#my brain is still trying to function being awake after being woken up from kids

[hellishgayliath]

He's having a rough morning :V

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Irresistible Danger - Part 51

Synopsis:  After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 3,279

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

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Author’s Note: Holy crap, can y’all believe I dove back into writing this fic after almost two years with no updates?! I’m still shook over it haha. I will say that this fic has gone way off canon at this point (I haven’t watched the last few seasons of the show and also didn’t finish the last few issues of the comics). However, I’ve had a vision for certain characters and events for the last how many years, so I don’t plan to change them just to try and fit canon. I also now realize that while I tried to make “you” as nondescript as possible, there are physical traits and actions of her character that haven’t been as inclusive of all potential readers as I had thought when first starting the fic 5 years ago. I apologize for that, and plan to be more aware of those things with any reader characters I write in future fics. My plan is to post a chapter update every Friday from here on out, until it’s over, so fingers crossed I can accomplish that. Enjoy! :D

Cloud Nine

You surfaced from the depths of sleep slowly, rather than the more abrupt jolt to consciousness that usually started off your days. Feeling cozy and relaxed, a slight smile tipped your lips in contentment. It didn’t take long to realize that the reason for your positive mood was the large, warm body with which you were currently sharing the tiny, twin-sized bed.

Eyes blinking open, you took in the delightful sight of masculine bare skin. You were curled up against Negan’s side, cheek cushioned on his chest and both legs were wrapped around his nearest thigh. The bedsheet was pulled up over your back and ended teasingly right above his hips. One of your hands lay palm-down on his stomach, fingers twitching slightly in delight at the feel of the hard muscles beneath the soft skin. You could tell from the curve of his body that he was sitting with his back reclined against the rickety headboard. You might’ve found his positioning odd, but you were still a little hazy from sleep and so could only feel happiness at not waking up to an empty bed, like last time. 

You were on cloud nine after talking things out with him last night. Being able to work through a conflict together had been major progress, and you had been proud of yourself for laying down your boundaries regarding your here-to-stay friendship with Ben, as well as standing your ground regarding the situation with Trixie and the pregnancy test. It was important that Negan learn to trust you when it came to situations such as those, and it seemed as though that message had finally gotten through to him last night. 

The fact that he had even come to your room and taken the huge step of apologizing for his hasty reaction still had you a bit in shock. The evening had panned out much differently than your original plan of going to bed angry. Instead, you had gone to bed very satisfied, and then woken up next to the man who was very quickly becoming essential to your daily happiness.

He must’ve felt you shift against him, one hand coming down to rub your bare shoulder as he gave a soft, “Mornin’, doll.” 

His raspy morning voice sent tingles down your spine, even as your brain fought to stay awake. It still felt way too early to be sitting up and conversing, so instead of returning the greeting, you buried closer into his side and grumbled, “What time is it?” The words were muffled against his skin, nose pressed into his chest hair as you inhaled the glorious male scent of him. 

You felt him lean over towards the side table. He must’ve been checking your watch, because he replied, “‘Bout 6:50.”

“Jesus Christ.” 

“Language.” 

“Hmph. Do you always get up so early?”

“It’s more productive than sleeping half the day away and being late to everything.” 

That got more of a response, as you finally lifted your head to glare up at him for the jab. However, he didn’t notice, as he was too focused on the book held in front of him. It was then that you realized why he was sitting up in bed, a smirk crossing your face at the novel he had open and was intensely reading. You felt a spark of desire low in your belly, the sight of a sleep-tousled and naked Negan lounging in your bed while reading Harry Potter an unexpected, but welcomed, aphrodisiac.

“Thought you didn’t read ‘fucking kid books’?” you sarcastically asked, quoting back his initial description of the series. 

You received only a low grunt in response, his eyes not leaving the page. You weren’t offended, since you’d probably react the same way to someone trying to interrupt a reading of Harry Potter. In fact, you were a bit jealous that he got to experience the magical world for the first time. His curiosity must’ve gotten the better of him when he saw it lying on your bedside table, and it appeared as if he had already read a small chunk of it. 

He didn’t seem to notice you staring, his attention still focused on the book. In fact, he held the page a scant few inches from his face, eyes squinted into slits. The sight was a tad humorous, though you wondered how long he had been struggling to see the words. 

“I thought you needed glasses to read?” you asked. 

“Fuck, you always so full of questions this early in the morning, doll?”

You pinched his side hard enough to make him jump and growl out another expletive, before giving him a saccharine smile and lifting a brow expectantly when he glared down at you.

Attention finally taken off the book, he reached over and plopped it down on the side table before rubbing his eyes with both palms. “I do. Felt like it took me a fucking hour to get through that last page.”

The fact that he had continued trying to read and hadn’t easily given up, despite his struggle to see the words, told you more than anything how much he must’ve been enjoying the novel. A warm thrill settled in your chest at the thought of him taking an interest in something he usually wouldn't bother with simply because you enjoyed it. 

The warm thrill morphed into more of a low heat and traveled down your body as your gaze refocused on his bare skin. Moving the hand on his stomach upward over his chest, your fingertips traced the outline of the tattoo on his left pec.

“What prompted you to get this?” you asked, curious if there was a meaning behind the skull and criss-crossed rifles.

Giving a low chuckle, he replied, “Youth and stupidity.” 

Giving a huffed laugh in return, you trailed curious fingers over to the other tattoos on his arms, inquiring about each one as you went. Some had a story behind them, others not so much (you had tried not to roll your eyes when he explained that the revolver on his right forearm was the same one he had handled once and thought was ‘fucking cool as shit’). He also had a few scars on his upper body, some from before the apocalypse but most from after. You listened intently as he opened up about each one, drinking in as much personal information about the man beside you as possible.

Not wanting to stop the exploration just yet, you pushed up on your other elbow and journeyed over his throat, tracing his Adam’s apple before running your fingers delicately through the surprisingly soft beard framing his gorgeous mouth. 

Capturing the questing hand in his own, he brought your fingers to his lips. The breath caught in your chest when he kissed the mostly-healed scar from the knife injury you had acquired a few weeks prior. Heart beating frantically at the gentle gesture, you smiled up at him when he released your hand and allowed it to resume exploring.

“So,” you tried for calm and casual, fingers moving up to lightly trace his ear before diving into his thick hair and mapping the streaks of salt within the pepper. “What are your plans for today?”

It took him a few seconds to answer, his eyes having fluttered closed as your nails gently massaged his scalp. You smiled at his obvious enjoyment of your touch, at how he had lowered his walls in this moment and was allowing himself to be both physically and emotionally vulnerable. 

“I wish they were to stay here and enjoy this fucking delightful body of yours all day, but I have a meeting with my Saviors at eight.” 

The thought of spending an entire day frolicking in bed with Negan caused a dreamy sigh to leave your lips. His eyes opened and zeroed in on your mouth at the sound, that magical tongue of his coming out to lick his bottom lip as he added, “Though, that’s still about an hour away…”

At that, he quickly rolled over so his lean body was pinning you into the mattress, his lips cutting off your squeal of surprise before it even left your throat. The hand still in his hair tightened, causing him to give a low groan and grind his hips down into yours. You tried to make a mental note of his reaction to the touch, but seeing as how there were no barriers keeping his quickly-hardening erection from pressing into your thigh, all higher levels of brain function quickly flew out of the room. 

Bracing above you, he leaned down and started kissing your neck, a move guaranteed to make you melt. When his mouth descended over the curve of your breasts, you tried to lift your head to watch his downward progress but a sharp pang of discomfort at your scalp made you wince and try to jerk away, which only succeeded in making the pain even worse. 

“Ow, wait!” you blurted, causing Negan to instantly freeze and look up at you in alarm. 

“Doll, what-”

“You’re on my hair! Move your hand!”

Quickly realizing his mistake, Negan moved the hand that had accidentally been pinning a large chunk of your hair, and by proxy your head, to the mattress. 

“Fucking hell, I’m sorry, doll,” he cursed, making as if to lift his body off you entirely. 

Now wanting his faux pas to ruin the moment, you pushed his shoulders sideways and hooked a leg up over his hip before commanding, “Roll over.”

He hesitated for a moment before relenting, the two of you somehow able to switch places on the narrow, twin-sized bed without falling off. Once the semi-awkward resituating was done, he was on his back and you were straddling his hips. The move caused the sheet to fall off, exposing your entire body to his gaze. Based on the way his eyes grew hazy with lust as they took in your bared curves, not to mention his obvious erection, it was safe to say that he didn’t mind this change in position one bit. 

Warm, calloused palms drifted up over your thighs, hips, and the sides of your waist, before cupping breasts that were begging for his touch. Leaning down, your already-hardened nipples pressed into his palms as you kissed him hungrily. Shifting your hips, you started rubbing forwards and backwards over the erection pressed between both your lower stomachs. You moaned into each other’s mouths at the sensation, pussy lips parting around his girth so that your wetness coated his cock, the fat head bumping against your clit with each slide. 

“I think I like being in charge,” you purred. 

Giving a dark chuckle that sent shivers down your spine, he replied, “Enjoy it while it fucking lasts.”

Planning to do just that, you reached over to pluck a condom off the side table, incredibly grateful to whatever deity helped you successfully open the foil packet and smoothly roll the latex down over him on the first try. Tossing the empty packet over the side of the bed, you wrapped slightly trembling fingers around his swollen cock and lifted your hips, lining him up with your entrance. Maintaining eye contact, you slowly slid down his length, mouth falling open on a whimper at the feel of him parting overly-sensitive flesh that was still a bit sore from the activities of the previous night. Despite Negan’s initial threat over you stealing both coconut oil from the kitchen and condoms from his room, his only “punishment” last night had been fucking you relentlessly into the mattress until you had multiple orgasms and could barely even remember your own name.

In spite of the slight burn as sore muscles again stretched around his thickness, you didn’t stop until he was fully seated inside. His cock felt so big in this position that it was almost overwhelming, but you sat up so that your hands were braced on his chest and used your thigh muscles to start a slow up and down rhythm. 

His fingers reached up and pinched your nipples, causing you to clench around him. He groaned at the sensation, gaze becoming more intense when you slightly picked up the pace. It felt magnificent, but at the same time you craved more of the hard, rough friction that he had given you the night before. Body trying to find that friction on its own, your hips swiveled in a circle as you sank back down, which must’ve felt just as amazing for him as it did you, since he gave a strangled moan at the same moment his hands immobilized your hips in a bruising grip. 

“Alright, doll. My turn.”

That was the only warning you got before he braced his feet against the mattress and moved up in you, hard. Falling forward onto your palms with a gasp, fingers curled into the bedsheet and hips writhed in pleasure when he repeated the move. He continued the sharp, deep thrusts, watching your face closely before wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and pulling your mouth down to his own. His tongue thrust into your mouth possessively, as if trying to claim as much of you at once as he could. The pace was brutal yet unhurried, each thrust feeling like a deliberate attack on your sanity as his movements drew fire over your skin and consumed you, body and soul. 

Pressing down into him while leaning forward caused your clit to grind against his lower abdomen in the perfect way with each thrust, building up the orgasm that had previously hovered just out of reach. Breaking the kiss with a cry, you saw the expression of intense concentration on his face as he continued to move your bodies together in perfect rhythm. Breasts pressed into his chest and mouth panting at his ear, your body gave into his, letting him drive you up and over the edge, into the abyss of pleasure. 

“Negan,” you moaned, muscles tightening then releasing as the orgasm washed through you. His answering grunt and curse signaled his own release, though he continued his driving rhythm through it all, wringing each drop of pleasure from your body until it collapsed limply on top of his.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you again traced over the tattoo on his chest, waiting for your heartbeat and breathing to slow back down to normal. Glancing up his body, you found him already looking back down at you, a relaxed and satisfied grin on his lips that was only witnessed behind closed doors, when the two of you were alone. His hand idly stroked over a piece of hair laying on your shoulder, the gesture making you think back to earlier when he had accidentally pinned you to the mattress, and the resulting ungraceful maneuvering to switch positions in a bed that was entirely too small for two adult bodies. A light laugh escaped you that caused Negan to raise an eyebrow in question. 

“Just remembering your super smooth move from earlier,” you teased. You wouldn’t admit this out loud, but it was actually a bit of a relief to know that even Mr. Harem-of-Wives, Sex-God Negan wasn’t always flawless in the sack. 

“Making fun of me, doll?” he growled. 

“Maybe.”

Whack. The loud crack, accompanied by the slight sting of sensation against your left asscheek, caused you to jump and look at him in wide-eyed shock. 

“Did you just spank me?!” you exclaimed.

“Maybe.”

Before you could form an appropriate reply, he silenced any retort with his lips. Shallow creature that you apparently were, the move worked, and when he pulled away a long minute later, your brain conveniently forgot why you were supposed to be coming up with a retort in the first place. 

Negan glanced over at the side table, where your watch sat. Also looking over, you saw that it was now almost 7:30am, which meant he had half an hour to go back to his room and become presentable for his 8am Savior meeting. You were curious what the meeting was about, but didn’t want to ruin the perfection of the morning by bringing up a potentially serious topic. 

“Much as I hate to say it, doll, duty fucking calls.”

Your expression must’ve showcased more than you thought, since he gave a chuckle and said, “How about I make it up to you by finishing our fucking chess bet?”

Interest instantly piqued, you sat up on his chest and replied, “The third outing?! Can we go today?”

He looked at you consideringly, before giving a slight nod and agreeing. “We fucking could, but I won’t be free until the dinner hour.” 

Much as you didn’t want to skip out on your duties, even if it was with the leader of the establishment, you also weren’t about to turn down more alone time with Negan, especially outside of the Sanctuary. 

“I could meet you at the front gate at 5?” you suggested. That would give you just enough time to make sure dinner was fully prepped and almost ready to serve, since the community ate their meal from 5 to 7pm. It lessened the guilt, since you wouldn’t be completely leaving Ben and the staff short-handed. 

“Works for me, doll,” he said, gently rolling you off his body and to the narrow strip of mattress free beside him.

Biting your lower lip to keep from gasping at the empty sensation when he pulled out his now-flaccid dick, you watched him rise slowly from the bed. You took possessive pleasure in viewing his naked body, thighs clenching at the sight of him stretching muscular arms up towards the ceiling with his head tipped back. The pop of his back and resulting grunt made you comment, “I think from now on we might be better off in your bed. I have no clue how we even managed to fit in mine all night.” 

“Thank fucking god. If I have to spend any more nights in that fucking thing, I’ll be stiffer than a cock in a brothel.” 

Rolling your eyes at his that’s-so-Negan one-liner, you pulled the sheet up over your chest and settled in to watch him get dressed. You felt a bit like a voyeur when he removed the condom, tied off the end, and tossed it into the little garbage can. You felt a lot like a voyeur when he leaned down to pick up his boxer briefs and the sight of his bent-over ass almost made you whimper out loud. 

“You sure you can’t skip the meeting and stay here?” The words left your lips before your brain could even stop them. 

Turning to look at you, the desire must have been written all over your face because that muscle in his jaw ticked and he ran a hand down over his beard in obvious frustration. You swore he started to take a step back towards the bed, but he caught himself and instead returned to the task of getting dressed. 

When he was done putting on the navy tee and dark grey pants, complete with his signature black boots, he did finally come back over to the bed. Leaning down, he cupped a warm hand possessively around the side of your neck and placed a heated kiss on your lips before slightly pulling back and saying in that sinful, husky voice, “5 o’clock, doll. You better be ready for me.” 

With that, he straightened, crossed the room, and let himself out. As the door clicked softly shut behind him, you replied with a dazed, “Yes, sir.”

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[buckyownsmylife]

Holy Ground - Chapter 1

The one where Andy seems to have lost everything, but he’s not ready to give up.

A terrible car accident ruins Andy Barber’s idea of a perfect life. But if the love’s still there, why wouldn’t he retrace the steps that led him to his happy ending? After all, the best love stories were made to be written more than just once.

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist and if you’d like to be tagged on my following Chris Evans and characters stories, just fill out this form.

Andy’s P.O.V.

The never-ending beeping of the machine had become a constant in my life. It was both a melody and a curse, a relief and the worst of tortures, it truly depended on my mood for the day. Sadly, for the last few weeks, it was hard to remember that this meant a good thing, it meant she was alive, there was still hope for us. 

Hope was dying quicker than the woman on the bed, who I watched with unwavering attention, and that only meant it was getting harder and harder to remember that she was still even there. 

A body isn’t a life, that had never been as obvious to me as it was right then, and although her hand was safely wrapped by mine, she never seemed more distant than in that moment. So close, yet so out-of-reach. Still alive, but seemingly just… not there.

Sighing, I released her hand only to run both of mine over my face, needing a moment to close my eyes and imagine I was somewhere else, anywhere else other than this stupid fucking hospital, the only place I ever went to since the accident.

But then, as it happened every time I tried to sleep, flashes of what I imagined had happened to her startled me into opening my eyes again, and sitting up on the chair that was starting to mold into the shape of my body. I really needed her to wake up. Soon.

A surge of anger rushed through me - not the first one I’d felt since this entire situation had happened, and suddenly I was up from the chair, leaning over her, cradling her unresponsive face in my hands.

“Wake up,” I urged, trying to shake her as softly as possible, but still determined to get a response from her. “Wake up, dammit.” 

Unsurprisingly, it was in vain. There was no response, no single movement, no sign from the heavens that the woman I loved was even there at all.

Defeated, I slumped back on the chair and pondered over the same damn details when suddenly, something happened. The beeping had changed. It was quicker now, mirroring my own heartbeat inside my chest.

“Nurse!” I shouted, desperate for someone, anyone to tell me that this was good news, but the second two people entered the room in blue scrubs, I was being thrown out. 

“I’m sorry, sir, but we need you to go wait in the lobby. Someone will come get you once things are stable again.”

Stable. Again.

That’s not what I wanted. No, it was not. Because nothing about my life with Y/N had ever been just “stable”. That word could simply not encompass everything she was, everything she meant, everything we had lived together. Not the way she woke me up with the smell of pancakes in the morning, only to be singing the softest of melodies when I got to the kitchen to watch her sway and cook at the same time. Not the way she listened attentively to everything I ever got to say, especially when I was frustrated and it took me some time to make any sense at all. Not the way she held me in her arms when the night came and brought horrors from the past to my mind, raising nightmares that seemed even worse while I was awake.

I wanted her back, and not the beeping of the machine that kept her there, but not really alive. That wasn’t alive. That was merely existing, and that’s how I felt that I was doing, too. But how does one find the motivation to even try when the love of your life is just… not there?

I was quickly becoming overwhelmed by my own feelings, I could recognize that. Finally deciding to take a seat in the waiting area, I covered my face again as I struggled to think through the fog of emotions clouding my brain. What the hell was happening back in her room? Could it be…

No. I could not afford to think that. I could not afford to lose her. Looking up to the ceiling in the hopes to control my desperate desire to cry, I prayed to whoever was listening that they gave me my girl back. I needed her. God, how I needed her.

“Mr. Barber?” I almost got whiplash from how quickly I turned to meet the doctor, trying to determine if he was coming to share bad or good news by the expression on his face. Unfortunately, the dominion of emotions came with the profession - I expected that, mostly because I used to have the same skill, developed in the exercise of mine.

The days where legal routines ruled my week seemed like a lifetime away.

“We have some news for you.” I nodded, not trusting my own voice as I got up from the chair to follow the doctor closer to the room where she rested, hopefully still alive. “At last, there was some response to the treatment we had been administering…” I ended up blocking whatever medical terms he used while explaining what had happened as I tried to peek through the curtains into the room, check if she was still there, still unresponsive but there. “...She’s waiting for you.”

That startled me, making me meet the doctor’s eyes again.

“I’m sorry, what?” 

The man had a good heart, that much was obvious, because instead of impatient, he just smiled and repeated, “She’s awake now. We still haven’t been able to figure out the damage that the impact has done on her cognitive functions, but she’s alive and awake, and when we said you had been waiting, she asked to see you.”

I nodded, immediately turning my back to the doctor without any further comments and reaching out for the door, eager to see her again. I knew I’d only believe that she was awake when I saw it with my own two eyes.

Her gaze fell on mine when I pushed the door open, my mouth falling open and tears erupting from the utter relief that I felt. It was really true. She was okay. We’d be okay.

I threw myself on her before even thinking twice about it. Instinctively, I knew how to avoid the wires and bruises she still had, after having spent so long just looking at her, memorizing every inch of her face while she couldn’t move.

When her arms closed around me, it was like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. And then I was crying. Just like she always did the few times I’d done this before ever since we got together, she just held me, hands softly running circles on my back as I let go of all the pain and fear I’d been accumulating these last few months without her.

She didn’t even say anything, just patiently waited as I slowly calmed down, sniffling like a little kid and taking her natural perfume in now that I could bury my face in the crook of her neck. I knew that my unkept beard tickled her, but despite a few chuckles, she never complained.

I was thankful for that. Because I truly needed this. I needed to feel close to her again, in this physical sense, as long as it was the only one I could have until she was able to leave this hospital. I hoped to God that now that she’d woken up, it wouldn’t be too long before I could get her back home.

“How are you feeling, my love?” I watched her eyes momentarily widen, seemingly in surprise, when I pulled away to watch her expression, knuckles grazing softly over her cheekbones. And then she looked confused, maybe even guilty, that deep frown appearing between her eyebrows as she almost pouted at me.

“I’m okay, I swear. I wish you wouldn’t have spent this long waiting for me here.” The sentence was so puzzling it froze me on the spot. What did she mean, I shouldn’t have waited for her to wake up? I should have simply gone home and walked around like nothing was wrong, while she was here alone, possibly dying?

“Why is that?” I finally managed to get out, reaching out to hold one of her tiny, freezing hands between mine, and although she once again looked up in shock at me, she seemed somewhat grateful, the goosebumps along her arms showing just how cold she really was.

“I mean… You just didn’t have to, Andy. I know you’re a nice guy, I wouldn’t have agreed to go on that date with you if I didn’t think so, but I think this is too much, even for you. You barely know me. There was no reason to feel so obligated to keep me company, you know?” And just when I was sure that the pain in my chest signaled a heart attack, she looked down at our joined hands, squeezed mine and said, “Although I must admit, I’m kinda glad you did. I’ve been dreaming about our second date ever since you brought me back to my apartment and gave me that kiss.”

The weight of my wedding ring suddenly became all I could focus on, even if she didn’t even seem to realize the metal was there, warming her cold skin. But it was the burning of the matching jewelry safely tucked inside my pocket since the night of the accident that really made me realize that car crash might have taken more from me than I ever expected.

[tripleaxeldiaz]

don’t wanna hand you all my trouble (don’t wanna give you all my demons)

TW: descriptions of nightmares about eddie's time in afghanistan, description of a panic attack

read on ao3

The nightmares don’t start after Afghanistan. They start when Eddie is seven and there’s a monster under his bed.

It wakes him from a dead sleep, and he swears he can hear the scratch of claws on the hardwood, the gnashing of teeth just beneath his head. He yells for his mom, who comes racing in like a knight in shining armor, even if her armor is just a bathrobe. She scours the underside of the bed and finds nothing, but stays with Eddie until he’s asleep again. He knows if that thing comes back, she’ll protect him no matter what.

He yells for her every time, and every time she comes.

Until one night, his dad comes instead.

That night, he sits Eddie on the edge of his bed, tells him that monsters aren’t real, and that boys shouldn’t yell for their mom every time they’re scared. That boys will one day turn into men who will have to fight off truly monstrous things on their own, so it’s best to start now so Eddie is prepared.

He stops yelling for his mom, but the monsters don’t stop coming.

They change as he gets older — from creatures in the night to fears of losing his friends or his family to worries about failing classes to worries about his future. Sometimes they’re so abstract he doesn’t remember details beyond the ice cold terror in his veins. They wake him every time, sometimes several nights in a row, and every time he fights the urge to yell, to find comfort somewhere other than himself. Reminds himself that he’s a man, and that men have to save themselves. He breathes deeply, tries to slow his racing heart and go back to sleep. He gets better at it, at calming himself down, until he eventually forgets he ever needed someone else to help him in the first place.

Then he goes to war. He sees the monstrous things his dad warned him about, and he’s not even close to prepared.

By the time he comes back, he’s seen and done things that would keep the scariest, gruesomest monster from sleeping soundly. He’s left chunks of himself behind in sand dunes and medic tents, drying into dust, disappearing into the desert. And he’s waking up in a cold sweat almost every night, mind foggy with images of the people he couldn’t save, everything he did wrong. But he still can’t make himself cry out for help, because he still remembers that he has to save himself. Even more so now, because saving himself means saving the people he loves from being exposed to every terrible thing that he sees every time he closes his eyes. 

So the nightmares don’t start after Afghanistan. But they don’t get any easier, either.

~~~~~~~~~~

He gets a few years of peace. Maybe less peace and more pure exhaustion from working nonstop and raising a kid on his own. He rarely falls into a deep enough sleep to feel rested, and there are still some nights where he wakes up to a vague feeling of panic sitting like lead in his stomach. 

The whirlwind of moving halfway across the country and starting his life over again keeps him just as tired. They’ve been in Los Angeles for six months before Eddie finally starts to feel settled. Chris loves his school, they have Carla, and Eddie has the 118. His new family and his new...Buck. For the first time in a while, he feels like he’s on his way to something like happiness.

So of course, one day, one seemingly good day where calls are light and Buck keeps shooting sunny smiles his way, he goes to take a nap in the bunks and is met with blood and screams. He’s trying desperately to move nameless bodies to safety, but he’s not fast enough, not strong enough. They’re screaming his name now, trying to get his attention as they’re picked off one by one. They get louder and louder and louder until—

“Eddie!”

He wakes with a start, doesn’t see bodies any more, just Buck, his brow furrowed in concern, hands held out placatingly towards Eddie. His head whips side to side a few times, remembering he’s at work and he’s safe. He sits up on the bunk, still shaken, crossing his legs as Buck moves to sit down beside him, slowly, like he’s waiting for Eddie to tell him to leave. Eddie doesn’t.

“Sorry Buck, I didn’t mean—”

Buck shakes his head. “You don’t have to apologize. Are you okay?”

It’s been a while since anyone has asked him that.

“I’m fine, just a bad dream.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

No one’s ever asked him that.

And the thing is, his first instinct is to say yes. Because he does — he wants to expel some of the pent up terrors so that maybe he can sleep soundly again. He wants to drain it from his mind, watch it all swirl down the sink and into the ocean, get rid of it for good. 

But he knows it’s not that easy. And he still hears his dad’s voice telling him to save himself.

“I’m alright man, but thanks.” Buck doesn’t look like he believes him, but he lets it go, heads out of the bunk room with one last glance at Eddie, brow still furrowed. The door shuts behind him, and Eddie falls back on the bed. Lays there for another 30 minutes but can’t fall back asleep.

He stops napping at work after that. It’s easier to deny the nightmares when no one can see them.

But then Shannon comes back. Then she’s gone for good. Then Buck gets crushed by a ladder truck. Then he almost loses Chris and Buck to a tsunami.

Suddenly real life is more of a nightmare than anything he sees in his sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

The solution, it seems, is exhaustion. After back to back shifts, after staying up with Chris as he cries through his own nightmares, Eddie is able to sleep for at least a few hours at a time. He hesitates to call it “peaceful”, but he doesn’t hear any screams, at least. 

But as Chris slowly starts sleeping through the night again, he has to find other ways to tire himself out. Sometimes it’s a midnight workout in the living room, sometimes it’s deep cleaning the kitchen at 1:00am. Sometimes it’s just staring listlessly at the TV until his eyes are too heavy and he passes out on the couch, woken by sunlight and reruns of Golden Girls. It’s not perfect, it’s probably not healthy, but it keeps him rested enough to make it through the day, and he doesn’t feel ice anywhere.

He should have known it was too easy, too good to be true.

He turns off the TV, spreading a blanket over Buck where he’s dead to the world on the couch, passed out halfway through the baseball game they were watching after Chris went to sleep. His curls are soft on the pillow and he looks relaxed like this, far more relaxed than Eddie can ever remember seeing him when he’s awake. It’s overwhelmingly tempting to run his fingers through those curls, trace down his jawline, over his birthmark, but Eddie shakes the thought from his head and quickly heads toward his room. He sticks his head into Chris’s room, smiling as he hears his heavy breathing, sees him star-fished on his bed. As he gets into bed himself, he can’t help but marvel at how normal tonight was. His best friend and his son eating dinner together, watching a movie, sharing easy jokes and laughter like the past few months hadn’t scarred the both of them, physically and emotionally. And Eddie got to witness it all, felt a contentment settle in him that follows him as he closes eyes, that almost makes him forget what can happen when exhaustion isn’t forcing him to sleep.

Almost.

He feels the bullets whizzing past him, feels the scratch of sand underneath his hands. He looks around at the carnage, but the bodies aren’t nameless this time. It’s his platoon, the 118, Shannon, Christopher. Buck. They’re all lying motionless and it’s his fault, their blood is staining every inch of him and he can’t scrub it off. He hears screaming and crying, doesn’t realize it’s his own until his throat is raw and he tastes salt. He failed again, and no amount of tears will fix it.

He’s still crying when he wakes up, gasping for air, still feels sand between his fingers. He tries to calm down, taking shuddering breaths in and out, but it’s too much and not enough and he feels light-headed. He hears movement down the hall and quickly slips out of bed and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, sinking to the ground. He’s shaking so bad his teeth are chattering, and he clamps a hand over his mouth as another scream threatens to fall out of him without his permission. 

This is far and away the worst he’s ever been after a nightmare, and he’s not sure what to do. He feels even more lost and helpless than usual, and he has no idea when it will stop.

The first knocks are so soft he misses them, mistakes them for his body shaking the door as he leans against it. The second knocks are louder, a little more urgent, followed by a twist of the doorknob.

“Eddie? It’s me, can I come in?”

Eddie doesn’t answer, just shifts to lean against the bathtub so the door can open. The knob turns again and there’s Buck, looking wide eyed and a little scared himself, like he too just woke up from some horror in his sleep. Eddie meets his eyes and sees them soften as he takes him in — he’s not sure what he looks like, but his face feels puffy and he can feel dried tear tracks, so it’s probably not pretty. He looks away as Buck moves towards him, sliding to sit next to him against the bathtub. He’s close but they’re not touching, which is good because Eddie is fighting down another wave of agony, another scream is trying to claw its way out, and he doesn’t think he can handle any kind of interaction just yet.

Buck must feel it too, somehow, because he waits. Doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t say anything, just waits.

Eddie calms down — not completely, but enough to feel like he can function — and leans his head back against the cool edge of the tub, taking a deep breath. He chances a look over to Buck and sees him watching. He tries to smile, reassure him that this is nothing, but it feels like more of a grimace. It’s too much this time, even for his well-conditioned brain, and he can’t fake it.

Buck’s eyes search his face, and Eddie sees his hand twitch toward him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Can I touch you?” Buck asks softly. Eddie freezes — he hadn’t ever really considered that that’s a thing you can ask at a time like this, something he could say no to — before nodding, because his whole body is still buzzing and he thinks Buck might be able to ground him. 

He usually does.

Buck reaches his hand out slowly, wrapping long fingers around Eddie’s before sliding them together. He brings Eddie’s hand into his lap, holding it between both of his, slowly tracing his thumb over Eddie’s knuckles. He still feels like a live wire, but he doesn’t want to scream anymore. He meets Buck’s eyes and sees understanding and sadness and other things that Eddie’s always hoped to see but can’t process right this moment. He hopes he’ll get to see them again soon.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

There’s that question again. 

And Eddie does, actually truly does. It’s clear he can’t save himself like he’s been told he’s supposed to, and maybe he shouldn’t have to, so he wants someone’s help. He knows Buck will help him, will protect him from whatever he can’t handle on his own.

He always does.

But Eddie’s tired and ripped open and doesn’t want to think about or relive anything right now. He squeezes Buck’s hand where it’s still tightly clasped. 

“Not yet. But I will.”

Buck’s shoulders relax just a bit, like he’s relieved it wasn’t an outright refusal. They stay on the ground together until Eddie moves to get up, holding tighter when Buck tries to disentangle their hands. They walk towards Eddie’s bed together, and Eddie scoots to the far side, still not letting go.

“Will you stay? Please?” Eddie asks, whisper loud in the quiet room.

Buck pauses for a moment before climbing in as well, settling under the covers on his side, facing Eddie. Buck looks nervously down at their hands then back up to Eddie.

“Can I—”

Eddie’s grabbing Buck’s shirt before he finishes, pulling them as close together as possible, wrapping his arms around Buck’s waist and burying his face in his chest. Buck doesn’t hesitate to press his face into Eddie’s hair, hands rubbing is back slowly, soothingly.

“Of course I’ll stay, Eddie. I’ll stay as long as you’ll let me. I promise.”

For the first time in too long, Eddie falls into a dreamless sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, he talks. Not much, but more than he has since he was seven. He feels a little less tense afterwards, breathes a little easier.

The next day, he talks more.

The next week, more.

So on and so on.

And Buck stays. Just like he promised.

[prettywordsyouleft]

Neighbourly

Summary: With a drip in your roof, you weren’t going to get any sleep if you stayed in your apartment. It was a good thing you had Jae as a neighbour who owed you a favour.

Pairing: Jae Park x reader

Genre: neighbours to lovers / fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: So I have a drip in my roof and we’ve had a lot of rain lately. It means I haven’t been getting a lot of sleep as I suffer from misophonia, and this idea stems from waking up exhausted one morning after some heavy rain. Thankfully, I think I’ve solved my issue, now Y/N just needs to solve hers XD

Also, just want to thank @noona-clock because without B’s guidance over this, you probably wouldn’t be getting a DAY6 story today. Xxx

Word count: 3525

You convinced yourself everything was fine. Rolling onto your side, you composed yourself and asked for your slumber to come forth and take you into a peaceful dimension.

Instead, you heard it again.

Letting out a huff of air, you swapped to your other side more vigorously, trying to suppress the somewhat desperate expression now residing on your face.

You would sleep. You would get so much sleep that you were certain you would wake tomorrow fully rested.

It happened again, this time louder than before.

Who were you kidding; there would be no sleep within this predicament.

Sitting up, disgruntled, you glared up at your bedroom ceiling to the spot that seemed to be causing all the ruckus. With heavy rain falling endlessly from the heavens, of course, the roof in your apartment was leaking somewhere with the overflow. Although you didn’t have an actual leak yet, you could tell something was definitely dripping up in the ceiling. You had contacted your landlord earlier in the evening and he had promised someone would come over to clear out the gutters and look into the problem first thing on Monday morning. Given it was Friday night though, and rain was forecasted for the next day as well, you were already at the end of your tether.

You cursed your innate ‘gift’ to hear everything that happened around you.

Staring at the ceiling still, you wondered what you could do. The first thought you had was to shift out to your living room. Over the next ten minutes, you lugged your mattress off your bed and out into the small living space, knowing your tiny sofa just wouldn’t cut it. Once settled back on your bedding, you smiled forcibly and nodded to yourself slowly.

“Let’s get some sleep now,” you instructed your body and mind, closing your eyes and placing your hands over your waist lightly. A posture of peace and tranquillity. You would be slumbering in no time.

You could still hear the drip from out here.

You were laughing now at the ridiculous state of your frazzled mind. It was already closing in on midnight and you would be lucky if you caught the bare minimum of needed rest to function tomorrow. You would have to cancel brunch with your friends in order to return to a decent human after all of this.

But what could you do in the interim?

Glancing around your darkened apartment, you groaned heavily. The rain was too much to travel out in this late at night, and you thought that the constant lashing on the roof above would ease your mind from hearing the dripping pipe within the ceiling. Of course, being someone highly sensitive to sounds meant even if you didn’t want to, your brain was one step ahead of you and focusing solely on the dripping. Exclaiming how clever it was to decipher such a sound with the din outside.

For the umpteenth time in your life, you cursed how easy it was for you to process sounds faster and more precisely than others.

For the next hour, you played games on your phone since you were now wide awake. You caught up on Instagram stories and read a couple of updated fan-fictions. After that, you brewed one of your favourite teas, hoping with the calm aroma, your over-stimulated mind would fall asleep, dripping sound or not.

You were in front of your door twenty minutes later, contemplating an offer your neighbour had once given you.

“If you ever need anything, just knock on my door, Y/N. You’ve helped me out by letting me stay here this week; I’ll gladly return the favour at any time.”

His words played over in your mind as you stood there wrapped up in your blanket, hand half-raised for your front door handle. Jae’s apartment was across the hall from yours and would use a different gutter system than the one attached to yours. You were certain his home would be free from the incessant dripping right now and that was rather appealing.

But was it acceptable to knock on Jae’s door at this time? Surely this hour was out of the jurisdiction of being a friendly neighbour, right? You knew if Jae knocked on your door right now, he wouldn’t unless it was important. And you would no doubt be all too accommodating.

This was kind of important, and so you believed you should at least try.

Steeling yourself for the impending interaction, you placed a smile onto your lips, only to remove it. You needed to look as desperate as you felt. With this thought at the forefront of your mind, you stepped out of your door and over to his, knocking three times on it.

Your usual amount of knocks, of course.

Waiting for a minute, nothing seemed to happen. Resigned, you heaved your blanketing around for the dejected trek back into the dripping symphony within your roof.

“Y/N?” a voice called out sleepily and you whipped around, unbalanced within your blanket burrito. Jae’s eyes flashed open as he reached out to steady you, blinking slowly when you were stable again. “What are you… and like this… is everything okay?”

“I’m sorry for waking you,” you started, widening your eyes in what you hoped would show just how distraught you were.

Because you were beyond all rationale now.

“My roof has a leak and I’ve tried to sleep but it just won’t stop dripping and-”

Jae swung his door open wider, padding back inside. You wondered if he was about to shut the door over your ridiculous predicament, yet it remained open and you waited to see what would happen next. He reappeared, scratching at the back of his head in confusion. “Are you coming in?”

“Oh, that was you inviting me in, right,” you babbled and waddled into his home with your array of blanket ends dragging on the ground. Stepping into his small living area, you eyed the sofa in relief. “Thank you, I’ll just take the sofa and-”

“You nursed me for an entire week when I was so sick and my heating went out, do you really think I’m going to let you crash on my sofa?!”

You blushed at his memory and shrugged lightly. “I’m not fussed, honestly.”

“I am, you look like you’re about to strangle something if you don’t get any sleep. I’ll take the sofa, and you can have my bed.”

“Are you sure?”

Jae nodded firmly, prodding you and all of your blanket into his room. Taking his top blanket off the bed, he then gestured for you to lay down, wishing you a restful sleep and closed the door.

You thought it would take some time to fall asleep. After all, you had been so wired up until this point. However, as soon as you were comfortably arranged under your blanket, sleep finally reached out for you and took you off into a deep dream state.

So deep, that you didn’t feel the bed dip when Jae climbed onto it in his own sleepy stupor, nor were you bothered when you rolled into him and felt the warmth of lying next to another person. In fact, you relished in it, burying in deeper and sleeping soundly until the light of the morning infiltrated the room and you had finally gained sufficient hours of sleep.

And then you became aware.

How, when a single dripping sound had almost driven you to a complete meltdown, had you not woken up to Jae climbing into bed with you?! Why was he here anyway? Was the sofa too cold? Did something happen? Your mind raced with multiple scenarios and the longer you contemplated them, the further you became aware of other things around you. Like the arm Jae had slung over your waist loosely and how you hadn’t yet moved it away.

Glancing down at his limb, you chewed on your bottom lip thoughtfully. Should you disturb him? After all, it was a little inappropriate even if you were friendly, to be sleeping this intimately with your neighbour. Yet, you hadn’t been held like this in some time, and a large part of you was kind of enjoying it. Jae’s warmth comforted you and his even breathing made you smile.

No, you couldn’t wake him up.

But what about breakfast? You were hungry by now and it wouldn’t be long until your stomach started to be vocal about it. You didn’t need the embarrassment of not only waking Jae up overnight but expecting breakfast as well.

You were a woman of standards! If anything, it would make sense for you to get up now, head home and make a delicious thank you breakfast and then bring a portion over for Jae. Could you simply look within his refrigerator instead and cook here? Jae would need to eat breakfast. You could just save the trip home and cook for him here.

For the two of you.

You blushed at the thought of doing something like that here.

You were neighbours though, and neighbours this close could make food for one another and not be offended. Or misconstrue sentiments like arms over waists and being in the same bed together.

Right?

It was already too late for logic, your body temperature clearly indicated how affected you were with Jae’s arm over you.

Now was the time to leave. To escape this heady experience where you fell in love with Jae over a drip in the roof and a fumbled, poorly constructed excuse from him about why he was sleeping beside you in the first place.

Life wasn’t a fairytale and you had slept all too well within Jae’s bed because you needed a cold dose of reality to put you in check.

Move, you willed yourself, and you shifted agonisingly slow from Jae’s slumbering side, gently lifting his arm off of you in the process. Before you were fully out from under him, Jae moved, curling the arm you had almost succeeded in escaping back around you and pulling you toward his warm body.

You held your breath, eyes wide when, “Don’t go yet,” tumbled from his lips.

“But I need to.”

“Why?” he mumbled, tightening his arm over you. He let out a deep breath, inhaling you in as he settled back into your side. “Whyyy?”

God, was he always this cute when half-asleep? You thought back to the time when you had looked after him. Jae had definitely been an adorable, albeit whiny patient. He would try to damper down his demands, yet you had fussed over him, making it easy for you to succumb to his whims. During that week, you had gotten to know him pretty well, and one thing that you remembered was his little mumbles whenever he was half-asleep. You had little conversations with him during those moments until he fell asleep, smiling the whole time at his little pouts and whines.

Right now though, he wasn’t sick and you needed to stop smiling.

“I have to go home.”

“No, stay.”

“But I’m hungry,” you continued and he sighed again.

“So eat with me.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he confirmed and you couldn’t help but let the small smile itching to cross your lips spread out. Jae nuzzled in again, content with your lack of a response. “Just ten more minutes.”

It didn’t make it to that time before Jae finally became alert. His grip around you loosened off and his posture changed. You realised the dream had come to an end and sat up quickly.

“I’m sorry,” you mentioned, smoothing down your bed hair. “I should have pushed you off. You’re surprised, right? I was too when I found you in here instead of on the sofa but-”

“I must’ve come in here after going to the bathroom,” he explained, though he was smiling.

You nodded all too quickly, reaching out for your blanket to pull off and go home. Back to the dripping and the clarity that would come within your own space.

Jae grabbed on, preventing your hasty escape. “Are you embarrassed?”

“Thank you for letting me stay over.”

“You are,” he commented, chuckling to himself.

It irked you. “Well, it’s not every morning that I expect to wake up in your arms, Jae.”

“You’re right, it’s not.”

“It was just a thing that happened since we were both sleepy and now that we’re…” you trailed off when he tilted his head to the side, his expression still bemused. You stared back at him until he nudged you.

“And now that we’re…?” he prompted, causing you to blink rapidly. He chuckled again. “If I knew you were this cute to wake up to every morning, I would do it more often.”

Excuse me?

You took in his expression properly, noticing behind the amusement, Jae actually looked like he was enjoying this. Not the teasing, well, he was having his fun. But holding you had meant something more than coincidence. You weren’t some other girl he was dreaming of whilst he held you.

It dawned on you that when he was talking to you before, when he stopped you from leaving; it was because he knew it was you.

And he didn’t want it to end either.

Jae got up as you sat there reeling from your discovery, leaving you sitting in his bed as he departed the room. Only to stick his head around the threshold a moment later. “Didn’t you say you were hungry?”

Leaping out from the bed, you ensured your pyjamas were straight before you stepped into the living room, now finding Jae in the kitchen preparing a simple breakfast. You silently joined him and soon you were both seated at his small table to eat. You had just taken a bite of your toast when Jae spoke again.

“Did you contact your landlord?”

You nodded, swallowing down your food before replying. “He said someone would come out Monday morning.”

“Where’s the drip?”

“Bedroom ceiling.”

Jae nodded softly, contemplating. He looked up at you and smiled. “You can stay here until it’s fixed.”

“Oh, no I couldn’t do that, I’ll just go home to my parents for the weekend,” you hurried to say and Jae shook his head.

“Why, you slept fine here last night. Don’t they live like an hour away?”

You didn’t want to inform him of just how well you had slept. You were convinced it was driven from pure exhaustion and not because he somehow wound up at your side during the night.

You wouldn’t let yourself believe in it being any other reason, for the remaining sanity you held onto.

“I can’t expect you to give up your bed for another night,” you told him and Jae chuckled.

“Two nights, and you gave up a whole lot more for me when I was sick.”

“You needed my help back then.”

“And now you need mine,” he pointed out, staring back at you.

You realised he wasn’t going to let up and decided to be straight-forward with him. “I don’t think it’s wise for me to stay again. It’s not that I don’t want to, I appreciate your offer-”

“But?” he interjected and you tried to smile.

“I don’t want to draw conclusions in the wrong way.”

“Like what?” He now leaned his head on a hand, the ghost of a smile licking at the corners of his lips. Was he really fighting back the urge to laugh right now?

Blushing, you glanced away. “It was nice, this morning was. But it can’t happen again.”

“Why not?”

Your head snapped back in his direction and he was smiling now. It was charming and you soaked it in like the love fool you were becoming. Blinking slowly, you then shook off the effect and squared your shoulders. “We’re neighbours.”

“That we are.”

“It would be inappropriate if something happened again.”

“Like me holding you?”

“Must you be so blatant about it?!” you hissed and he finally laughed, nodding once.

“I need to since you’re so blind to my advances otherwise,” Jae announced, folding his arms over his chest. He smirked before continuing. “If you don’t want to, it’s fine. I won’t pressure you into staying again even if it is the most convenient. And whilst it was an honest sleep-driven mistake that I came back to my bedroom overnight, I’m not ashamed of my actions. You clearly were comfortable with it, heck I think you even liked it more than you’re letting on.”

Your cheeks flamed with obvious colour.

“I just want you to know, it’s fine by me. Us being just neighbours. Or neighbours that share the bed when in a predicament.”

“Or?” you continued, sensing the rest of his sentence that remained on the tip of his tongue. Jae studied you for a moment longer before he answered.

“Or we could be more than just neighbours and admit there’s something between us. At least, I think so.”

You couldn’t deny it; you had had a soft spot for Jae since he had been ill. But was that just it? Fellow comradeship that helped you get through the daily grind? No, you knew there was more to it. You wouldn’t just allow someone else to hold you like Jae had. And even if it had made you anxious initially, he was right.

You had liked it, a whole lot.

“I mean, even if you accept option number three, I can totally sleep on the sofa again tonight.”

“What, so you can stumble in during the night like you did?” you teased and Jae gaped at you dramatically.

“I’ll have you know I can be a gentleman. In fact, I didn’t cross the line even if I did end up climbing into bed with you.”

He had a point. And honestly, the longer you discussed it, the more at ease you were becoming.

It was also kind of giddying to know he liked you more than just a friend, and you were definitely fuelled on by this.

Besides, you were a grown adult. You could share a bed with Jae without doing anything crazy. And even if you did, well, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, right?

You decided with how fast your heart started to thump in your chest that keeping things simple for now would be better. You needed a place to stay and Jae was offering you one.

And if it came with his warmth and arm over your body free of service, well, who were you to complain?

Smiling, you nodded. “I’ll stay, thank you.”

“Any stipulations?” he asked, grinning genuinely. It made you mirror his reaction, shaking your head a moment later. Jae leaned closer. “You’re sure about that?”

“Well, you’re right, there is no rush. But if you’re going to just end up coming back into your bed by habit in the middle of the night, you might as well just start out there. Besides, it’s your home, and I’m your guest. I am happy to go with whatever works best.”

“How does a pre-ritual before bed sound then?” he wondered and you frowned at his suggestion. Jae laughed at your reaction and pointed to the sofa he had slept on last night. “We could start there together. Watch a movie or two, eat popcorn, and just enjoy a rainy night in. And then when it comes to bedtime, we can decide what we’re comfortable with then.”

You relaxed, nodding in agreement. Eying the dismal world outside his apartment window, you then turned back to Jae. “What are you doing today?”

“Nothing much with all this rain, why?”

“Should we start the ritual now? Today’s the perfect day for a movie marathon.”

“Is this when I find out whether our tastes in cinematic replay match or not?”

You giggled. “It’s an important thing to discover!”

“You’re on.”

“I’ll just go home and get changed and then come back with supplies. Can’t have it be just only your movies that we watch.”

Jae agreed heartily and with breakfast now finished, you got up, heading to the door of his apartment. He followed you, and you turned to smile at him before reaching for the handle. Just as you were about to open it, he took a hold of your hand, drawing your attention back to him. “Hey, can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

He hesitated before smiling at you. “You’re beautiful when you first wake up in the morning.”

Not knowing what to say, you tried not to smile too wide or blush too much, gave his hand a squeeze before you stepped out and over to your own apartment. Taking a moment to regulate your breathing, you bit your lip to suppress the squeal that rose up in your throat, in case Jae was still by his door and heard you. Pushing away from your door, you went into your bedroom, glancing up at the affected area. You listened for the sound of the drip and when you heard it, your smile grew.

You had a lot to thank the rain for.

_________________

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[mollymauk-teafleak]

Black Coffee (chapter two)

Thank you so much for your response to this fic, I’m so glad people like it. Special thanks to @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian

If you enjoyed this, lease consider leaving a comment on Ao3 or donating to my ko-fi page! It really means a lot. 

Chapters: 1

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Percy hadn’t dressed for a date in a very long time.

In fact, when he thought about it, he didn’t think he ever had. He’d only ever had one relationship, back at boarding school, and he’d only had two outfit choices back then. School uniform or rugby kit. Somehow he didn’t think he’d still be able to pull that off at thirty.

He rifled through his wardrobe one more time, metal clacking reproachfully with each poor offering. Too boring…too stuffy…oil stains…oil stains…ripped…

With a noise of frustration he hiked his bath towel further up his hips, it had started to slip. The only clothes he seemed to own were either designed for a mansion’s ballroom or not fit to be seen outside his workshop. Maybe he had time to go into town and pick something new but even then, what sort of thing should he get?

Percy ran a hand through his hair. He probably wasn’t supposed to be thinking like this. This wasn’t a real date, it was a service. Why was he so concerned with looking good for Vax’ildan, when the half elf likely thought of this as work rather than anything recreational?

“This whole thing was supposed to help you relax a little,” he grumbled at his reflection, half visible in the full length mirror that hung on the back of the door, “Not stress you out more.”

His reflection didn’t seem to have an answer for that. It just stared back at him, eyes large and owlish without his glasses, hair sticking up after the shower. Living off takeaway food whenever he actually remembered he needed to eat clearly wasn’t doing him a lot of favours; where he wasn’t rail thin he was more round than he wanted to be. He was a very unhealthy kind of pale, everywhere except the very ill thought out tattoos he’d gotten when he was younger.

In short, he looked like no one’s dream date.

Part of Percy wanted so desperately to turn off the lights and crawl back under his blankets. Or maybe go to his workshop- the larger room in his penthouse that was really supposed to be the master bedroom- and lose himself in cogs and wires and screws. There would always be an answer there. There was always a way to make things fit, a solution he understood. He’d find no such certainty out there, stumbling awkwardly through a facsimile of a relationship.

That part of him was dangerously close to winning when he turned and saw his laptop, a sleek and black machine on his sleek and black sheets, still open, it’s glow reproving and impatient. Percy’s email was still open, the cursor blinking away on the still stubbornly blank message.

Cassandra had emailed him two days ago now. A short and to the point email, appearing cold to anyone who didn’t know his sister but Percy knew how to read the concern in those few words, asking how her brother was, what he was up to. He knew the words that weren’t written as plainly but were there nonetheless. I’m worried about you. Please tell me you’re at least a little bit okay.

She was halfway across the country now, studying at a good university though Percy could picture the horror on his father’s face if he ever heard his only remaining daughter had wandered outside of the Ivy League. But Cassandra hadn’t been concerned about prestige. She’d wanted distance.

She’d run from their parent’s city as quickly as Percy had become welded to it.

He hadn’t replied yet, hence the empty page. Because what the fuck was he supposed to say?

Hi Cassie, glad to hear you’re doing well and achieving all your dreams and making me so proud even though I’m too much of an emotionally constipated arse to show it. I’ve done absolutely nothing since you left, short of skipping counselling, talking to screwdrivers more than living things, moving like a robot through the activities I think our parents would want me to do and haunting our father’s penthouse like some depraved Phantom of the Opera. Keyleth’s still around though, I continue to be a shitty friend to her. Lots of love, your worthless brother.

Percy groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, where there were always two perfect red indentations from his glasses.

Admittedly, hiring someone to have sex and play romance with you wasn’t the sort of thing that he was going to put in an email to his sister. But he’d be able to say he’d left the house. He was meeting new people. He was doing things.

He’d be able to say he was getting a little closer to being okay.

Decisively, Percy closed his laptop but reached for his phone, lying on the nightstand where it had woken him up a full five hours before his date. It took less than two minutes to send a text to Keyleth.

Want to go shopping with me? Need a date outfit.

Vax woke up, as he often did, with a mouthful of fur.

“Urgh,” he groaned, shoving against the great weight on his chest, “Trinket, get off, you’re disgusting.”

Of course it didn’t come out as coherent as that, seeing as his brain wasn’t fully awake. But that was what he’d intended to say.

The large dog whined, not enjoying being evicted from the nice warm bed, landing on the floor with a thump after a dedicated shove from Vax. Neither of them were sure what kind of dog the enormous, dark brown ball of fluff was but all he knew was that he was a hell of a lot bigger than the shelter and his sister had promised he’d be.

“Don’t be mean to my dog!” his sister yelled from the next room, hearing the thump.

“Then tell your horse to stop smothering me in my sleep! If you’re going to try and assassinate me, be a little more creative,” Vax shot back, though he was frowning. His sister was still here? What time was it?

He clawed around for his phone, eventually plucking it from his many blankets, though not until he’d come up with a lipstick, a sock and a chewed up tennis ball. According to the screen, still perfectly functioning even with the hairline crack through it, it was nearly eleven.  

Not bad for Vax’ildan. He’d been averaging noon the last few weeks.

Still on his screen were the messages he’d been exchanging with Percy last night. Though it didn’t say Percy on the text windows, he’d decided to keep the name Orthax in a fit of romanticism and intrigue, with an emoji of a red flower beside it. It was very much a tulip and not a carnation but it was the closest he could get.

They’d been texting quite comfortably in the day since they’d first met up and had set their first proper date for that afternoon. Which, shit the bed, Vax now only had an hour and a half to get ready for.

Cursing, he jumped up, staggering a little when his legs momentarily forgot they were legs, surging forward into the room that was half their kitchen, half their living room and too small to be either. His sister was sitting on the sofa, not even dressed for work, reading a book while petting Trinket’s ear. The dog was whining and making himself look very hard done by, probably to get Vax even further in trouble.

“Why aren’t you at work?” Vax paused, “Did you burn the bakery down?”

Vex worked half a hundred odd jobs around the city, often going straight from one to the other, changing her uniforms in the subway bathrooms. But on Tuesdays and Thursdays she worked the early shifts at a bakery a few blocks away, putting in the morning bread and folding croissants. Often she’d come home with some misshapen goodies for supper, making that Vax’s favourite of her jobs.

Not that he really enjoyed seeing his sister run herself ragged, coming in at ridiculous hours to snatch what sleep she could and still struggling to make rent, rarely having the time to do the one thing she really enjoyed- volunteering at the animal shelter.

Though maybe if she did spend more time there, she’d come home with more dogs. Vax could live without that.

Vex wrinkled her nose and swatted at him, “They’re installing new ovens. I’m not the one who put a fork in the microwave last week.”

Vax tried to look offended as only someone entirely guilty of what they were being accused of could, “It was a rare lapse in judgement…”

After a very pointed eye roll, Vex jerked her thumb in the direction of the kitchen counter, “A package came for you, by the way.”

Knowing he still had very little time to get ready but curiosity piqued, Vax wandered over to see a small, brown paper package with his address inked in a very neat hand. He unwrapped it, thinking how he hadn’t had any post for so long, feeling that nostalgic rush of excitement like a little kid with a birthday present.

Inside he found a bag of coffee. The kind Caduceus made and sold at his café. And written on a little post it, right on the front was the same handwriting as the address and suddenly the neatness of the hand seemed so perfect, fitting the voice that accompanied it.

Good morning! See you soon xx P

“What are you doing, you goof?”

Vax had been grinning ridiculously wide for a long time before he even realised he was doing it and his sister’s remark made him suddenly grasp what an idiot he must seem. And how he definitely hadn’t been planning on explaining his new situation this soon. Or with foggy, just-woke-up brain.

“Uh…” he looked up, “Just…a present. From a friend.”

Vex narrowed her eyes, “A friend? What kind of friend?”

“The kind that sends me coffee,” Vax tried to look haughty, “Do you want some or not?”

“That seems very…niche.”

“And?” Vax could feel his voice getting higher and more defensive and entirely less convincing, “Look, no time, I have to get ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Gods above, what’s with the third degree this morning? Tie me down and shine a line in my eyes, why don’t you?”

Vex’ahlia watched her brother storm off into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him as if he had anything to be incensed about. She sighed and turned back to Trinket as he heavily put his head in his mama’s lap.

“As long as it’s nothing illegal…” she murmured to him.

The dog blinked large brown eyes at her.

“You’re right, it probably is,” Vex groaned.  

Vax reappeared a little while later, he never stayed in the shower for long. He marched past, towel cinched under his arms, going in front of the sofa so his sister couldn’t miss how he tossed his dripping wet hair and sniffed huffily. He slammed the door of his bedroom, leaving behind a scent that was unmistakably Vex’s favourite, treat day only shampoo.

She resolved to steal some of his coffee as soon as he was gone.

Vax had decided early on to meet always Percy somewhere other than his apartment.

There were a good long list of reasons for this. It would save Percy from being crushed to death under 250 pounds of affection starved dog. It would avoid him coming into contact with Vex, which would only lead to awkward questions and maybe Percy having an arrow fired at him if he startled her on her way to her archery class.

And, most importantly, Vax didn’t want him seeing his place. Not that he was ashamed or anything, he just didn’t want to feel like he had to defend it from someone who clearly lived in penthouses and country mansions. He and his sister had worked so hard to get the life they had now, earning their independence and freedom with tears and sleepless nights. It would always be sweet to them, even if it was poky, cluttered and had a damp problem they couldn’t get rid of.

Vax didn’t want to see everything they’d won look shabby and insignificant through someone else’s eyes; it would taste too much of Syldor. He didn’t think he’d be able to hold back his anger if that happened.

He’d never heard of the restaurant Percy offered to take him to, but he managed to find it and seated himself nice and obviously on the railings across the street. After two minutes of watching the place, Vax realised why he’d never been there. It was so far out of his price range, it may as well have been in a neighbouring galaxy.

He looked down at himself, his large boots and artfully ripped jeans (done by Vex after he put one of the knees through) and loose striped jumper in black and grey. His heart sank as he realised he really wasn’t dressed for this kind of place.

“Vax’ildan!”

His voice was full of warmth, he sounded genuinely delighted to see him. That alone would have caused the delicate, rosy blush on the tips of his pointed ears, if he hadn’t also looked drop dead gorgeous.

Their last meeting, there had definitely been handsomeness lurking under the exhaustion and nerves but this time Percy wasn’t hiding it, he was wearing it plain on his face. His hair was trimmed and smoothed over one side, everything underneath a white buzz that looked almost silver in the afternoon sun. His jaw was clean shaven however, taking years off him in an instant.

And he was wearing a suit. Vax suddenly realised he liked men in suits.

“Percy,” he stood, smiling, accepting the embrace that came his way. Gods, he even smelled expensive.

“I feared I’d imagined how handsome you were last time,” Percy dropped his voice to a more intimate volume as he pulled away, a smile pulling one side of his mouth up, “Apparently not.”

Vax’s ears coloured even more and he was suddenly glad he always styled his hair to cover them.

That’s how they were doing things, huh?

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he smirked, resting a hand on Percy’s hip, “You look lovely, by the way.”

Percy’s confidence suddenly slipped and he gave a bashful smile, “My friend helped me choose it. She’s way better at that sort of stuff than me.”

Vax’s smile became warmer. He found he liked self-assured Percy and awkward nerd Percy. They were less two sides of a coin and more a changeable day of weather in the same sky.

“Well my compliments to her for choosing it and you for looking so good in it,” he grinned, sliding his arm through Percy’s, “Though you’re going to look even better next to me. I forgot who I was going to lunch with…”

Percy stopped, dismay crashing over his expression, “Oh…Vax, I’m so sorry, I didn’t…I didn’t think, I’m sorry if I made you feel like that…”

Vax grimaced, “Percy, no…bad joke, sorry. It’s fine. Though…if there’s a dress code, we might not be getting in…”

“I, um…” Percy coloured a little, “I don’t get turned away from places.”

“Of course not,” Vax looked down at his boots, drawing away from him.  

“And…well,” Percy looked through the windows, into the warm exterior of the restaurant, “All those people in there are very well dressed. And I’d much rather spend an evening with you than any one of them. Funny, isn’t it?”

Vax lifted his eyes, so startled it took a few seconds for laughter kicked in, sudden and bright.

“Gods and I thought you were flattering me before…”

“There’s flattery and then there’s truth,” Percy smiled and for a moment, both kinds of weather could be seen in the sky like sun shining through drizzle. It was fairly beautiful.

Once enveloped in the warm, rustic Italian ambiance of the restaurant, the two of them began to talk, each of them surprised by how much they were sharing.

Vax learned that Percy also had a sister, though he didn’t live with her, younger than he was. Neither of them said a word about parents and both were happy with that arrangement. He learned Percy was thirty, had played rugby at his all boys school and would still like to but he didn’t know any teams nearby. He learned he had a mild addiction to video games, was allergic to shellfish and was kind to waitstaff.

Percy learned Vax’ildan preferred red wine to white, partly for the aesthetic which he happily confessed. He learned he’d been out as trans for three years, had been dancing since he was ten and thought tap was a criminally underrated art medium. He had just about every possible ear piercing going, which he shyly showed Percy after a little cajoling, always preferred the second act of a musical to the first and was a very fast eater.

“So…” Percy eventually broached, once he’d finished the last of his affogato, “What would you say to going back to my place after this?”

Vax stopped wondering if there was a subtle way to lick the last smears of chocolate off his plate and looked up, smiling easily, “Of course. Sounds lovely.”

He did a little internal check and found no lingering reservations. Have some probably average at best sex with a handsome, affable guy? He’d heard of worse ways to make rent.

As they walked to Percy’s car, Vax felt his phone buzz in his pocket, a message from his sister.

Are you okay? What do you want to do for dinner?

Vax felt a rush of guilt. He probably should have made sure there were leftovers to take home for her. That was the usual policy when one of them went on a date. The arancini had just tasted so damn good, he’d forgotten.

Sorry, I just ate with a friend. Don’t worry about me.

Less than two minutes later, a reply.

The same friend you mentioned this morning?

Vax narrowed his eyes.

None of your beeswax.

And yes.

“Okay, this is me.”

Vax knew nothing about cars but he could read luxury in the sleek lines of black metal, the silvered wink of axel and ridiculous hood ornament, “Woah…”

“Cars are kind of the one thing I let myself get a little crazy over,” Percy admitted, opening the passenger door for him, “Benefits of having money and being a bit of a nerd for engineering.”

“Yeah well,” Vax shrugged, “You should see my Metro card. It’s pretty swish.”

Percy laughed, sliding in behind the wheel and bringing the engine to life. Vax wondered quietly when the last time someone drove him somewhere was, when he wasn’t left to get wherever he wanted to go on his own two feet.

Of course it was impossible to get to any kind of speed, driving in a city as dense as this, though there was enough power in just the purr of the engine to make Vax anxious if Percy wasn’t such a methodical driver. His hands rarely left the wheel, flitting from here to there when they had to but always returning, blue eyes aware and fixed ahead.

He went to turn on the radio…though drew his hand back after a pause, “Actually…we should probably have a talk about this.”

“About what?” Vax tilted his head.

“Well…about what kind of things we like? About what we don’t like?” Percy bit his lip, “You know. In bed.”

“Oh right,” Vax waited for Percy to say more though none came and he assumed it was his turn first. Clearly Percy’s poised manner of speaking was struggling with talking about sex.

He thought for a moment, deciding to be a little more honest than he was anticipating, a little surer in getting a good reaction, “I don’t usually like being penetrated. Some days I’m down for it but they’re few and far between. Mouth down there is fine but if you’re careful about, you know, the words you use, nothing too specific…I’d appreciate that.”

Percy nodded, still watching the road carefully though he was clearly listening intently, “Okay. Well, that makes what I was going to ask you a lot simpler.”

Vax hummed curiously, prompting him with a look.

Cheeks now fully red, Percy managed to force out in a rush, “I was going to ask if you fancied fucking me?”

Vax gave a bark of delighted laughter, “Atta boy, that wasn’t so hard, huh?”

“Shut up,” Percy was still the colour of Vax’s wine but laughter was bubbling up, “Take this as a warning for the level of inexperience you’re dealing with. In fact, that’s part of the reason why I got in contact with you. Your job is to help me introduce a little bit of…variety into my bedroom. How does that sound?”

Vax grinned, tucking one leg up to his chest, “That sounds like something we can definitely do.”

Vax knew he should be impressed. How could he not be, after seeing the sheer size of the apartment block, a dizzying behemoth of glass and steel that warped perspective in a sickening way, and the opulence of the foyer, everything modern and styled with an effortless hand.

And he was, for a very brief moment. When the elevator doors slid open, right into Percy’s living room and he was shocked by the vista from the wrap around windows, the city wreathed in dusk like a watercolour painting that needed two glances to see was really real, he was too awestruck to speak.

And then all he could think was that this didn’t feel like a home. It felt unlived in. It was like an Ikea showroom, fun to imagine lounging around in but it was sterile and barren. Like a hotel room, like somewhere kept exclusively by a businessman for when he was in the city. Nowhere to really live.

And, as he took him on a tour that didn’t take very long because there was very little in the apartment, Percy looked so lonely. Everything around him seemed too big, making him look like a little kid playing at being his father. Vax watched him rattle around in the black leather, polished silver, exposed brickwork rooms, feeling a strange sense of pity that he couldn’t pin down.

“And this is the bedroom…” Percy pushed back the door, holding it for Vax.

Not my room. The bedroom.  

It did have a little more life to it, a good amount of mess that had clearly been hurriedly tidied away that morning. Books, a small TV clearly only there for the benefit of the games console resting against it, half-finished projects of cogs and soldered pipes, blue prints tacked up on the walls that were so detailed and covered in scribbled notes they were incomprehensible to Vax. There was even something living, a plant on the windowsill with brilliant white blooms that were jug shaped and gave off a wonderful smell, kind of like a lily.

“What’s this?” Vax asked, stroking one of its wide, shiny green leaves.

“Oh,” Percy took off his suit jacket, hanging it idly on the door, “A present from my friend, Keyleth. She’s a druid, spends all her time minding the wildlife in the national park outside the city, breeds her own new strains when the mood takes her. She named that one after me as a bit of a joke.”

“What’s the joke?” Vax’s ears picked up with interest.

Percy stopped in the middle of taking off his tie, looking like he wished he hadn’t said anything, “Oh, it’s, um…kind of an inside thing…”

“You are not getting away with that, absolutely no chance,” Vax raised an eyebrow, folding his arms determinedly.

“Gods, I wanted to wait as long as possible before I had to tell you this,” Percy pinched the bridge of his nose, knocking his glasses askew, “We haven’t even had sex yet…”

“I promise I’ll still have sex with you!” Vax wheedled, kneeling on the bed, leaning towards him eagerly, “Tell me!”

“It’s…I’m going to murder Keyleth…it’s called the Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III Lilium…I mean, the lilium part isn’t in my name obviously…that’s the plant…”

Vax paused, carefully controlling his expression, “Oh…”

Percy winced, “Are you still willing to have sex with me?”

“You said you’d pay my rent, right?”

“Yes.”

“We can still have sex.”

Percy looked abashed for a moment until Vax couldn’t maintain his composure and burst out laughing, soon catching his riotous cackling in spite of himself.

Once they’d caught their breath, Percy found himself down to his shirt and pants, the next step in undressing rather a major one, “Mind if I…?”

Vax gave an encouraging gesture, perching on the sheets, eyes interested. The being watched, the sudden irrefutable presence of another heartbeat in the room, another set of eyes on him that hadn’t been there before, had something inside him stirring.

He couldn’t say any more than that yet. Just something. But he wanted to chase after it.

He took his shirt off slowly, methodically, not yanking it off and tossing it to one side like he normally would. He was suddenly so aware of everything, every single movement he made, every inch of newly revealed skin.

“Nice ink,” was the only comment Vax made as he abandoned shirt and trousers. But there was a spark of hunger in his almost black eyes and his pupils were widening by the second.

“Thank you,” Percy smirked, hooking his thumbs under the band of his boxer shorts, “I hate them. Relic of my misspent early twenties.”

“You’ll have to tell me about them one day,” the half elf returned easily, somehow the epicentre of the charged, wanton tension in the room despite being fully clothed down to the boots, “Now the underwear. Please.”

Percy swallowed hard, feeling something not unlike fireworks in his chest. He slid down the last bit of fabric preventing him from being completely and utterly naked (though he wasn’t sure if glasses counted) in front of another person in years.

“Well well…” Vax’s voice was a murmur though it hit Percy like electricity, “You’re a very handsome man, Percival.”

Percy didn’t want to admit how good those words made him feel, his body responding in kind, electricity gathering low in his stomach and between his legs, “Now you, please?”

Vax hopped up happily. Whereas Percy had been shy, methodical, aware of every move he made, his partner was haphazard and eager as if this was all very commonplace.

Though he stopped when Percy blurted, “That’s a little small, isn’t it?”

Vax froze, looking down at himself, only wearing his flesh coloured binder and his boxers. He didn’t enjoy this transition period and stopping still during it was jarring, “What?”

“Your…sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Percy bit his lip, “Your binder. It’s a little too small for you?”

“Well…” Vax shifted, “Yeah, I could do with the next size up but…this one still does the job, I guess. How do you even know that?”

“My boyfriend at boarding school was trans,” Percy explained quickly, “I did my research back then.”

“Oh,” Vax’s defensiveness drained away and he relaxed into the unfamiliar but welcome luxury of not feeling like a novelty, “Well remembered, then.”

It came off shortly after, anyway, along with his underwear. The look on Percy’s face was flattering to say the very least.

Oh yeah, both men had the exact same thought at the exact same time, unbeknownst to each other, I chose well.

“I ordered it on kind of a whim so I hope it’ll fit…”

Vax gave himself a long, indulgent look in the mirror. The harness was real leather and steel, the metal excitingly cold against his flesh, all of it cradling his hips perfectly. The toy itself was black, as if to match the straps that held it in place and married it to his body, black as Vax’s hair.

There was a lovely synergy to the whole look.

“Wicked,” he grinned, not really having heard a word Percy was saying.

He turned and gently pushed him back onto the bed, stopping his anxious muttering, turning it into soft gasp, so soft for such an angular man. Percy looked lovely against the black silk of his expansive bed, so startlingly pale, like he was negative space in the middle of the world.

Vax personally thought the best angle to view a lover from was while pinning them to the surface you were about to fuck them on. And Percy certainly didn’t disappoint, pupils as dilated as an excited cat, red flush spreading down from his cheeks across his chest like ink dropped in milk. Vax could watch as the breath caught in his throat.

A perfect time for a first kiss. And so that’s what he did.

He tasted of wine, white wine, but Vax thought he could learn to bear that t when it came from someone else’s lips. Percy’s hand came up and held him just right, resting right there on the nape of his neck, thumb close enough to feel his racing pulse. His own hand moved down and Percy’s long legs parted so easily for him, letting him feel that softer, warmer skin, the more tender parts of him.

The sweet man was hard enough to be steadily leaking pre already. It must have been a while since he’d had someone. Vax gave him a teasing squeeze but continued down, he had a job to do right now and was determined to do it well.

“Easy, sweetling, I just need to…” Vax gasped, their kiss having left his lungs burning around the edges. He snatched up the bottle of lube helpfully left on the nightstand, though with the immense size of the bed it was a bit of a reach. It was cool against his fingers, thick, the oddly scentless scent of it catapulting him back to other places, other bodies, other faces. To realising sex could be a lot of fun, to rediscovering himself under the hands of others.

He would always love it.

“Just get you good and ready…” he murmured, voice breathy and soft. All Percy could do was moan.

Turns out Percy was tight in more than just personality. But Vax’s fingers knew their business well and carefully, so carefully, he made the man underneath him yield. Percy whimpered as Vax’s fingers breached him, slick and cold, igniting everything inside him that had been waiting anxiously for the spark it needed.

“Vax’ildan…” he gasped, fingers tightening in the sheets and the tightly curled hair at the nape of his lover’s neck.

“It’s okay,” the whisper came in return, “Relax, deep breaths…”

Percy followed his instructions, feeling the thrill of giving himself over to someone else’s control. Evening had stolen away when neither of them were looking and the room had quickly become dark so everything was down to just shapes, devoid of detail.

He felt, rather than saw, Vax’s heart beat faster, teasing his own, beckoning for it to follow. He felt their skin pressed together, growing hot. He heard the smile in Vax’s voice, he felt the creeping cold of more lube running between his cheeks, he smelt sex and sweat and something amber sweet in Vax’s hair. He felt his muscles loosen, melting, becoming Vax’s to reshape as he chose.

“Ready for me?” the half elf whispered in his ear, the hand that wasn’t half buried in Percy resting delicately on his chest, almost chastely in bizarre contrast to the fingers that still rocked inside him, coming achingly close to his prostate but very deliberately not getting there.

��I need you,” Percy moaned, nerves prickling at the neediness in his own voice, the pleading.

Vax caught it too, teeth flashing in the gloom as he grinned, “Good boy.”

Not finishing in that moment took all of Percy’s brainpower, leaving him only enough to whimper, hoping that brought across how much he really, really liked that.

Vex shifted, pressing the rounded tip of the toy a breath into Percy, giving a feather soft groan as the pressure brought the other end of the toy flush against where he needed it. Percy himself swallowed back another whine, feeling the sweet stretch of his entrance. Obediently, he hooked his hands behind his knees and brought them to his chest, leaving himself even more open and exposed, offering himself completely.

He got exactly what he wanted. Vax moved further into him, hips finding a comfortable depth then rocking back and forth.

“Gods, that feels good…” Percy’s eyelids fluttered, his voice a smoky rasp, “Deeper…”

“I’m getting there,” Vax sounded delighted, “Let’s not walk before we can run or you’re not going to be able to do either tomorrow.”

But his thrusts were getting deeper, more deliberate, hitting both of their sweet spots at the same time. Percy began to keen at the apex of each one and soon Vax was grunting and gasping along with him, arms starting to shake and fingers starting to claw at the sheets.

“Can you come just from this? Just from having me in your ass?” Vax panted, whole body taut as a drawn bow.

Percy nodded, fingers leaving white marks in his own legs, “Yes, gods, I’m there, I’m coming…”

Vax grinned, timing it perfectly as he leaned in and kissed him deeply, hitting his prostate directly, swallowing Percy’s loud, shaky moan of release as he shuddered through his own.

It was a while before either of them could marshal words but Vax got there first, “And how was that, Percival Frankenstein von Whatever Lilypants?”

Percy made a sound that probably would have managed to be a laugh if he had any breath, “Damn that fucking plant…”

Giggling, Vax drew out of him and rolled onto his back, the whole room tipping around him and settling a little lopsided but he didn’t care.

“So…” Percy rolled over, lying on his stomach, probably getting the sheets filthy but that was already done, “I think this is going to work out?”

“Me too,” Vax smiled, “That was good.”

“I did set up the bank transfer, of course,” he added quickly, “I haven’t forgotten. Before the 15th, right?”

Vax hadn’t realised how heavy the stress of making that month’s rent had been, not until it disappeared in that moment.

“Thanks Percy. And the coffee was really sweet of you, by the way.”

Percy smiled and shrugged, though clearly pleased, “I thought it would be a nice way to start, at least until I get a few more ideas.”

Vax thought for a moment, letting himself actually want, trying to remember how that felt, “I like…oh, I like knives!”

As soon as it was out of his mouth he realised how that sounded and he clamped his jaw shut.

Percy looked at him, “Wait…what?”

“Are you absolutely, positively sure?” Vax asked for what must have been the fiftieth time, “It’s going to leave a hole, you know that?”

Sat on the couch in a loosely cinched blue robe, Percy waved a dismissive hand, “I’ll repair any damage. Go ahead.”

“You might have to wave goodbye to your security deposit…” Vax warned, tossing the kitchen knife lightly from hand to hand, getting a better feel for its weight. Not a throwing knife by any means, a lot heavier and clunkier than his own set, but it would do for a demonstration.

“Vax’ildan, my sweet, if I’d ever had one of those it would have been gone years ago,” Percy arched an eyebrow, “But the company owns the building. Let fly.”

Vax laughed, taking aim at the square white pillar, part of the partition between the kitchen and the living space, immaculately painted and polished. And ideal to plant a knife in. He focused, drew in a long slow breath and then released it as his hand flashed forward.

Half a heartbeat later, the knife was buried half to the hilt in the plaster, a disapproving puff of dust and the ghost of a loud thud settling around it.

“Holy shit,” Percy sounded awed and when Vax turned to look at him, he couldn’t help but notice a now familiar blush in his cheeks.

He’d already texted his sister, giving her a heads up that he was sleeping out at a friend’s. It was only half a lie, Percy could probably be considered a friend at this point.

They just wouldn’t be doing a lot of sleeping.

[antiquecompass]

Another Wen Ning/Aidan fic, this one set a few years after this others, for Untamed Winter Fest Day 19: Snow

“SNOW DAY!”

Wen Ning shot up in bed, woken not by his alarm but by Finn Delaney’s best example of his outdoor voice.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Aidan muttered into his pillow. 

Wen Ning patted his boyfriend’s back with one hand and reached over to check his phone with the other. The text he found there showed that it was, in fact, a rare Lan Academy snow day. He wasn’t entirely surprised. It was six in the morning, Aidan had only been home for two hours. He’d just finished a 48-hour shift, having spent the night responding to emergency calls, helping out all the other First Responders in their own and the surrounding counties. Even hard born and bred Massholes had to bow down to Mother Nature on the rare occasion. Even Lan Academy had to as well. 

“Go back to sleep,” he said as he slipped out of bed. 

“I’m awake now,” Aidan said.

Wen Ning forcibly pushed Aidan back into bed. “You spent the night responding to accidents and helping dig cars out of snowbanks. You’re exhausted. Go back to sleep.”

“But--”

“Sleep,” he said. He pulled the blankets up and tucked them tight around Aidan. “You know you have to sleep while you can. You should’ve stayed at the station.”

“I wanted to see you,” Aidan said.

So sweet and so sincere. Wen Ning kissed his forehead. “I love you and I appreciate it, but now I’m going to have to dig your truck out so you can get back on the road.”

“Did you just politely call me a dumbass?” Aidan asked.

Wen Ning kissed his forehead again and started towards the hallway.

“Ning!”

He laughed as he closed the door behind him and stopped Finn’s latest attempt to announce to the entirely of Western Massachusetts that it was a snow day.

“Since you’re up, you can help me dig out your brother’s car.”

“Coach!” Finn whined. “It’s a snow day!”

“I’ll make you pancakes after,” he said.

Finn eyed him with that typical Delaney ‘I Smell Bullshit’ face, but Wen Ning knew his pancakes were a worthy bribe. 

“With chocolate chips?” Finn asked.

Wen Ning pretended to think about it. “I’ll consider it. Depends on how well you work. Good work gets chocolate chips. Half-assing gets you frozen waffles.”

“Deal,” Finn said. 

Una opened her bedroom door, hair still wet from her shower, voice still stuffy from her current cold. “How can I get pancakes?”

“Start gathering all the supplies to make chilli for the station,” he said.

He knocked on Aisling’s door. She opened it, already in her winter gear, minus her boots.

“I’m preparing for the snow battle that will commence at Noon,” she said. “Though I am willing to help dig the cars out if it gets me pancakes.”

“Go forth, Conquering Hero,” he said. 

Una shook her head. “Poor Jasmine Lan is about to get her ass handed to her.”

Wen Ning laughed. “You’ve heard of the Lan Arm Strength, yes?”

Una scoffed. “You’ve heard of the Delaney Sheer Stubbornness, yes?”

She had a point there. It was partly responsible for how he'd ended up here, in this house, far ahead of what he’d considered his own personal move-in schedule.

It was going to be an interesting day.

<center>*********</center>

The crews at the station usually took care of their own food, stopping by the grocery store to buy what they needed for the shared meals. On days like today, they didn’t always have the time and while normally one of the local places would provide sandwiches, even they were closed down. They usually had leftovers to tide them over, but Wen Ning had gotten used to making batches of chilli large enough to feed a small army. 

He also knew Aidan wasn’t supposed to go in today, since he just had his shift day, but blizzards didn’t care about scheduled days off and as long as Aidan had twelve hours away from the station, he’d be back. 

So as Noon came, and the chilli was in the pot, and Chris Delaney emerged from his part of the house, mumbled something about deadlines, grabbed an entire bowl of coffee and disappeared back into his room, and the battle between Lan Jasmine and Aisling Delaney commenced, Wen Ning sat on their back porch and recorded it all, letting Aidan sleep on. 

“My money’s on Aisling,” Una said. “She’s got that accuracy going.”

“Jasmine all the way,” Finn said. “I’ve seen her throw knives.”

Wen Ning’s money was on a draw. Either way, it was cute to see the girls trying to out-impress each other in feats of strength and physical accuracy as a method of flirting. It reminded him of a more than a few of his friends.

He quietly sipped his hot chocolate as Una whistled to signal the start of the next match.

<center>*********</center>

The living room was full of passed out teenagers, exhausted from acting like little kids in the snow and gorging themselves on food and hot drinks. Wen Ning was in the middle of finishing the dishes when he heard Aidan stumble down the stairs, punchdrunk from hours of uninterrupted sleep.

He had maybe, possibly, definitely stolen Aidan’s phone in order to achieve this rare feat of much-needed rest.

Aidan emerged with some adorable bedhead and Mr. Tumnus in his arms.

He placed their cat down and pulled Wen Ning into his arms, resting against him.

“What time is it?” he asked, voice raspy.

“Nearly three,” Wen Ning said.

“Fuck me, that’s late,” Aidan muttered into Wen Ning’s shoulder. 

“You needed the rest,” Wen Ning insisted as he drew Aidan over to their breakfast nook. “And the dispatchers knew it because no one has tried to call before now.”

“Hmm,” Aidan agreed. 

He wrapped his arms around Wen Ning, resting his head on his chest. Wen Ning ran his fingers through Aidan’s curls. It was a cherished quiet, peaceful moment. Chris still busy with work, the sound of his music muffled as he worked on the lineart for his current comic. The Trio and their friends napping off their snow battle. The snow still falling outside. Mr. Tumnus quietly purring as he ate his food. And Aidan in his arms, still lax and loopy from sleep.

“I can’t wait for our vacation,” Aidan said. “You. Me. A nice, private hotel room. No snow. No interruptions.”

Wen Ning tilted his chin up and met his lips in a soft kiss.

“We’ll get there,” he promised. “We just have to get through the New Year first.”

Headmaster Lan had been very understanding about why Wen Ning needed an additional week of vacation. He’d somehow convinced both Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen to be substitute teachers for a week. Wen Ning was sure he’d come back to entire classes converted into fencing or dance students. 

They just needed to get through the New Year. He was counting down the days. They even had a back-up plan if their flight got canceled or delayed. Either they’d be in the Caribbean or they’d be staying at home. Either way, they’d be together.

Aidan’s phone started going off and their little bubble broke. Aidan’s shoulders dropped even as he reached for his phone.

Wen Ning stepped out of his arms and went to start another pot of coffee and to get the chilli ready for transport. 

There were a lot of unique stressors to dating a firefighter. And Aidan had been upfront about it from the start, warned him, made him understand that while it wasn’t as busy as Boston, he’d had less crewmembers here to help cover shifts. The hours were horrible, Wen Ning had never realized how bad until after they’d been dating long enough and he had to witness Aidan trying to act like a normal, functioning human being after a 24-hour shift and three hours of uninterrupted rest. There was the fact that work came home with them, how could it not, some of the things they saw. And plans, life, everything had to be flexible, because days off suddenly disappeared and everyone else’s holidays were not your own.

But Wen Ning couldn’t imagine loving anyone else as he loved the man currently giving the dispatcher an earful as he tried to head towards the door, still barely awake.

“Aidan,” he called after him.

“Yeah, babe?” Aidan asked.

“As much as I’m sure our neighbors will delight in you going out in nothing but your boxers and boots, you might want to get dressed first.”

“Shit,” Aidan said. He pulled his phone away from his ear where the loud laughter could be heard. “I’m never going to live this one down.”

Wen Ning poured a mug of coffee, shoved it in Aidan’s hands and took the phone.

“Orlando?” he asked.

“Ning! My man! How’s my favorite archer?”

“Asking you to please not give Aidan any more shit. He just woke-up. You know how he is when his brain is still offline.”

“Only for you Coach Ning. Only for you. Hey, any chance you can send any--”

“He’ll be bringing a pot of chilli with him,” Wen Ning said.

“I will?” Aidan asked.

“You will,” Wen Ning said as he pushed him towards the stairs. “Go get dressed before I text Orlando a picture to put up on the bulletin board.”

“Please do!” Orlando said.

“Fuck no,” Aidan said as he grabbed his phone back. He kissed Wen Ning. “Love you,” he said, low.

Orlando still heard him.

“When are you going to marry him?” Orlando asked. “Come on, betting pool’s getting large and I need a new phone. Give me a hint. Just one.”

“How about fuck off,” Aidan said as he climbed the stairs.

Wen Ning shook his head as he watched him go, then went back to the kitchen, just in time to hear the Trio wake-up. 

His life was overcome with Delaneys these days, but he loved it. 

[cupofteaguk]

impressions (m)

summary: Park Jimin has recently been a very active part of your life in a certain avenue (a physical avenue, to be more specific), but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything right? Right?

pairing: jimin x fem!reader

genre: halloween au, friends with benefits au, college au | smut 

warnings: mutual pining, sex against a bathroom door, unprotected sex 

word count: 5k 

.

It is seven thirty in the evening when the phone rings, a pretty normal thing to occur at a pretty normal time and yet it disrupts the entire flow of how you expected the night to go. Running on a solid hour and a half of sleep does terrible things to your mind, makes your limbs sloppy and your brain turn into fuzz at the simplest thought, your shoulders sore and your eyes burning—all the unfortunate aftermath of forcing yourself to cram out six essays within a night after quite literally waiting until the last minute to get anything done.

Although, to be fair, you’ve had a relatively eventful past few weeks that have consisted of new introductions and plenty of distractions that have done more than enough to pull you away from your assignments and even your day-to-day life and the functioning aspects that come with it. You wouldn’t say that it was (entirely) your fault that such a thing had to come into your life at the time that it had, but you had still encouraged it.

You sigh, moaning and groaning and turning over in your bed that adopts a slightly musky and lemongrass scent, unfamiliar and familiar and sinful and wonderful all at the same singular time—as you reach for the phone. Your eyes are barely able to stay open, for the lids feel heavy as does the rest of your body. You miss the nightstand once, twice, before finally grabbing the phone and bringing the device to your ear.

“Hello?” You grumble, the voice that leaves your lips raspy and terrible and exhausted and the person on the other side of the line winces.

“Ouch, sorry princess did I wake you?”

“Yes,” You protest, rubbing at the inner corner of your eyes so you avoid rubbing off your makeup. “And what did I say about calling me princess?”

“Well, you say I can call you whatever I want when I have my dick in you so I just assumed—!”

“Park Jimin!” You interrupt, sitting up slightly, the words shakening your heart but awakening you just enough so that your eyes don’t feel as heavy anymore.

“What’s wrong?” You can just hear the smirk in his voice and you don’t know if you want to give him the satisfaction of a response or just hang up so you can continue your nap.

But rather, you sigh. “I’m exhausted, Park Jimin, so you better have a good reason for disrupting me from my nap.”

“Ah.” Jimin lets out a noise of acknowledgment and you try to picture his current setting—probably leaning against the wall of his apartment, cradling the phone close to his ear. Maybe he has that delicate softness in his eyes that has only seemed to be reserved for you, especially within the recent weeks. You love that look on him. If you were being entirely honest, there’s a lot of things you love about him to the point where you might be in love with everything about him. And if the pair of you weren’t fucking and weren’t lowkey about the fact that you were fucking, then maybe you could actually summon the will to tell him how you feel. “That’s right. I forgot that you kicked me out last night so you could work on those essays.”

You scoff, falling back atop the covers and closing your eyes. “I didn’t kick you out! You volunteered to leave.” You leave out the part that yesterday had been the third time in the week he had slept the night at your apartment, leaving behind a few pieces of his wardrobe behind with the reassurance that he was probably going to be returning in the next few days. He only ever comes by when he’s horny, but perhaps trying to make that distinction paints this picture that his visits are rare when on the contrary, it seemed as if Jimin was always horny about something. Hence, which is why he was always here.

“For someone who was exhausted a few seconds ago, you seem pretty adamant on how I left your apartment last night,” He teases, but he’s smiling and you know he’s not trying to pick a fight with you. “But,” He starts, voice lowering and there is a touch of concern in the tone. “How did the papers go? You seemed stressed about how many you had to finish.”

Eyes still closed, the corner of your lips quirk up. “It was fine. I’m currently running on caffeine and energy drinks that I was inhaling during the night, but I have everything either printed or submitted and that’s the most important.”

Jimin exhales slightly. “That’s good to hear.”

“So,” You start again. “You gonna tell me the real reason you called? I’m sure it wasn’t just to hear an update about my very boring evening.”

“To be fair, every evening when you can’t suck my dick is boring—for both you and me.”

You roll your eyes, feeling that jerky sensation in your heart and something else in the lower pit of your stomach and you cannot help but curse the boy to the moon and back. Park Jimin is too bold, too good, too knowledgeable in what he does and what he does to you to simply exist the way he does. “Jimin…” You start.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” He backpetals. “Somewhat. But, did you forget what today is?”

“Jimin, if you’re really trying to play this game with me, I’m hanging up the phone.”

“Wait!” He interrupts, the smooth facade of his words dropping momentarily at the thought of you disconnecting the line with him. “No, no, okay. It’s Halloween. Remember Namjoon’s party that you promised you’d show up to?”

You whine, rolling over in bed again. “I’m exhausted!”

“Come over!” He protests as if the physical exhaustion of barely being able to open your eyes doesn’t counts as an excuse for not wanting to leave the apartment. “I’ll bring you all the Monster energy drinks you want! And I’ll buy you McDonalds french fries. And I’ll eat you out.”

You quirk slightly at that, your head tilted up and away from the blanket underneath you. You could use some more energy drinks and salty potatoes. And normally you would pass on having someone in between your legs but Jimin makes you see stars in more ways than one, and his previous comments have done enough to keep you awake for just a few hours longer. College life at its finest, you supposed.

“I’m expecting an extra large order in a private room,” You report, forcing yourself to roll one more time so that your feet can make contact with the carpet of your bedroom. You turn the call towards your speakers, pulling off your grummy high school PE t-shirt and sweatpants for your black jeans with the ripes along the legs and a random shirt you find from the floor. You slip it over your head, too tired and too distracted to notice the distinct material and rather focusing your attention on trying to find matching socks.

You can hear Jimin’s grin on the other side of the line. “Anything for you, princess.”

Does that include you and only you all the time?

You don’t speak the words, however, as you hang up with the promise you would try to show up to the house as soon as possible and Jimin accepts that. You leave the call feeling a little more giddy than you had before picking up the phone.

How does one explain the nature of your relationship with Park Jimin?

You can definitely pinpoint the start of it—a get together featuring mutual friends had been where you first met Jimin, and you could have sworn that the sun shined through him given the contagious merit of his blinding smile and lingering touches of his giggly laughs. You had heard pieces of his reputation through the grapevine of his charming ability to get girls into bed with him, but those previous pep talks with yourself about not needing to rely on a Park Jimin character to have a good time definitely failed you as soon as he opened his mouth to have a conversation with you.

The pair of you got along surprisingly well considering that you thought the spectrum of Jimin’s interests would only be limited to soccer, parties, and which sororities had the hottest girls. But no, there had been more depth to Jimin and his personality. He liked to read. He liked to take isolating walks at a time past midnight. You both happened to like the same shows and the same movies and the same authors. He was unassuming in his passions and you, a romantic with a soft spot for boys who like to read, did not stand a chance.

Throughout the evening, you and Jimin had elected to ditch the party after Jungkook and Taehyung started and continued to engage in a very passionate argument about the realms of Legend of Zelda—allowing the two of you to find refuge in his car as he took you on a little trip to show you one of his favorite views in the city.

An isolated area in a lonely car with just Park Jimin and his bright eyes and rosy cheeks—what would be the most obvious route for both of you to take? Yep.

Let’s just say that Jimin definitely had a lot of experience with engaging in car sex. And, naturally, it was the best orgasm you had ever received even if it was in the small and slightly cramped backseat of his vehicle.

It was Jimin, so you had assumed the hook up was a one and only time despite your own feelings and your own desire to not have things end in that way. And you had assumed Jimin felt differently—at least, until he knocked on your apartment door at three in the morning, three days after the initial hook up, and nailed you on the couch.

That had been three months ago, and still not a singular soul knows about the relationship shared between the two of you. And as long as Jimin is okay with that, you would be okay with that too.

.

The party is, naturally, in full swing by the time you approach the property line of Kim Seokjin and Kim Namjoon’s house and if the walk hadn’t officially woken you then the overwhelming smell of alcohol definitely does. The cold autumn air nips at you as you approach the walkway, taking in the people passed out on the front lawn or finding a safe haven away from the madness within the walls.

Everyone is dressed up in costumes, as you sudden flashback to one of the statement’s presented forth by Jimin. Today is Halloween, and you had spent the evening pounding in as many essays as your fingers and mind could physically produce in a way that had left you completely oblivious to the current setting. Halloween is a big deal in a sense that it gives people an even bigger excuse to go out, get drunk, become another identity for the night, which probably explains the party in the first place and why everyone’s spirits seem to be much brighter and alive with cheer and excitement.

You walk in through the already opened door, the conversations loud and mismatched and all over the place, ringing through the atmosphere as you duck in an attempt to avoid getting in the way of big groups and discussions that have nothing to do with you. You move about the familiar space, having been in this apartment on several different occasions—party or no party, you shared a philosophy class with Namjoon and seem to have been invited into his life and all the crazy aspects that come along with it since then—so it doesn’t take you too long to make your way into the living room.

You aren’t expecting to find anyone you know right off the bat, at least not without a phone call or a text message with the inquiry, so you are surprised to enter the new space and have your presence immediately recognized.

“You made it!” Jung Hoseok exclaims, approaching you from his position on the couch. “Nice costume—what are you supposed to be?”

“Oh,” You start, about to brush off his comment and maybe explain the severity of your situation until Hoseok furrows his eyebrows together and meets your gaze.

“Are you dressed up as Park Jimin?” Hoseok inquires. He brings the red solo cup of questionable substance to his lips. “You’re wearing his soccer jersey.”

“Huh.” You look down at the shirt you had slipped on from the floor of your bedroom and truth be told, you are wearing his jersey. You don’t need to see the PARK printed along the back of the shirt to know that this is indeed Jimin’s jersey that he had left behind and you had slid it off following one of his recent practice sessions. You know that you and Jimin have a bit of problem cleaning up before, during, and after your escapees, but you definitely hadn’t expected any of that to come bite you back in the ass like this. This whole situation wouldn’t really be a problem if the world wasn’t supposed to know you and Jimin had the kind of relationship that involved leaving clothes behind at the other persons apartment.

If you told Hoseok that you hadn’t been intending to arrive to the party dressed in Jimin’s shirt, then it definitely wouldn’t take long for the boy to put the pieces together. Hoseok isn’t stupid, far from it actually—so you know that it wouldn’t be rocket science mentality to figure out that the only reason you could have possibly dawned Jimin’s jersey unintentionally is if he had left it behind at your place… also unintentionally. Naturally, no one in their right mind would leave important articles of clothing behind unless they had every intention of returning back for it. And no one would have been removed of aforementioned important article of clothing in the first place unless they had taken the shirt off themselves and yeah, you get the idea.

“Yes,” You find yourself admitting, perhaps a little forcefully and mildly unconvincing, but you straighten out the jersey. “Yes, I am. Jimin, uh, agreed to the idea. I didn’t really know what else to do.”

Hoseok makes a (thankfully) convinced noise from the back of his throat, both of his eyebrows raising, nodding slowly as if this reasoning somehow makes sense. In a way, it almost does. Make sense. Because it’s Halloween—and you’ve never been too good about costumes because the placement of the holiday isn’t too good to fit in between your school schedule. So it’s in your nature to come up with these terrible costume ideas that involve very little executional effort. Like that time you dressed in all black, your natural wardrobe, and bought a witch hat at Party City. Or that time you put on red overalls, a black shirt, and a pair of very at-your-disposal Disneyland ears so you could be Mickey Mouse. It’s like those other times, only it’s this time and you’re dressing up as Park Jimin.

“Hm, that makes sense.” Hoseok turns his head just as the man himself waltzes into the living room. “Park Jimin!” He exclaims, making you and your heart jump as you turn your attention towards him. His gaze finds you first, and the small smirk he sends at you seems to set fire to your nerves. “Jimin, did you know?” He points at you with his pinky figure. “Y/N dressed up as you for Halloween.”

Jimin looks momentarily confused at the observation before he looks over and seems to realize the jersey that you have on. His eyes widen, seeming to remember just as you did that he had left that at your apartment a few days ago.

You give him a look.

He reads you surprisingly well, surprisingly quickly. “Yeah,” He manages smoothly, laughing just enough to send out that disarming half-crescent crease of his eyes. “Yeah, she asked me about it the other day.”

“You do know what this means though, right?” Hoseok inquires, looking back at you.

“No, what does it mean?”

“You gotta impersonate him!” Hoseok exclaims as if this answer should be obvious, and it probably should be. Halloween is about dressing up as something else and by extension, taking on the role of that person as well.

You laugh a little at that, seeing the reason as you tip your head back just enough to momentarily prepare yourself before you angle back down to look at Hoseok and Jimin. “Hi guys,” You greet, raising both your hands in a small little wave. “I’m Jimin, nice to meet you.” You then proceed to comb your hands through your hair in a very extravagant Jimin manner that Hoseok simply bursts out into laughter at the gesture.

“That’s pretty good,” He compliments, clapping Jimin on the back before turning back to you. “C’mon, I’ll make you a drink.”

Still slightly in awe that your little improvisation to trick Hoseok had worked entirely in your favor, you follow him, allowing yourself to give Jimin a look of impressiveness at your own self-amazement. Jimin merely laughs quietly at that, winking at you, letting you brush past him as Hoseok leads you to the kitchen. Hoseok is a naturally social person, and that natural charm drags more and more people towards him and therefore puts more attention on you and your Park Jimin jersey. Jimin is pretty well known around the university, mainly because of his placement and positive reputation on the soccer team, so it’s obvious that peers would take one look at the number and PARK on the back of your shirt and put two-and-two together that you were Park Jimin for Halloween.

And everyone takes it in good strides. They smile, they laugh, they congratulate you for coming up with the funny idea of dressing up as the popular jock, then they ask for the impersonations.

You deliver forth with them. Of course you do. You haven’t been sleeping with Park Jimin—and you haven’t been in love with Park Jimin—for three months not to walk away with the smallest fraction of his personality, his quirks, and the tone of his voice. You blame your feelings and your stupid, stupid crush for being so observant on everything he does and everything he ever did in his life. Like the way he whines about no food being around in the kitchen, or runs his hands through his hair, or throws his body into a fitful of giggles while he’s trying to tell a joke. You do the impressions, people laugh, and compliment you later for doing a good job. “A byproduct, isn’t it?” Kim Namjoon inquires, smirk on his face, right before he downs another shot of whiskey. “Of being friends with Jimin. And, I mean, you’re already a pretty naturally observant person. It works out.”

It definitely works out. If only they all knew.

“Hey you,” Jimin greets, cornering you in the kitchen as you’re attempting to mix together your own little brand of rum and coke. “You’re quite the talk of the evening.”

“You think so?” You inquire, whirling around towards him and showering him with a grin. The alcohol already in your bloodstream makes things a little more fluid, not enough to distort your thinking but enough to make your tongue run a little looser as compared to normal and more sober days. “I try my best.”

“I’m actually pretty impressed,” He continues, leaning against you so you feel the warmth of his body and you feel giddy with desire and just having his attention on you. Three months of exclusive fucking and just a glance from him is still enough to quench your hunger for him. “You’re pretty spot on. It seems like you’ve been keeping your eye on me.”

“I’m just observant,” You retort. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all. But still, the attention to detail…”

“So?”

“You sure you’re not in love with me or something?”

The question comes quickly but your reflexes are quick too and it’s why you feel the sudden weight of fear and anxiety dig itself right into your chest -- concealed with a casual, wide-eyed look in his direction. “What makes you say that?” You ask.

Jimin shrugs, pressing the palm of his hand into the counter, partially trapping you. “Because I know what you’re like when you’re just observant,” He murmurs, voice low but still keeping enough distance between the two of you so it looks like you’re having a normal conversation—more than enough to remain lowkey about the depth of your intimacy and your relationship. “You’re observant with Hoseok and Namjoon and Jungkook and Karly—but you aren’t that thorough with them.”

“Well, I’ve never had to pretend to be them for Halloween,” You brush off, attempting to level your gaze with Jimin but it’s hard because you’ve never been too successful of a liar around him and he knows it. You try to take a step back, but his fingers curling around your wrist stop you.

“You haven’t fucked any of them before either,” He presses, matching your step back with his own step forward.

You level him with your own attempt of a glare, but it’s casual and not meant to be taken too seriously. Even though your heart is beating just a little quicker at how quickly the conversation has taken a complete, unexpected 180. Your mind is reeling under the turn of events. You hadn’t prepared things to take this direction, so you say the first thing that comes to your mind: “You sure seem insistent on finding out just how in love with you I am.”

How in love with you I am.

How… in love… with Jimin…

You’re in love with Jimin.

And you’ve just said it outloud.

Oh. Fucking. Shit.

You clasp your mouth shut, but it’s too late. The words are out, and even though you haven’t said anything directly, you’ve stated it in such an obvious way that you might as well have just admitted to being in love with Jimin from the beginning. You hadn’t expected yourself to speak, or speak in this way. Your wide eyes and slamming heartbeat are more than enough to go by this.

Judging from Jimin’s own wide eyes, he is equally as taken aback by your confession.

“What did you say?” Jimin suddenly asks, although it’s a stupid question.

You swallow. “N-Nothing…”

“You’re in love with me?”

You try to speak, but like a fish out of water, you can only open and close your mouth a few times to show how truly unprepared you are for this. “Uh… I mean, I just…” You stammer, trying for a shrug but it only comes out one-shouldered and horrible and you feel like you might be sick.

“Come with me,” Jimin interrupts, not giving you much of an option as he guides you out of the kitchen and into the hallway and into the bathroom. You both might have just drawn a crowd towards you, but that is currently the last thing on your mind as you let yourself get dragged into the empty bathroom.

Jimin locks the door, turns back around to face you.

You flicker your gaze between the door and his figure. “Did you lock the door just to reject me or…?”

He interrupts you by covering the small space of distance and pressing you into a hard kiss. He cradles one hand behind your head, the other at your waist, and you can feel so many words attempting to be crammed into the singular gesture.

“A… a rejection kiss goodbye?” You try to guess again when Jimin hasn’t exactly made his feelings clear.

Jimin breath is fanning against your lips. “God no,” He protests. “I’m not rejecting you, you fucking idiot.”

“Oh,” You breathe out, and Jimin decides right then and there that you are done talking because he kisses you again.

He turns you around, slams you against the door of the bathroom, kissing the air right out of your lungs, kissing you in a way that you have never felt before as his hands are everywhere, all over your body until one settles at the small of your back and the other tugging at the waistband of your jeans.

“I never did tell you how hot it is to see you in my clothes,” He breathes out, unbuttoning your jeans as you fumble with his belt. You know exactly where this is going, not needing the context of a love confession to know the familiar signs. “But it’s really hot.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” You return, unbuckling the belt and the jeans and slipping your hand past his boxers, producing his already hot and heavy cock in your hands.

He groans against your lips, tugging down your jeans and underwear until they bunch at your ankles.

“Hurry up, hurry up,” You whimper as you only manage to get one of your legs out of the leg hole of your jeans and underwear before Jimin is grabbing the leg in order to wrap it around his waist. He kisses you hard once, twice, before sliding home. The lack of usual preparation makes the process burn with white hot pleasure. You throw your head back and Jimin easily finds the spot on your neck that makes your head spin.

He nails you hard and heavy, making the door rattle behind you and if someone saw you enter the space they definitely know what’s going on. But you don’t care, if your breathless wailing that definitely pierces through the thin wooden door is anything to go by.

“You’re so good, you’re so good,” Jimin encourages in your ear, pressing sweet nothings into your skin with the occasional nibble along the curve of your neck to make your legs twitch under his hold.

“Shit, I…” You start. “I’m not gonna last… Jimin please…”

A wet thumb against your clit drives you home, makes the stars in the universe and across the galaxy explode behind your eyes like nothing and everything you’ve experienced before. The high of your high keeps you unaware of your surroundings as Jimin finishes himself and rides out both of your orgasms with slightly gentler thrusts.

Your shared panting is the only noise you can hear, the vague laughter of conversation behind you suddenly a small whisper like a ghost in your ear.

Your heart settles, and Jimin nosing your temple help keep you grounded.

His next words make you smile, send you off on another high that has nothing to do with sex. “I love you too, and I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”

He kisses you once, twice, and if he hadn’t taken your heart and soul before—then he definitely does now as he tucks himself back into his pants and helps you pull on and button your jeans at your waist. It seems as if now, he cannot stop himself from kissing you and cannot help himself from placing his hand on the small of your back in order to lift the shirt and graze the bare skin just because he can. He kisses you once more, wrapping an arm around your waist, moving slightly to unlock and open the door to the bathroom.

Both of you stop short when Jung Hoseok and Kim Namjoon are resting on the opposite wall, joking about something and laughing all the same until they realize who has emerged from the bathroom.

Hoseok gapes. Namjoon drops the cup from his hands, spilling beer all over the floor. “You guys were having sex in there?” Hoseok demands.

You really hadn’t expected a confession and a reveal all in the same day, so you stammer. “Uh,” You start, waving your hand slightly in an attempt to wave off the conversation from its original axis. “N-No, I wasn’t feeling well so, uh, Jimin was holding my hair back…”

“We heard the noises,” Namjoon interjects dryly, raising an eyebrow in judgment to your poor lying skills.

“Then, in case, yeah we were having sex,” Jimin cuts in breezily.

“Jimin!” You cut in, appalled that he would reveal the information so easily without any sort of fight. This is surprising considering how adamant he had been about keeping the aforementioned sex lowkey.

“What?” He inquires, pulling you closer to his body. “I thought we loved each other — shouldn’t we share with the world that we are two amazing people having amazing sex?”

“You guys are in love?” Hoseok inquires, raising his eyebrows, looking surprised at the turn off events. “We didn’t even know you were sleeping together and turns out you were in love this whole time? Jimin, what the fuck I thought we were friends?”

“We just found out today that we’re in love,” Jimin brushes off, turning his attention to you and brushing the hair out of your face. “Well, you know, since we’re in love and all that jazz, that means I don’t have to think twice about doing this.” He leans forward, kissing you in a way that’s more a light graze but like every other kiss before, it sets fire to your nerves and makes everything from the tip of your fingers to the tip of your toes feel alive.

“Aw, c’mon, we don’t need to see that!” Hoseok crows.

“I told you we should have just kept walking when you heard the door banging!” Namjoon protests.

Hoseok’s glare could cut glass. “You were the one who wanted to stay!”

Namjoon ponders this for a second. “Oh yeah, you’re right.”

“We probably should have been lowkey about this for a little while longer,” Jimin grumbles against your lips, the bickering between Namjoon and Hoseok escalating quickly.

You laugh. “It’s endearing.”

[nhlarchived]

NYC ~ Mathew Barzal

Chapter Five

Ch. One ~ Ch. Two ~ Ch. Three ~ Ch. Four ~ Ch. Five

Word Count: 2,429

Warnings: Mature Language / Possible TW in the restaurant part if you don’t like being starred at. 

Wattpad

Next thing I knew I was being woken up from Mat shifting in the bed next to me. Feeling like I was still in a dream, I decided to ignore it and tried to fall back into the sound sleep I was in. 

“I’m going to practice with Dennis, the kids are coming too. You shouldn’t have a problem leaving. I’ll talk to you later, have a good day.” I heard Mat whisper into my ear before planting a kiss on my temple. I smiled at the feeling and statement but needed at least two more hours of sleep to function, and his bed was way too comfortable for me to move from. 

After officially waking up, I checked the time that sat a quarter after 10:00am. It took me a couple seconds before the time had actually sunk in. 10:15am? I was only supposed to wait until just after 1:00am to leave. My hands hit my face and rubbed my eyes awake. I couldn’t believe I accidentally slept the whole night in his bed, and was now completely alone. 

I knew Mat wouldn’t be back from practice until after noon, and thankfully I vaguely remembered him telling me Dennis was bringing the kids. I combed through my hair with my fingertips, roughly putting it into a bun, ponytail thing. There wasn’t much else I could do as I didn’t plan on staying there overnight. I took a couple more minutes to check my phone as my brain woke up before heading out to go home. 

The basement was utterly dark but I somehow managed to get up the stairs in one piece only using my phone light. I opened the door that led to the main floor, double checking to make sure the coast was clear, just in case. After waiting several moments without hearing a sound, I quietly stepped from behind the door and gently closed it behind me. I then slowly paced to the kitchen side door that led to my parents house. 

“Cassie, funny seeing you here.” I heard Rebecca call from behind me. It felt like my heart had dropped, hitting every organ on the way down. I froze with one hand on the door handle as I felt her eyes stare through my back like a burning fire. I began to sweat and tried to decipher if my best bet was to make a run for it, or make up some crazy story. 

“Rebecca. Hey! How are you?” I stuttered out, turning hesitantly to watch her. She came from the hallway I had just exited and took a seat at the kitchen table. Seeming almost unphased by my presence as if this was normal. 

“That’s so funny I️ could have sworn Mat said you went home before we got back last night.” She inquired. At this point I was sweating so bad it probably looks like I had just run through a rainstorm. Every second felt like an hour and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t pull myself to respond. 

“You do realize you can tell me the truth and I️ won't kill you right?” She laughed taking notice to my nervousness. I let out a hard breath that I didn’t realize I was holding, feeling like an elephant fell off my chest. 

“Did Dennis tell you?” I questioned figuring he was the one who ratted me out about the other night. I decided to join her on the other side of the table coming to realization that this was definitely conversation we needed to have. 

“Please. This house is littered with security cameras. Which I just so happened to check up on to make sure the kids went to sleep on time. Stumbling upon some scary movie neither of you could keep your eyes on.” She responded jokingly to answer my question. My cheeks warmed with embarrassment knowing now that she’s seen our heated make out session in her basement. 

My hands hit the top of my forehead. Figuring this was it. This was how I was going to get fired. I knew it was a bad idea but I couldn’t resist, and you know what? I don’t regret a thing either. It was worth it. 

“Like I️ said I'm not mad I️ promise. And I️ respect that you at least waited until the kids fell asleep first.” She added, reaching her arm across the table to rub the top of my arm in attempts of calming my clearly stressed state of mind.  

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again I’m sorry. It was kind of hard to resist.” I explained to Rebecca. I tried to say it jokingly to convince her I wasn’t stressed to the point of swearing I have 70 new grey hairs.

“As long as the kids don’t see it then I’m fine. I️ support it actually. He seems to be a really nice guy. I️ know you both, you’re compatible. And I’d be lying if I️ said I️ didn't expect this before agreeing to let him live here.” She continued. The more she talked, the better I felt. 

“But Dennis seems so serious about it.” I replied, referring to his cold attitude towards us the past couple of days. 

“He’s uptight like that he’s fine. He already knows, we’ve talked about it.” She concluded with a giggle. “Besides. Mat has made it very obvious that he seriously likes you.” 

Her words made my stomach flutter. He’s made it obvious he liked me, but I still have yet to figure out if it’s serious or not. It’s still too soon to tell, yet having her reassure me that he’s definitely interested was something I didn’t realize I desperately needed. 

“You really think so?” I added wanting to hear her say it again. 

“Definitely. He hasn’t stopped talking about you. He’s really bad at keeping secrets with people he’s friends with by the way.” She confirmed. My mouth pulled into a smile hearing that he’s been talking about me, and the fact that they were ok with it. It seems as if nothing could go wrong now, right? 

“Thank you Rebecca. You always know how to calm me down.” I finished before standing up from the chair to give her a hug. 

“Anytime Cassie. Please know I’m always here to talk, okay?” She promised. I nodded my head before we said our goodbyes and I was finally walking out the door to return home. 

Upon arriving at the train station my phone began to ring. I pulled it out of my pocket while Mat’s number played across the screen. Absentmindedly, a grin appeared across my face while my thumb slid across the glass to answer it. 

“Hey, how was practice?” I questioned sweetly as I swiped my metrocard through the ticket machine. 

“Surprisingly went very well. I️ think I'm starting to get used to the new pace.” Mat answered. I could hear in his voice that he was smiling on the other side of the line. 

“Well that’s good!” I responded enthusiastically walking up to the platform where my train would be arriving shortly. 

“I️ actually called because I️ have a question though.” Mat added in a more serious tone. 

“Yeah, What’s up?” I replied. My heart beat began to strengthen as I worried what the question could possibly be, or if Dennis had spoken to him about last night. 

“I️ was wondering if maybe you wanted to go get lunch with me now that practice is over.” Mat proposed. Instantly my insides jolted in happiness as a prominent smile carved into my features. I tilted my head down to face the ground hoping the people surrounding me didn’t notice my sudden, extreme excitement. 

“I️ would love to.” I happily accepted trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. 

While I was on the train we agreed to meet up at a simple little sit down restaurant close to my apartment. By the time I arrived he was already there. We sat down in a booth with Mathew directly across from me. The restaurant was cozy. There was a good amount of sunlight coming from the windows that reflected off tiny pieces of colored glass throughout the room. It wasn’t a fancy restaurant, it was very modern, but nonetheless it was the perfect spot for a first casual date. 

I couldn’t help but have a warm feeling at the fact Mat wanted to take me out to lunch. Finally being able to meet outside of the house with no one around to stop us, and not having anything to worry about. 

“So did you make it out alive this morning?” Mat joked while scanning over the menu. I laughed at his comment. 

“Barley, not without having several heart attacks first.” I responded, taking my own menu into my hands. 

“What do you mean?” Mat added, his eyes meeting mine over the top of our menus. 

“Rebecca saw me leaving then proceeded to explain that they have security cameras.. everywhere.. and she just happened to check up on us “watching” our movie.” I explained 

“Damn it, we got caught?” He questioned. I could tell he wasn’t that worried about it as his tone of voice stayed fairly neutral. 

“Yeah but she said they don’t care as long as the kids don’t see us.” I continued before looking back down at my menu. 

“Well that makes this a lot easier” Mat implied, returning his sight to his own. 

My facial features tightened as I didn’t quite understand what he meant. If he meant sneaking around would be easier, or if the relationship would be. The waiter came over to take our drink orders, cutting the conversation off. After they stepped away I decided to actually take some time looking at the food options to make a decision on what I wanted as I was too distracted by the conversation earlier. 

I began to feel oddly uncomfortable. In a weird way. Like, one of those situations where you’re walking down a street and it feels like someone is following you. It felt like there was a presence around me. I looked up from my menu and scanned the restaurant to see if there was someone or something that could make me feel this way. It didn’t take long before my sight met with a boy, who I would say was around my age, staring at me intensely from across the room. 

He was attractive, but his eyes were glued onto me. His elbows rested on the table while his hands covered his mouth as he talked to his friend in the seat across from him, who was clearly not paying attention. I shook it off hoping maybe he was watching someone or looking at something behind me, as there were plenty of distractions in this restaurant. 

However, the feeling never eased. I then peaked behind me to see if his sight could be locked onto something else, but there was only a couple of empty booths before a plain cream colored wall. So, if he was still staring, I knew it was at me, which upon turning around I noticed it continued. 

His eyes scanned up and down without looking away once. Even as he picked up his drink to take a sip. His stare felt like it was shooting through me like spotlights. I couldn’t figure out why he was watching so intensely, or what exactly to do about it. 

“Cassandra?” Mat said while snapping his fingers in front of me, clearly trying to get my attention, pulling me out of the trance. 

“Uh yes?” I responded while shaking my head attempting to shake the thought of the boy. 

“Is everything okay? You’ve been spaced out for a moment and you’re beginning to look flushed.” He inquired. I figured telling him wouldn’t be a bad idea, and maybe he could switch seats with me. 

“There’s a boy over there staring me down, it’s really weird.” I explained pointing directly to the man, making it obvious that I was speaking about him. Mat looked over the side of the booth to catch a glimpse of who it was. 

Mathew immediately stood up which made my stomach crush into a little paper ball, nervous that he was going to make a scene in the middle of the restaurant. But instead, he came over to sit next to me on my side of the booth. 

“Well then, let’s give him something to stare at.” Mat proposed while wrapping an arm around my shoulder. I turned to face him and noticed he was leaning over to connect his lips with mine. 

I expected it to just be a small kiss due to the fact we were in public, but Mat was determined to give this boy a show. Next thing I know we were in a fairly intense make out session for a good minute as I hoped in the back of my mind that the waiter didn’t walk over in the middle of it. 

Once Mat slowly pulled away I attempted to steady my breathing and heart rate once again. I forgot where I even was for a moment. I looked up towards Mathew and immediately met his eyes studying me, making sure I felt ok. I flashed him a smile of appreciation before turning to see the boy again, whose gaze was no longer to be seen as he was getting up to leave the restaurant. 

“Thank you.” I said sincerely to Mathew, wanting him to know I strongly appreciated his actions. He planted a kiss on my mouth one more time. 

“Anything for you.” He confirmed. I felt safe under his arm that was still around my shoulder. I was relieved to learn that he was protective, but not in an unreasonable way. 

He decided to remain on my side of the booth for the rest of the evening, specifically so I’d feel comfortable. Every once in a while his hand would lay on my thigh with his thumb rubbing on the fabrics covering my skin. Not in a seductive way, it was more of a silent form of him reminding me that he was there for me. 

The rest of the evening went beautifully and he even walked me to my apartment building before calling a taxi to take him home. After returning to my room I laid on my bed as the events of the day replayed through my head. I regretted not inviting him upstairs, but I figured that would be better for another time. 

[themadlostgirl]

NDY AU (5)

*hey. hey kid. you want some angst? too bad. you’re getting some.*

Pairing: Reader x Peter Pan

Warnings: language

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Hm?” I buried my head further into my pillow, it feels a lot stiffer this morning. I stayed up way too late last night.

“Wake up! You’re not skipping school again today!”

“Shut it…” My pillow grumbled.

Wait. I bolted upright as last night came flooding back. Peter is in my bed! He never left last night! Shit!

“Sweetie? You okay?” Dad’s voice called through the door, “You sound hoarse.”

“Uh…” I looked to Peter who was now wide awake too and just as panicked. I pretended to cough really loudly, “Sorry, morning voice, I need some water.”

“Okay...can you unlock the door? Your mom needs to iron your uniform still.”

“Yep, one sec.” I looked back at Peter and he gave a huge roll of his eyes before sliding underneath the bed once more. I unlocked the door and shoved my uniform into dad’s hands. “Thanks, dad.”

“Thanks...are you sure you feel alright? You’re acting very squirrely today.”

“Yeah. Totally. Perfectly fine. Just a little dazed cause I was up late last night reading.”

“I know you’re young and can somehow function on less sleep than a normal human but that doesn’t mean you should. Go to bed at a decent time.” He took my uniform and went down the hall.

I closed the door and Peter poked his head out from underneath my bed. “I think that went well.”

“What are you still doing here? You were supposed to leave last night!”

“You made it very hard to want to leave, pet.” He winked, “But in all seriousness what are we gonna do?”

“I don’t know.” I flopped back on the bed, “This is so bad.”

“I can try absconding out the window.”

“Yeah, until one of the neighbors sees and calls my parents.” I wracked my brain for ideas. “Just stay hidden in here until my parents leave for work and then sneak out through the back door. No one will know that way.”

“Or, I could stroll downstairs and we lay out the whole ugly truth to your parents. Hash things out over some breakfast. I’m sure they’ll come around after knowing I was asleep in your bed all night and hiding under it when they were still awake.”

“You are such an asshole. Remind me again why I like you.”

“Cause I’m adorable and a great kisser.” he smirked. “Speaking of,” he pulled me in for soft kiss.

“Morning breath aside that was kinda sweet,” I strolled into the bathroom and started freshening up. I also had to change into my uniform in there because despite Peter’s assurances that he wouldn’t peek I was not going to strip with him in the room.

I made him promise to not go through my stuff and to high tail it to school as soon as he could after he did leave. With a quick goodbye kiss I was on my way to school. True to his word Peter showed up at school, albeit a little late.

In the weeks to follow things between Peter and I found a routine. Since I worked all the time and my parents didn’t want me around him during my little free time we had to hang out almost exclusively at school. Plus side, we did get to see each other and Peter was slowly getting moved to regular classes since he was actually attending school. Downside was that it was school! We did what we could but it was spoiled slightly by the background of teenage stress and boys using excess amounts of deodorant in lieu of a shower. Aside from that it was nice. He walked me to class even if it was out of his way, he switched lunches to eat with me, and after some time his schedule included some classes I was in.

Not that we only hung out at school. I grew a backbone and started saying no to some babysitting gigs so I had more free time. My parents thought it was for a book club I joined. What really happened was hikes through the forest, walking along the beach, watching movies out in the trailer, and study dates at the school library. I only invited him back to the house once and that was to taste test some brownies I had made for a bake sale.

We were snuggled in the trailer on a dreary day having a horror movie marathon. I wanted to punch Peter for talking me into this. It wasn’t even like they were the bad kinda horror movies that were more funny than terrifying. No. This asshole had us watching shit like Nightmare on Elm Street and The Exorcist. I was going to have such paranoia falling asleep tonight.

“Is there a reason you’re making me suffer through this?” I asked Peter. My eyes were shielded behind my hands as more gore and disturbing imagery filled the small screen.

“Because these are classic films that you should see and it makes you cuddle into me anytime anything remotely scary appears on screen.” I could practically feel the smirk he had on his face.

“You, sir, are a conniving little shit.” I pouted.

���And you, my lady, are adorable when you’re scared.”

“So you like seeing me scared?”

“Only when it gets you to bury your face in my chest like I am the biggest, strongest, sexiest stuffed animal that ever lived.” he gave me a quick peck.

“Y’know, if everyone at school knew how big a dork you really are you’d probably get in less fights.” I poked at a bruise he had on his arm. “Or maybe more, I don’t know.”

“He slapped your ass! Was I supposed to just let that shit slide?”

“Okay, maybe not that one, but what about all the other fights?” I asked, “Like that time you came to school with a busted lip? What about that huge bruise on your back I found when I hugged you too hard? The sprained wrist?”

“Incidental occurrences, I assure you.”

“No more fighting? Okay?”

“Okay.” he gave me another kiss on my forehead, “No more fights. Not unless they deserve it.”

“That’s the best I’m gonna get out of you isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll take it. Now can we please turn off the scary movies and just make-out or something?”

“Done.” he turned off the movie and pulled me on top of him. My laugh was swallowed by the press of his mouth against mine.

“Peter, wait,” I pulled away. “I gotta ask you something.”

He rolled his eyes and started kissing at my neck, “Continue, but I get to keep kissing you.”

“So you know why you can’t come over to my house but is there a reason you’ve never invited me to your place?”

At this Peter stopped. Not only stopped but pulled away completely. “Peter?”

“My place isn’t great. You wouldn’t want to see it. Drafty, messy, terrible wi-fi.”

“Peter…”

“Can we go back to kissing?”

“Is there something you want to tell me?” I held his face gently, “You can talk to me, Peter. That’s part of what girlfriends do.”

He smiled at me, cupping my chin in his hand. “The only thing I need to tell you is that you are the best thing in my life. You are.”

He wasn’t up for this and I don’t want to pry. He’ll tell me in his own time. If there is something to tell. I could be reading too much into this. So I kissed him and left the situation for the future to sort out.

After a while Peter walked me back into town. He would have walked me to the house if it wasn’t for the fact that my parents were definitely home.

Later that night I was settled in my bed fast asleep. It took me a while to get to that point since the horror movies had gotten me all jittery. Every shadow and creak of the house had me jumping out of my skin. I hoped that I would get some peace after I fell asleep but it was not to be. One horrible nightmare of being chased by some Freddy Krueger/Alien manifestation had me bolting upright with a scream trapped in my throat.

I was shaking horribly and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I reached for my inhaler before my hand wrapped around my phone. I was dialing Peter’s number before I could even get a fraction calmed down.

He picked up after two rings, his voice groggy but it was there. “Hey, pet, what’s up?” He yawned, “Is this some late night booty call or…”

“Peter…” I couldn’t keep the tremble out of my voice.

“Y/N,” he sounded more alert, “Baby, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I just--I was--” I took a deep breath, “Nightmare...it was stupid. I shouldn’t have woken you up.”

“No. Not stupid. The nightmare is the stupid one here.” his voice was low and soothing, “Take a deep breath, precious. What do you need? Do you want to talk about it or be distracted from it?”

“I just wanted to hear your voice.” I admitted, “Talk to me, please.”

“If you wish it, pet.” he went on and on talking about dumb small things. Whispering comforting words over the phone until my eyes grew heavy once again.

“Peter?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.” I was much calmer now. The nightmare was leagues away, replaced with images of a sleepy Peter with his bedhead. If I closed my eyes I could pretend he was next to me in bed. I wish he was really here. Then I’d know the nightmare could never touch me.

“No need to thank me, pet. I’ll always be here for you. Day or night.”

“I didn’t say it back at the trailer but I should now.” I closed my eyes as the need for sleep became more pressing. “You are the best part of my life. I know we’ve only been dating for a short while but it feels so much longer. Like I’ve known you all my life.”

“I feel the same way.”

“Thanks for staying up with me.”

“Day or night, pet. Day or night.”

“Right.” I yawned, “Goodnight, Peter. Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams, pet. Sleep tight.”

The call ended and I fell back asleep. I had no dreams but I could feel a warm cocoon surrounding me, protecting me from any that dare try to enter my peaceful sleep. It smelled like forest.

(1) (2) (3) (4) (6)

[a-splash-of-stucky]

By Morning Light | iv

Pairings: Bucky x Steve x Reader (though technically no Steve in this part)

Summary: Steve leaves for a mission and Bucky doesn’t handle it too well. It’s up to you to take care of him

Warnings: Nightmares, minor angst, Sad!Bucky. Unprotected sex (wrap it up, kids!), vaginal sex, nipple appreciation (sounds weird, but it’s nothing too kinky). Mention of suicide bombings in passing.  

Word Count: 4.1k

Notes: IT’S HERE!! After many, many long months, it’s here. I got my act together and made myself write this chapter and actually? It’s not what I thought it was gonna be, but I’m still happy with it. Enjoy!

I recognise that the general plot of this story is a bit like some nights (i stay up) and that parts of the description are similar to Steve “Fight Me” Rogers… but I swear I wasn’t trying to copy my own fics, haha.

Series Masterlist | My Masterlist | Wanna be on the taglist? See here

~ even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise ~

Though you hate it when both Steve and Bucky have to go on a mission, life is a lot more miserable when only one of them has to leave.

When you’re left on your own, you only have yourself to manage. You’ve taught yourself how to cope with their absence — or, well. Perhaps more accurately, you’ve taught yourself how to get through each day. After being in a relationship with them for so long, you’ve developed a routine, and you know what you need to do to distract yourself from the matter at hand. Yes, it’s difficult, but at least you only have yourself to worry about.

If one of the boys is at home with you, your routine has a tendency to go belly-up.

Steve’s not so bad.

Being left with Steve is akin to being left alone with a very big, very mopey puppy. He follows you around everywhere, and needs to be touched constantly — though he’ll never admit it.

There’s a restlessness about him. He reminds you of a caged bird, aching to be freed. He’ll flit from room to room like a ghost that has lost its way.

When it comes to Steve, the best thing to do is to keep him busy. You take him out for walks (further lending support to the fact that he basically turns into a big puppy) and bring him to any and every exhibition that might be on. That’s how you ended up forking out sixty bucks each to visit a science exhibition about fungi, that one time.

Steve has a hard time sleeping when Bucky’s away, which means that you need to drive his body to the point of exhaustion before you can get him to shut his eyes for anything longer than a ten-minute power nap. You need to push his body to a stage where it physically cannot function without sleep. There are a number of ways of doing this, but you’ve found that marathon sex and super-intense workouts tend to be the most effective methods.

So, if anyone on the team is around, you hand Steve off to that person, with clear instructions for them to tire him out. If it’s Thor, he and Steve will engage in a game of lightning-frisbee that affects the weather across the whole of New York. Natasha will spar with him until she’s got bruises and minor cuts decorating her sides, whilst Sam will do laps with him around some park or other. Or rather, Steve does laps around a park, and Sam whizzes beside him on his motorised scooter.

With Bucky, your life gets a little bit more complicated.

Where Steve might be likened to a needy puppy, you would perhaps describe Bucky as a feral street cat.

The thing with Bucky is that he becomes more unpredictable. One minute, he could be crawling into your lap like a kitten who needs cuddles and attention, but the next minute, he could be holding you at knife point. You can never tell what he’s going to do next.

Life without Steve is mentally and emotionally draining, both for you and for Bucky.

He reverts back to the behaviour that he exhibited when he first started to break his HYDRA programming. Though you weren’t there during that period of his life, you’ve pieced together the details based on what Steve has told you and from the information that you’ve gleaned from reading Bucky’s files. The anxiety, the nightmares, the meek subservience; they all come rushing back at full force.

You’re not sure why Bucky does this. You think that maybe, it’s because he feels more secure whenever Steve is around. There’s always someone there to watch his back, so he feels comfortable enough to let his guard down. Without Steve, even the smallest thud can set him off; he’s on a hair-pin trigger, constantly on high-alert.

Besides the semi-hostile demeanour, he also gets fiercely protective of you. He’s always making sure that you stay well away from any sightlines and is constantly watching you from the shadows, protecting you from...who knows what. You indulge him in his requests, though it does get annoying when he insists that you use the bathroom with the door left slightly ajar.

Whereas Steve never wants to be left alone, Bucky never leaves you alone. He always ensures that you are within his field of vision, even if your attention is not necessarily on him. There’s an overstuffed armchair in the corner of your home office that Bucky likes to sit in when he’s exhibiting this abnormal behaviour. He watches over you like a solitary hawk.

Bucky can’t leave the house when he gets like this. For starters, it’s nearly impossible to coax him into coming out with you. More importantly, that fearsome protectiveness renders him a potential threat to the public. He sticks close to your side and bares his teeth at anyone who so much as looks at you funny. If anyone touches you, Bucky will let loose a threatening growl, like a guard dog. After one fateful incident which involved Bucky nearly decapitating a waiter at a restaurant, you’d made the executive decision to not let Bucky go out in public whenever Steve went away for a mission.

He doesn’t eat unless you tell him to. He will not rest until you order him to strip and get into bed. He becomes non-verbal, answering your questions with  — at most — two-word answers. It’s torture for you to see him like this, but you know that there’s nothing that you can do.

You don’t know why, exactly, he acts like this, but you think it has something to do with him feeling helpless.

Steve is perfectly capable of looking after himself — uh, most of the time, relatively speaking — when he’s away on missions, both of you know this. However, your theory is that there is some part of Bucky’s brain which believes that Steve is safest when Bucky is watching his six and therefore, if Bucky is not watching Steve’s six, Steve must be unsafe.

This time around, it’s Steve that’s gone.

Bucky is not handling his absence very well.

He left for Jakarta two days ago, and is due to return within the next three days. You’re not privy to the exact details of the mission, but you know that it has something to do with a string of recent suicide bombings in the area.

It’s been a rough couple of days for you both.

Today, you’d woken up with a metal hand wrapped around your throat, and things had gone downhill from there. The only real accomplishment you’ve had is that you managed to Bucky to eat some chicken and rice for dinner, which is basically the only proper meal he’s had the entire day. After dinner, you’d bundled him into bed and forced him cuddle with you.

You fall into a restless sleep sometime after ten. You’ve wrapped yourself around Bucky so that he can’t leave the bed. His back is pressed to your chest, your arm is slung over his torso and your cheek is resting on the back of his shoulder. He will never admit it, but he much prefers being the little spoon when he’s not having a great day.

Sometime during the night, your fitful sleep is broken by the sound of quiet whimpers.

You crack open one eye and squint at the world blearily, as your sleep-fogged brain struggles to make sense of the situation. It takes a second for reality to come into focus, but you soon register the fact that the body beside yours is trembling, violently enough for the vibrations to be felt across the entire mattress.

“No,” he’s saying, voice shaky and riddled with fear.  “Please—please, no, not her, please not her.”

Concern floods your system. It breaks your heart to seem him like this. You swallow and swipe your tongue over your lips to get that unpleasant, cottony dryness out of your mouth as you push yourself into a sitting position. A harsh scrub of the back of your hand over your eyes gets rid of the lingering cobwebs of sleep that cling to your mind. Feeling more alert, you cautiously scoot closer to Bucky.

Waking Bucky up from a nightmare is always a bit of a risky endeavour — usually, you leave the job to Steve, as his body is more capable of handling whatever Bucky might do to him. On the few occasions that you’ve tried, you’ve usually ended up either on the floor, or pinned to the bed with Bucky looming over you.

You take a deep breath to summon your courage.

“Bucky?” you say tentatively, as you gently shake his shoulder. “Bucky — sweetie, c’mon, it’s just a dream. Wake up.”

“No,” he moans, “No, no — no, please, don’t—”

“Bucky it’s not real, honey, wake up—”

“No!” he shouts hoarsely, like he’s suffering the worst anguish imaginable. “Please, you can’t—not her, please not her—”

“Bucky,” you say, more firmly this time, “Sweetheart, it’s just a nightmare. Wake up!”

He jolts awake with a heaving gasp, sitting upright so suddenly that he unbalances you, sending you toppling over. You yelp in surprise, landing on the mattress with a muffled oof. The sound of his ragged breathing fills the room.

You scramble to your knees and reach out to comfort him, but stop yourself before you actually make contact with his skin — you don’t know how your touch would be received.

He is backlit by the moonlight streaming in through the windows and his hair forms a dark, shaggy mane that falls around his face. His torso is bare and sweat glimmers on the planes of his chest, making him look like some ethereal being.

“Bucky?” you say cautiously, “Can I hold you?”

He nods tersely. “Please,” he says gruffly.

You knee-walk over to him and wrap your arms around his neck in a side-hug. Bucky, clearly not satisfied by that, grasps you by the waist and hoists you into his lap to hold you better. Before you can develop a cramp in your thigh, you arrange your limbs so that your ankles are crossed behind his back, and your arms are looped over his neck. You plaster yourself to his chest and press your foreheads together, giving him as many points of contact as possible.

“S’okay, Buck, I’m here — breathe with me, that’s it.”

With some encouragement, you manage to get Bucky to match your deep, even breaths. Slowly but surely, his raw, harsh pants slow down to something more controlled, less pained. With a final exhale, he slumps into you, tightening his grip around your waist as he presses his forehead to your shoulder.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispers, his warm breath tickling your skin. “I—I thought you were gone, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t get to you fast enough, and—”

You shush him, threading your fingers through his thick hair and pressing your fingertips into the base of his skull.

“I’m here,” you tell him, “I’m here, I’m right here, with you.”

Bucky presses his lips to your skin and all of a sudden, the air around you changes. It is as if the dust motes swirling around you have been charged with electricity.

He trails his lips over your skin, leaving hot, open-mouth kisses in a meandering path. They travel over your shoulder, past your collarbone, up your neck, over your jaw and finally, find their salvation against your lips. He kisses you fiercely, crushing your lips together like he is drowning man and you are the oxygen that will save him. Bucky clings to you like he’s afraid that he might be swept away by the dark, evil currents that swarm his mind, holding onto you like you’re his lifeline.

The situation is perhaps not the most conventional, but your body is nonetheless responding to Bucky’s touch. A rush of heat darts from your brain to your belly, settling into a pool of lust that is growing hotter by the minute. That same heat floods your cheeks and burns behind your chest. Your nipples tighten in anticipation underneath the thin fabric of your sleep shirt.

“I need you,” Bucky whispers brokenly, heatedly. His voice is like the whisper of a breeze, quiet enough that you have to strain your ears to hear it. “Please, please, I need you, I need—”

“Shh, I’m here,” you whisper, “Right here. You do what you need, sweetheart.”

In one smooth, seamless movement, Bucky flips you over so that you’re on your back. He hovers above you, a shadowy figure that dominates your senses. His long hair falls around you like a dark curtain, partitioning you from the rest of the world, cocooning you in this safe haven. Your legs are wrapped around his waist and slowly, your drag your calves up and down the back of his thigh, urging him to do as he pleases.

Bucky peppers hot kisses over your jaw and down your neck, pausing briefly to close his teeth over your pulse point. You gasp, throwing your head back and baring your throat. He rumbles appreciatively, worrying the skin of your neck between his teeth.

“You’re gonna leave a mark,” you say breathily, a hint of a laugh tinging your sentence.

“Good,” he replies, voice rough. “You’re mine.”

You swallow, touched by those two simple words. “Always,” you promise, squeezing his hips with your knees.

He growls possessively, which prompts you to press your hand over your mouth to stifle an irrational giggle. He sounds like a goddamn caveman. Your laughter morphs into a moan as he pulls aside the collar of your shirt and teases his lips over your collarbone, focusing on the spot that makes your curl.

“Bucky,” you groan, biting your lip to hold back a whine.

His fingers are trailing up your sides  — one smooth and cool, the other callused and warm. He’s rucking up your sleep shirt as he goes, leaving the material bunched under your breasts as he slithers down your body. Bucky plants open-mouthed, reverent kisses over your belly, stopping to leave gentle nips wherever he pleases. His stubble scratches your skin, making you shiver in arousal.

“Off,” he says, flicking at the hem of your shirt impatiently.

Hastily, you pull the garment over your head, tossing it to some irrelevant place in the darkness. In an instant, Bucky’s fingers are cupping and squeezing your breasts, savouring the feel and weight of them in his palms. You gasp aloud when his thumbs brush over your stiffened nipples.

“Please,” you whisper, though you’re not quite sure what you’re asking for.

A cry of pleasure leaves your throat as Bucky’s lips close around your left nipple, engulfing it in sudden heat. A spike of want flares in your belly, making you shift your hips restlessly. Your fingers scrabble for purchase in the sheets as he flicks his tongue over your sensitive flesh. Bucky alternates between teasing the hard nub with his tongue and gently scraping over it with his teeth.

He releases your nipple from his lips and shifts to give the same treatment to the other one. The man likes his symmetry, so this doesn’t surprise you in the slightest. Bucky switches back and forth between your breasts, taking care to give each one the same level of attention.

His touches eventually lose some of their frenzied intensity, mellowing down to something more lethargic, languid. Bucky allows his weight to settle more heavily on top of you, and rests his chin on your chest. When he takes your nipple between his lips, an expression of contentment settles over his features; you can practically feel the tension bleeding out of his muscles with every second that ticks past.

You leave him be. He’s behaved this way in the past, and if nursing on your breasts seems to bring him some element of comfort, who are you to deny him this small act? You card your fingers through his hair and gently massage his scalp, relishing the pleased moan that rumbles out of his chest.

Whether he realises it or not, the hard line of Bucky’s cock is pressing into your thigh. He’s grinding against you lazily, his movements so small that you don’t think he’s even aware of what he’s doing.

Carefully, so that you don’t accidentally dislodge his mouth, you reach between your bodies until your fingers come into contact with the waistband of his sweats. It’s a bit of a stretch, but you manage to push them down, halfway over his ass, low enough for your fingers to graze the top of his leaking dick.

Bucky jerks in surprise when you palm the head, releasing a shaky moan that is muffled against your skin. His breath skitters over your collarbone.

“Look at you, honey, being so good for me,” you croon softly, tucking a strand of hair over his ear. “You’re hard, Buck — you wanna take care of that? You wanna get inside me?”

He moans in affirmation. You smile benevolently as you continue to stroke his hair.

“C’mon then, get these off,” you say, snapping the elastic.

With great reluctance, he pulls his mouth off your breast to do as he’s been instructed. You take the opportunity to shimmy your shorts and panties down your legs. They too are discarded to some distant corner of the room.

Bucky crawls back on top of you, taking his weight on his forearms, which are planted on either side of your head. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and hook your legs over his waist, pulling him close. He bumps his nose against your chin, tipping your face upwards, so that he can capture your lips in an impassioned kiss.

You moan into his mouth when the head of his cock drags over your folds, sending tingles of arousal dancing through your system. Without breaking the kiss, you wiggle your hand between your bodies and grasp his cock, guiding it to your waiting entrance.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky breathes, his lips brushing against yours.

“Inside, Barnes, c’mon,” you reply.

He slides his hips forward, sinking his cock into your warmth and wetness. You gasp as he penetrates you, arching your back reflexively. Bucky groans, dropping his head and resting his temple against your shoulder. Each of his breaths sends a gust of warm air blowing over your neck. He is still, giving you time to adjust.

When you feel like you’re ready, you urge him on with a word of encouragement and a nudge of your foot. Gradually, he works his entire length into your body, spearing you open in that most wondrous way. His cock is just perfect, filling that emptiness inside you right to the brim. There’s just enough of him for you to feel that pleasurable stretch, but not too much that you’re uncomfortable.

“You feel so good,” you whisper, as you trail your fingers up and down his spine.

Bucky hums, turning his head to mouth wetly at your collarbone. “You too,” he murmurs.

He captures your lips with his own as his hips begin to move in earnest. His movements are slow and unhurried, as neither of you are in a rush to find completion. He rests his weight on top of you, blanketing you with his body, a physical shield against the outside world. This feels right; chest to chest, hip to hip, not even a breath of air between you.

Bucky rocks into you slowly, using miniscule movements of his hips, barely pulling out before he’s sliding back into your core. Your lips find his in the darkness and he latches on, greedily swallowing your sounds of pleasure like they are his ambrosia.

You hook your legs over his waist and cross your ankles at the small of his back, pulling him closer. Though you dig your heels into the top of his ass to spur him on, he continues at the leisurely pace that he’s set.

No words are spoken into the quiet of the night, yet every movement speaks volumes in its own right. Every surge of his hips, every brush of his lips, every caress of his fingers — each touch professes his love for you. Bucky tells you how much he needs you without a single word passing his lips, and you do the same.

You close your eyes and allow yourself to get lost in the moment. You focus on the roughness of his stubble against your neck, the warmth of his breath over your cheek, the drag of his chest over your nipples, the sparks of pleasure burning between your legs. His cock is brushing against all the sweet spots inside of you, the ones that make your head spin and your thighs tremble. The numerous, complex layers of pleasure sweep you away in their current; you feel like you’re weightless, floating on a cloud.

At some point, animal instincts start to take over. Love-making turns to passionate fucking, and Bucky’s rhythm quickens, his hips snapping forward more vigorously. He widens his knees and anchors them into the bed, giving himself more leverage to thrust. You cry out exultantly as your pleasure soars to new heights, fisting your hands in the sheets above your head.

Bucky slides his palms up your arms, until his hands find yours in the rumpled sheets. He laces your fingers together, pressing your hands into the mattress as he fucks into you.

“You’re so good,” he whispers, “So—god, so good, I love you.”

“I love you too,” you gasp, “Fuck, Bucky — Bucky.”

“Yeah, that’s it, sweetheart,” he grits out, as his hips drive forward again and again. Your mouth opens on a silent scream as he nails that spot relentlessly, the one that has you screwing your eyes shut so tightly, you’re seeing stars dancing behind your lips.

He’s saying your name under his breath like a prayer, oftentimes praising you and cursing you in the same breath.

“I love you,” he pants, “I love you — please, stay, don’t go—”

“M’not going anywhere,” you promise breathlessly, “I’m right here, Bucky. I love you so much.”

Your orgasm, when it comes, takes you by surprise. It washes over you like a crashing wave, unrelenting in its intensity. It is powerful enough to have you crying out in ecstasy. You dig your nails into the backs of Bucky’s hands as your back arches of its own accord. Your pulse is roaring in your ears and your lungs have seized up; you’re unable to catch your breath. Your climax seems to last forever.

When you come back to your senses, you realise that Bucky is still hard inside of you, still thrusting his cock into your warmth, though his movements are beginning to falter.

“So beautiful,” he praises, as he mouths at your throat. “So goddamn beautiful.”

You’re loose-limbed and pliant, satiated by your release. A pleasant buzz has settled into your bones, and there is a contented smile on your lips. Your limbs are heavy and uncoordinated, but you manage to hook your arms around Bucky’s shoulders and dig your heels into his back more insistently.

“C’mon, Buck,” you breathe, “Come inside me.”

“Fuck,” he swears.

“Mm, you like that? You wanna fill me up? Make me yours?”

“Sweetheart,” Bucky moans, cock driving into you with renewed urgency. “Baby — baby, oh, m’close, I—I’m gonna—”

“Come for me,” you whisper.

There are many beautiful things in this world and among them is the sight of Bucky Barnes when he comes. He is quite the vision.

All the muscles in his body stiffen, save for those kiss-bitten lips, which go slack with pleasure. He thrusts into you one final time, burying his cock as deep inside you as physically possible. You shiver as his warmth spills into your channel, his cock spurting out hot, sticky ribbons of come. He is quiet, save for a single, bitten-back moan.

You roam your hands over his sweaty back, petting him gently as he rides out his climax. When it is over, he is careful to collapse half on you, and half on the bed, so that you’re not crushed under his weight. His softened, spent cock slips out of your pussy, and you whine in disapproval. You hate that feeling.

Blindly, Bucky fumbles around for his discarded sweats, and uses them to clumsily wipe his cock as well as the mess between your legs. He balls the soiled garment in his hand and tosses it onto the floor, to be dealt with in the morning.

The darkness has just started to give way to shades of pink and orange when Bucky rolls over onto his back and pulls you closer. A new dawn brings with it a fresh start and new challenges, but for now, you pillow your cheek on Bucky’s chest and let your heavy eyelids slide shut as sleep pulls you under.

[taeminsphltrum]

I Just Called To Say

Wonho | Fluff | WC: 1.7k

But what it is, is something true Made up of these three words that I must say to you

“I love you.”

You blink slowly, trying to process the words you just heard. Moving the phone away from your ear, you squint your eyes to look at the screen, reading the name and time at the top of it.

“Hoseok,” you yawn, rubbing an eye and rolling onto your back. “Do you know what time it is?”

Your eyes widen a bit and blink a little faster to adjust to the pitch black surrounding you, and you wait for him to check and see that it’s four in the morning.

“Yes, I know I probably shouldn’t have called you because you have to wake up in a few hours for work but I—”

“Baby, slow down.” He’s talking way too fast, his words blending into each other and your brain is still in its waking up stages so you need him to talk a little slower.

He takes a deep breath before continuing.

“I can’t sleep, and when I can’t sleep I think about a lot of shit,” when he pauses, you hum. “And we’ve been together for a while now. Next week it’ll be six months, right?”

You hum again, switching back to your original position on your side, snuggling further into you comforter. “On Wednesday.” The smallest of smiles stretch your lips because you know he’s downplaying how he feels about this halfway mark in your relationship.

“I know you said you don’t want to do anything for month-anniversaries—”

You snort. “Because they’re pointless.”

Hoseok sighs. He’s always been such a hopeless romantic and you can be one too, but you grew out of celebrating each month of being with someone and prefer to go all out for milestone dates. But you know how excited he is for each month that you’ve officially been together and you feel kind of bad you let that slip out. You blame it on your brain still not completely functioning and not being able to filter your thoughts as fast.

“I’m regretting waking you up,” he deadpans and you snort again.

“So I can go back to sleep?” And when he sighs again, you roll your eyes. Your attempt to lighten the mood clearly isn’t working. “Baby, I’m kidding. Tell me what’s on your mind, I won’t joke around anymore.”

Hoseok hesitates for too long and you call his name, trying to prompt him to let everything on his mind and chest out on the table.

“I don’t know… I was just thinking about how happy you make me. Even when we were just friends and I didn’t even know I wanted to be with you… you’ve always made me happy and I knew I always wanted you to be in my future.”

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to how open he is with his feelings. Not that you’re incapable of expressing yourself, it just takes a little push for you to let it all out like he can.

“We don’t always see eye-to-eye but you balance me out so well and you’ve ruined my expectations for everyone else. I don’t even want to think about the possibility of having to find someone else.”

He’s barely getting started and you have a feeling your cheeks will be wet because you’re a softy for romantic confessions—especially when it comes from the man on the phone—and aching from smiling so hard because he always seems to know the right things to say, even when he’s unsure of his words.

“Ah, I’m getting off topic.” You almost tell him it’s okay and to stay on the mistaken topic, but you just bite your lip and let him get back on track. “Since you promised we could do something on Wednesday, I already have everything put together… but I’m second guessing it all.”

You aren’t hard to please. A simple dinner and movie are enough to make you the happiest girl in the world. Some cuddling and kisses added is the perfect date. Not saying going all out wouldn’t have the same effect, but you’re sure that anything he puts together will be just fine. Knowing he took the time and energy to do something for you is enough to have you okay with anything. He knows what you don’t like, so you’re not worried in the slightest. But Hoseok is such a caring and loving person who always wants to make sure others are pleased and he second guesses himself up until he realizes they’re more than content and he was worried for nothing.

But, you’re not going to tell him he’s over analyzing it. After years of knowing how he works, you know he hates it the most when people tell him something isn’t that deep and to stop thinking so hard.

“I just don’t want it to be a total flop because I’m really excited about it,” he sighs.

“If you’re so excited about it, I love it already,” you speak softly.

“Like I was saying before, you always make me so happy and I want to have the same effect on you, you know? I know you say I do but I can’t help but doubt—”

“Hoseok. I will hang up on you if you continue that sentence.”

Hoseok isn’t clingy. He doesn’t crave your attention every second of the day. He doesn’t have an exaggerated need for validation, but every once in a while it’s good for him to hear how much he means to you, how much you love him.

“As cheesy as it sounds, from the day we became friends you’ve made me the happiest I’ve been since I was a kid. When I realized I had feelings for you I didn’t get scared like I always had in the past. Do you think I’ve ever confessed to a guy first?” you chuckle, remembering how abrupt and unprepared your confession was. The look on his face was priceless and you wish you would’ve caught his reaction on camera. “Just hearing your name makes me smile and makes my stomach feel weird, and you have the audacity to doubt if you make me happy?”

You’re wide awake by now, his uncertainty alerting your brain. It’s not even like you did something to make him feel this way, but you feel like you have to let him know he has no reason to feel that way without telling him he’s over analyzing things because his nerves are getting to him.

It’s quiet for too long after you open your heart up to him a little. “Did you fall asleep on me?”

The sniffle you get in response has a wide smile slowly making its way on your face.

“Are you crying?” You try to sound worried but the amusement can’t be shielded. Maybe you aren’t the one meant to cry tonight.

“Shut up.”

You openly laugh, apologizing when he starts mumbling under his breath that he can’t stand you and an empty threat of hanging up on you.

“Seriously, though. I know I don’t say it as often as you do but I love you so so so much and I’m so happy I snatched you before Jihyun did.”

He chuckles, followed by a long inhale.

“Thank you.”

His voice is the softest you’ve ever heard and it makes your tummy do a little flip.

“For what?”

“For putting up with me. I know I’m a mess sometimes and I really try to control my emotions but sometimes…” he struggles to finish his sentence, so you jump in.

“Hush. You’re perfectly fine and I wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

You know he’s smiling on the other side of the phone and keeps your smile in place. You don’t mind getting woken up at the asscrack of dawn when it comes to Hoseok, and you love your sleep. So if that isn’t enough proof of how whipped you are for the kid, you don’t know what else could be.

“If these are your thoughts on a restless night, I can only imagine what your vows will be.”

Shrugging the cover off, you swing your legs off the bed and slip your slippers on. You make your way out of your room and into the kitchen, turning on the hallway light as you pass it for some guidance because you just moved and you don’t have the place memorized yet.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” Hoseok chuckles, voice a little deeper than before and his words and tone have you biting back another smile as you grab a water bottle and take a few sips. All this talking after being asleep for hours has your throat as dry as a desert.

Months in and it still feels like you’re in your honeymoon phase because you’re always smiling when you speak to him, or even when he simply gets brought up by a friend or a parent.

“Mm, can’t wait.”

Leaning against the counter, you look up at the clock on the stove and the time reads a quarter past five. You can’t see yourself falling back asleep anytime soon and all you can think of is cuddling with your boyfriend while the sun rises in an hour or so, watching a movie or continuing your heart to heart.

“Do you have work tomorrow? Or today, whatever.”

“I don’t go in until two-thirty, why?”

“You should pack a bag and come over,” you propose, twisting and untwisting the bottle’s cap with your forefinger and thumb.

“Don’t you have work at—”

“No one said I work tomorrow,” you laugh.

There’s rustling on the other side and a grunt, followed by a clicking noise you’re assuming was his light switch illuminating his room.

“Say no more, I’ll be there in twenty.”

This is so fluffy and sweet my tooth hurts omg idk how I’m managing to write all this fluff bc I suck at expressing my feelings asjukldlk; enjoy 

[littleoldrachel]

Sixth chapter is up!  Read it here on ao3, or here on ff.net, or under the cut.

***Shoutout to @croatoanmary who is wonderful and lovely and deserves only nice things <3***

100 Ways to Say I Love You

Summary: In which actions speak louder than words, Sirius and Remus sort of fall in to a relationship, and even though neither of them have said those three all-important words, they both know it anyway.Or: 100 Ways to Say I Love You by Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

Previous |  chapter 6/100 - “Have a good day at work.” | Next

Based on this post by p0ck3tf0x.

Tw for mentions of anxiety.

Smart-casual.

What does that even mean?

Sirius stares himself down in the mirror – his hair has never looked glossier, his eyeliner is absolutely on point, his highlight is making him fucking glow. His outfit on the other hand – he’s not so confident. Which is less than ideal, considering today marks his first day at Queerllustration, where, judging by what he’d seen at his interview, he’ll be surrounded by beautifully-dressed and well put together arty types; he cannot fuck up this look.

(Is it possible that he’s pinning too much meaning on his make-up and clothing, and not enough on the actual this-is-his-first-day-working-at-Queerllustration part of things? Yes, very, but that’s only because if he stops to think about that fact for even a second, then he will actually implode from anxiety – really, fashion is the only thing holding him together at this point).

A small part of him is livid at himself that he’s not thought about this properly before now, but the other part – the half that accepts that he is a born procrastinator, far too used to being able to pull it out of the bag last minute and still get top marks, and will probably put off his own death out of sheer laziness – is lowkey impressed that he’s doing this a whole two hours before he has to leave.  

The Sia track in the background changes to something more dance-y, and Sirius absent-mindedly swishes his hips in time to the beat, lets his skirt fan out around his thighs as he surveys his reflection critically. What he needs, he decides, is a second opinion. Ordinarily, James would be delighted to advise, would probably demand a fashion show complete with lighting and music, but alas, he is already at school with Kingsley, organising his breakfast club for the disadvantaged kids of the area. Similarly, Lily’s at morning classes, and then she’ll head straight to work –

Decisions are so goddamn hard. Smart casual is so fucking vague.

He takes a calming breath, though it does fuck-all to actually calm him down, and then angles his phone carefully, before snapping a quick selfie. He drops it in to the group chat with “smart casual” and a string of question marks and thinking emojis. The replies come within ten minutes as he stews, trying to resist the urge to gnaw on his nails in nervousness.

Alice: slaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyy [fire emoji]

Wormtail: [Brooklyn Nine-Nine emoji of Captain Raymond Holt saying “hot damn!”]

Prongs: babe

Prongs: you are stunning

Prongs: utter perfection

Prongs: I am high key in love with you

Lils: I second everything J said

Lils: (dat eyeliner tho [okay sign emoji] [100% sign emoji])

Kingsley: yaaasss queen

Marlene: [thumbs up emoji] [crown emoji] [love heart eyes emoji]

Frank: u look great bud

His heart warms at their encouragement, and the ball of anxiousness that’s been swelling in his stomach shrinks ever so slightly. Returning lovehearts to each of them (different colours for each person, obviously, and the sparkly one for James because he’s hella extra), he pauses over Remus’ name, where his message is still marked unread. He knows he’s being daft – he has reassurances from almost all of the people he loves the most in the world, but he needs Remus’ approval on this, because Remus always seems to know exactly what to say. And besides, he knows Remus doesn’t have work this morning, because he’d made Sirius promise to ring if he needs anything.

Does this count? Probably not what Remus had had in mind, honestly – Remus goes for comfort over statement, though he has a unique and incredible ability to look cute in sweatpants and a holey jumper – but his opinion still holds a special place in Sirius’ heart.

Things have almost gone back to normal between them after… whatever it was that twisted, warped and broke last week, and Sirius is fine, he is, and no, Prongs, he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, he’s fine.

The crushing disappointment is an aching lump in his chest, exacerbating the anxiety and the insecurities that always lurk just beneath his ribcage, and he’s cried and cried and cried (and sure, he’s a crier, but even for him, this is A Lot), trying to batter his stupid heart in to getting over the warmth and love and everything that Remus is.

But yeah, he’s fine.

(Shut up, Prongs, he will be fine).

Before he chokes up about it all over again, he jabs at Remus’ number, holding his breath as the dial tone sounds, then waits –

And waits –

And –

Just when he’s convinced himself that Remus isn’t going to answer, and the panic lurches up his throat so fast he thinks he might actually vomit all over his lap –

“Moony – what does smart casual mean?” he says urgently, the second Remus picks up. (It takes a moment to register that the long wait means that Remus was probably sleeping, and the grogginess as he mumbles, “hello?” confirms this).

Guilt floods through him, as he hears Remus moving around – presumably sitting up in bed, rubbing at his eyes, squinting at the clock on his bedside table – and it’s so fucking domestic that his heart aches for it a little. “Give me a second, Pads,” he says, his voice still heavy and thick with sleep.

“Sorry I woke you-“ Sirius begins, unable to stop the guilt from pouring out of his mouth. “I know you’re probably exhausted – I just needed some advice – I – sorry.”

“It’s fine, Pads,” Remus says, and he just knows that Remus is rolling his eyes at him, even though it’s not fine that he disturbed his rest when he’s already so tired, he’s a shitty friend-

“Okay. What was the question again?” Remus asks through a yawn.

He takes a breath to thank whatever deity is controlling his life that Remus is so Good and kind and forgiving. “Smart-casual. What does that mean, I don’t know what to doooo.”

Sirius can hear Remus’ smile, and the line crackles a little as Remus sighs fondly – because his phone is ancient and terrible and barely functions as a phone anymore. “What are you wearing?”

“My black skirt – the one with the pleats that goes all whoosh, you know?”

“Cute,” Remus interjects, and Sirius’ heart does a little swoop.

“Plus my black boots, tights, and my green blousey thing.”

“Double triple cute,” Remus says, “you look great in green.” There’s something about just-woken-up Remus that’s even more wonderful than normal-Remus, and Sirius had no idea that such a thing was possible. This Remus is so openly affectionate, so soft, so warm - so wrong though because-

Sirius wrinkles his nose. “Red’s more my thing.”

Remus makes a noise of agreement. “I guess. You look good in all the colours.”

Sirius heart sings. “All of them?” he asks – too soft, too fond, too obvious.

“All of the colours,” Remus repeats, his words slurring slightly, and Sirius can tell he’s starting to drift back to sleep – he’s probably horizontal once more, his phone balanced precariously on one ear.

And he’s selfish and the worst, but he doesn’t want Remus to hang up yet, even though he knows that Remus needs all the sleep he can get. Because when he’s talking to Remus, he can pretend like the anxiety stirring in his gut is just excitement, like it’s something manageable that isn’t going to chew him up and spit him out before he even sets foot outside.

“I just – is it too much? Should I just go all classic white-boy and do a polo neck and chinos, like??”

Remus makes a little pained noise, and it’s honest-to-God adorable. “Nooo, why would you do that?”

Sirius flops back on to his bed with a sigh, a hand on his chest where it’s sort of hard to breathe if he thinks about work too much. “I – I know I can be A Lot, sometimes maybe Too Much, you know? I want them to like me-“

“No, Padfoot, no no no,” Remus sounds suddenly much more awake, the distress sharpening his tone. “Never. You’re never Too Much, you’re perfect, and if they don’t like you, then-“ he flounders, because it’s early and his brain isn’t quite caught up with his mouth yet. “Please never think that,” he says, “you shouldn’t have to change yourself when yourself is so utterly loveable and brilliant.”

Sirius is slightly horrified to feel the lump in the back of his throat, partly because if he cries now, he’s going to ruin his eyeliner, and partly because he adores this man with everything he has; every single atom in his body is hopelessly devoted to him, and perhaps always will be.

“I guess,” he manages, after a pause, once he’s sure that his voice isn’t going to crack.

Remus lets out an “oomph” and a groan, and Sirius is about to ask what’s wrong – probably in a voice laced with too much concern – when he hears a thrumming purr through the phone. “Is that Winky?” he says instead, unable to stop the childlike grin from spreading across his face.

“Yeah,” Remus chuckles, “she says hello.” The purring gets louder as Remus presumably holds the phone against Winky’s chest, like the completely wonderful dork he is.

Sirius laughs, and the anxiety takes a hit. Not a large one, not enough to do lasting damage, but enough to hold it at bay for now. He loosens his grip around his chest. Breathe.

“Anyway,” Remus continues. “Love, do you want to work in a place where you can’t dress like yourself?”

Sirius closes his eyes, because Remus is right. He’s always right, it floors Sirius every time Remus demonstrates just how well he knows Sirius. “No,” he says quietly.

There’s a moment of quiet, in which they just listen to each other breathe. It’s soft and intimate and perfect, and for a minute, Sirius can forget that he’s starting a new job in less than two hours, that he’s going to have to deal with all these new people and responsibilities, and just be.

“How are you feeling?” Remus murmurs eventually.

Sirius starts to say that he’s fine, then remembers who he’s speaking to, and ends up making a noise like he’s been trampled on.

“That well, huh?” Remus says, and Sirius laughs humourlessly. There’s another pause, then Remus continues equally gently. “You know that I know that you’re gonna fucking smash it. You’re gonna go in there and blow them away with your brilliance and your talent, because that’s what you do. You’re gonna charm the pants off all of them, you’re gonna look unbelievably cute, you’re gonna have the best day ever.”

Sirius screws his eyes shut against the tenderness in his voice. “But, what if-“

“Sirius. You’re gonna make me proud – you’re gonna make all of us so bloody proud, because you’re not capable of doing anything less. You make us proud every day by being you. So, go out there, be yourself, make us proud, we will love you and support you no matter what.”

The lump is back in Sirius’ throat and it’s actually impossible for him to speak around it. He presses his fingers in to his eyes, willing himself not to cry, his heart entirely full with how much Remus means to him, overflowing with love and gratefulness and friendship. It takes him several seconds to breathe through his tears, and his voice is horribly wobbly and crackly when he finally finds it again.

“I couldn’t do this without you, Moony.”

“I don’t believe that for a second. I know you. You’re amazing.”

I love you, he almost replies, then catches himself last minute – because although they say it to each other all the time, although it’s the most honest thing he can think of, it’s too soon after the mess of last week, and right now, it would be too honest, too true, too much. Instead he says, “I – uh I – I should go get ready. I – thank you, Moony. Thank you so much.”

“Of course,” Remus says immediately. “My phone will be on loud all day, so if you need anything, then just ring, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be better than okay.”

“Yeah.”

“Have a good day at work, Pads. I’m so, so proud of you.” Remus’ voice is nothing but sincere, kindness in every syllable.

“Thank you, Moons. I – I’ll call you tonight, yeah?”

“Come over, I’m in all evening… you can hang out with Winky, and we can watch Bake Off, and eat cake, and you can tell me all about how brilliant you were.”

Remus’ faith in him is so staggering that Sirius actually feels a little unsteady, even though he’s sitting down. “Okay. Yeah. Okay.”

“Bye, love.”

“Bye, Moony.”

Sirius takes a deep breath – then another – gets to his feet, straightens his skirt, and makes his way out of his room and in to the kitchen. Because fate seems to be on his side this morning, the current song that’s playing transitions in to Rainbow, and Sirius feels his anxiety shrink even more as the familiar chords, coupled with Kesha’s gorgeous voice, wash over him. Instead, his heart swells as he catches sight of the note that James has tacked to the kitchen counter.

Padfoot –

Today is a big day, and you’re going to be amazing. More than amazing. You’re going to shine like the fucking star that you are. I’m so proud of you. Go and make your dreams come true <3

Endless love from your best friend, who is only a phone call away, and can’t wait to hear all about it.

Prongs

The tears threaten to return, and – fuck it, at this point, he’s going to have to redo his make-up anyway – he lets them, because he doesn’t deserve James’ unbounding love and affection. He sends a snap of his watery eyes to James with a string of hearts, and then catches sight of the pot that’s resting in the oven. It’s warm when he pulls it out, and as he lifts the lid, the sweet, milky aroma of kheer hits his nose, and it’s like James has enveloped him in a hug – he loves him, he loves him, he loves him.

Once he’d started spending all of his free time at James’ family home, once James’ parents had come to look on him as their own son, James’ mother would make kheer specially for Sirius whenever he was having a particularly Anxious Day. On the days when the thought of leaving the safety of his bed made his chest tight and painful, on the days when having to get dressed and be a person made him want to curl up in a ball and cry, James’ mother would appear in his room with a steaming bowl of kheer and a chai tea, and she would just sit and listen to him talk about his fears. It was the kind of relationship he’d never had – and never would have – with his own mother, and these quiet mornings are some of his most cherished memories with James’ family.

After they’d moved out, James had taken over the tradition, and there’s always a pot of kheer ready on the mornings before exams, interviews, Bad Days – whenever Sirius needs it to be honest –because James is unfailingly generous and loving, showering his friends with care and support at the drop of a hat. (Sirius has never found the words to express just how grateful he is for James’ friendship – and it’s not for lack of trying).

Unlike the White People version that sits heavy in his stomach like a flavourless weight, this is light, tasty, full of love and kindness and confidence – and it’s the boost Sirius needs to get himself up and ready.

(He’s still anxious. He’s still a Bit of a Mess, and he’s still half-convinced that his new colleagues will think he’s Too Much, and hate him and his quirky queer self on sight. But he has friends who will stand by him, no matter what, who cherish him and care about him and make his heart sing with happiness at the thought of them.

He can do this).

“-And then they introduced me to the rest of the team I’m working with, and Akilah – my supervisor – said they loved my boots! And I got to meet the person who actually created Eclipse, Moony, I nearly died, I met my fucking idol, and xe was amazing. And-“

Sirius is horribly aware that he hasn’t stopped monologuing for approximately fifteen minutes – ever since Remus had made the terrible mistake of saying, “tell me everything,” with that warm, lovely, ridiculously-dimply smile. But he can’t seem to stop the words from overflowing out of his mouth, because his whole body is flooded with good vibes and pleasant memories, and sure, he’s exhausted, but he’s also thrumming with excitement for what the future now holds, and this – this – is why he wanted to go in to Illustration.

Remus doesn’t say much; he nods and laughs and makes the appropriate noises, head tilted to one side. (Sirius can’t believe how soft and cuddly and cosy Remus looks – he’s wearing a thick burgundy sweater that’s unravelling at the sleeves, ratty sweatpants, mustard-yellow fluffy socks, and glasses, and Sirius is dying). If Sirius keeps rattling off nonsense at Remus, he can ignore how Remus’ fingers are clenched around the hot water bottle pressed against his stomach, at how tired and world-weary he looks, at how he rubs at his temples every thirty seconds or so – because Remus had made it very clear when he walked through the door, that this was not a topic of conversation.

Winky hops up in to Sirius’ lap, and he pauses to greet her. She arches up in to his hand with a mewling sound, and he can’t help but coo back at her. Remus snorts, and Sirius pulls a face at him. “What?”

“She’s got you wrapped round her paw,” Remus says fondly.

“Of course she does, look at her, she’s perfect.” Winky purrs and settles down on his thighs. “Aren’t you, yes you are!”

Remus rolls his eyes, but reaches a hand out to scratch behind Winky’s ears. “So, to summarise, your first day was amazing?” he prompts.

“Understatement – it was – overwhelming, but not in a bad way? They actually seemed to like me and my art, and they really seemed excited to work with me, I can’t – I can’t believe it.”

“I can,” Remus says softly. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Yeah, you said,” Sirius says, unable to stop the blush creeping up his cheeks, because Remus looks so goddamn sincere and happy for him. There’s a comfortable pause, and then Remus clears his throat.

“So, I know I promised you cake, but, well, that didn’t happen,” he rubs at his left arm – a tell that Sirius knows means he’s embarrassed, and his heart twinges a little, because does he not know that just being here and listening to him is more than enough? – and continues, “But we can order whatever you like, and I have all of the new series of Bake Off recorded.”

“The new series?” Sirius fakes affront. “Moony, you traitor, what would Mary Berry say?”

“Oh come on, you’re just as curious as I am.”

“True.”

They snuggle together on Remus’ shitty, ancient sofa, with a fluffy blanket and Winky and Chinese food, in front of Bake Off, and honestly, Sirius can’t think of a better way to spend the evening of his first day. Eventually, he’ll have to head home, and be cuddled within an inch of his life by James, but right now, he can just exist in this comfortable, safe bubble of happiness and warmth with one of his favourite people in the world.

And it’s perfect.  

[livingagainsttheodds]

Cake for Breakfast

Every morning I'm woken up by my enthusiastic three year old. He's ready to start the day and is eagerly waiting for me to roll out of bed and make him breakfast. All this excitement and the sun hasn't even made it into view yet. I don't know about anyone else but I don't think we're meant to wake up before the sun does. I think it's our cue from God to saying "alrighty, let's begin the day, I've turned the light on!". But teaching that to a three year old isn't exactly easy. So I grumble to myself (sometimes not to myself) and I slowly rise out of my bed like a character from an old zombie movie. Now here's the part where I'm sure you're saying "just go make some coffee and get on with it, like a normal person." The problem with that is I can't. I have never been able to drink coffee without severe repercussions. Sure, I had some as a teen and a young adult but I would regret it right away and pay for it for a few days after. I won't give you too many details because hey, we just met. But I'll at least say since giving birth to my son, the time I could use a jolt of caffeine on a daily basis the most, caffeine affects me even more now. Not only is it a stomach thing but very shortly after consumption it feels like I'm having a full on panic attack. My heart races and my skin crawls and I feel like I can't breath. Like I just ran a very long race and but can't calm down. I picture Bruce Banner when he's transforming into the Hulk. That doesn't look like a pleasant feeling for him, and that's how it feels for me. Crazy, I know. But like I said in my first post I'm not like everyone else. And sure, I've tried teas and caffeine free coffee and sodas. None of it likes me. So I've given up on it all. It makes me so much more tired and so much more drained then before drinking it! It's funny to think, I've actually been chronically fatigued most of my life. I've always needed 10 hours of sleep to function (now I get about 8 and that suffices as I don't have a choice). But even then I'm still pretty tired most of the time. The brain fog is no joke. Now there are lots of reasons for these issues, which maybe I'll tell you about another time. But imagine going through high school like that. I only made it through school by consuming large amounts of sugar, sleeping during the lunch period, and doodling my way through my classes to stay awake. It wasn't easy and I know sugar is so so bad for you, but I still can't give it up. Knowing this about me, can you imagine that I was a cheerleader too? Yep, that's right. I did cheerleading all through junior high and high school. Which is funny because I don't really have an outgoing bone in my body. My whole life I was told I was shy or introverted. Which yes, I was. But in the last year or so I've finally realized what I really am. I am a highly sensitive person. There is so much more to this then "being sensitive". I will leave it to you to check out this website which explains it way better then I could. But part of why I need so much sleep and am constantly drained (especially since I'm with my three-nager all day every day). It also explains my use of sugar to keep going my whole life too. Since I'm constantly drained by other people and their emotions and I can't just hide in a hole by myself whenever I need to recharge, I have to have something to pick me back up. Weirdly enough sugar has the same effect as cocaine in your brain. Luckily sugar is the hardest drug I've ever let myself try. Seeing as how I can't even give that up, I know anything else would have gone down hill fast. Or I'd be the 0.0001% with some kind of crazy life altering side effect.


So honestly, as a stay at home mom I do struggle. As I know most do. But I struggle because I don't have the tools most others have to help them along. I cannot down an energy drink and keep on trucking. I can't relax with a glass of wine (or any other alcohol) at night to ease my tensions from the day (more on alcohol in future posts). So I wake up, zombie walk to my kitchen, eat 3 cookies to wake my brain, and fry some darn eggs. A And after breakfast I get to snuggle my kiddo tight and get a big hug from him telling me "thank you for the delicious breakfast mommy!!", because he's about the sweetest kid ever. And that little bit of extra love gives me just enough energy to continue activities for the day until lunch time. When I'll have a handful of mini M&M's to keep me trucking again.

[mrsjihyunkim]

Dear Mom Ch 12

I finally got internet back and recovered my word documents!!! To celebrate a new chapter!!! Thank you all for your patience. Enjoy it because as sad as it is the next chapter will be the last one :’(

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The light was over bearing when I opened my eyes. Slowly my eyes adjusted to the light and I took in my surroundings. Everything in the room was white and had a very sterile feel, it was a hospital room. I tried to sit up but only felt pain in my side. Everything that had just happened came flooding back to me. I looked around for Saeyoung in a panic and found him sleeping on my hand. All my moving around must have woken him up because he lifted his head and seemed dazed. He had dark circles under his eyes and his hair was all messy. It didn’t take a genius to know that this was the first time he’d slept in days. He must have still been half asleep because all he did was stare at me. Then his eyes got really big and he squeezed my hand. “You’re awake! You’re finally awake!” He hugged me so tightly that I thought he was going to pop my stitches.

“Saeyoung. Stitches.” I said still groggy. He let go of me and grabbed my hand instead.

“Sorry. I’ve just been so worried about you. I thought you weren’t going to wake up.” I gave him a confused look and he sat back down. “Right. I guess you wouldn’t know. You were in cardiac arrest. They took you straight into surgery. The doctor said that they had to restart your heart twice. Everyone has been really worried.” I could hear him struggle with the words as he looked down. I grabbed his hand and he looked up at me. His eyes were misty and I wanted nothing more than to hug him.

“Hey look at me. I’m right here. I told you I’m not going anywhere. You said we’d get married at the space station, right?” He smiled and nodded. “Well I don’t see ring on my finger so you’re stuck with me.” I smiled at him and he stood up to kiss my forehead.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m going to tell the doctors and everyone else that you’re awake.” I nodded and he left the room. I had only been alone for a few minutes until I heard the door click. I looked up and saw Saeran standing by it. He stayed far away in the back of the room and just looked at me.

“Hello Saeran.” I said smiling. “How are you feeling? I hope you’re not in too much pain.” He seemed surprised by my words and just walked over to the window. He seemed so deep in thought before he spoke. Like he was having trouble finding the right words.

“You’re strange. You almost died but you’re worried about me. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” He clenched his fist and ran a hand through his hair. “Whatever I’ll leave you alone.” He began to walk towards the door but I didn’t want him to leave.

“Don’t go. You don’t have to answer the question but I wish you would stay. I wouldn’t mind the company.” It seemed like he was hesitant but he turned around to face me again. He held onto his arm and looked at the floor. He kept opening his mouth like he was going to speak but he remained quite. "But, if you are in pain I can make you something for it when I get out of here." He looked at me with confusion and I smiled at him. "I guess with everything going on no one told you about the antidote I gave you. When I found out what they were giving you at Mint Eye I made an antidote to heal your brain. I knocked you out for most of the healing process so I hope that helped with the pain." When I said all of this his face softened.

"Well if you really want to know; my head feels like it's being hit with a hammer, and all of my memories are hazy. I barely even knew who I was when I woke up." He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. I knew that he would have physical pain but I had no idea how badly it would effect his memories, before I could stop them I had tears falling down my face.

"I'm sorry Saeran. I can help you with the pain once I get out of here, but I can't do anything about your memories. I understand if you hate me." I said through my tears. I heard footsteps and assumed that he left until I felt a fist on my head. I looked up and saw Saeran standing next to me.

"Stop being so stupid. Honestly you're acting like that idiot brother of mine. No wonder he fell in love with you. You're both idiots." He leaned against the wall and was looking away from me. I could tell that he was trying his best to be kind and sincere. 

"Thank you Saeran. I'm lucky to have such wonderful people in my life." I wiped away the tears and then the door opened. Saeyoung and the doctor came in. When Saeyoung saw Saeran he stopped and they stared at each other.

"How are you feeling?" Saeyoung asked him. Saeran just looked at the ground.

"Fine." He glanced at me and I gave him encouraging smile. "I'll leave now so you guys can talk." He headed towards the door but Saeyoung stoped him.

"You can stay. The doctor actually has good news and I'd love for you to hear it." He smiled brightly and Saeran hesitated, but stayed. Saeyoung kissed the top of my head and held my hand. "Alright doc give her the good news." He said cheerfully. I looked at the doctor as he stepped forward and cleared his throat. He looked fairly young to be doctor, with dark brown hair and firm skin.

"Well we have to run some test but judging by what I see in front of me you should be able to go home in a couple of days." I knew this was good news but there were other things on my mind. I smiled and thanked the doctor. After he left I looked at Saeyoung and he squeezed my hand.

"If you're feeling up to it I have another surprise for you." I looked at him quizzically and he smiled like a little kid. "Saeran will you open the door and let them in?"

"Fine but I'm going back to my room. My head hurts enough." Saeyoung looked a little sad but he seemed to understand.

"Ok I'll take you home later tonight." Saeran nodded and went out the door. I head some muffled talking and then what sounded almost like running. Then the door opened and I saw the rest of the RFA memebers standing there. It was quite at first but then Yoosung spoke up.

"Hey MC. You probably can't tell who I am since we never met, but I'm," I cut him off and smiled. I wished that I could run up and hug them all.

"Of course I know who you are Yoosung. I know who you all are. You are all my family." I began to cry and Yoosung ran over to hug me. "I'm sorry. I'm just so happy to finally meet everyone. I've been so worried about you all and seeing you all happy makes me feel so much better." I said wiping my tears away.

"It was very kind of you to worry about us but it was unnecessary. We all were perfectly safe with the body guards I assigned." Said Jumin as he looked at his phone. I heard Zen scoff and I knew what was coming next.

"You jerk. Why would the hell would you say that it was unnecessary? She got shot for fucks sake! And you didn't even look up from your phone!" They continued to bicker and I laughed.

"Mr. Han, Zen. Perhaps this can wait till later. We came here to see MC." Said Jahee as she pushed up her glasses. They both stopped and looked away from each other.

"You're right Jahee. So Mc, how are you feeling?" Zen asked.

"I feel a little sore but other than that fine. The doctor said I could leave in a couple of days but I can already tell my stitches are 80% healed."

"I see. So you must heal fast like Zen." Jahee had a look of coursity on her face. I was about to say something and then Saeyoung spoke up.

"She also seems to have grown a Yoosung." He said laughing. It was then that I noticed that Yoosung was still hugging me. He let go and his cheeks were bright red.

"I'm sorry Saeyoung. I've just been so worried and when I saw MC and I wanted to hug her." I smiled and ruffled his hair.

"Yoosung you are so cute. I don't mind you hugging me. I always wanted a little brother!" I said and he hugged me again.

"MC don't you consider me an older brother?" Zen asked pouting.

"Well in some ways yes but I mostly think of you as a sister." Zen just stared at me in shock while Saeyoung and Yoosung laughed. I even noticed Jumin chuckling. Seeing everyone so happy made me feel so much better. Jumin talked about Elizabeth the 3rd, Jaehee told me about Zen's new musical, Yoosung talked about his classes, and Zen showed me his new costume for the musical. It was well into the night when everyone left and I was exhausted. Saeyoung sat on the bed with me and stroked my hair. "Can I ask you something?" I asked sleepily.

"Of course."

"Why didn't V show up?"

"I'm not sure. I didn't have a chance to call him today. I think he's blaming himself for what happened to you." I stayed silent thinking about this.

"When we go home can you tell him to stop by. I just want to make sure he's ok."

"Of course. You really are amazing MC." He said kissing the top of my head. 

"I'm going to take Saeran home and get him settled. You ok with that?"

"Yeah. I'm just going to sleep. I love you."

"I love you too. Now get some rest." He kissed me lightly on the lips and left the room. For the second time in my life I had a peaceful nights sleep.

My eyes were still closed but I could hear voices talking. I opened them and saw Saeyoung talking to the doctor. His expression looked stressful and it had me worried. "Saeyoung. Is everything ok?" I asked. He walked over to me and gave me a kiss.

"Everything is fine. The doctor just has questions and we were waiting on you to wake up." He smiled but he still looked troubled. The doctor stepped forward and looked at my chart.

"Mrs. Choi I just had a few questions to ask you. First let me say that all of your test came back clean. Your white blood count is normal, I see no signs of post op infection, and I just have one question. While you were in surgery we weren't able to recover the bullet because of scar tissue, how ever your most recent x-ray shows that the bullet is no longer there. Have you passed it by bodily functions?" I breathed a sigh of relief at hearing this. I thought that something was actually wrong. At seeing my relief both Saeyoung and the doctor both looked confused, so I began to explain.

"Well there is no bullet, at least not anymore. You see bullets are common in my life of work so I modified my immune system to basically eat the bullets. You see my white blood cells surround the bullet and dissolve the bullets while absorbing the toxins. Then it releases the things that my body can use and the toxins are disposed of." After I finished my explanation the doctor looked unsure. "Look carefully at the white blood on the chart. This is also why I heal so fast. I basically boosted my immune system to it's maximum capacity." The doctor looked at the chart again and his eyes grew wide.

"I see. Well that is very impressive Mrs. Choi. A nurse will be by shortly with your discharge information." He left the room still in disbelief. Once he was gone Saeyoung got wide eyed.

"BABE! Is that really true? Can you do that?" He asked excitedly. It made me laugh to see how excited he was.

"Well kind of. I did boost my immune system too maximum capacity but I can't dissolve bullets. In truth I coughed up the bullet after you left yesterday." I said laughing as I took the bullet of my pocket to show him. He stared at me in shock and sat down.

"You are the queen of pranks. I don't think I can ever top that." He began to bow down and I laughed.

"I don't know the chocolate milk joke with Yoosung was pretty good." We both laughed and then the nurse came in. After signing the papers I was wheeled out of the hospital and to Saeyoung’s waiting car.

[tango-uniformed]

Viv vs A Road Trip

Yes this sucks I still don’t know how to write these characters and I forgot how to write

#

The distance between the Kennellys’ small town in East Tennessee to Los Angeles, California, was 2150 miles and change.

This translated to over 33 hours of driving time. Over 33 hours of driving time, cross country, in Bobby Kennelly’s horrible 1998 Chevy pickup-truck. They did not stop at landmarks, nor did they sleep in motels at night; the three of them simply rotated between shifts of driving and then dozing off in the cramped backseat. There were times that they stopped for food, or stopped at rest stops to stretch and use the bathroom, but those were kept minimal. It was utterly inhumane and the worst travel experience in Viv’s life. By the time they made it to Southern California (less than 48 hours after they left Tennessee) he was already trying to repress every memory he had of this ‘road trip’ made with two people he had known for less than a week.

The trip had not been without incidents.

The night of their hasty departure (a less optimistic person might call it ‘flight’) from Jepthah, Tennessee, they had barely made it through Nashville before the first incident. And of course it was in Nashville, considering the subject of that first road trip hiccup.

Just a few hours in. The road around them was nearly empty since it was nearly 3 AM. The lights of Nashville shone invitingly, promising music venues and acoustic guitar lessons. In another life, one where he was not driving across country in search of his brother’s mysteries, Viv would have made a day trip of the city. He’d always wanted to visit, if only to check out the ‘Grand Ole Opry House’ and Ryman Auditorium. Country music wasn’t his thing, but he had an appreciation for its history.

Viv pulled his phone out of his pocket with the intention to listen to some music that was his thing. He figured that the Kennellys wouldn’t mind. It would keep them all awake and it would introduce them to a little bit of culture that he was sure they would learn to appreciate.

“Do you have an auxillary cord?” he asked, eyeing the sound system that most certainly had not been installed in 1998.

Bobby, in the driver’s seat, kept his eye on the road. “No.”

Arlene was playing Candy Crush on her phone with her long legs propped up on the dashboard. “We lost it a year back, last time we cleaned out the truck.”

The truck had been cleaned a year ago? The detritus of fast food wrappers and empty beer cans seemed to say otherwise. The pathological stereotype in Viv’s mind for smart, particular guys like Bobby Kennelly was synonymous with ‘neat’, but he didn’t want to make any offensive assumptions.

“You wanna listen to the radio?” Arlene asked him.

“No,” said Bobby again.

“I can play my music on my phone-- I have Spotify premium.”

Arlene turned around so that she could look at Viv. She looked pretty put-together for a woman who had just blown up the side of a building with her mind less than 5 hours ago. Her wavy brown hair appeared more unkempt than it had that evening and there was a smudge on her nose, but apart from that? Viv had seen more magical damage on a kid from his theatre who had attempted to levitate part of the set. Arlene probably had a much stronger inherent ability. Her expression was not curious and he could tell that she was not interested in what he had to say. She was just making conversation with him because it was the polite thing to do, even in the middle of the night after they had all almost died. Viv didn’t know if that put him at ease or disturbed him. “You pay for that?”

“I do. I don’t like the stuff on the radio, I’m particular about what I listen to.” Viv started to pull up his carefully tended playlists.

“Because you went to music college?”

‘Music college’. Viv smiled tightly. “Sound design at Boston University, but yeah, kind of. It’s more that my mom really nurtured an artistic environment for me and my brothers when we were kids and we were exposed to so much music from--”

Bobby Kennelly cut him off by honking loudly at an 18-wheeler in front of him that was going too slow. He swerved sharply into the other lane in order to pass it. Both Viv and Arlene were jostled in their seats, and Arlene quickly took her cowboy-booted feet off the dash.

What a dick.

Without thinking too hard about it, Viv selected ‘Seasons of Love’ by the original cast of Rent and pressed play. And then, because it was what he naturally did when he was in a car and a musical was playing, he began to sing along.

Within 10 seconds the atmosphere in the truck felt like the inside of a space shuttle that had been depressurized. Arlene’s politely disinterested expression turned into one that resembled that of a woman who had just eaten a large bug. Bobby looked over his shoulder in shock and almost crashed into the car ahead of them.

“What the hell are you doing?” said Bobby. He corrected his course then looked back over his shoulder. “Turn that off and quit singin’.”

“In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of-- come on, don’t you guys know Rent?” Viv shimmied his shoulders while making eye contact with Bobby, who looked away to focus on the road. Arlene, still staring at him, smiled uncomfortably. “You know, Rent? Based off Puccini’s opera? La vie boheme? Come on guys, you know Rent. Hey, we could listen to the whole album tonight if you haven’t heard of it before.”

“Yes, we fucking know what Rent is,” Bobby snapped. “So turn it off, I’m tryin’ to drive here, I need peace and quiet on account of, if you don’t recall, almost gettin’ blown to hell this evening!”

Viv turned the song off. It wasn’t fun to mess around like he normally did during road trips if Bobby was going to have a nasty attitude. He sighed.

“So...was that like, Glee or something?” asked Arlene.

Viv looked out the window at the flashing lights of Nashville as they passed him by. Whoever Levi Monday was, he had better be a good lead on Christian if he was going to drive joylessly across the country to get to him. It had been a struggle enough to get the Kennellys to help him, but it had not been difficult, not in the way he had thought it would be. After all, he had only blackmailed 2 drug dealing rednecks into giving him the information he needed. After that, their assistance on his ‘mission’ had sort of fallen into his lap due to their mutual interest of not getting murdered. Chances were, Monday was a different breed of criminal. Christian’s dossier had labeled him as an ‘enforcer’-- whatever that meant in real life, Viv wasn’t sure.

He drifted off to sleep in the silence of the backseat.  

In the morning, a bit after 7, they reached Memphis, and Viv woke up to a brand new discomfort about to start.

Bobby pulled up to a McDonalds and parked. He got out of the truck without saying anything, and stalked inside without looking back. Viv sat up and rubbed his eyes. The truck’s door shutting had been what had woken him up.

“What’s going on?” he asked blearily. “Where are we?”

The sun had barely risen. All he could see was a bleak McDonalds parking lot.

“Memphis,” said Arlene glumly.

Viv did not know anything about Memphis, and his brain was too tired to contribute a snappy remark or small-talk. He hadn’t taken his contacts out before going to sleep, so he started rummaging around inside the meager bag of possessions he still had for saline solution. “Is your brother getting us some coffee?” he asked. The saline solution was nowhere to be found. He must have left it at the motel along with his toothbrush, deodorant, and everything else that was necessary for a human being to function. “Hey, we need to stop at the next gas station to pick up some hygiene products, I just realized I grabbed my headphones but left every basic necessity. Talk about priorities, am I right?”

Arlene shrugged. “We’ll get some stuff, I guess. Truck stop or something. I didn’t grab anything except my purse. Bobby’s got shit in his bug-out-bag but it’s, well, not exactly necessities.”

That meant guns. Viv didn’t want to think about it. He rubbed his eyes some more, wondering why he hadn’t had his vision corrected like Christian did when he had the chance.

“You get any sleep?” he asked conversationally, but not really caring. “Are you driving next?”

“No,” said Arlene. “I mean, yeah.”

“Which one?”

“I didn’t sleep but I’m drivin’ next. Just to Little Rock, not far.”

Viv nodded amiably. He watched the parking lot for any sign of Bobby and hoped that he would bring back some egg Mcmuffins along with the coffee. That was the thoughtful thing to do, right? Was Bobby Kennelly that thoughtful?

“Are you going to use the restrooms?” Arlene asked him.

Viv laughed. “Yeah, after I drink my coffee.”

“Do you mind going now? It’s just I could use some privacy.”

“Why?” Viv, like most people, found that coffee made him have to use the toilet rather urgently and preferred to wait. He didn’t expect a complex answer; if she wanted to smoke a cigarette or something she could just go outside, not him.

Arlene didn’t look at him. “Oh, I’m like, going to call my sponsor to let her know I left town and that I won’t be back anytime soon.”

“Your--” Viv froze. The word ‘sponsor’ had several meanings that his brain cataloged frantically but in this context she could only be referring to the awkward one. His hand scrambled for the door handle. “Oh, sure, totally, totally, totally. Cool. Yes. I’ll go in and check on the egg Mcmuffin situation going on, you want anything?”

“Milkshake would be nice.”

“You got it!” Viv practically jumped out of the door and slammed it, cursing when his feet hit the pavement because his legs had fallen asleep. He power walked across the parking lot, too uncomfortable to wonder whether the people of early morning Memphis would judge him for wearing beat up old sweats from the day before.

It felt very, very hot and the sun was not even up.

A few things had suddenly fallen into place. Viv sat down on a bench outside, which was sticky with condensation. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to hurriedly type a few notes-- what was a story, even in a journalistic capacity, without conflict and character development? Was that exploitive? And if it was exploitive, was it really so bad if he got thousands of subscribers out of the story.

Even if he didn’t find Christian, even if he didn’t get to the bottom of that particular mystery, what he had been through and experienced so far was good enough to produce hours of engaging material that people would eat up.

And then he shook himself. ‘Even if he didn’t find Christian’-- then what was the point of all this? The boundaries between personal and professional couldn’t get twisted up in his mind like that. He couldn’t be like...well, like what Bobby Kennelly was shaping up to be.

Viv stuffed his phone back into his pocket and stood up, entered the McDonalds. It was nearly empty and looked exactly like the McDonalds he went to in Baltimore. Two old African-American men sat near the door with their coffees and newspapers and they looked up at him and nodded when he walked by. Again, Viv felt like an outsider and it frustrated him. He saw Bobby up by the registers, taking a bag and a tray of three coffees from the cashier. He hurried up to him.

It looked like Bobby had washed his face and put water in his hair while in the bathroom, because the dark curls that stuck out beneath his hat hung limply. “You’re awake,” he said blankly.

“Yeah.” Viv knew he sounded hostile. Bobby scowled at him.

“You take cream and sugar? Probably, I was thinkin’. No offense.” He said ‘no offense’ in the way that someone says it when they mean to offend you.

The cashier had turned away to tend to her other duties and the old men by the door were chatting. Viv took one of the coffees and began pouring little containers of cream into it; he took 3 creams and 3 sugars. “Is your sister ok?”

“What the hell you asking me for?”

“I mean, is she in NA or something?”

Bobby’s eye narrowed. He grabbed the paper McDonald’s bag off the counter again with a sudden ferocity and held it close to his chest. He sniffed, adjusted his hat with his free hand. “Yeah,” he said. “Until you showed up.”

Viv could not think of how to respond to that. All he could think of was the profound wave of dislike that washed over him as he looked at Bobby Kennelly in front of him, puffed up and preemptively denying blame. He shrugged. “Whatever man,” he said. “I’m getting a milkshake.”

Nobody said much until they got to Little Rock and stopped for gas.

At the Shell Station they stopped at, high above their heads, there was a single billboard. It was blank and white, save for the center where a bright blue nazar symbol stared out at them. Underneath of the nazar was a simple inscription, a Bible verse: Matthew 18:9.

“Reminds me of The Great Gatsby,” Viv commented, gazing up at it. He doubted that they would get the Gatsby reference, but said it anyway because it made him feel smart. “I’ve actually seen some of these things back home too, and there was one in Miami last summer when I went to visit family. Wonder what it’s advertising.”

“Church,” said Arlene. She stretched and touched her toes. Her short shift of driving had been more pleasant than her brother’s; she didn’t honk every 15 minutes like he did. “What’s that verse say, Bobby?”

Bobby, who seemed entirely focused on filling his tank up with gas and had not looked up at the nazar, didn’t answer. He tapped the pump’s rapidly climbing numbers as if that would make the gas come faster.

“He used to know all the Bible verses back when we were little,” explained Arlene. Viv saw Bobby keep tapping on the gas pump. “We’d go to Sunday school and he’d get prizes every time and our Mama--”

The gas pump clicked mercifully. It put a natural end to a conversation heading down the inevitable road toward discomfort, and Viv was grateful for that. It was his turn to drive and he didn’t need the added distraction of learning about what he could guess was a childhood marked by poverty and absence.

He drove through the Ozarks for hours while Bobby napped fitfully in the passenger seat and Arlene curled her long body up in the back. From time to time he glanced at them, wondering how these two people had gone from strangers to accomplices in his life so quickly. The bottom line was that they had nothing to lose. As he passed the foreign rock formations and plant life of a land that he had never thought he’d find himself in, Viv felt his throat grow dry as he realized just how little he had to lose as well.

Usually Viv needed music to drive, but he passed this time in a daze. He found himself thinking about Christian, and how little he actually knew him. Whatever had happened to his brother before he left the military had changed him, but in a different less palpable way than it had changed their father.

Their father talked about his time...doing whatever it was he did...like it had been the best time of his life despite the clear physical toll it had taken on him. The last time Viv witnessed someone ask Christian about his service had been a couple years ago during the last Christmas the whole family had spent together. Will’s (now ex) wife innocently asked Christian about what kind of food he and his buddies ate while over there. It had not been one of Jennifer’s worse faux-pas, but a faux-pas nonetheless. And Christian had just laughed his loud fake laugh and made a joke, but the tension had been there for everyone to see and nobody talked about it.

Because nobody ever talked about anything in his fucking family.

Viv didn’t know if normal families talked. Probably. He wondered if Bobby and Arlene talked to each other about important shit, but doubted it.

He reached Oklahoma City a little after 1 in the afternoon and almost didn’t want to stop since the Kennellys were sleeping so peacefully and the hours he had spent driving were the most peaceful ones he had experienced in what seemed like a hundred years. But he was hungry and knew that they would be as well.

After some debate, they settled on ordering Chick-fil-a, and ate in the parking lot. Viv thought about saying something about how unethical he found the company to be, but didn’t want to rock the boat too much more than he had to. They already knew he was gay, didn’t they?

It was a good chicken sandwich and he hated that it was good.

Bobby ate his sandwich faster than Viv had ever seen anyone eat one, then he finished off his fries in a heartbeat. And then he ate Arlene’s fries. “Tell me about this Levi Monday fella,” he said. He was back in the driver’s seat, seemingly fine after only 5 hours of sleep. Sure, he was a variant, but how was this guy functioning? “Apart from him bein’ a criminal who your brother may or may not have been involved with.”

“Oh, Christian was involved with him alright.”

“The way he was ‘involved’ with us?” Bobby shook his head. He had since changed out of his camo and into one of the t-shirts they had obtained from a nearby gas-station. It was too big for him (like most things were bound to be) and read ‘OKC basketball’. “No. There’s a connection we ain’t seein’. Maybe you’re hunting your brother, but he’s hunting someone else. Maybe it has to do with whoever laced my product with fentanyl and got that guy, his buddy, to OD. If his other dead friends were in L.A. and Boston, same as Monday and the Calderon girl, I’m betting they got set up just like us.”

Viv shrugged. “Maybe. Except the guy from Boston, Blue, he isn’t dead. Calderon attacked him a few years ago and put him in the ICU, but she’s incarcerated now and he’s fine.”

“I bet he isn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Viv snapped. He didn’t put much stock in the ‘drug dealer getting framed by mysterious bad guy’ theory, but thought it very likely that Christian was hunting someone or running from someone. “All I have are the Google Docs he sent me the night before he went missing, ok? I’m working off of that and it’s not like meeting you two provided much new information other than how all the shit I saw on Justified is real life. Levi Monday is an enforcer for a small criminal organization in LA, he had connections to one of my brother’s friends, I have his address, and that’s it. That’s all I know.”

“How’s a man with a name like ‘Levi’ get to be muscle for a gang in LA?” muttered Bobby. He took a long sip of his soda. “Sounds like he should be laundering money instead.”

“Oh my God, don’t say that,” said Viv, acting shocked when he had been thinking the exact same thing.

“I’m just sayin’, all the guys I met in prison who were named shit like ‘Levi’ were all a buncha j--”

Arlene saved the day from any potentially anti-semitic microaggressions by leaning up from the backseat with her phone. “Think I found him on Instagram,” she said. “Want to look?”

Both men tried to grab her phone to look first, but Viv was slightly closer and had the advantage of not having hands covered in chicken grease. He looked down at Monday’s instagram profile and froze.

Levi Monday was the most attractive man Viv had ever seen. Beautiful, even.  All he could do was stare at one of his selfies, spellbound. The picture was lit softly, romantically, with the subject gazing at something off camera. It was only of his head, neck, and shoulders, but even from that it was evident that he was a broad, well-muscled man. Monday had dark skin and a mass of naturally textured dark hair, kept out of his face in a pony tale, with a few softer curls floating down to frame his high cheekbones. In the picture he was smiling gently, and his sharp incisors spoke of him having some small variance. His eyes were heavy lidded and green, with long lashes. He wore a few necklaces, but they hung too far down on his chest to see.

A single picture of this man took Viv’s breath away. For a second, all he could think about was whether or not Levi was into guys, and if so, would he have a chance with him once they got to LA…

Bobby grabbed Arlene’s phone away from Viv and peered down at it suspiciously. He put his funny broken glasses on in order to see it better. “What the hell?” he said. He started to scroll through other pictures. “What’s wrong with this guy?”

“Let me see!” Viv tried to grab the phone again but Bobby swatted his hand away. Arlene craned herself around and over the seats to stare at Monday with her brother.

“This is the wrong guy,” said Bobby, with finality. “You found some guy named Levi Monday, Arlene, but he ain’t our guy. This is one of them California liberals who do fuck all except do yoga and take selfies of themselves drinking smoothies.” He held up a picture of the alleged Mr. Monday posing in vriksasana in front of a yoga studio.

Seeing Monday in yoga pants made Viv feel sweaty. He had to look away.

“Not a criminal,” said Bobby, with finality. He handed Arlene’s phone back to her and looked at Viv like he had done something wrong or made a mistake. “Either there’s a different Levi Monday at the address, or your brother was wrong about the guy and we’re about to go talk to this idiot about something he knows nothing about.” He paused heavily. “Or, your brother was wrong entirely and we’re on a wild goose chase here.”

The same anxiety, thick and ugly, had churned in Viv’s stomach since he started searching for answers in the first place.

“No,” he said, not fully believing himself. “Christian was always good at hunting. He’s never wrong about stuff like this, stuff like finding people.”

“Or he was,” said Bobby, who clearly did not understand how his statement lacked basic human empathy and social skills because Arlene jabbed him with one finger immediately. “What? I’m just sayin’. Guy like that disappears, it means he’s dead.”

Viv put his new, cheap, gas-station headphones in, leaned back in the passenger seat, and closed his eyes.

He slept until they reached Albuquerque.

They were at a truck stop again. The desert air was cool and dry and unlike anything he had ever breathed before. Viv stepped out of the car to stretch his legs and decompress. He sat down on the curb, looked up at the night sky.

Bobby and Arlene were arguing about something by the truck. Bobby pulled his huge duffel bag out of the back and dug through it, looking for something. Whatever he had in there wasn’t good. He’d brought his gun, which while uncomfortable, was fine because of his concealed carry permit-- if he truly had one as he had claimed. Why did he need a gun anyway, if his sister could blow things up with her inherent abilities? Viv suspected that Bobby Kennelly had at least one other firearm with him, and likely a small amount of methamphetamine which he intended to sell now that he was without income and on the run for his life.

It would be very, very bad if they got pulled over by the police.

Viv spent a frantic minute typing questions into his phone, looking for answers about whether or not being around someone who possessed a felony amount of illegal substances counted as a felony. Then he remembered that he had been an accomplice to someone who blew up part of a house the day before.

If he got in trouble, real trouble, he just had to pray that his father had some of his connections and could pull him out of it. That’s what happened when his RA found weed in his dorm during his freshman year. Was this so different.

Yes. It was.

He stopped watching the Kennellys do whatever-it-was they were up to and texted Will. He hadn’t talked to his brother since he went to Tennessee. Baltimore had a 2 hour time difference, putting it at about 5 AM, when Will woke up to freak out over his blood sugar anyway.

>u awake?

A few seconds later, Will’s read receipts popped up, but he didn’t seem to be answering. Viv tried again.

>omw to LA. I’ll call you when I get there. Some new shit’s come up, I know u dont want to hear it but its important.

No read receipts this time. What a prick. Will acted like he didn’t care whether his family lived or died, like they had ruined his childhood, his marriage, and his future. He had actually been to therapy for it. As if he didn’t understand that he had sabotaged his own life without any help from anyone else.

Viv went into the truck stop and bought several cans of pringles, some gummy worms, and ginger ale. He went to the restroom to splash some water on his face and freshen up. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he saw his tired, scruffy reflection and all he could think about was how ugly and out of place he was going to be in California if he didn’t get a shower the second he got there.

He got back in the truck, sat in the backseat, and ate pringles as he waited for the Kennellys to get themselves together and get back on the road. It hit him that he was eating pringles at 3 AM, on a road trip he hadn’t planned for, with people he was not sure he liked or even tolerated. Viv got the urge to laugh but restrained himself, since it would have made him look like an insane person larping as a journalist. He typed that note in his phone and could only hope that his subscribers on Patreon would eat this up by the time it was all finished.

800 miles to go.

He could only hope that this was all worth it.