proud of you, Ro. You didn’t have to tell me anything. You’re willing to make amends. That’s pretty damn cool.”

Roman wanted to ignore the warmth blooming in his heart from such sincere praise but after everything else, it would have been hard to. He gave Virgil a tremulous smile. “I’m glad we’re friends. Thank you for looking out for me.”

A moment of silence followed and then they both took a step back from each other.

“Snacks. Edible cookie dough. Got it.”

“Pillow fort! I’ll even let you pick the first movie.”

Arriving in his room alone gave Roman a moment of pause. There was still… so much… that he had to fix. He took a deep breath. His time with Virgil, however, was a reminder that he wasn’t truly alone and that with enough time, patience, and support… Things could… things would get better.

[sparklingchan]

Taste of Spring || Han Jisung (Stray Kids)

Pairing : Reader (fem.) x Han.

Word count : 2.4k+

Warnings : Cuss words, slight mentions of heartbreak, not proof read. .

Genre : Fluff, slight angst , best friends to lovers AU.

Description : For Jisung, the world is either black or white - friendship or love. You happen to find yourself stuck in the grey.

A/N: Haven’t written an skz drabble in a while so yeah, here it is(whatever this is lol) and I’ve had this in my drafts for a whole month now. Damn. Sorry, Jisung.

I hope y’all like it <3

Enjoy!

You had not seen your best friend in what felt like ages when in reality it had only been two weeks or so. But you often find yourself missing him at odd hours ,at the most random moments these days.

"I'll be back before dinner. Take care of my cat. Please." You call out to your sister who sits on the couch , sipping some cucumber induced water that apparently burns calories, and watching a very brutal, violent TV show that you wouldn't even want to ask her about.

"Say hi to Jisung for me." she replies with a quirk of an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly grin. You roll your eyes but the heat has already tinted your cheeks and ears red by the time you exit your house and are walking down the street towards Han Jisung's abode.

As you continue on the road, you feel the taste of an incoming Spring in the air, sweet and full of love. You didn't know why or how or even if it were at all possible in the first place, but you could feel spring knocking on the door ,waiting to be welcomed in.

An old couple walks past you, hand in hand and eyes focused on each other and you inevitably catch yourself thinking about Jisung for some reason. You've both made a lot of fond memories during your spring breaks - you were both inseparable back then.

Even now you are inseparable but things are different.

He was your best friend and nothing more ,yet you find yourself questioning your true feelings towards the boy these days more often than not ,all whilst wondering when you had crossed over the line of wanting to be friends to something more.

"Oh,y/n! Come on in ,honey." Jisung's mother has been nothing but sweet to you throughout all 18 years of your life and you honestly blamed her for making you want to visit their place more often.

But then again, maybe it's not really the mother's hospitality that pulled you in, maybe it is her son's tooth decaying sweetness that brings out the deepest desires from your heart.

You walk into their house , a sense of familiarity washes over you just how it does whenever you walk into your own house too.

"He's in his room ,as usual. Go on. I'll send some snacks in for you." She adds, patting you softly on the shoulder.

Jisung's room is almost always a mess and sometimes one might even find the boy leaving a trail of garbage everywhere he goes, so you aren't surprised when you find a few crumpled piece of paper lying just outside his door. Clumsy little Han.

"Ji-" your words are cut short when you hear his voice from inside , as loud as ever, probably speaking to one of his friends who he also lovingly refers to as his babies(he sometimes calls you baby too ; on purpose or by accident, who knows?) But he seems very into the conversation right now - almost serious which you find rather unlikely for Han Jisung who has very proudly nicknamed himself as Comedian Han since eight grade.

It's the semester break and spring is around the corner - two things Jisung loves the most in the world so there should be no apparent reason for him to be having this deep of a conversation, especially early in the morning. However as his voice grows louder and more frustrated , you cannot help but wonder if there is actually something seriously troubling him.

Curious , you peek into the room through the small crack of the door.

"I know I'm being a coward Changbin but I can't do that to her. She's all I have ,man." he speaks into the phone , leaning down on his rotatory chair.

You freeze in your spot,your heartbeat resonating from every inch of your body. Who's he talking about?

"What? Are you out of your mind? I cannot tell her what I feel. That's the whole point of this damn phone call ,you fucker!" he yells.

You focus harder on their voices , trying to make out the gibberish Changbin replies with from the other end of the call.

Your body aches from standing so soundlessly, leaning half against the wall and half against the wooden door but you tell yourself to bear it for a little longer.

"No. No way. I can't. I can't do this to y/n!" Jisung hisses into the phone and then with a big pop, your bubble bursts -a bubble that you'd been building since you both were kids , designed carefully with dreams and hopes of a happy ever after with the boy in front of you. But you were weaving these dreams out of nothing but thin air. There never was anything to begin with and you always knew that.

Of course he has another girl in his life. He doesn't owe anything to you. You have no right to feel these strong emotions of jealousy and anger. You are just friends, right?

But imagining him with another woman was a poison you didn't put too much thought into until this very moment. You should have been prepared, really.

All hopes have left your side.

You turn around and walk out the same way that you came in , ignoring his mother's questions and concerned gaze. 

You want to be alone right now. Alone and away from everything that ever connected you with Han fucking Jisung.

***

He is a peculiar man, your best friend , loud yet calm , talented yet humble,his songs make more sense than his words ever could - but he intrigues you so much. It would take you a lot of time to figure Han Jisung out and you had only hoped to solve this puzzle before.. well , before he chooses to hold someone else's hand in the walk of life while you just watch from a far.

And now, you've finally run out of that borrowed time. Without even finishing half of the puzzle . The last tick of your time together has tocked.

That night, as you let the arms of grief and heartbreak pull you in , your cat(also called Snowflake) cuddles right beside you, staring at you as if it understood you.

Maybe it did. Because even you couldn't understand yourself anymore.

***

"Y/n, wake the fuck up! Come on,open the door." Your sister bangs on your door while simultaneously throwing words at you that were extremely inappropriate for an early morning conversation.

Annoying bitch. She's never cared to wake you up in the morning all your lives. Why is she changing her ways now?

You groan into your pillow, "Go away! I'll be out when I want to."

Your eyes barely find enough strength to keep themselves open. Your body aches and the bedsheet creases on your skin show evidence of a very good night's sleep in contrary to the misery you were subjected to just a few hours before that.

A heavy heart induces a good sleep , you conclude.

"I literally do not care about what you want ,y/n!" She yells against,her fist pounding against the door with more force now than from a while ago,"Come out. Right this instant."

Snowflake - who was chilling on the floor, playing with her toys - jumps on the bed ,pressing her fluffy body against your chest ,eyes glazed with fear.

"Fine. Fine. Can you stop yelling? You're scaring my baby." You reply, taking Snowflake into your arms as you run a soothing hand through her white fur.

Forcing yourself out of bed , you waddle towards the door.

"What do you want?" You unlock the door and with hooded eyes , yell at your sister, "Can you not be so fucking annoying this early in the morning?!"

Instant regret is what you feel the moment your sister steps aside, and you see the blurry figure of Han Jisung in front of your bedroom door.

Pure terror seizes you ,as your brain loses all its ability to form any response in that moment, “Hi, y/n. Can we please talk?" Jisung says, his mouth twisted into a sad smile and his puffy eyes looking at the floor.

Has he been crying? 

He wears his favorite black hoodie and a pair of grey track pants along with his SpongeBob flip flops. The bird nest on his head looks even more disheveled today, even so you find your heart beat fasten seeing this domestic look on him.

No matter what, Han Jisung is pretty.

Really pretty.

And if you were given a coin everytime you acknowledged it, you'd be a millionaire by now.

"Aw, Jisung honey, don't ask. Just walk into her room. I'm sure she's glad to see you too." Your sister replies in your stead ,sending glares towards you as if to say 'You better listen to him.'

And you're too shocked to react when he politely brushes past you and walks inside your room, settling himself at the edge of the bed. You make sure to shove a middle finger up in front of your sister's face before following suit .

Jisung's enquiries start the moment you step inside.

"I was so worried, y/n. You left my house without saying anything to anyone. Your phone was off. I wanted to come here but mom said you looked upset and that I should wait until the morning. " he sucks in a deep breath , "Y/n, baby, what the fuck happened?"

There's that word again. That damn word which has the ability to set your whole body on fire even on a cold morning like this one.

You hate the affect he has on you. You hate the affect his words have on you.

"Nothing." You mumble.

Snowflake wiggles out of your arms, and towards him.

Betrayer.

"Don't even lie to me. I am not that stupid." Jisung argues as Snowflake settles in his lap, "Y/n, have I not made it clear that I will be here for you, no matter what?"

You want to laugh. He really thinks you trust him so much that you'd tell him everything going on with you.

He's delusional - you can't possibly tell the boy you are in love with that he is the boy you are in love with. It's completely mental.

"I'm not in the mood for this conversation right now. Go home, Sungie." You say , sitting down on the bed, as far away from his warm body as possible.

Jisung sighs, "Not happening. You can call the police for all I care but I'm not moving my ass before you tell me what happened."

Snowflake snuggles into his tummy, Jisung's fingers giving her soft belly and ear rubs. 

So this is what your life has come down to - you are jealous of your cat who is getting more affection from your best friend slash crush (who is interested in someone else) than you ever did. Brilliant.

"I fucking love you , you dumb fuck. Why do you never notice! "

Jisung's lips widen into a smile. Of course Jisung knew. He has always known. Only a blind person would not notice your not very subtle efforts to win his heart and make him fall for you. Maybe it was you who was a dumb fuck because you never figured out how much Jisung loves you too even after being best friends for so long.

"You hear that, Snowflake? You heard what mommy said? She said she loves me! " Jisung's eye's glint with happiness as he picks up Snowflake, peppering her with smooches, "Your mommy loves me!"

You stare at him , confused beyond anything.

Jisung turns to you, his big signature grin fixated on his lips , " Is that why you ran away yesterday? Because God decided to punch you with the realization that you are in love with me?"

You scoff, "No, I left because you and Seo Changbin were talking about the other girl who you referred to as 'all you have '. I didn't want to know what else you refer to her as."

Jisung laughs , his shoulders vibrating with the action and his hands finding their way towards yours(Ha! How's that Snowflake!)

"You said that you heard me talk about some other girl so you must have heard some name too ,right?" He questions you , his fingers clutching your hand as if he were afraid of you running off again.

"Yeah, of course I did!" you clap back , "I heard the name - " Your heart drops as the crystal clear memory from yesterday flashes into your mind.

Jisung raises an eyebrow, a mischievous grin adorning his face, "Yes? What's that?"

Oh.

Oh.

"You had said my name." you whisper.

You divert your gaze from him and focus on your clasped hands and how perfect they look together - like the sole purpose of their creation was to hold each other.

Jisung shifts closer to you , your mattress dipping under his weight.

"Yes. I said your name." He tucks a few strands of hair behind your ears , "I said that I couldn't lose you because you're all that I have. And I didn't want my romantic feelings toward you to change anything between us."

Your breath gets stuck in your throat when he leans toward your face.

"So y/n, Will you please stop assuming things and be my girlfriend ?" Jisung asks.

You free your hand from his and slide them around his torso, hugging him.

"Yes, yes." you whisper, "A thousand times yes."

He engulfs you in the warmest hug possible, his hand rubbing your side comfortingly while he whispers sweet nothings into your ears.

"Sungie look, its a butterfly." You break away from the hug momentarily to point at the yellow and blue winged butterfly that settles down on top of Snowflake 's head.

Snowflake snarls at it , trying to chase it away with her paws while you and Jisung giggle. With arms secured around the other.

"Spring is on its way, isn't it?" He asks you ,"You know what it means?"

"More green vegetables?"

"Shut up ,y/n, you're so unromantic!"

You guys giggle a little more.

"No, but seriously ,what does it mean?" you ask , looking up at him from his chest.

Jisung presses a sweet, heartwarming kiss to your head , "New beginnings. Blossoming of New things."

Hs stares at you like he's trying to say something to you without using words and you like to be believe that you are able to get what he wants to say ; it's a new beginning for you guys.

Because you've finally crossed over this border line of friendship and stepped into the zone of no return, exiting the grey area you disliked so much.

And you know every second of it will be beautiful.

[abarbaricyalp]

Hi! If you're still taking propmpts. SamBucky, sequel to Push All My Buttons. Established Relationship: Sam comes back home to Bucky after Riley gets shot down during a mission and is a complete mess. Bucky comforts him to his best ability.

Friend. Friend. Friend. Why.

This is a sequel to Push All My Buttons. You don't necessarily need to read it to read this. This one is certainly not the same kind of fic.

CW: Severe suicidal ideation, discussions of grief, loss, and trauma, discussions of suicide

Link in the reblog

Excelsior

Bucky had nine months with Sam and Riley before they shipped out with the wings. He and Sam had been sleeping together for that entire time minus three days and they’d been dating for about two weeks less than that. As Riley had always said, ‘When you know, you know. Even if all you know is that they’re an irritating little shit.’ Which is what he thought both Sam and Bucky were, especially together.

It had been a really good nine months.

They shipped out late afternoon on a Saturday and that was a very bad month.

Bucky wasn’t military and Rhodes had left with the project and taken on his duties again elsewhere. Stark, in his own haze of being left alone, did not fill Bucky in on any developments with the wings, if he was even asking Rhodes.

The only thing Bucky got was the occasional phone call or text, in which Sam could barely talk about anything to do with the wings. Well, those and the program Bucky had on his computer. It was just the monitoring datastream for the jetpacks, essentially a condensed readout of what showed up on the wristlets. BPI and vitals of the wearers, elevation, fuel reserves, GPS, temperatures, difficult to decipher radar readings.

Bucky kept up with the readings religiously. He slept in his office space more often than not and scrolled through the information every morning when he did leave. So he was there at 6PM when the reading came screeching in. It was nearly a year to the day that they’d shipped out. It was a Friday. Bucky was actually packing up to go home and shower for once.

The program lost its mind the same way the wristlets would be. EXO-7 Suit 2 had lost all BPI and dropped elevation until… It hit the ground and went off line.

Bucky was pretty sure he passed out because he opened his eyes and he was on the ground, staring up at the fluorescents. There was almost no way to know for sure which pilot was in which suit. Suit 2, the Redwing suit, was usually Riley’s, but there was nothing to say that Sam hadn’t grabbed it that night. It would be about 2.30 in the morning over there. Mission like that could’ve been last minute. Could’ve taken them right out of bed. They could’ve grabbed whatever was closest. And Sam and Riley shared everything down to toothbrushes.

Bucky could comb through the data from the minutes previous. Try to rationalize out the BPI readings and find patterns, but the point of it being Sam and Riley was that they were similar pilots. Their build, their resting heart rate, the way they jumped into action. It was like watching twins move. Their readings weren’t different enough to prove anything, even if Bucky could make his arms and hands work enough to scroll back.

The other suit was still online. It dove halfway down before stopping as the radar lit up with projectiles. Again and again, like a bird dashing into traffic for another’s dead body, Falcon tried to get down to Redwing against enemy fire.

Bucky snatched his computer from its dock and raced to the elevator. His hands were shaking so badly he hit a few numbers below. The elevator went up to 88 and Bucky jabbed the door close button over and over. 89. 90. 91.

Bucky burst out on floor 92, tried not to think about the fact that just looking at elevator buttons had made him start crying, and ran towards Stark’s workstation.

“Call Rhodes!” he shouted and didn’t give a shit about the tears in his voice. “Call Colonel Rhodes right now.”

Stark sprawled upright, having apparently been asleep, and reached for his phone before narrowing his bleary eyes at Bucky.

“Barnes? What’s going on?” he asked.

Bucky set the computer down on a mess of other electronics. “One of...one of… Fuck!” A sob ripped its way out of his throat and he angrily swiped the heel of his hand across his eyes. “One of the suits went down. Someone...someone…”

“Shit,” Stark said and grabbed the phone again. He scrolled through the data reports and flinched which made Bucky snatch the computer back to look at what he was seeing. It was the radar report for Redwing. A large, explosive projectile had been launched into radar zone just before the suit fell. Bucky dropped the laptop and it landed lid first in a box of papers but didn’t shut so he still saw the WARNING WARNING WARN--

“Rhodey,” Stark said. “Rhodey, what’s going on on that end? No, I said I’d stay out of it if-- I don’t care. I’ve got-- Rhodey don’t you--” He fell silent but Bucky could hear Rhodes speaking on the other end. Stark kept shooting glances at Bucky and flinching like he didn’t have control of his body. “Alright. Thank you. That wasn’t so hard. Yeah. Yeah. No, I won’t tell anyone. No, not even Barnes,” he said. “Yes, especially not Barnes.”

He hung up and then looked at Bucky. “I’m not telling you this. It wasn’t Sam.”

Bucky fell back to the ground, catching himself on his knees this time. His arms were too heavy to pick up and the tears were falling even faster now that he knew Sam was okay. Because if Sam was okay that meant that Riley… That meant that Riley… That meant that Riley was wearing the Redwing suit.

Bucky curled into himself on the floor and screamed until his throat went sore. Stark, bless him, did not try to comfort him. He fell forward enough to press his forehead to the tile and shouted again, banged his fists on the floor and then buried them in his hair instead.

He did not go home.

Stark gave Bucky a cot to keep in his office. Bucky learned to live on it while he stared at the computer screen. That night, Sam had given up on getting to the ground and had to retreat. The suit was taken off and it had been quiet since. That did not stop Bucky from staring at it. One night, it pinged a reading--something like 3 PM their time--and Bucky watched the jetpack get taken up into the air. Higher and higher and higher and higher. Higher than he’d ever meant for them to go. High enough that he started to worry for whoever was wearing it. They were running out of oxygen. It better not have been Sam.

Then the wings retracted and the suit plummeted. Bucky nearly knocked his computer over jumping up. There was nothing in the vital readings to suggest the pilot had lost consciousness or suffered any medical episode. They were just falling. And it wasn’t a mechanical malfunction. The wings had been pulled in.

The pilot was letting themselves fall.

It better not be Sam.

Bucky was really going to watch another one die. He was going to see Sam k*** himself.

The pilot opened their wings ten feet before impact and soared back up, looping around one and then landing heavily on the ground.

The wings came back off.

Sam did it four more times, once each night, before the wings came off and stayed off.

That’s when the GPS started to move.

Two days later, Bucky was at an airport.

It had been slightly more than a week since Riley died. Riley died. Riley died. The words were wrong in Bucky’s head. His tongue rejected them without even trying to say it.

Here’s what Bucky knew about Riley. He knew Sam and Riley had known each other since their first tour. He knew that they took their education leave at the same time, went to the same school, and lived together for the three years it took them to get a degree. He knew Riley knew Sam better than Bucky did. He knew Sam had a sister who loved Riley like another brother. He knew Riley loved Sam like his own brother and Sam loved him back.

He knew that in the nine months he and Sam had been dating, he’d really only give himself six, maybe seven of those because Riley got the rest of the time and half time for the months Bucky did claim. He knew Sam called Riley before he called Bucky when he was upset. He knew Riley was such a good fucking guy and so important to Sam that that didn’t even make Bucky jealous.

He knew that Riley didn’t like coffee unless it had been turned into a sweet drink and had whipped cream on it. He knew Riley was from the middle of nowhere and sometimes talked like an obnoxious parody of a cowboy when he was tired or drunk and definitely when he was both. He knew he was a baker. He knew he liked poetry. He kept books in his army bag.

But even if he didn’t know that and nine months worth of other things, the only thing he needed to know was that Sam loved Riley more than he loved breath in his lungs or wings on his back. He loved Riley to the point of giving up concert tickets because Riley got sick and couldn’t go. He loved Riley enough to listen to bad country music in the car. He loved Riley more than he loved sex, if the number of nights he cut out on dates or netflix and chill to pull Riley out of a bad decision was anything to go by.

Sam loved Riley, Riley loved Sam, and Bucky loved Sam so Bucky loved Riley.

And Riley was dead.

Bucky had paced a hole in the floor waiting on Sam. His flight had been delayed three times already and they were two hours past the first arrival time. Energy and despair and hurt thrummed through his body and Bucky couldn’t dispel it no matter how hard he tried. He’d tried to use the gym at the tower. He’d tried to run it off. He’d tried to eat. Tried to not eat. Tried to sleep. Tried to not sleep.

Okay, that one he didn’t need to try to do. He just didn’t sleep.

It remained, locked around his heart and his head.

Sam was coming back on his own. They apparently hadn’t been stationed with a real unit, so there was no one else to send home. Even if they had been with a real unit, Sam was the only one who needed bereavement. So there was no sea of camo or cropped hair to alert Bucky that Sam was coming.

One second he was alone in his grief, the next second Sam was stepping off the elevator. They met halfway across the floor. Bucky was surprised there wasn’t a noise as they crashed together, arms coming around bodies, faces pressed to shoulders, tears escaping again. Sam wasn't in his fatigues or civvies. There was nothing distinctly airforce about him, so they were just two men losing it in each other’s arms and no one knew the depth of it.

Bucky thought about apologizing but there was nothing to apologize for. There were no words to do so anyway. So he just held onto Sam, one hand coming to the back of his head to hold him close. Sam sobbed once, twice, and then collected himself.

Bucky had no idea how long they stood like that. He could’ve stayed for days longer. The hole in his heart was still very much so there. But the luggage turnstile next to them had turned on and off four times and Bucky really wanted to get home and cry in private.

“Baby, let’s go,” he murmured softly, kissing Sam’s chin and then his cheek. “Let’s get you home.”

“I-I-I need to get to our storage unit. I need to-to sort his things,” Sam hiccuped without lifting his head.

“Later. Not right now. You’re coming home with me, alright?”

Sam nodded and wiped his eyes on Bucky’s shoulder. He lifted his head and actually looked at Bucky for the first time all afternoon.

“Hey,” Bucky breathed, brushing his thumb over Sam’s cheek to catch other tears.

Sam held his wrist and kissed his palm. “Hey.” He leaned down to kiss Bucky, tentative at first and then Bucky remembered that he’d thought it was Sam who’d gone down in Redwing for three minutes. He’d watched Sam free fall hundreds of meters to the sand below over and over. He’d almost lost him so many times. And Bucky crashed into him all over again and Sam pushed back. New tears fell, mingling together against their noses and lips and pressed cheeks.

“I can’t lose you,” Sam breathed into Bucky’s mouth. “Not you too.”

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” Bucky said.

Sam’s mouth slid off of his, anguish on his face again. His forehead leaned against Bucky’s temple. “He’s gone, Buck. I couldn’t even look for…”

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and saw Falcon dashing through enemy fire. “I know, Sam. I know. You tried.”

“Not hard enough. I saw it on the radar before he did. I was going to call out but I…I didn’t, Buck. I didn’t say anything.”

Bucky had nothing to say to that so he wrapped Sam in his arms again. “Let’s go home, Sam. There’s nothing else we can do here. Just breathe for me. Come on.”

Bucky grabbed Sam’s bag and lead him out of the terminal.

Sam slept on the floor, which was fine by Bucky. Something about how beds were too soft. After a week on a cot, Bucky might’ve thought the same thing. So he shoved his coffee table out of the way and threw all the pillows he owned on the floor and laid down several blankets and they slept on the floor.

Sam barely spoke the next day.

He went through the motions of washing dishes after Bucky made breakfast. It was just cereal, so there was little to clean up. He turned on the TV and let it play a documentary about the oceans. It played all day. Over and over. Bucky was pretty certain he could ask Sam anything about it and Sam wouldn’t be able to answer. He ate barely half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch. He read a book of poetry on the floor all afternoon. He ate dinner and Bucky washed the plates.

The second day was much the same, but then Sam was agitated. He flipped through shows and got mad when he couldn’t figure out what to watch. He slammed doors when he left rooms. He threw the pillows and blankets on the couch when he lost his phone, which he hadn’t been answering at all anyway. Bucky had left it plugged in on the arm of the couch. They skipped dinner that night and sat on the couch with the TV off and Sam laid in Bucky’s lap and cried again. They fell asleep like that.

The third day, Sam got up and made breakfast. It was cereal again. Bucky put on music. Sam washed the clothes in his bag. Handed Bucky a beautiful leather bracelet he’d picked up when they’d first landed overseas. Gave him another box and managed to say, “For the birthday he missed,” before he dashed to the bathroom and got sick. Bucky left the box on a bookshelf and went to Sam’s side, rubbing his back and massaging his neck. The gift was a jean and sheepswool jacket. They skipped dinner again.

The fourth day, they sat on the floor, staring at the bare couch. Bucky got tired of counting how many buttons had gone missing, so he said, “You have to talk about it.”

Sam choked but didn’t run for the bathroom. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Sam, you can’t keep it bottled up. Listen, after I got back from…”

“You wanna talk about things we should talk about: how’d you lose your arm, Bucky?”

“This isn’t about me. And I was just about to tell you that when I got back from my mission, I had to do a shit ton of therapy. And I hated it. And it took me a really long time to start being honest, but once I did, it helped me recover more than getting a new arm did.”

“How’d you lose your arm?”

“I saw him go down. I saw all the readings.”

“That’s not the same thing. I watched my best friend…” Sam gagged again and brought his hands up to his mouth. Tears filled his eyes and Bucky was sure it was a combination of getting sick and being upset. “I watched him die. I don’t know why I even thought I could find a body. I could… Fucking pieces if I’d gotten to the ground. That would’ve been it.” Bucky flinched and Sam zeroed in on it. “That what you wanted to hear, Barnes? Is that what I needed to say to heal myself? My best friend is dead. Maybe his body could be cold before you ask me to fix myself.”

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut. “That’s not what I was saying, Sam. Don’t attack me. I’m on your side.”

Sam stood suddenly, swayed on his feet, then found his balance. “I’m going to shower. Please just...give me time to myself right now.”

Bucky dropped his head to the couch.

The fifth day, they were both called into Stark Tower by Rhodes.

It was too early, Bucky thought, to ask Sam to do more debrief. It was too early to ask him to face the world. Bucky had laid on his sister’s couch for two weeks before he could so much as answer the door when he got back.

Sam was in a mood again. Actually, the mood hadn’t ever lessened from the afternoon before. It was back to the silent treatment and if Bucky did push him to say something, he’d be cruel and biting, over descriptive and intentionally mean. Nothing at all like Sam. Or maybe, just like him. This was, after all, Sam at his lowest. How was Bucky to know what that looked like? The only man who could’ve told him was dead.

Bucky had called ahead and had two of the strongest, plainest black coffees waiting in the lobby of Stark Tower for him and Sam. Anything that wouldn’t smell like Riley. They got into the elevator alone and Bucky passed Sam one of the coffees. The doors closed and before Sam could reach over and choose floor 92, Bucky selected 2 - 91.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sam asked. It could’ve been a snarl if the day hadn’t already been so long. If they hadn’t already argued about Bucky wearing the jacket Riley had given him. If Sam hadn’t knocked a glass off the coffee table and shattered it on accident then cut his fingers picking up shards. If Bucky hadn’t slept in his bed like a normal person.

“We have to talk,” Bucky said.

“I don’t...fucking want to talk,” Sam said, trying to double click the floors like something said would unhighlight them. It didn’t. The doors opened on the second floor.

The doors shut. “I saw what you did the days after Riley died.”

“Don’t fucking say that,” Sam snapped, like he hadn’t told Bucky this morning about the blood that had been on his suit when he landed.

“I saw you free fall. Over and over. I watched that, Sam.”

Sam’s jaw steeled and he stared at his reflection in the stainless steel siding. “I free fall all the time. It’s one of the things we learn how to do.”

“Not like that, Wilson. You went into the fucking atmosphere. There’s no telling what the wings would have done at the speeds you were clocking.”

Sam’s mouth remained a straight line.

“You could’ve died,” Bucky said to get it out there.

“Good,” Sam said, ripping off the bandaid.

The doors opened on the fifth floor. “Don’t,” they both said to the woman who tried to step in.

“I’m still here,” Bucky said.

“I know. And I’m sorry I did that. I’m sorry I felt that way. I’m sorry I still feel that way. I can’t make myself stop.”

Bucky swallowed hard and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Sam...I tried too, alright? You don’t… I haven’t told you the whole story about my discharge and I will one day. This isn’t the day for that. But my story isn’t clean. Not even close. And I tried it too. I thought that’d be a lot simpler than the bullshit I was about to go through. I thought it’d be a justice for the people involved in my story.”

Sam looked at Bucky sharply, eyes red, tears wet on his cheeks.

“It wouldn’t’ve been. So I need you to tell me what’s going on and how we can fix this.”

Slowly, the fight seeped out of Sam’s shoulders. Common ground at last. A shock to his system. A bitter, bitter win for Bucky for the time being. Sam sank down and stared at his coffee cup. “I’ve known Riley for over a decade. More than anyone else in my life who ain’t blood.”

Bucky sat beside him. The elevator stopped on three floors.

“I’ve known him for a third of my life. The first serious third. I think I grew up more with him than anyone I went to school with. I’ve never had to do this on my own. He was always right next to me. I haven’t made a decision without asking him since I decided to sign up.”

“So, poor track record of making your own decisions,” Bucky joked softly.

“I was going to let myself do it,” Sam whispered then. “I wasn’t going to pull the wings back out.” Bucky’s heart went cold and still in his chest before roaring back to life. “I’m sorry you could see the readings. I didn’t know that.”

“I’m not upset I saw it. I’m upset that you felt the need to do it.”

Sam looked over at him. “Sure, but let me ask, what stopped you from following through?”

Bucky stomach twisted painfully. It was his turn to get nauseous. “I didn’t want my sister to find me. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

Sam nodded. “If I know you might be watching those readings, I won’t be able to do it again.”

Bucky nodded and brought the coffee to his lips. It scorched his mouth and throat and he didn’t taste it all but the point wasn’t the taste. The doors opened on the seventeenth floor.

“We’re going up,” Sam said in a quiet voice.

The doors closed.

“He was my friend too,” Bucky said, voice raw. “You can talk to me about him.”

“I know that. I’m just not in the sharing mood right now.”

The doors opened. Closed. Opened. Closed. Opened. Closed.

“I fell off a train,” Bucky said. “I told you my SpecOps mission was in the mountains. I was knocked out of a moving train going around the side of a mountain and I… I’m not really sure how it happened. I might’ve reached out for the cliff face. I might’ve just hit it on the way down. I didn’t have my arm when I woke up on the ground.”

“Well, shit, maybe a bear ate it while you were out.”

“Nah, the doctors said it was too smooth. It was ripped off all at once.”

Sam flinched and then closed his eyes.

“I actually had a little bit left. I dunno, half of my upper arm, maybe. It was removed later. So, I guess it wasn’t that smooth and pretty. You know what I remember most?”

Sam hummed without lifting his head.

“I remember the jacket I was wearing. We’d been undercover when we were called into action. I was wearing a beautiful jacket that I’d picked up somewhere when the mission was still an adventure and not a nightmare. And I remember laying in the snow, looking at all that blood and my missing arm and being upset that my jacket had been ruined.”

Sam snorted and then lost the battle against sobs again. He set the coffee aside and moved over to hug Bucky, crying into his shoulder. Bucky wrapped his arms around Sam and kissed his hair. “We’re gonna get through this, Sam. You’ve just gotta trust me to hold you up. And you’ve gotta trust me to be on your side. I’m not gonna say shit to make you follow the rules or whatever. I’m gonna say shit that helped me, rules be damned.”

“I miss him so much. It’s only been five days. How am I supposed to go seventy more years without him? I’ve called his number a hundred times already and no one ever picks up.”

Bucky rubbed Sam’s back and nodded. “I know, baby. C’mere.” He pulled Sam more into his lap. Sam clutched at his shirt with trembling fingers “I’m gonna be right here. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I feel so fucking alone.”

“You’re not, Sam. I’m right here. I’m with you.”

Sam pressed his face further against Bucky’s neck and Bucky felt his tears, cool and heartbreaking. He didn’t have words. He just kept rubbing his hands over Sam’s back, kissing his temple and his hair and saying, “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.” Hoping Sam would hear him through his grief and believe it.

He held him for forty more floors and they cried together. The elevator continued ever upwards. They pushed forward ever onwards.

“I’m right here,” Bucky said as the doors opened on floor 92. Sam nodded against his shoulder and slowly stood up.

Upwards and onwards.

[samirant]

Hi! I just finished reading Backpfei... again (it was awesome 😍😍😍😍) and I was wondering if you had any headcanons for what happens next, especially everyone's reactions when they find out about JB's relationship 🥰🥰🤣🤣🤗🤗🤗

:D I do, indeed, have headcanons and I’ve played with the idea of writing something out and this message gave me the impetus to do it, so thank you!

Tagging @brynnmck for funsies

Backpfeifengesicht: Ten Minutes Later

Margaery: JOY

Margaery: JOY HILL ANDWER YIIR PHONE

Renly: JOOOOOOOOOOOOOOY

Margaery: I CANT BELIEVE SHE IS MISSING THIS. JOY!!!

Renly: SEND IT TO HER

Margaery: I can’t just send it! This requires preparation we aren’t there to catch her if she falls over

Margaery: Think of the children!

Margaery: JOY

Margaery: EITHER PUT ROSALIND DOWN OR HOLD HER REALLY TIGHTLY BEFORE YOU SCROLL DOWN

Renly: shes not kidding joy

Renly: gird yourself 😱

Sansa: Okay with the hysterics. Calm down, for sevens sake. 

Margaery: SANSA DONT THINK INDIDNT NOTICE YOU NOT FREAKING OUT

Margaery: HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME

Sansa: Margaery, I’m sitting right next to you, just speak to me. 

Renly: SANSA KNEW??????

Sansa: I’m right here. In person.

Sansa: And we were a little distracted, in case you don’t remember.

Renly: JACCUSE 😡😡😡😡😡

Joy: Goodness gracious. What in the world is going on?

Margaery: joy!!!!!!!!

Renly: JOY!

Joy: I was setting Rose down for a nap and suddenly my phone went mad. 

Sansa: I am so sorry. 

Renly: YOU BETTER BE 😡🤬😡🤬😡🤬

Sansa: I was speaking to Joy. 

Margaery: joy

Margaery: Joy my love

Margaery: Sit down. 

Joy: I’m becoming concerned. 

Renly: but r you sitting or not???

Joy: I am now. 

Joy: And I’m very concerned. 

Sansa: Don’t be. It’s a very good thing. 

Sansa: These two are just in shock. 

Joy: Margaery? In shock? 

Renly: I KNO RIGHT?!?!

Joy: Renly, less alarming. 

Renly: 😤

Margaery: Without further ado…

Sansa: So much ado. 

Margaery: image.png

Joy: …

Joy: …

Joy: …

Joy: Oh my goodness. 

Renly: RIGHT?!??

Joy: 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂🤣😂😂

Sansa: ?

Joy: Who did that? Tyrion? 

Joy: Jaime? 

Joy: Gods, is this why Brienne punched him? 

Joy: LOL It’s really good!

Sansa: ?????

Renly: 🧐

Margaery: Isnt it absolutely WILD?

Joy: It’s really something. 

Joy: Some of my wedding photos could use touch ups, whoever put that together should give me a hand. 

Joy: That’s hilarious!

Joy: Sorry, Brienne, when you read this, but it’s an excellent mock up.

Renly: …

Sansa: …

Margaery: …

Sansa: Joy. That’s a real picture. 

Renly: TOO REAL

Renly: oh gods i just saw tyrions face

Renly: right there in the corner

Margaery: HAHAHAHA

Margaery: He still looks like that, look at him.

Renly: like hes been smacked on the face with atrout

Joy: You’re joking.

Joy: You must be joking.

Sansa: We definitely are not. 

Joy: But

Joy: No

Margaery: She’s getting it.

Joy: But that’s Jaime and Brienne.

Joy: Kissing. 

Joy: Brienne kissing Jaime.

Joy: My cousin, Jaime.

Renly: do we kno another jaime?

Joy: What?

Joy: WHAT?

Margaery: And now you understand

Joy: WHAT

Sansa: Give her a moment.

Joy: WHAT

Joy: …

Joy: Brienne isn’t answering my texts.

Renly: well yeah shes a little busy

Renly: jaime stole her away

Renly: BECAUSE THEY ARE DATING

Joy: …

Joy: WHAT?

Margaery: Take a seat, take a breath, this is not a drill.

Renly: 🤯

Renly: 🤯🤯🤯

Margaery: Though Sansa APPARENTLY KNEW AND DID NOT BOTHER TO SHARE THE NEW WITH US

Sansa: I didn’t know! Brienne just said something yesterday that made it make sense today.

Joy: But she punched him!

Joy: Like we always warned him she would!

Renly: het mating dances are weird

Sansa: 😑

Sansa: Rude! And not true!

Renly: oh like it matters to you now

Joy: Will someone PLEASE explain this to me? 

Joy: I’m half convinced you’re messing with me because I’m not there. 

Margaery: Definitely not. We’d have Tyrion confirm but he’s refusing to talk to any of us. 

Margaery: Plus: photo evidence

Sansa: OK

Sansa: She did punch him? I think?

Renly: where else would he have gotten the shiners

Sansa: But it seems they’ve been friendly for a while and Jaime’s been visiting her in KL.

Joy: HE HAS?

Sansa: He says they’ve been dating for at least six months.

Margaery: Brienne says six hours.

Sansa: I’d say it’s somewhere in the middle of that.

Renly: with punches 

Joy: I… I am flabbergasted.

Joy: But that sounds exactly like Jaime.

Joy: And Brienne.

Margaery: ANYWAY

Margaery: This morning we were teasing Jaime, it seemed deserved

Renly: overdue

Margaery: And we joked about how he’d have to make it up to her, whatever he did

Sansa: He probably still does.

Margaery: And HE said that maybe Brienne should kiss it better

Renly: AND SHE DID

Margaery: We laughed about it but then Brienne got up and walk

Margaery: Fucks sake Renly just let me tell the story

Margaery: she walked over and kissed him

Renly: the end 

Renly: 😏

Margaery: 😡

Joy: Just like that?

Sansa: Just like that.

Joy: Then they just dropped the bomb that they’ve been dating for - possibly - months?

Renly: hours

Margaery: It’s all very amorphous 

Margaery: But yes

Margaery: They’re dating

Joy: Wow.

Joy: Wooooooow.

Joy: OMG!

Joy: ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Joy: JAIME AND BRIENNE!!!

Sansa: It’s very cute. They are so cute. 

Renly: WEIRD

Margaery: Very weird and also very cute

Joy: I’m still processing!

Joy: Gods, I should have known. He mentions her all. The. Time.

Renly: and brienne was a vault

Renly: until this morning

Renly: and perhaps last night

Sansa: Renly.

Renly: tell me im wrong

Renly: if thats not ff hair i dont know what is

Sansa: 😦

Joy: RENLY.

Renly: im not sorry

Joy: You’re never sorry.

Renly: but im consistent

Joy: Very true.

Joy: BRIENNE AND JAIME!!!!!

Joy: 🤩🤩🤩

Renly: they r stupid gross

Renly: n cute

Renly: i admit that

Renly: TYRIONS FACE THO

Joy: Tyrion won’t answer my texts, either.

Renly: he left with tysha

Renly: well he left and she went after him

Renly: very 😵

Renly: i think hesin a fudge

Renly: fugue

Joy: His worldview has been as rocked as ours has. At least you tried to prepare me.

Joy: Brienne, we are going to discuss this. At length. 

Renly: HAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHA

Joy: What?

Renly: OMH OMG OMG

Sansa: Oh gods.

Renly: IWAS RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT

Sansa: Renly NO.

Margaery: 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

Renly: RENLY YES

Renly: JON JUST WOKE UP

Joy: Jon?

Sansa: RENLY. NO.

Renly: AND SANSA AND MARGIE TOLD HIM WHAT HE MISSED

Joy: Is that Sansa’s boyfriend?

Sansa: Uh.

Renly: AND HE SAID

Renly: HE SAAAAAAAID

Margaery: He said “is that who i heard in the laundry room last night?”

Renly: IS THAT WHO

Renly: MARGAERY

Margaery: HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT RENLY HMMMM?

Renly: THUNDER STEALER

Joy: No.

Joy: No way.

Joy: NO WAY!

Renly: IS

Renly: THAT

Renly: WHO

Sansa: Don’t say it again. 

Renly: I 

Sansa: Please. 

Renly: HEARD

Renly: IN

Renly: THE

Sansa: Brienne is going to throttle you.

Renly: LAUNDRY

Renly: ROOM

Renly: LAST

Renly: NIGHT

Margaery: I’m pretty sure he doesn’t care.

Renly: !!!!!!!!!!!!

Sansa: BRIENNE WILL READ THIS ALL EVENTUALLY

Renly: THEN MAYBE SHE SHULDNT HAVE HOOKED UP WITH J ON THE WASHING MACHINE

Joy: 😳🤯

Renly: I AM SO PROUD OF YOU B

Renly: SO PROUD

Margaery: 🤯 indeed

Sansa: Is it hooking up if they’re actually together?

Sansa: Brienne, I’m so sorry, I tried to stop him. 

Renly: its certainly not tender lovin on a cold tile floor

Joy: Renly!

Sansa: Sorry, Tyrion, too. I guess.

Margaery: I can see him outside, he still looks like he’s having an apoplexy

Joy: I think we’re having a collective apoplexy, to be honest.

Joy: Oh goodness gracious.

Joy: Brienne. The laundry room?

Renly: maybe jaime needed a hand

Sansa: Renly, enough.

Renly: never

Margaery: I think Tyrion has his phone in his hand.

Margaery: Oops.

Margaery: waves at Tyrion

Joy: I can’t stop laughing.

Joy: The. Laundry. Room.

Tyrion: I am muting this thread. Effective Immediately. Possibly Forever.

Margaery: Tyrion!

Renly: bang bang bangity bang

Sansa: Stop singing, Renly!

Margaery: I said uh bang bang bangity bang!

Sansa: MARGAERY!

Joy: 🤭🤣

Sansa: Brienne is going to have your heads for this.

Sansa: You saw what she did to Jaime and she’s actually dating him.

Joy: 😍🥰😍😘😍😘😍😘😍🥰🥰🥰🥰

Margaery: shes humming along brienen

Sansa: Lies!

Joy: I… might be humming, too.

Renly: its her own fault

Renly: for the bangityness in the laundry room

Renly: but that seems the theme for the week maybe

Renly: love and banging all around except for poor jon

Joy: That’s right! Who is Jon?

Renly: margie this is the prt where you tell her about you and sansa confessin ur undying love

Joy: ...

Joy: WHAT?

(The end.)

[ot7always]

Fractured (part 3)

prev / Series Masterlist / next 

Word Count: 5.9k

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Mafia AU, angst, fluff, (future) smut

Warnings: objectification, mentions of sex, guns, knives, murder, and death (non-graphic), mentions of blood (not gory, but it’s there several times), non-serious injury, depictions of mental illness in the form of: nightmares, self-loathing, anxiety

Rating: 18+

Summary: You’d always known something was strange and different about your “family,” but it wasn’t as though your environment encouraged curiosity from you. You thought you wanted to know all the answers, but nobody ever told you that the more you learned the more pieces of yourself you would leave behind.

A/N: Part 3 is here! This is going to be the last ‘introductory’ chapter before some more exciting things happen in the series. Let me know what you think!

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

--

It was cold.

Damp.

The floor beneath your feet was solid concrete, drops of water littering the floor, having fallen from the pipes above.

You were unarmed. Only a plain black t-shirt and cotton pants – why was this all you were wearing?

The cold air thoroughly chilled your bones, your teeth chattering together in your skull.

“Pay attention, bitch.” Before the voice even completed its sentence, the deafening boom of a gunshot rang through the room, bullet ricocheting off the wall behind you before clattering to the floor.

It was then that you took in your circumstances. You were standing in the middle of a circle of chairs, seated bodies facing you, faces blindfolded. Your heart stopped in your chest when you realized.

Seven chairs. Seven men. Bound around you as you were unarmed.

You rose your gaze to meet the eyes of a man you didn’t recognize, his pistol dangling at his side. Despite his laid-back demeanor, his men were behind him, and you knew without a doubt that you would surely die before you could even hope of making it to him.

“Choose.” His voice rang through the room, echoing off the bare stone walls.

You blinked in confusion, glancing at the men seated around you. Why was nobody struggling? Surely there wasn’t a tie in the world that could hold Hoseok, right?

Attempting not to show your anxiety, you cleared your throat. “Choose what?”

“Choose which one of your little boyfriends dies, and the rest of you can go free.”

You couldn’t hide the flash of panic on your face at his words, your gut twisting. “My boyfriends?” You schooled your voice, the carefully crafted cold mask returning to your face. You could only hope to stall until you found a way out of this situation.

“Aw, sweetheart, we both know they wouldn’t keep you around if they couldn’t put their dick in you, don’t we?”

Anger flared in your chest, quickly stamped down as you struggled to maintain neutral features. In the corner of your eye, you saw Jimin’s angry grimace, his body shifting beneath the ropes. You elected to ignore it, lest you draw unnecessary attention to him.

But it seemed that the man didn’t miss it.

“That one doesn’t like me talking about his slut, does he?” he laughed cruelly, pointing his gun at his direction.

Your heart rate rose exponentially in your chest. “We’re a family. Surely you understand – or do you not understand anything besides fucking?”

Stall. Stall. Stall.

But it appeared he chose to ignore your latter comment. “Oh, is that what they call it nowadays? My apologies, my lady,” he taunted, sending an ugly grin your way.

“Why are we here?” you deadpanned, eager to get on your way.

“You’re very hated out there, my dear,” he sung mockingly. “A certain someone paid me very generously to torment you, and I thought this seemed fun!”

“You’re insane,” you scowled, eyes darting around the room. But it seemed he did his research – there was only one visible entrance, and he was right in front of it. The distance between you and him was too great to get close enough to stand a fighting chance without weapons. Someone would surely die if you tried. If not you, one of the boys.

“Everyone’s insane in this business, sweetheart. Speaking of business, choose. Don’t think you can stall this out like you’ve been trying to do.”

You didn’t bother hiding your scowl. “Can’t I choose myself?”

“What good would that be? We both know dying is easy. Living with blood on your hands is a lot harder, don’t you think?”

He was right – but it didn’t change the fact that you would exchange your life for any of theirs in a heartbeat.

It didn’t seem like there was any way out of this. He wouldn’t really kill someone here – right?

Wrong.

You knew more than anyone how ruthless everyone in the world could be when it came to money.

He could kill all of you if he wanted.

But you were sure he knew that if he tried something too drastic you’d be able to take advantage of his distraction.

He was too smart to do anything besides what he said. And you were too desperate to try anything else.

You took in the sight of the men seated around you, some biting their bottom lip in an attempt to remain quiet. There was absolutely no way you could do this. Wasn’t there any way you could stall this out?

BANG.

You wouldn’t have known exactly what happened if not for Jimin’s loud scream, blood gushing from his shoulder from where the man had skillfully aimed. Wide-eyed, you had to keep yourself from springing towards him, though upon first glance it didn’t look like a deadly wound.

“You don’t have much longer before I get angry. Choose.”

“Hey.”

You only spun around to face everyone surrounding you, the helplessness washing over you, dread rising in your stomach. Was this a joke?

You paused when you spotted Yoongi mouthing something to you. He was sitting opposite the door, his back to the heartless man, who couldn’t see what he was doing. You stared as he moved his lips, trying to make out the words.

‘It’s okay.’

“Y/N!”

You had to stop the tears from rising to the surface. This wasn’t okay, and would never be okay.

“Particularly attached to that one, huh?”

Before you knew it, the gun was pointed to Yoongi’s head, the man’s chuckle punctuated by the pull of the trigger.

You let out an ear-piercing scream at the same time as the bang rung through the room, knees crashing to the concrete beneath you, your eyes too afraid to look up.

“Y/N!”

Your eyes flashed open at hands grasping your shoulders tightly enough to grate against the bone. Panting heavily, you shot your gaze around the room, heartbeat slowing as you took in the sight of Yoongi’s bedroom and not a windowless, concrete building.

“Hey. You’re safe.”

At the sound of a soothing voice, you fully realized the presence of another person as your senses started coming back to you. At his warm tone, you focused your blurry vision on Jimin’s face, blinking away unshed tears. His brow was furrowed, concern clear on his face.

“You were screaming.” When he realized you were fully awake, his grip on you lessened, but his hands remained in place as he took in the fear in your eyes and the trembling of your limbs. “Hey, are you with me?”

You nodded your assurance, closing your eyes to focus on evening out your breathing. “I’m okay,” you mumbled. Physically you knew you were, your body becoming more awake, feeling more under your control by the second. But you were shaken by what you saw, how real it seemed. How realistic it was.

Nobody appreciated the reminder that the people they loved could die at any moment.

Jimin waited patiently as you struggled to pull yourself together. This wasn’t the first time he’d found you like this, and it almost certainly wouldn’t be the last. He’s witnessed some of your lowest moments, after all. Jimin was arguably the softest and most attentive one in the house – with you guys, anyway. You’d never seen anyone who could flip a switch in the way Jimin did as soon as he stepped out into the field. You admired the way he allowed himself to let loose at home, but could be professional as soon as he stepped outside.

The way he fretted over everyone like a mother hen had endeared you to him since a time before you’d even started kindergarten.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he prodded gently once you’d opened your eyes, vision fixed on an empty spot on the wall to avoid his searching gaze.

You quickly shook your head, burying the mess of emotions deep within you, as though acting unbothered would will your anxiety out of existence. Despite receiving the same answer each time over the past few months and years, Jimin never failed to ask the same question. You both loved and hated him for it, to no fault of his own. You simply didn’t feel comfortable laying out all of your thoughts, and the vulnerability that came with it. Not when so much of your sanity relied upon your mask of indifference and focus on work.

Despite your refusal, he eyed you for several more seconds, hesitantly releasing you and seating himself beside you so that your shoulders were touching. In your peripheral vision you caught a glimpse of his conflicted expression. You couldn’t blame him – he did, you assume, come in here because your screaming was audible from the hallway. You would be concerned too, especially in a house where every room was made to be relatively private, sound-wise.

Images of that dream still floated through your mind, the last few seconds before you woke up playing on repeat again, and again, and again.

“Where’s Yoongi?” you asked, hoping to distract Jimin from your sorry state. But it appeared that your question was most definitely not the right way to go about that, because his concern only grew more noticeable.

“Yoongi-hyung...? He’s out tonight, remember? With Seokjinnie-hyung?” He stared at you incredulously.

Right.

You couldn’t believe it had slipped your mind – and neither could Jimin, apparently. His astonishment made sense, though. If there was one person in the house with laser focus on the job, it was probably you. It was easier that way – your work brain didn’t worry so much about what happened in the field.

But that meant you usually kept tabs on what everyone was doing, especially considering what they were doing was related to what you would be doing tomorrow. Especially considering you could barely sleep without knowing every one of them was back home and safe.

“Are you... sure you’re okay?” he asked at your lack of response.

“I’m fine... just wasn’t fully awake, you know?” you deflected, awkward chuckle falling from your lips. You were fine, right? Your mind was just a little bit too preoccupied to remember something. Something very important, and something that you usually never forgot, but it wasn’t that big of a deal.

But Jimin didn’t seem to think so, the disbelief clear on his face. But before he could open his mouth to say something, you spoke first.

“Do you ever have nightmares?” you asked simply, hugging your knees to your chest, wrapping yourself into a little ball. Of course, you knew the answer already, but a selfish part of you just wanted the reassurance that you weren’t alone in your experiences.

“Y/N...” he trailed off, tone sad. “I think we all do. You’re not alone here.”

“What do you do?”

That seemed to surprise him. The words slipped from you before you could stop them. For lack of better wording – you didn’t tend to initiate conversations about things that really mattered. Things that were important to you personally, things that weren’t surface-level or work-related. Perhaps waking up after an awful dream next to a person rather than your usual empty room brought forth an unusual vulnerability.

He seemed to ponder over a response, taking his time before answering. “I talk about it.” He had decided to answer honestly, cringing inwardly at the answer, knowing how much you avoided talking about your problems with anyone.

You deflated almost imperceptively at his answer, though you were sure he noticed. You didn’t know what you were expecting, and didn’t know why you were disappointed. Did you really think Jimin would have some secret to help you?

No – he just wasn’t a coward like you were.

“Y/N, I know things are a lot harder for you than everyone else-”

“They’re not,” you interjected.

“They are. Everyone else grew up knowing what this house was from birth. But you? They let you become a person and then forcefully replaced you with another version of yourself later. Us? This is all we ever were.” There was a trace of bitterness in his tone, one you chose not to comment on. “I don’t know why they waited so long to tell you. Maybe that’s the reason you’re so-”

He cut himself off before he could finish the sentence, grimacing slightly at his uncontrolled babbling.

But it didn’t take a genius to understand where he was going with that thought.

“So what?” Fucked up? Broken? You weren’t sure you wanted to know what he was going to finish that sentence with.

“Never mind,” he sighed, taking a deep breath before changing the subject. “I was supposed to come get you anyway. Yoongi-hyung told me to make you eat once you woke up.”

“He told you to make me eat?” you mumbled, slightly affronted, but amused nonetheless. Your comment seemed to break the tension in the room, Jimin breathing a laugh at your reaction.

“You know how he is,” he grinned. “But anyway, come join us. Taehyungie is downstairs waiting for me already. Said he wants to watch The Office or something.”

You knew you should eat something, but you really didn’t have much of an appetite after everything. Perhaps being punched in the gut and then dreaming of your family’s death by your hand will do that.

Noticing your hesitation, however, Jimin piped back up. “Please? I think it would help. For me?”

You knew you were helpless the moment he fixed his pleading stare onto your face. Nobody could ever deny that man anything, and you were more than certain he knew that. You were lucky he wasn’t using his powers for worse things than convincing someone who needs food that they need to eat.

Rather than respond, you simply let out an exaggerated sigh, pretending you didn’t know that he was definitely correct. Besides, if there was anyone who could take your mind off things, it was definitely Jimin and Taehyung. On their own you’d almost mistake them for any other 20-something year old, but together they were their own brand of chaos. Chaos that never failed to brighten the mood.

You made to hop off the bed, planning on throwing out an “if I have to” once you did, but it appeared that you’d been so focused on your mental state that your physical one completely slipped your mind.

Not expecting your legs to be so weak, you lost your balance almost immediately, saved from an embarrassing potential fall by Jimin’s quick reflexes. He stood beside you, a hand on your shoulder, luckily not fussing over you too much.

“Hm, Jungkookie didn’t tell me he messed you up that much,” he teased, though you thought there was an ounce of concern somewhere in there.

You scoffed. “I’m fine, I just forgot how sore I was.” You shrugged off his hand, taking a few pained steps towards the door, hiding a grimace at the scream of your muscles. “And Jungkook did not do this to me, by the way,” you added, unwilling to let Jimin prance around the house thinking Jungkook was able to beat the living shit out of you. Even if it was partially true.

As amusing at it was to watch you unintentionally walk around like a newborn lamb, Jimin couldn’t help his wince at the sight. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”

“Let’s go eat, Jimin.”

--

As expected, dinner and sitcoms with the Chaos Pair (as you and Hoseok liked to fondly refer to them) did wonders to improve your mood. Seokjin had so kindly made some sort of stir-fry before leaving with Yoongi, meaning all you three had to do was warm up some food before settling down on the couch.

But that was several hours ago. It had to be past midnight, and you knew what Yoongi and Seokjin needed to do tonight wasn’t something that should have taken too long. In fact, scouting out the meeting place for tomorrow shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour or an hour at most – any longer and getting seen was too risky.

You couldn’t help but let your mind wander, wondering what could have held them up so much. Surely nothing could have happened, especially when the plan for today wasn’t even that dangerous – right?

Captured within your own thoughts, not absorbing what was on the screen, the transition to the ending credits snapped you out of it. You spoke out before Taehyung could click the next episode button for the nth time that night.

“Hey... do you guys know what’s happening with Yoongi and Jin?” You tried to make the question sound casual and nonchalant, but each of the boys were well-versed in your worry any time work didn’t go according to plan – especially when you were at home while others were out. It was a silent but well-known fact that you were almost always the last to bed on mission days, your body only relaxing enough to sleep once you knew everyone was home safe.

“I’m sure they’re fine, Y/N,” Jimin was quick to reassure you from the opposite end of the couch. “Coming back late isn’t that strange here, you know.”

“Right. This is Yoongi-hyung and Jin-hyung we’re talking about here, remember?” Taehyung added, slinging an arm around your shoulder from his place beside you. “Besides, Yoongi-hyung is a master at doing stuff quickly and quietly. I bet they were done in like 20 minutes and they’re out eating or something.”

“Without any update?” you replied, skepticism clear in your tone. “Not even an ‘all done, see you guys later,’ nothing?”

“Just think about it this way, Y/N,” said Jimin, matter-of-factly. “Even if something went wrong, isn’t it better to have no news at all than for us to know something?”

As much as you wanted to argue the nuances of that statement, you knew in general, he was right. If they were captured, you’re sure Namjoon would have heard something about it by now. People were too impatient in this line of work to wait before leveraging whatever bargaining chip they had – especially when it wouldn’t be unheard of for them to lose their chance before it could be used. And if they were killed? News of such a thing would have spread even faster, considering their status as the two oldest sons.

Jimin was right, in a way – you could be fairly confident that whatever was happening, they were at least alive.

But that didn’t stop you from worrying. Some things were worse than death.

“You’re right, I guess,” you conceded, though you certainly didn’t sound happy about it.

When nobody made to speak further, Taehyung hit play, and you tried your best to focus on the show.

And you did. For another hour, with no word from anyone, and still no Yoongi or Seokjin in the house.

As much as you wanted so badly to call them and demand what was taking up their time, you already knew such a thing wasn’t possible. You knew that by now, if they had time, they would have called you already.

All there was left to do was wait, and you were not a patient person.

You didn’t even realize how much you were fidgeting until Taehyung reached out a hand to rest on your shoulder, the other moving to pause the episode.

“Y/N.” Taehyung’s voice was firm. “Don’t worry so much, they’ll be fine. I think you should sleep.”

“You should,” Jimin agreed. “Don’t you guys have to leave early tomorrow?”

You made a noncommittal noise in response. As much as your muscles screamed with exhaustion, as much as your mind probably needed rest, you knew you wouldn’t be capable of sleep. Not when the last time you’d slept wrought you so much terror, and definitely not before everyone was accounted for.

But you couldn’t focus on the show, and as much as you loved them, you didn’t think you could sit there any longer and hear the same reassurances from Jimin and Taehyung. It wasn’t their fault – you knew they wanted you to feel some peace of mind, but there was only so much that could be said when dealing with very real danger. And at the same time, you felt bad for making them fuss over you.

“I think... I think I’m going to head upstairs. Sorry I couldn’t be very good company,” you said, wincing as you stood supporting your own weight, the dull pain in your abdomen and calves protesting.

They were quick to claim otherwise, each of them reaching out to give your arm a gentle squeeze. As you made your way to the staircase, you could hear their quiet whispers from the couch, though you couldn’t make out their words. You would bet that they were probably discussing Yoongi and Seokjin’s absence, too considerate to worry you further while you were still there.

When you reached the landing upstairs, you were fully planning to head to your own room, lounging in bed, phone in hand until either the boys came home or you passed out from sheer exhaustion. But this late at night, you didn’t expect to see the strip of light coming from beneath Namjoon’s door. Perhaps distracting yourself with work would be your best bet to shift your focus.

You were knocking on his door before you were even fully aware you’d made the decision, entering when a tired voice called for you to come in.

When he saw it was you, he gave you a kind smile from where he was seated at his desk, though the fatigue in it was clear. But you supposed you weren’t one to talk.

“Everything okay?” he asked easily, spinning around on his clear until he was facing you fully. On his desk you could see almost a dozen open folders, sheets scattered around – work-related, no doubt. You were positive there was some kind of method to the madness, though. This was Namjoon, after all.

Though he liked to deny it, Namjoon was something of the leader in the house now that everyone’s parents no longer lived there full-time. Like true important individuals, they lived off in vacation homes now that their children were fully grown and fully capable of doing every bit of dirty work for them. They stopped by sometimes since much of the important technology (read: weapons) and paperwork were here, but for the most part, once night fell you guys were on your own. Not that the 8 of you really had any say in what you’d be doing despite being mostly alone – you were independent in name only, and you didn’t doubt that the parents were keeping tabs on everyone anyway. Namjoon’s father proved that earlier.

Being the son of the head of the entire “operation,” most communications came to Namjoon to relay to the rest of you. Despite never volunteering for such a thing, his father liked to work him to the bone. In watching their interactions, you’d hardly be able to tell they were family – Namjoon’s father treated him more as a servant than anything. As much as he claimed he didn’t mind, the work definitely took a toll on him. The fact that he was alone in his room working at what must be around 3 am was evidence enough.

“I was hoping to talk to you about tomorrow...” you began unsurely. “But if you’re busy, it’s fine. It’s not that important anyway.”

You hated to intrude and ask him to talk about work when he was already clearly so swamped, but in all likelihood what he was doing was about your next task anyway.

“Actually, it’s good that you’re here. I think if I look at these papers any longer, I’m gonna go insane. Talking has always been better for me, anyway,” he replied, and you visibly perked up at the realization that your presence was desired rather than simply tolerated.

“All that stuff is about tomorrow?” you questioned, making your way over to sit cross-legged at the end of his bed. Now that you were closer, you could see that the papers flooding his desk were some combination of floor plans, building sketches, and walls of text that looked much too small to read even if it were right in front of you.

“Right. Everything had already been mapped out already, but my father sent me these about an hour ago saying the first set they gave me was wrong.” He huffed a bit in annoyance at that, before continuing on. “So, I’ve mostly just been double checking whether it changes anything. I think we should be okay, but better safe than sorry, right?” he chuckled humorlessly, a hand raising to pass mindlessly through his hair.

“Lay it on me, Joon,” you grinned, forcing enthusiasm into your voice in the hopes that you could at least make him feel a bit better. It was, after all, much easier to help others than to help yourself. You leaned back on your hands, giving him your full attention.

“You read through everything I sent you already, right?” he inquired, despite knowing that the obvious answer was yes, considering you’d have to set out only hours later.

When you nodded your assent, he continued.

“So you know that this isn’t too complicated of a mission – a go in, talk, come back out type of thing. We’re already at a temporary peace with their family, so you and Jungkook will be there as assurance that they can’t just shoot me dead.”

“Uh huh. So what’s changed?”

“Pretty much just the map of the warehouse we’re going to. The windows are placed differently than we originally thought, and apparently there might be some sort of back door. Yoongi-hyung and Jin-hyung were supposed to confirm those details, but...” he trailed off, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip betraying his worry. But when he saw your face fall at the mention, he carried on.

“In theory, all we have to do is be a bit more aware when we get there, keep an eye out, especially for that other entrance. But I’ve mostly been thinking about what could go wrong with the added unknowns, especially if someone tried to throw us off intentionally-”

His voice was cut off abruptly by a loud bang from downstairs, followed by voices. You were up on your feet in an instant, out the bedroom door before you could even check whether Namjoon was following. Any semblance of pain was forgotten as you bounded downstairs at a speed that was probably unsafe, skidding to a stop when Yoongi and Seokjin came into view.

Your eyes scanning them over quickly, at first you thought nothing of it as you came closer. They looked ragged and tired, hair sticking to their foreheads, clothes dirty. If you didn’t notice the movement of Yoongi’s hand twitching against his abdomen, you would have gone straight into questioning them about their whereabouts for the past four hours.

But you did notice it, and your eyes zeroed in on the fact that his hand was, very faintly, stained with red. After that, any restraint you might have shown was gone in an instant.

“What happened to you?!” you exclaimed, closing the distance between you faster than they could think to move or respond. Pulling Yoongi’s hand away from his body with one of your own, the other yanked his shirt up before he could protest. There was no such thing as decency in this house when the other person was bleeding.

“Y/N-” Yoongi began in a tone that was definitely about to tell you to calm down.

“Don’t ‘Y/N’ me!” you huffed, holding his shirt up and away from his wound. Luckily, it didn’t look too bad, and wasn’t bleeding all that much. The sight calmed you somewhat, relieved by the fact that this was something that would be incredibly easy to recover from. But that didn’t mean you’d forgotten that he shouldn’t have even been injured in the first place. “Start talking, Seokjin.”

You saw him cringe a bit in the corner of your eye. He was almost never ‘Seokjin’ to you – it was clear to him that you were angry, even if it wasn’t necessarily at him.

He took a deep breath before starting. “We-”

“Hyung?” came Namjoon’s voice from behind you, and a quick glance showed that Jimin and Taehyung were right on his heel. “What happened?”

You could hear Seokjin wind himself up to start again, but a sharp sigh from Yoongi cut him off once again. “Can’t we sit for this?” Yoongi grumbled, irritation lacing his tone. The presence of not one, but four people fussing over him at the same time left him seemingly annoyed.

Instead of speaking, you begun to tug him in the direction of the kitchen table where you’d all be able to speak properly. If he wasn’t injured might have been comedic to see a grumpy Yoongi being led through the house by your grip on his shirt, but those nearby were too concerned to say anything. If you were anybody else he probably would have cussed you out by now – you were the only person here who would try such a thing nowadays.

When you reached the closest chair you pushed him down into it, taking his hand and forcing him to hold up his own shirt. “Hold that there,” you demanded, no-nonsense tone leaving no room for disagreement.

By the time you returned with clean hands and a first aid kit, everyone else was already seated, waiting for your arrival to get into the story.

You crouched on the floor next to where Yoongi was seated, pulling out supplies as Seokjin began. You listened intently to Seokjin’s explanation about arriving at the warehouse, parking in an alley and keeping an eye out from afar while Yoongi went around the building on his own.

“I was surveying as planned, but when I got around to the back I ran into – agh, fuck,” Yoongi grunted when you wiped at his wound with antiseptic, paying no mind to the fact that he was mid-sentence. “Ran into a guy with a mask on who pulled a knife on me,” he finished through gritted teeth, muscles tensing as you cleaned the blood away until you could properly see what you were working with.

You hadn’t fully relaxed until you’d reached that point. When the mess of dry blood was gone, it was clear that despite the cut being long, it didn’t seem deep enough to need stitches. So long as it didn’t get infected, it likely wouldn’t even scar. The fact that it wasn’t bleeding anymore was a good sign, though you cringed at how long he must have gone around with it like this.

You listened to Seokjin detail how Yoongi ended up coming back to the car far earlier than expected, and how whoever was there had chased them down. As you listened to how they’d had to drive around for hours to ensure they really lost them before returning home, you worked on dressing the wound. You pulled the gauze snugly around his narrow waist, pausing when he gave a quiet grunt.

“Too tight?” you asked quietly, searching his face.

“It’s fine. I could’ve done this myself, you know,” he mumbled, not looking at you.

You narrowed your eyes. “Aren’t you the one always telling me to accept help?”

Despite his lack of verbal response, his sigh was enough to signify his resignation as the point you’d made.

You hardly registered Namjoon leaving the table to call his father, more focused on the task in front of you. When you finally secured the gauze with tape, you leaned back to examine your handiwork. It wasn’t your best, and certainly nowhere near as neat as Jin would have made it, but it would do. Before you could move away, however, Yoongi’s hand rose to rub affectionately at your head.

“Thanks,” he cracked a smile at you, grin widening when you batted his blood-stained hand away with a barely-disguised look of disgust.

Rather than ream him out for dirtying your hair, an unreadable look spread over your face. “I was worried about you.”

As much as you’d tried to erase the image from your memory over the course of the last few hours, it wasn’t something that could easily be forgotten. It was irrational to think that your nightmares had any relation to what occurred in reality, but fear didn’t have to be rational.

It must have been obvious that something was troubling you more than the fact that they’d arrived home late and injured. There was no other reason for you to be staring into nothing, face screwed up into an expression that looked something like pain.

“Did something happen?” he asked simply, reaching for your hand and pulling it into his grasp when you didn’t resist. That you let his dirt and blood-crusted hand anywhere near your body without complaint was concerning in and of itself.

“No...” you said unsurely, gaze fixing onto the floor, shaking your head as though to dispel the image from your mind. “Not really.”

You heard an intake of breath as though he was about to protest, but Namjoon’s hurried footsteps returning to the table distracted you both. As you caught the troubled expression on Namjoon’s face, you rose to take a proper place at the table, beside Seokjin and Yoongi and across from Jimin and Taehyung.

Namjoon took a seat at the head of the table where everyone could see him, and the sight of his clear distress, hands running over his face, had you unsettled immediately.

“What’s wrong?” you asked hurriedly, business face on immediately.

“My father had someone look into who attacked you at the warehouse and chased you afterwards. The footage from the warehouse wasn’t clear, but based on street cams and red-light cams...” he took a deep breath, grimacing before his next statement. “It was Lee Taemin.”

The speed at which your brows shot up was impressive.

Lee Taemin.

The man who you were supposed to meet up with tomorrow. The man whose family supposedly had a partnership with yours.

“Excuse me?” came Seokjin’s bewildered voice.

“Lee Taemin attacked you? He had to have known it was you, after however long he chased you,” said Jimin.

You gripped the edge of the table harshly, nails digging into the surface. This wasn’t something to be taken lightly – in fact, you were surprised they had the nerve to double-cross Bangtan.

Were the changes Namjoon was looking at earlier a result of their meddling? What would have happened tomorrow if you’d shown up according to plan? What would have awaited you there?

“There’s no way three of us can just walk in there tomorrow,” you said through gritted teeth, fury rising the longer you thought about how close to disaster you’d come because of their betrayal. How had they managed to keep it all secret? Surely whispers should have made it to you by now.

Unless he was acting alone?

Nothing made sense.

“We won’t be going to the warehouse tomorrow,” Namjoon stated, though the resignation in his tone sent a shot of confusion through you. He didn’t seem very happy about that fact, despite the risks being massive.

“And you’re upset about that, because...?” you prodded, sensing something else laying beneath that statement.

“We’ll be going to a party tomorrow night instead.”

--

Tagging: @shere-khan-the-lizard​​ @wwilloww​​ @propinqxity​​

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[moeyy-writes]

Fear

Zak Bagans x Reader

Warnings: Typical investigation content (bad feelings like fear and dread, mention of violent historical events including murder), mention of violent/threatening thoughts, being negatively affected by an entity, a hint of angst here and there, brief hints of sexual activities, fluff.

Word Count: 3,294

A/N: This story just came to me randomly while I was watching the show on my day off from work. Please read the warnings carefully. This story (at least in my opinion) is a bit emotionally heavy.

My Master List

Nothing about this location felt right. The interviewees Zak had talked to earlier that day all warned the team about an entity that affects men, especially those with what they referred to as ‘strong personalities’. The moment you walked into the room called The Grand Parlor, you felt sick to your stomach, but didn’t say anything. The energy in the dusty, hundred-year-old building was thick with dread and fear. Little did you know that those feelings would follow you into the night.

As the sun went down, while you, Jay, and Billy were setting up nerve center, those feelings were coming back full-force. You couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong. And, if anything, you weren’t the one who was usually spooked. In the two years you had been a part of the team, you had quickly earned yourself the nickname of “The Debunker”. You were definitely the most skeptical of the group, and usually threw weird feelings out the window.

However, today, these feelings came on like a speeding train, and didn’t seem to be going anywhere. Now, you were able to confirm the exact same feeling in the same building for a second time. Coincidence, maybe, but unlikely.

“Y/N, is everything okay?” Jay asked quietly from beside you. Apparently, you had stilled while holding one of the X-camera cords. You cleared your throat and nodded, before picking up the X-camera in front of you.

The camera you were in charge of setting up was going in one of the main bedrooms of the manor, where the late patriarch of the family had, according to legend, murdered his young wife in cold blood. That was also the space where three other male investigators had become affected by a forceful entity. One of them even blamed an attachment from that very room for ending his marriage.

When you were filming Zak and an interviewee in that room, you had been overcome with fear, and had to pass the camera to Billy and quietly excuse yourself. That was the first time in your history on the show that something like that had ever happened to you. When Zak asked what happened, you said that you had a sudden dip in blood sugar from not eating lunch. When he kept asking questions, you kept brushing them off, even though you were terrified of what may have been happening to you.

You were stubborn, so you pressed on. You made your way to the steps that led up to the bedroom where you were going to place the X-camera. The moment you passed through the chestnut doorframe, your stomach sank even further.

“Holy shit,” you muttered to yourself as you entered the room. The air around you was electric, like there was a thunderstorm right over your head. You sucked in a deep breath and carried on, trying to find a logical explanation for the feeling in the back of your mind.

Once you placed the X-camera in its spot, you had an idea. You pulled out an EMF meter from the small bag beside the camera you turned it on. You slowly followed the walls of the room, lingering in doorways and corners of the room, searching for a live energy source. According to the owners, there was no power in the building, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t something explainable causing an electro-magnetic disturbance.

“Nothing,” you whispered in defeat as you shut off the device. How the hell was that possible. You felt like you had just shuffled over a carpet in your socks, ready to zap the next person to cross your path. Weird.

The moment you slipped the device back into the bag, you heard footsteps behind you. You spun on your heels only to find Jay standing in the doorway. Your best friend studied you, his eyes filled with concern.

“Dude, what’s happening, Y/N? You’re acting weird.” He wasn’t wrong. You felt weird, which in itself was a super foreign feeling for you. And, you weren’t exactly the stealthiest person, especially when something was bothering you.

“I-I dunno, Jay. This building has such a weird vibe to it. I feel something in here. I checked the whole room with the EMF detector, but got nothing. Zip. But I feel like a live wire.” You raked your fingers through your hair and sighed. “Not to mention the horrible feeling of dread in here. It must be from knowing the shit that went down in this room.”

“Well, we all have our locations that affect us more than others. Maybe we finally found yours?” Jay shrugged, obviously trying to calm you.

“Guess so.” You nodded, not really wanting to talk about it anymore. Your part of the set up was done. Now, it was time to gather and begin the lockdown.

As you expected, this location was absolutely alive. Aaron got a threatening EVP within fifteen minutes of starting the lockdown, and a huge bang spooked Billy enough to almost send him pummeling down the stairs. Zak even got a few voices from what sounded like the same person while using the spirit box. It was compelling stuff, but that lingering feeling of dread was still weighing on you as you sat with Jay at nerve center.

After the guys returned to nerve center for a quick break, they all went over their findings with you and Jay. You tried to debunk what they found, but this location was presenting quite the challenge. The EVPs had tone, and the voice on the spirit box spoke at least three or four times, the same voice over multiple sweeps. Even the bang came from a small room with no furniture, leaving you scratching your head.

“Guys, this place is insane,” you gasped as you leaned back in your chair. “I-I don’t have a good explanation of any on this. I mean, the bang could have been a loose floor board finally giving way, but that was really loud.” Zak grinned from his seat beside you.

“Well, babe, maybe that’s because there’s something or someone haunting this place,” Zak teased. You glared over at him, then rolled his eyes.

“I can see that, Z.” You narrowed your gaze, then nudged his arm playfully.

“See, your weird feelings were right!” Jay announced, causing you to freeze. You hadn’t said anything to the others about your feelings about the place, and you honestly didn’t want them to know. You wanted to find a good reason behind it, and not feed into it.

You glared over at Jay, wishing he hadn’t said anything.

“Wait, what feelings?” Zak interrogated, practically leaping out of his chair. “You felt something? You?” You closed your eyes for a moment, then nodded.

“The moment I walked into the place, I felt like my stomach was flipping. Like you’re waiting for something to jump out and scare you. It’s like dread and fear, especially in that bedroom upstairs where the woman was murdered.” You met Zak’s gaze, then Aaron’s, and the rest of the crew. Even at nerve center in the RV, outside of the building, you could feel something bothering you. So, the last thing you wanted was to go back into that house.

And it was almost like Zak knew that.

“Y/N, maybe the woman who was killed in there is somehow connected to you, and that’s why you’re feeling that way.” You couldn’t disagree with him. There was no other conclusion that you could confirm, or even think of at that point. So, Zak’s next words didn’t surprise you.

“Babe, how about you come in with me and we check out that bedroom—”

“Woah, Zak! We’re in the middle of a lockdown, dude.” You rolled your eyes. Oh, leave it to the adorable Aaron Goodwin.

“No, Aaron, I’m serious. The woman was murdered in that room. Maybe she’ll reach out to another woman. If a bunch of men go in there, she might feel threatened and not want to reach out.” You didn’t really want to do this, but you knew at this point you had no choice. Plus, if the spirit of the woman was in that room, she may reach out to you, and that may lead to some amazing evidence.

“Fine,” you sighed. “Let’s go.” Zak grinned, pushed his glasses back up his nose, then led the way out of the RV.

Billy stood in the doorway filming Zak and you as you both stood in the bedroom. Your stomach swirled and flipped while you held the spirit box in your hand. The echoes of the rapid sweeps filled the room as you leaned against a small dresser.

“Is the woman who was killed in the room here with us?” you asked into the room. Zak stood beside the bed holding the SLS camera towards you.

“Are you still afraid? Even now that you’ve died?” The sweeps continued without voices. “Because I can feel that fear. The fear you felt. And I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“He’s here.”

The female voice came through quickly, but clearly. Your arms filled with goosebumps the moment those words entered the air.

“Who is here?” you shouted over the echoing noise.

“Him.”

The voice came through as a low growl. You jumped back a little, then peered up at Zak.

“What the fuck was that?” you gasped, keeping your eyes on Zak. The feelings you had from the beginning were now plaguing you tenfold, and you were almost positive you were going to puke. You felt like you needed to get out of the room immediately. It almost felt like something was coming after you and you needed to run for your life.

“Zak, I need to leave. I can’t be in here anymore,” you rasped, starting to panic. “I can’t breathe.” You turned for the door, but were met by the broad chest of your boyfriend blocking your path. You stared up at him, barely able to see his face through the faint light that came through the window.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Billy asked from the other side of the doorway. He held the camera up, but the barely visible look on his face was wrought with concern.

Your heart galloped in your chest as you reached up and pressed a firm hand on Zak’s chest. Something was affecting him, and you knew you needed to get the two of you out. You swallowed the immense fear that overcame you and focused on getting through to Zak.

“Zak, please let me leave.” You stared up at the faint features of his face. He didn’t move, didn’t say a word. His brow was lightly furrowed behind the frames of his glasses, and his eyes were cold. You held your hand firm against Zak’s chest and lifted your head up ever so slightly, asserting yourself.

“Whoever if affecting Zak, you need to leave him alone. I’m not afraid of you. We aren’t afraid of you. You can’t bully people anymore.” You watched as Zak’s face contorted slightly behind his respirator mask. He released a low groan from deep in his chest.

“Leave me alone!” he shouted to whoever was affecting him. Your theory was that it was the man who committed murder in the room, who was mad that there was another woman in there. He may have attached to Zak knowing that you two were a couple. He was probably mad that a woman was standing up to him. And you sure as hell weren’t going to back down.

“Y/N, I need to get out of here,” Zak almost pleaded as he turned away from you and took a step towards Billy. There was still something very wrong, but you let him go, hoping that once he left the building he would be okay. Billy moved to the side, allowing Zak to leave, then ran back in to collect the SLS camera from the bed where Zak had dropped it. You turned back to the dresser where you had left the spirit box so you could turn it off.

“Leave here.”

You froze in place, feeling Billy peering over your shoulder. He gasped as the female voice spoke those words. Your eyes filled with tears as you began to speculate. The woman was trying to protect you.

“They want us to leave,” Billy concluded. They didn’t have to tell you twice. You quickly turned off the spirit box, then booked it out of there with Billy on your heels.

Zak sat in the RV beside Aaron with his head in his hands. Without even looking at his face, you could tell he was close to tears as he sat hunched over on one of the chairs. You approached him, noticing Aaron’s hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” you breathed as you crouched down in front of him and rested your wrists on his knees. “Zak, talk to me.”

Of course he was upset that he was affected by a spirit. He was usually emotional and drained after something like that. But this time, he seemed way more upset than drained. You reached up to peel one of his hands from his face.

“Zak, tell me what’s going through you head right now.” You had grown very accustomed to soothing the team members after something scary like this, being the one who was usually settled at base camp. Even the fearless leader needed comforting after a long night. But, he had never been affected while having you as the target of his rage.

“When we were in that room, I got these horrible flash images of violence and rage.” He sighed, lowering his other hand, but not looking at you. You took the other hand in yours, trying your best to keep from shaking yourself.

“What kind of images, Zak? Were they violent? Towards me?” Zak just nodded his answer, making you feel sick again. It had to have been the man who murdered his wife in that room. You were positive. And you knew he was thinking the same thing.

“I stood there and I just wanted too—” He sucked in a breath, very clearly trying to hold back tears. “I wanted to snap your neck.”

“Woah, dude,” Aaron gasped from beside Zak. He rubbed gentle circles into his best friend’s shoulder. “It was that man putting those images in your head, man. It wasn’t you.” You nodded in agreement, then peered back to Zak, who was now looking at you. His eyes were red and glassy with tears that threatened to fall.

“It made me think of hurting you. It made me want to hurt you. To kill you.” Zak started to shake his head. “I’ve never even thought I could ever imagine hurting you. And just seeing that so vividly in my head—” Zak lowered his head again. Tears finally broke through, landing on the dark fabric of his pants.

“Hey, it wasn’t you, love,” you whispered to him as you squeezed both of his hands. “I know it wasn’t. That’s why I confronted him. I needed to stand my ground.” Zak shuddered and closed his eyes.

“I don’t ever want to think about hurting you again. I want those thoughts to go away. I want that sick fucking feeling to go away.” Zak grit his teeth, then relaxed.

You tilted your head, trying to recapture his gaze. “Zak, look at me.” He slowly lifted his head. “Those weren’t your thoughts. I know you would never hurt me.” Your palm gently met his cheek. The sparse stubble tickled your skin.

“That was so fucked up,” he breathed out, finally offering you a ghost of a smile. You returned the gesture and leaned your forehead against his.

“Guys,” you announced to the room, “I think we’re done for the night. It’s almost five in the morning. Do you mind giving us some space?”

“Yeah, we’ll go take down the equipment,” Jay responded, before heading for the door. The others followed him out, leaving you alone with Zak.

You pulled your head back a little, staring into the haunted blue eyes before you. Zak was rarely this vulnerable, so whatever he saw in his mind must have really gotten to him. He was normally a bit protective of you, happy that you preferred to be at nerve center most of the time. That’s where you could see everything as it happened and would be able to debunk it quickly. When you did go in on an investigation, you were usually with Jay or Aaron in a place where there weren’t as many violent occurrences.  

So, this whole thing was way out of both of your comfort zones. And, you could tell that Zak felt guilty for sending you in.

“Zak, I love you. Please don’t be upset about all of this. None of this was your fault.” You cupped his jaw in your hands. “I agreed to go in with you, despite how I felt about the place. And, you didn’t hurt me. You may have imagined it, or thought about it, but you didn’t hurt me. Even though you were strongly affected, you didn’t even touch me.” Zak nodded lightly, covering your hands with his. “I know it sounds cheesy and ridiculous, but it must have been your love that kept you from being fully affected by this horrible entity. And, well, that means a heck of a lot to me.”

Zak huffed a laugh and smiled. “Yeah, the power of love. Cheeseball.” You both giggled with each other, holding each other close. You folded your legs under you so you could kneel on the ground. Then, you leaned in, closing the distance between you and Zak.

You had been with Zak for a while now, and every kiss with him was better than the last. But, this kiss was different. A warm electricity filled you as he pulled you closer, almost clinging onto you for dear life. As cheesy as it really did sound, you were absolutely right about Zak. His deep love for you kept his mind clear enough for him to not follow through on whatever he was feeling in that room. It felt pretty darn good that Zak Bagans, the smart, handsome, and honestly a bit cocky, leader of Ghost Adventures loved you that deeply.

Zak’s lips devoured yours, like this kiss was all that was keeping you there. His hands reached for your arms, your shoulders. One finally found its home on the side of your neck, the other cradling the back of your head. He slowly guided you onto his lap, never breaking contact.

Zak broke his grip and lowered his hands to your waist, tugging you against his form. Nothing about his touch was sexual. He was desperate for closeness, as were you, pleading with each other to never let go. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders while your noses gently brushed.

With a deep sigh, Zak finally pulled away. He felt lighter, happier. You could tell that he was back to his normal self.

“How ya feelin’, handsome?” you whispered. Zak sniffled lightly and smiled.

“A lot better.” He cleared his throat. He reached up and rubbed a red mark that was left over the bridge of his nose from his respirator mask. “I never want that to happen again.”

You nodded. “Well, I don’t know if either of us can guarantee that. But, I’m here now.” You kissed the small red mark.

“I love you,” he muttered under his breath. You ran your fingers through his hair, then stood, extending a hand.

“I love you too, Zak.” He took your hand and stood. “C’mon, let’s go help the others.”

Thanks for reading. Feedback is appreciated! <3

[harcourtholmesii]

In This Here, Beautiful World (Part 2)

Fandoms: Team Fortress 2

Pairings: Medic X Heavy / Scout X Miss Pauling / Scout’s Ma X Spy / Soldier X Zhanna / Engineer X Original Character / Saxton Hale X Maggie

Warnings: - Threats of Violence - Violence - Gore

Words: 1849

Summary: When the world goes to shit, in order to survive, you need to be ruthless, and you need to be prepared to do whatever it takes. When nine strangers and their families come together to fight back the zombie plague, tensions will rise between them all, threatening to pull them apart and kill them from the inside-out. It’s a shitty summary, I know. ^^

Enjoy!

The afternoon lecture had always been a slow trek to the day’s end. By this time, most students were far too exhausted and unmotivated to continue their work. Majority of them just wanted to return to their dorms or go out with friends; have some time to relax and recuperate from a long day of studying.

 Mikhail didn’t often sympathise with his class, but the sluggish pace of the day had weighed him down over the hours. He felt just as tired as his class appeared to be, and beneath his eyes, he could feel the stress sinking his expression and morphing his voice to a deep mutter. He was thankful none of the class seemed to care, as it would have been an embarrassing moment of weakness.

 He cleared his throat; only a few heads turning to pay attention.

 ‘Well, it seems the day has left us behind.’ A few of the students seemed sheepish, hiding their red faces behind their books or hands. ‘Perhaps, we will end this session early, and we can pick this up tomorrow.’ He offered the way out to his students with a tired smile.

 Those that were awake, eagerly accepted.

 Students hurried to gather their notes and books, tucking them away in their bags and beginning to dart with newfound energy to the exit. They offered Mikhail a hurried ‘thank you’ as they took off, or a wave if they were too lazy to speak.

 The Russian stood up and rounded his own desk, heading up the line of pitched desks, beginning to awaken those that had crashed. A few leapt up, fuelled by the fear or worry of being scolded, but were relieved when he allowed them leave. Others took their time to awaken, dragging their whole weight out the door with his prompting.

 It wasn’t long before the lecture hall was quiet and empty, save for Mikhail himself.

 He had some paperwork he needed to complete, but he could just as easily take it home with him. He glanced up at the clock on the wall, the one that had ticked by at a snail’s pace for the last hour at least. The hour alone had felt like 12; glaringly cruel whenever one had sought comfort that the day’s end was approaching.

 The time read 3:37pm.

 He still had plenty of time before his engagement with a friend.

 He pulled his phone out of his breast pocket; the electronic seemed frighteningly fragile in his hands. It reminded him of how his students had stared at him when they first attended his classes. His size, stature and gruff, accented voice seemed to intimidate most of them when they first met him. Many had stared at his hands in particular; scarred and calloused from Mikhail’s years of work and abuse.

 Despite being a professor of literature, Mikhail seemed more the part of a hardened war veteran. It had been commented on many a time, mostly behind his back when they thought he couldn’t hear. Apparently, he scared people. Mikhail didn’t necessarily mind the thought, as being feared meant he had a modicum of respect from his students and fellow staff members.

 He tapped carefully at the little buttons on his phone, watching as the screen was lit up with numbers. Finally, he pressed the call button and brought it to his ear. He waited.

 One ring…

 Two rings…

 ‘Misha!’ He felt the air in his lungs release with his relief. He was always scared of the potential that his mother or sisters would not answer the phone. Too much had happened in their family history that he was relieved when another day went by without hassle.

 ‘мама.’

 ‘It is so good to hear from you, and so soon!’ She seemed happy. That was good. ‘You don’t normally call until you are on your way home.’

 ‘да, well, I ended class early. Students too tired to continue.’

 ‘That is a shame.’ He could almost hear the pout from the other end of the line. ‘You are very smart, Misha, and I know how you love to discuss your passion.’

 ‘I am not upset, мама. Just frustrated. Day has been going on for far too long.’ He said, running two, thick fingers across his eyes. He could feel the dry tears in the corners of his eyes, and felt an itch as he attempted to rub the sleep away.

 ‘Hm… I can agree with that. Yana and Bronislava have been out all day and…’ She trailed off, his mother seemed hesitant to speak. He felt concern rise and clench deeply at his heart.

 ‘What happened?’

 ‘It’s Zhanna…’

 ‘Is she hurt?!’ He felt panic rising, not bothering to grab his classwork but making a move to the door so he might hurry home. Or to the hospital. Or to wherever his sister might be.

 ‘нет, she claims she is not hurt, my son. Not physically.’ He slowed a little, felt the panic lessening, but he kept moving. He didn’t bother to lock the lecture hall behind him, as he expected the janitors would notice in their nightly routine.

 ‘I’ll come home.’

 ‘нет. Misha… I don’t think she wants to see anyone right now.’ He stopped, and instead of worry, he felt fury beginning to boil his blood. He kept his voice low so he couldn’t be heard.

 ‘I will crush him.’

 ‘Ah, Misha, you know we cannot be doing that.’

 ‘He broke Zhanna’s heart.’ His eyes glanced about for any other sign of life. Apart from his own class, that he had released early, all other classrooms were still shut tight and not a soul was in the halls. ‘Little man will pay.’

 ‘да, he will. However, we cannot be the ones to make him pay. Zhanna loved him, and this is more than just him breaking it off with her. Mikhail…’

 When she used his full name, it never meant anything good was going to be said next. He prepared himself, expecting to hear what he had heard before. The man Zhanna had taken an interest in thought her too loud, perhaps too overbearing. Maybe he was intimidated by a woman just as strong as he was and potentially taller too. Maybe an insult had been hurled her way; not uncommon but still unforgivable.

 Zhanna had always been a hopeless romantic, and had sought out someone that suited her well. Instead, she tended to scare even the kindest men away, and Mikhail just didn’t understand it. She was beautiful, strong-willed and loyal to a fault.

 ‘She told me Peter had been feeling unwell. She had gone to see him, taking some borscht with her to liven him up.’ Always a good choice. ‘Oh Misha…’

 ‘What happened?’ He repeated again.

 ‘He hurt her… He attacked her, Misha.’

 ‘что?!’ He felt himself seething, clenching his free hand in rapid succession, as if squeezing an invisible stress toy. ‘He dare hurt sister?!’

 ‘He didn’t do much, but she came home with bruises on her arms. He even bit her hard on the hand when he grabbed her.’

 CRUNCH!

 He didn’t mean to break the phone in his grip, but how dare someone do something so cruel to Zhanna! She who wore her heart open, on her sleeve for all to see. She was a sensitive soul who didn’t deserve the cruelty that wicked men had lashed out with.

 He didn’t have the time, or the ability, to call Dell and let him know their afternoon coffee was off. Dell knew not to worry if Mikhail was unable to come, the Texan always patient with the ups and downs the Garin family had faced over the years. He was a constant kindness in Mikhail��s life, always polite enough to just sit and listen when he could afford it.

 Dell would have to wait.

 He stormed quickly and with purpose through the halls towards the exit; those rare students and staff that he passed parted ways for him quickly when they noticed the oxen man move towards them. By the time he was in the parking lot, he nearly tore the door off the car itself, taking a seat within the tiny vehicle.

 It creased his body and forced his spine into a hunched position. He filled up the front window almost comically, but the deathly glare in his eyes shut up any laughs from onlookers. He reversed, peeling out and into the middle of the lot, and then begun his drive home.

 Through it all, the radio was tuned to the classical station; the fine sound of an orchestra helped to soothe his anger, but not deplete it entirely. The violins, by far his favourite of the instruments, almost massaged the pulsing, burning ache in his head with their lulling choir. It helped, if only a little, and if only for a short time.

 As Mikhail continued his drive deeper and deeper into city streets, he started to notice an unusual hustle amongst the pedestrians. There was an unending ring of sirens as police cars and ambulances cut through the traffic, and officers attempted to redirect it down different streets.

 Through it all, there was a sudden cacophony of gunshots, and screams ripped through the pedestrians as they took to the road. They hurried between the crawling automobiles, banging on windows and attempting to open doors in their haste to escape whatever was happening. One woman had latched onto Mikhail’s own car, a large, red gash across her cheek. Her lip was bleeding and her hands were scratching at his passenger door desperately, creating a fine line of white scratches across the metal.

 He went to unlock the door, to allow her safety, when another person (man or woman, Mikhail couldn’t tell) half tackled her to the floor. He opened his own door, about to pull the figure off of her. That was, until they turned their head, revealing their chin and mouth stained with blood, teeth tight around a piece of flesh. The woman was still gasping, reaching out to him, eyes half-lidded as sleep threatened to take her.

 ‘Help…’ He could hardly hear her, especially after that creature suddenly turned on him. He leapt back, in time for the creature to miss planting its own teeth in his arm. He gripped the back of its head, large fingers tangled through its mess of hair, and planted its face to the concrete with as much force as he could muster. It was like a watermelon was crushed under his weight, as the head came apart with ease.

 Blood ran down his hand and wrist. He looked down at the woman, who now laid there, unmoving. Beyond the traffic, a crowd had formed of people racing to escape the chaos. More gunshots. More screaming.

 Mikhail didn’t return to his car. At the rate the traffic was moving, he wouldn’t be able to get out in time before more of those creatures came. He abandoned his vehicle, and turned to follow the road out of the city.

 He had to get home.

 And he had to get there soon!

[chironshorseass]

29 and 30 fluff for perachel or percabeth? Hehe I like both ships don’t @ me. Love your writing btw!

I kinda managed to do both...kinda lol. This was fun to do :) Sorry in advance for the bad puns.

writing prompts

“Detention? Again?”

“Look, I can explain.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes and sat back on her bed, too tired to stand up and listen to what Percy had to say, most likely.

“Sure you can.”

They’d been Iris Messaging for a few minutes now. Percy, exhausted from a day of school and homework, had taken the first chance off to fish out a drachma from his drawer and call one of the people he’d missed most since the summer.

It had slipped his mind that New York and San Francisco had different time zones. But luckily, Annabeth was still awake. He’d found her in her bedroom, curls pulled into a messy bun and eyebrows scrunched up in concentration as she read some textbook, still studying for the exam she’d talked about a week ago.

Despite her initial complaints about Percy interrupting her, he knew that she didn’t mind.

“So?” she asked, bringing him back to the present.

She pulled her legs under her and stared at him expectantly.

He blinked. “Huh?”

She raised an eyebrow, and Percy thought—in the back of his mind—that she looked unfairly pretty. At night, with the fairy lights illuminating her hair and her face, like an angel.

“Why’d you get detention?”

“Oh. That.”

“Yes, Seaweed Brain. That.”

“Uhm…” Percy scratched the back of his neck. “It’s kind of a funny story, I um…”

“Spit it out.”

Now that he thought about it, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything at all. Maybe he should’ve thought this through, to avoid any arguments. Or confrontations. Or another cold shoulder. They weren’t as awkward now that the school year had started, but the mention of her always put Annabeth on edge, anyway.

“You see, I was with, uh...Rachel.”

He paused, noticing the way she gripped her textbook tighter, slightly wrinkling the pages.

Why did I think this was a good idea? Stupid.

“I was with Rachel, and she sort of, um...” he laughed nervously, already cringing. “Made a bet?”

Technically, he’d made the bet. But that wasn’t important for Annabeth to know.

/

Chemistry, in Percy’s opinion, was the most boring class Goode had to offer. Useless. Irrelevant.

Confusing, most of all.

At least he was partners with Rachel. It was one of the few classes they had together. They sat at the very back, so they were rarely noticed anyway, mostly spending the forty five minutes of lectures about chemical equations doing little drawing games on their notebooks and playing hangman. Percy lost most of the time.

The teacher wasn’t that great, either. Most of the school knew her as Mrs. Jones. She was a short lady in her late sixties with thin, badly dyed hair who had a concerning addiction to gum—so to Percy and Rachel—she was known as Mrs. Gum-Gum. She turned to the board for some explanation that Percy had completely lost interest on since the first five minutes of class. Rachel let out a low moan, hands on her forehead.

“Kill me now,” she muttered.

“Sorry, I can’t. My sword doesn’t work on you.”

“I hate you.”

“Yeah,” he grinned, leaning backwards and tilting his chair. “I know.”

She hit him in the shin. “You’re going to fall one of these days, and the class will never let you forget it.”

“Eh,” Percy shrugged. “At least they’d get a laugh and you wouldn’t be so bored.”

Her green eyes twinkled with humor like she’d just remembered something. She snorted. “Okay. So this one time, a girl was doing the same thing as you, leaning back and all—and she like, fell. It was hilarious, because she just lay there, with her feet in the air.”

“Rachel Dare,” Gum-Gum called, narrowed eyes cast on them. She kind of sounded like a wounded hyena, in his humble opinion. “I sure hope you and Mr. Jackson are discussing the worksheet that I gave out.”

Rachel nodded and threw her a thumbs up, while Percy held a fist to his mouth to stop the smile forming on his face. Gum-Gum left her alone and went back to her lecture.

The class kept its monotone routine of worksheets and notes, so as a distraction, Rachel grabbed his arm and popped the lids off her sharpies, drawing little figurines. She was on his second tattoo when an idea came to him.

“Hey, Rach?” he whispered, making sure the teacher was facing the board.

“Hmm.”

“We should play truth or dare.”

She grabbed the green marker and spread the ink from side to side across his skin. “Mmm...No.”

“Come on,” he whined. “I’m bored.”

“Yeah, but we’ve done truth or dare so many times now. It’s gotten old. Besides, you’re such a pussy.”

“Am not.”

“Yes, you are. Remember that time I dared you to eat the gum from under the seat?”

Percy made a face. “That was so fucking gross. Nobody in their right mind would’ve done that. Maybe Mrs. Gum-Gum, but I am not on her level.”

“I figured, after you blatantly refused. And then there’s the time when I dared you to kiss Mary Andrews. On the cheek. And you couldn’t do it.”

“Oh my gods, I can’t just kiss girls. That’s leading them on.”

She exhaled, long and deep and stared at him as if he were a lost cause. “Okay. Whatever.”

She went back to drawing on his arm.

“If anyone’s the pussy right now,” he whispered. “It’s you.”

“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that. You just wish you were as marginally cool as me.”

“Um...Then why won’t you play truth or dare?”

“Like I said: bo-ring.” She leaned closer to his arm, creating tiny details with the thinner side of the sharpie. “And don’t tell me I don’t do the dares, ‘cause I do. My last name’s Dare, after all. It would be a complete dishonor.”

“How long have you waited to say that?”

“Oh, you don’t wanna know. Now hold still. You’d look good with tattoos, by the way.”

He sighed. Okay, fine. She had a point, he wasn’t that great at doing “cool” stuff, likely because he was traumatized by the getting-kicked-out-of-schools thing he had going for him. You know, maybe it was that.

As Percy watched her work with her sharpies, he realized: maybe there was a way to prove to her that he could do daring stuff. A once in a lifetime thing. And in the process, he could make her smile.

“Fine,” he said. “If you don’t wanna do something, then let’s make a bet.”

“Depends on what you want to bet on, but go on.”

“How much money would you give me to flip this table, right here, right now, in the middle of class?”

The read-head stopped creating the swirly lines of the little wave she’d been working on, making his skin tingle from the loss of the pointy marker. She lifted her freckled face, watching him with raised eyebrows.

“Nah, you don’t have the guts.”

“Psh. ‘Course I do. I’m Percy Jackson.”

“Ohhh! Percy Jackson. I’m Rachel Dare, nice to meet you.” She lifted her hand like she wanted Percy to shake it.

He slapped it away. “Shut up. I can totally do it.”

“Do you not care about getting in trouble with dear ol’ Gum-Gum?”

“I’ll make it seem like an accident.”

“Nothing you do seems like an accident to teachers.”

“Good point. Still be worth it, though.” He lowered his voice even further. “Besides, I gotta prove to you that I can do cool stuff.”

Rachel snorted. “Now I could literally ask you to do drugs and you’d do it, apparently. Peer pressure is a dangerous thing, my dude.”

He grinned. “And I want your money. You’re like, rich, Dare.”

“Thanks for the reminder, Jackson.”

“No problem.”

Gum-Gum shot them an admonishing look, and they pretended to do their work.

“So,” she said after a few seconds passed. “How much money?”

“I knew you could work with me.”

“Ugh, I’m getting second thoughts from your dramatism.”

“You love it.”

They held gazes, green on green. Rachel narrowed hers and sighed. 

“Again, how much money?”

Percy shrugged. “You decide.”

“Fine.” She flipped some of her fiery curls over her shoulder. “I’m betting on a hundred bucks.”

He whistled under his breath. “Damn. You want me to do it that badly?”

“I do want to see everyone’s reaction to Percy Jackson losing his shit.” He shoved her, but she continued. “Especially Gum-Gum’s. But I know we’re getting in trouble, so we might as well go all out. What? It’s true! But at least you’d get your money.”

Percy shook his head. He’d probably regret this later.

Then he thought, what would Annabeth think?

But he couldn't dwell too much on that. At least it would be funny.

“We need to clear the desk, though.”

“Duh.”

So they worked, as quietly and discreetly as they could. When they’d finished, Percy turned to Rachel and nodded. She put a hand against her mouth to muffle her laughter.

On the third count, he flipped the desk. The table crashed with a resonating bang.

Rachel leaned backwards and let out a sound of surprise, probably because she’d half speculated that he wouldn’t pull through with it in the first place.

Immediately, everyone craned their heads to the back of the room. Some jumped at the sound. Others gasped or snickered, especially at the sight of Mrs. Gum-Gum. She yelped and dropped her marker, slapping a hand to her chest and retreating a few steps as if she were about to go into cardiac arrest.

“Percy Jackson!”

He winced a bit, but all in all, he thought he was keeping a straight face. But then he caught onto Rachel’s expression, arms crossed. He doubted they’d get off freely, just as she’d said.

/

As they shouldered their backpacks, heading for room 1345—detention—Rachel slipped her hand in the pocket of her paint-splattered uniform skirt.

“I didn’t know I had the money with me, but it seems as though he fates are in your favor, Jackson,” she said, taking the dollar bills from her pocket and handing them to him. They both knew all too well that she didn’t care for it. Daddy issues, he recalled.

Percy raised his eyebrow. “Thanks, Rach. Now, I can finally buy a new skateboard.”

“Nice to know that this was worth it.”

“Especially since now you have to do something...daring.”

She tapped her index finger to her temple mockingly. “Oh, I see. That’s why you wanted to do that bet. So then we could be on even ground.”

“Do you agree, Dare?”

“My gods, you’re so corny. But sure. Though let's not get ourselves a detention pass the next time, hmm? I feel bad for you. How many have you gotten this semester?” She clicked her tongue. “What will your mom say?”

1343, 1344 ... 1345. This was the place. Through the window, he could see many of the students already settling in, giving the teacher the strip of paper that he and Rachel had in their pockets.

He exhaled. “I don’t want to think about Mom just yet. But honestly, I don’t mind detention. And I don’t think she would, either. Better than getting kicked out.”

“Mmhmm. And I don’t really mind spending some more quality time with you. Even if we get in trouble, I kinda think you’re nice to be around, Jackson.” She smiled and held her arm out for him to pass. For some reason, that comment made his chest feel warm and fuzzy. “Gentlemen first.”

“Isn’t it ladies first?”

“Chivalry is dead. Now go on.” She nodded towards the door. “I like being fashionably late.”

“And you say I’m the dramatic one,” he grumbled.

[jinmukangwrites]

i'm not a big fan of DC, but I have a general knowledge of it. Perhaps something to do with some some family bonding with the bat family? it doesn't have to be fluffy, but it would be nice to see that something nice is happening to this found family of people, even if it's small. good luck and may you have success and fortune in your future!

So this ended up not being a drabble. Oops. Listen, I've been wanting to write a camping-esque fic for a long time and somehow this just ended up being it. >.<

-o-o-o-o-

It is Dick's first camping trip.

He's young, bright eyed, and smiling like there's nothing to be down about even though Bruce knows they're both painfully aware it's only been a month since his world quite literally fell apart.

Bruce doesn't really know what he's doing, having not gone camping himself in what must be over a decade, but he still successfully sets up a decent tent large enough for four sleeping bags, but has more than enough room for two. Alfred is on a well deserved vacation, so there's no need to make room for a third one. It's just Bruce Wayne and his new ward Dick Grayson, alone in the wilderness with a bag of marshmallows open between the two of them and a campfire crackling in front of them. It's Dick that shows him how to roast the perfect "mallow", and that apparently involves shoving the entire marshmallow into the center of the flame and laughing maniacally until it blackens and chars. Bruce almost has a panic attack just watching Dick bring the flaming marshmallow out to his face to blow out the fire.

Bruce remembers the times he's watched people roast marshmallows in movies, and he decides holding it just above the worst of the flames until it's a golden brown is the way for him.

There's owls hooting softly around them when the moon reaches high enough to suggest maybe calling it a night. Another tell-tale sign is Dick ever so slowly leaning against his side, all bundled up in a warm oversized jacket; marshmallow, chocolate, and graham cracker residue dried to his lips and cheeks.

Bruce stares at watches for a moment, before smiling, something he thought he lost when he watched his parents die clinking back into place in his chest. Filling him with a warmth he never thought he'd ever have again.

He scoops Dick up and bundles him into his sleeping bag. Dick is out like a light, mouth open in soft snores, and Bruce frowns, a desire in him that he doesn't understand.

He pokes Dick's shoulder gently, making sure the child is asleep, and Bruce sucks in a lungful of air. Unsure and afraid. He runs his fingers through Dick's hair, lifting up his messy bangs, and slowly bends down and presses his lips against the child's forehead. He then backs quickly away, his heart pounding.

Dick was never supposed to be his son, but pretty early on Bruce discovered how much of a lie that was.

-o-o-o-o-

It's Jason's first time camping. His second time in the mountains as well.

Dick took him skiing for his first time, but Bruce at least gets to take him for his first night out in the fresh wilderness of the Appalachian mountains. Just the two of them this time, being as Dick is still angry with him. And while that hurts, Bruce is content with spending some much needed one on one time with his newest adopted son. (Because he knows now he made a mistake keeping Dick away at arms length with the word "ward", and now it's too late to take it back. He won't make the same mistake with this one).

Jason seems more concerned with running around and climbing trees than eating marshmallows. Surprisingly, more concerned than Dick was. Though that doesn't mean he still doesn't enjoy a marshmallow here and there, especially since a new kind has come out recently that makes the marshmallows even bigger and puffier when roasted over the fire. Good for nothing but sugar. Not that Bruce minds. He can't remember the last time Jason looked so relaxed as he stands and watches Jason marvel at a waterfall they've hiked to. If it earns that kind of wide eyed unashamed smile, Bruce would gladly invest in the company making even bigger marshmallows.

Bruce finds quickly that Jason also thinks Bruce makes marshmallows wrong. He knows this because as stuck the sugary monstrosity on his roasting stick and gently held it above the fire, Jason cried out in outrage.

"You're making it wrong!" He yelled as he grabbed Bruce's arm and dragged it away from the fire. Bruce is almost afraid that he'll demonstrate how to make a proper smore by shoving the whole thing into the middle of the fire to blacken it like Dick does. He doesn't want to know what kind of mess a marshmallow this size would make on fire, but the Jason shocks him by rushing into the tent and stumbling out a moment later with a colorful bag in his hands.

Starbursts?

"Where did you get those?" Bruce asks, trying not to sound amused that Jason snuck candy with him out on the trip.

Jason snorts, opening the bag and pulling out a pink square. "I asked Alfie to get me some, because I knew you'd be uncultured in making a freaking smore."

Jason then impales the unwrapped pink starburst on the roasting stick next to Bruce's waiting marshmallow. He unwraps a yellow one and puts it on his own stick. "The red ones are gross, by the way," Jason says, sticking his stick above the fire. Bruce huffs out a small laugh and puts his stick over the fire as well.

He's not sure what he feels about the taste of roasted starburst mixing with the marshmallow, chocolate, and cracker, but Jason eats enough to gain a stomach ache.

Bruce carries him to bed too, and tucks him in, and instead of waiting for him to fall asleep, Bruce carefully pulls Jason closer to his chest, and because his arms are full of legs and arms, he kisses Jason's forehead with a layer of hair between them.

Jason doesn't pull away. Just yawns happily, and falls asleep in Bruce's arms.

Bruce decides that camping trips for Jason is definitely a thing he needs to make a regular thing. Just to see his boy look so peaceful and happy in his arms.

-o-o-o-o-

It's not Tim's first time camping. But Bruce suspects it's the first time Tim actually has fun camping, as well as his first time making smores.

Dick's here this time too, the relationship between him and Bruce held together by paperclips and string. Which is saying something, as it used to be held together by nothing at all. Bruce is just happy that he's here and that they're civil enough with each other to let Tim be a disgusting, dirty, rowdy child in the mountains for the first time in his entire life.

Tim stood at the edge of the river, but ended up being shoved in by Dick, and they both came back sopping wet and laughing.

Tim picked at the bark of a large tree, but ended up in its highest branches when Bruce lifted him over his shoulders to give him a headstart.

Tim frowned at the marshmallow bag and sticks, but ended up with a mess all over his face, pupils wide in the firelight as the sugar gave him a rush.

Bruce roastes his above the flame and Dick tries to convince Tim that sticking the entire thing into the fire is the only right way to roast a good marshmallow. When Tim looks unsure and tries both with uncertainty, Bruce takes a chance and pulls out a bag of starbursts he almost decided to leave behind.

And once Tim tries the roasted starburst s'more, the rest of the s'more actually goes forgotten as Tim decides roasted starbursts is best left left alone—he snacks on almost the entirety of the bag, and Bruce tries his best to not let the stabbing in his heart ruin the moment. He wonders how well Jason and Tim would get along if Jason... But he shakes his head, choosing instead to point out the glowing little light in the forest that isn't the stars.

It's not Tim's first time seeing fireflies. But it's his first time running through the trees with a jar, holes poked into the top to capture them.

When it gets so late that even Bruce is beginning to yawn, he corrals his oldest and unofficial youngest into the tent and frowns at how even though the packaging said it's big enough for four people, it's still quite squeezed together with two grown men and a lanky young teen.

Bruce ruffles Tim's hair, squeezed Dick's shoulder, and for once Dick doesn't flinch at his touch. Just smiles and kisses Tim's forehead. Bruce is almost tempted to copy the action, the night feeling wrong without it, but Tim has parents.

Tim isn't his son. Isn't even his ward. He hugs Tim, and finds himself hugging him tightly, only letting go when Tim voices slight confusion.

They lay down in their spots, the silence of the world being interrupted once as Tim verbally complains about Dick's feet finding themselves under his legs.

"But you're so warm, baby bird!"

The sound of Tim's laughter is something Bruce wishes he had been quick enough to record, so he could listen to it over and over and over again.

Tim's not Bruce's ward. Or son.

But it's so easy to selfishly wish he were.

-o-o-o-o-

It's not Cass's first time camping. But it's her first time camping for something other than survival. Which means it's definitely her first time making s'mores.

Taking her out to the woods is nerve-wracking in a way that it shouldn't be. She's his daughter. Officially. Legally. Not by blood. Bruce doesn't have anyone who's by blood. But she's definitely the closest thing to it in his heart. She's different from the boys. He doesn't know what to expect from her.

She doesn't go out and get all gross and muddy in the river with Tim, and she doesn't take up Dick's bet to climb to the top of the waterfall. Instead, Bruce finds her sitting nearby with a notebook in her hands, her hand scribbling away at something with a pen. She looks up at him and smiles, but closes the notebook and sets it off to the side, patting the ground next to her. He takes her up on her invitation and sits down besides her, their shoulders gently touching. He glances at the notebook, raising an inquisitive eyebrow, but she just smiles and shakes her head. He doesn't pry. She didn't grow up with a whole lot of privacy, and Bruce isn't about to take some away from her.

She sighs and leans back into the soft grass patch she found, and he lays back too, shoulders still touching. They're silent for a long time, the only noises around them being the leaves rustling and the distant sounds of Tim and Dick trying to figure out how to lash a rope around a tree near the river so they could swing into it.

Bruce finds himself, not for the first time, missing Jason more than ever. Jason is alive. He's back. But he hates Bruce and wants nothing to do with Bruce. Jason would be all over getting that rope swing to work. Bruce can practically imagine his young voice screaming in excitement as he launches himself into the water.

He forces those thoughts away, because this isn't about Jason right now. This is about the beautiful, perfect young lady laying besides him. His daughter. He looks over at her, and her eyes are closed and her lips turned up in a slight smile. Her bare toes wiggling in the breeze.

And Bruce thinks that maybe it's a good thing Cass isn't out and about causing trouble and getting dirty, because maybe to her that's not what this trip is about. Maybe it's just about showing her that she can sit back, close her eyes, and wiggle her toes in the breeze and be safe without having to feel obligated to do anything.

Because she is safe. And Bruce will never let anything hurt her.

When they roast marshmallows, she watched with amusement as Dick interrupts Bruce showing her the normal way to do it by shoving his own into the flames. She watches as Tim shows her how to carefully make a roasted starburst that isn't too stuff nor too drippy. She watches as Bruce suggests making a s'more with a starburst. And she tries them all, a frown on her lips the entire time. When no strategy seems to stick out to her, Bruce almost panics, not sure how to make the night fun and full of sugar like he wants to, but then she pops a raw marshmallow into her mouth with a curious tilt to her head, and then a chunk of raw chocolate, and then a bite of plain cracker.

She then quickly gains her own stash of untouched s'more supplies and her roasting stick goes forgotten. Bruce doesn't know what's so much better about eating the ingredients raw, but the sound of her muffled laughter behind a mouthful of marshmallow and chocolate as Dick struggles to blow out a flaming one is definitely something Bruce will not complain about or try to change.

Going to bed is a hassle. He brought two tents this time, just in case Cass wanted to sleep alone, and at first he thinks that is actually what will happen. He hugs her before they go their seperate ways, the urge to kiss her round cheeks stronger than ever, but he doesn't get the chance. Or the courage.

But he finds he didn't need to worry, because when he, Tim, and Dick are all snug in their bags, the zipper of their tent goes down and Bruce has the air knocked out of him as Cass collapses on top of him, wrapped up in a fluffy pink blanket that she bought with Barbara. Bruce finds himself grinning as he shifts to make room for her between him and the snoring Dick, careful to not nudge the half asleep Tim too much whose under his arm on the other side.

Then, when Cass is nestled in his side, she does another thing that pleasantly surprised him. She presses her lips to his temple.

And Bruce falls asleep that night not knowing what he's done to deserve Cassandra Wayne.

-o-o-o-o-

It's not Damian's first time camping. It's not his first time making s'mores. It's not even his first time having fun while camping.

Bruce was thought to be dead for almost a year, and Dick was the one who got the honor of doing those first things with Damian.

But dammit, Bruce was going to try and do this with Damian anyway, even if Damian is quiet and unsure and distrustful with Bruce.

So maybe that's why Bruce thought it was so important for it to be just him and Damian this time. Maybe this is why he didn't ask Dick how Damian liked to roast his marshmallows, or ask Alfred if he needed to bring an emergency bag of starbursts, or even considered bringing a second tent just in case Damian wanted to sleep alone.

Bruce is Damian's father. His biological one. But he doesn't feel like it.

He wants to feel like it.

He woke Damian up at the spur of the moment and coaxed the boy into the car stuffed with a weakened supply of things to get them through a surprise camping trip. Damian was too groggy in the morning to ask much questions, blinking fully awake an hour into the drive and asking with a quiet voice where they were going.

And when Bruce answered they were going to camp, Damian didn't respond with joy or excitement. Just a quiet oh that almost made Bruce pull over the car and beg Damian to let Bruce in and let him see what he's thinking.

He keeps driving, all the way until he's at the normal spot by the river and a trailhead that leads to a waterfall. Damian walks the grounds quietly as Bruce sets up the tent, his footsteps sure and curiosity lacking. He's been here before. To Bruce's perfect camping spot.

And Bruce wasn't there.

The rest of the day goes about as well as could be expected. Damian hardly says anything to Bruce, the words he does say are tense and tight, like the very thought of saying any unnecessary words to Bruce is painful. Bruce tries not to take it to heart, so he continues onward. He takes Damian hiking, he takes him to the river, and eventually they both end up at the campfire in uncomfortable silence.

Bruce watches as Damian puts the marshmallow on his stick and holds it slightly above the flames, waiting patiently for the flames to lick the white sugar golden.

Bruce sighs and risks a joke. "Finally, a son that makes s'mores normally."

He didn't expect Damian to stand up with anger in his eyes before tossing the stick down and running off into the forest. The marshmallow left forgotten as it bursts into flames in the coals.

Bruce only hesitates a second before standing up and running after his son.

Because even if he's terrified Damian wants nothing to do with him, Bruce still wants to make sure he doesn't get himself hurt in the woods.

He eventually finds Damian sitting in Cass's spot. That perfect patch of grass that's perfect for laying down in and cloud gazing. Or, this late at night, perfect for milky-way gazing.

Damian isn't looking up at the stars though. He's curled up and glaring at his feet, something suspiciously wet trailing down his cheeks.

Bruce takes in a breath, hoping bravery would enter his lungs as well, and sits down next to his son.

They're silent next to each other, for a long time, until Damian finally decides to speak up.

"You came," he says, and Bruce wants desperately to launch himself forward and wrap the boy I'm a strong embrace. "You followed me."

"I will always find you," Bruce says, and Damian sniffs.

"If... If I wasn't your kid... Would you still..."

And Bruce remembers that Damian grew up being told he was simply a tool. That he had a purpose and he was only wanted because of that purpose.

He's asking Bruce if Bruce would have still wanted him, even if their blood wasn't the same. If Bruce had no obligation to take him in and give him safety and allow him to be the second half of the dynamic duo.

Or if he would have turned the boy away.

It breaks Bruce's heart.

So he slowly reaches around Damian and pulls him closer tightly. Damian sniffles and practically launches himself into Bruce's lap, arms curling around so small that it's not a complete hug, but it's tight enough to be one of the best kinds of hugs.

"I will always want you, Damian," Bruce whispers into his hair, pressing his lips onto his forehead before he can even consider the action. "You have no need to worry. I want you more than anything in this entire world."

And they sit there, holding each other, and Bruce wonders if this is what his own parents felt for him.

And if they'd be proud of him.

Bruce carries Damian to bed after they've both let out their emotions, and even though tent is large enough to have space, he keeps Damian with him, in his arms even as he climbs into his sleeping bag.

And he's never letting go.

-o-o-o-o-

It's nowhere near Duke's first time camping, or making s'mores, or having fun, or feeling safe. But it is his first time camping with Bruce and the rest of the family.

Dick, Tim, Cass, Damian, and even Jason are all here, and Bruce won't lie and say he didn't find it amusing how intimidated Duke needlessly felt to be on a family camping trip with everyone.

It's the loudest trip Bruce had ever been apart of. The children are back to figuring out that pesky rope swing—Tim snuck a grapple hook and had the decency to look a little ashamed when Bruce noticed it—and Cass is at her normal spot with her normal notebook. Duke looks unsure and nervous, not really knowing where he fits in with all of this.

Bruce adopted most of his children when they were all young, Cass being the exception but it wasn't like she had a good experience with her last parents, so it was almost like adopting her young. But Duke is different, he's a teenager, considering college and everything. He already knows how to drive a car. He'd already had loving parents. Bruce doesn't want to step in front of that, but he still wants Duke to feel welcome and loved.

One of Bruce's favorite things in the entire world is to watch Duke slowly exit his shell that he crawls into whenever he's nervous or feeling like he's imposing. The smirk on his face that appears when Dick calls him a genius for finally being the one to figure out the rope swing. The bubbling and nervous laughter when Jason slams a hand proudly at his back when he beats the rest of the family up the waterfall in their annual race. The excited chatter when Tim shows him the best climbing tree. The relaxed posture when Cass shows him something in her notebook, and the happy smile when Cass takes his feedback in consideration. The mischievous glint in his eyes when he and Damian get into a competitive spar with pool noodles.

Bruce finds his chest so full with warmth he almost thinks it's going to burst as eventually they all end up around the campfire with roasting sticks in everyone's hands except for Cass who has her own stash of s'more supplies. Jason and Tim fight over the bag of starbursts even though Bruce was sure he brought two. Dick laughs as Damian yells angrily about his flaming marshmallow catching Damian's on fire. Cass munches on a cracker and leans into Bruce's side. Duke sits besides them all, tongue sticking outside his mouth as he concentrates on making a marshmallow that isn't golden, but isn't completely raw.

No one bugs him on his strange "I don't want it burned at all!" comment, and they all include him in their jokes and bantering. The laughter becomes do loud that Bruce is sure the entire forest can hear them.

He relishes in it. Almost feeling like he might cry.

But he doesn't. The moon rises and be ushers the kids all towards that four person tent. It's too tiny, but nobody seems to care. Not even Jason who's only made one comment about Bruce being a billionaire who's definitely rich enough to afford a bigger tent.

Because, somehow, with or without Bruce, the family had ended up close and wanting to be close together. Dick doesn't complain as Cass lays herself on top of him. Tim only snarls a little when Jason jokingly stuffs his feet in the younger boys face. Damian crawls into Bruce's side like it's the most natural thing in the world. And Duke accepts the strong hug Bruce risks and gives him. Duke then lays down with his back against Bruce's free side and his legs on top of Jason, like a puzzle piece falling into place.

And the family all fall asleep to the sounds of nature surrounding them, and the soft snores of the people they all hold dear.

And Bruce thinks that taking in a kid who's just watched his family fall from the trapeze, a kid who tried to jack the batmobile, a kid who showed up with a camera in his hands and a demand to make him Robin, a kid who decided love and happiness was more important than the way she was taught and raised, a kid who decided he didn't want to be the weapon he was born to be, and a kid who only wanted to do good after his parents were torn away from him was without question the best thing Bruce had ever done.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.