#sorry if I sound violent I had to bite my tongue today while someone told me they use amazon for the convenience

[violetclarity]

in a ~fun~ turn of events I think this year I hate my job not because of the *gestures to conservative catholic institution* everything but because the ratio of direct coworkers whom I like vs. dislike has gone from 2:1 to 1:2 and I am LOSING IT

[ushidoux]

Good Teacher - Sugawara x Reader

Summary: You meet Sugawara on an online dating app expecting something tame, but get more than you expected. (~3.1k words)

Warnings: fem pronouns, fem!reader, some features are described ***, dom/sub dynamics, collaring, daddy kink, breathplay, dacryphilia, spanking, edging, toy use, restraint use, sub drop

A/N: Again, this was a commission so some features are described!! Otherwise, please enjoy my first longer BDSM fic.

---

Being alone in your bedroom at 9pm on a Friday night may have felt like a loss on any other day, but today, with your phone buzzing non-stop and every neuron in the sexy parts of your brain firing, you could not think of anything else you would rather do.

Well, actually you could think of a few, and most of them involved slipping out of your pajamas and slipping under your new flame.

Sugawara Koushi.

A name like that sounded sweet. Maybe even bland. Safe.

When you’d swiped right on his profile on the tamer of your social media apps, you’d expected someone mild-mannered and easy to speak to. He was an elementary school teacher with soft features, white hair and a cute mole under his left eye. He couldn’t possibly be as forward as the other guys you’d dealt with over the years. A tame, responsible choice.

You’d started texting back and forth quickly, with polite, formal introductions which progressed to cute messages and long phone calls, and you’d even managed a very chaste first date where he’d picked you up at 8pm on the dot and taken you to a fine restaurant on the water.

You normally would have expected to be dicked down that night, and had paired sexy lingerie under your silky mauve dress for exactly that, but you weren’t too surprised when he left you at your doorstep with a peck on the forehead.

The only unsettling thing about the kiss was the way his eyes had lingered on your lips, just as his fingers trailed the curve of your jaw as he tucked your hair behind your ear. It was too practiced, too… dominant.

You suspected he was holding something back.

And he was, because once you’d ventured to call in the middle of the night, a little bit tipsy and yearning for a little bit more than a smile and a gentle touch from him, you’d broken some sort of dam.

He’d called you a needy, desperate, pretty little slut, desperate for Daddy’s cock but needing to prove herself that she was willing to ride with Daddy’s very, very strict set of rules first, and you’d practically cum at the sudden turn of his voice.

Now anything was fair game.

I have… particular taste. Are you sure you can keep up, princess?

The warmth between your legs and the image of full balls and a weighty, rigid cock told you, you would absolutely be ready for anything he had in store for you. 

Yes, daddy. I’m up for anything you want.

You, of course, couldn’t see the wide smile spreading across his face on the other end, as he palmed his cock slowly while reading your texts and admiring your nudes, and texted back:

We’ll need a shit ton of rope.

---

Sugawara’s hands are much larger than you’d anticipate, and rougher, and you wonder how much of it is due to high school athletics or from the fact that he’s quick to slap or spank you at any chance he gets. Your skin is sometimes red, sometimes bruised, and always marked, and it’s exactly the way you like it.

The first time you have sex, he starts you off as though you are the most shy of virgins even though you claim that you’re not exactly inexperienced.

“I wouldn’t want to break you, pretty girl,” he teases, as his hands worship your body, tracking down your waist to the center of your legs, and patting your cunt softly. Today, he’s promised to focus on your pleasure only because he wants to “break you in.” You wonder how many he’s “broken in,” then you realize you don’t really care. You’re his one and only princess right now, and you intend to be for quite a while. 

The pleasure of being a good dom is that he can choose to serve - he can choose to be doting and he can choose to be harsh with punishment. Since it’s your first day since you’ve entered this contract with him, he’s decided to focus on the catering part of his personality, and familiarize you with his desires.

The rose-gold Turian collar on your neck compliments your skin well, he takes note, as he takes one of your nipples in his mouth and leans you against him while you are seated on the edge of the bed and he’s kneeling just so before you, fingers deep in your cunt.

“You’re gonna keep that pretty little thing around your neck, aren’t you, pretty baby?”

His fingers move so fast that it’s hard for you to speak, and the arm that’s wrapped around your waist and keeping you flush against him is tightening the longer he continues. He’s a lot stronger than he looks, you know from every heavy spank he’s given you.

“I-I will, daddy, every day and every night,” you pant out, your tongue lolling as his fingers curve upwards and his lips leave your nipple with a soft pop and make their way to your quivering mouth.

“Good,” he whispers as he bites your lower lip. “You’re so obedient… I like that in a little one,” he affirms.

---

He’s kind when he teaches, patient even. 

He’s also generous; he gifts you with your first corset, a dark, lacy and tight thing that almost takes your breath away initially, especially when he tightens it onto you himself. Even if it’s constraining, you feel empowered from the very moment you look in the mirror. Your breasts sit high, and you spin once in a gesture of delight; he kisses down your neck as you admire yourself.

“This is only to get you used to a little bit of restriction,” he reassures, as he pulls you into his lap. “But I can’t deny that you look breathtaking.”

---

Since you’ve been so bold as to take his breath away, it isn’t too long until he decides he wants to see what you look like when you’re truly struggling for air. After all, the little shiny thing around your neck catches his eye way too often for his comfort, and his pants suddenly feel too tight for a casual grocery store run.

Your safeword is red, like the blood that courses through your veins as his fingers tighten around your throat.

He thumbs your pink, puffy lips, and it would be loving if he wasn’t calling you a stupid little cocktease.

“Pretty little bambi, prancing around like you’re free to be with anyone other than me.”

The breath that tickles your face is a taunt, because you’re slowly getting lightheaded, barely able to focus on the long index finger he’s commanding you to suck. 

The pressure he puts on your neck is varying; for moments you can draw a single staccato breath, which encourages him to press his lips to yours and absorb you in a kiss before he reapplies pressure; his naked body presses against yours, rolling painstakingly slow. He hasn’t even entered you yet.

Breathplay, he calls it.

You gasp as his cock slips into your wet entrance just as fast as his hand leaves your throat, and he too draws a deep breath as he fills you to the hilt. 

He lets out a soft laugh as he caresses the hair that is sticking to your face, and readjusts himself yet again - of course, he’s also better endowed than you’d expect him to be - before he picks up speed and chokes you again.

---

“I… Kou-”

“Daddy,” he stresses, unphased as he continues to press a small clitoral stimulator to your tender, overworked bud.

“D-Daddy~” you cry out in a soft, drawn out whine, and you shift a little bit because the ties that keep your ankles attached to the legs of the chair, your pussy exposed and vulnerable with your crotch wide open, are starting to dig into your skin. But you can’t move all that much, there’s additional rope around your waist that keeps you against the back of the chair and you think the soft satin that keeps your wrists behind you is probably overkill, even if you have to admit you like the color.

“Yes, sweetheart~” he whispers in a voice accented with assertive sweetness, his eyes still lowered and focused on the heave of your chest as he watches you drip before him.

“I-” 

You scream.

He’d angled the toy upwards, and somehow within the small bundle of nerves he’s targeted an even more precise cluster of endings - there’s a flash of white you see before you cum practically violently, lurching forward so rapidly that he has to keep the chair steady so that you won’t fall over on the pretty little face he adores.

It’s possibly the fourth time he’s had to ground you in the past hour, and it’s an act of mercy because he had been edging you repeatedly, forcing your pussy to clench desperately around nothing but air.

The way you gush and spray so lewdly onto the chair, onto the floor, onto the hand he plays on your sopping wet pussy reminds him he chose very, very well.

---

It’s nearly silent and it’s dark now, far too dark for you to see. 

Your Koushi has prepared you for this next step lovingly, sometimes not so lovingly over the past couple of weeks to build up to this.

The blindfold that obscures your vision is soft and slightly sweet smelling, as though spritzed with a floral scent about a day ago prior to this. Again your hands are bound, but he’s used lined handcuffs instead of ties, and your wrists are before you, not behind you. 

But you’re lying on your belly, a spreader forcing your thighs apart. He must really love the way your pussy looks staring him in the face.

“You seem to be a glutton for punishment, princess,” he says, accenting his words with a hard slap on your inner thigh. You gasp, but his hands linger tighten, and are then followed by what can only be the press of his tongue against the stinging portion.

“Daddy, I’ll behave, I’m so sorry,” you moan as his hand grips a generous portion of your asscheek.

But you won’t behave, because you’ve learned that Suga likes just a touch of bratty behavior and that gets him quite physical with you. He knows this just as much as you.

He slaps your ass fervently, the slight jiggle drawing a pleased sigh from his lips.

“You’re a silly little slut, though…” he starts, rubbing a hand along the length of your thigh, “how can I trust any of your promises?”

His finger travels to your open center, and when he sees you tense up, he stops.

“You need a firm hand to guide you always…”

His right hand curves again around your cunt and his middle and ring finger finds its way into your slippery hole, while his index taps your clit and his little finger (he’s dexterous like this), taps ever so lightly around your asshole. 

You shudder.

“Arch your back, you little cumslut. Make it easy for daddy.”

As you inch backwards slowly using your elbows and knees to rise up, his right hand continues to move with you, but then his other hand lands heavily on your other asscheek.

It breaks your concentration and you almost fall because it takes quite a lot more energy than you would expect to move this way with your hands bound and your legs spread, but you persevere. 

For him.

Before you can whine once you’ve gotten into position, he withdraws his hand from your cunt.

“No!” You find yourself shrieking before you realize. You can’t have him edge you again, he’s absolutely cruel, you can’t…

“Oh, I thought I called the shots here, princess,” Sugawara reminds you, voice honeyed and cruel. You can feel his fingers weave into your hair and the warm tip of what must be his cock prod at your entrance.

“Sir, please~”

“Beg.”

He spreads you open with a hand massaging your ass, again tapping teasingly all around your vagina, but he won’t push in to give you the pleasure of having his cock inside you.

Your heart is pounding with desire.

“Please!”

“Please what?”

“Please fill me up, daddy!”

That statement of desire earns you an inch, an inch that makes you swallow saliva hard and your muscles tense with need and want.

“M-more, more please!”

“You’re so demanding. I would say your eyes are bigger than your pretty little pussy, but you can’t see, can you?”

He laughs, but he pushes in further another inch, than another, moving painstakingly slow, slow enough that you’re biting your lower lip until blood is drawn. The stretch is achingly delicious but it leaves you starved for more.

You’re begging and whining, and soon you’re trying your best to sink onto him further but he’s got you restrained for a reason.

“Greedy little bitch,” he murmurs, but he kisses your neck lovingly as he fills you to the hilt.

The unmistakable noise of flesh hitting flesh and minimal friction fills the room but you care less about sound, only about the slap of his balls against your cunt as he thrusts into you from behind.

More. Deeper. Faster. Harder.

He’s a master at drawing desire out of you, you wonder if you even needed these toys and ties and other accoutrements. You’re already so utterly wrapped for him. 

---

There’s a movie playing on your screen that you had both been pretending to watch, cuddled together on the couch, your legs resting across his lap. You had barely gotten through the opening credits before he pulled you onto him fully and had you straddle him.

“You want a snack, pretty baby?” He whispers, as though it weren’t just the two of you staring in each other’s eyes.

Your eyelashes bat and you nod.

He doesn’t break eye contact while he reaches for a strawberry, fresh from the farmer’s market you’d strolled through this morning, from a bowl set on the table. 

This one is drizzled in chocolate, and he runs it along the length of your collarbone, eye contact still heavy and unflinching before he dips down to catch it in his mouth.

It hangs out halfway from his teeth and he cues you to take it from him mouth to mouth. You split half of it, letting the sweet tartness permeate your senses.

His arm hooks around your waist and pulls you in close as he presses his lips against yours. You weren’t aware of the glob of strawberry-flavored saliva he’d collected until he draws away, tilts your head back and tells you to open up wide so he can spit directly into your mouth.

---

“Swallow.”

Suga’s relentlessly pounding an erect, frustrated and thick cock into your mouth, past your teeth and down your poor throat, and he’s close to his release now, you can tell by the way he’s now pressed your face so far against him that his carefully cropped pubes prick your face.

He’s warning you beforehand, and you’re thankful for the warning because when he cums with a soft, almost angelic moan, his penis jerks inside your mouth ever so slightly, and there’s a gush of hot, slippery liquid that slides down your throat.

You breathe through your nose. He tastes sweet, maybe it’s because of the strawberries from just earlier today, but nevertheless it’s a pleasant liquid you gulp down around his cock.

He loves the way your throat feels when it clamps around him, especially when you initially gag once accepting his cock.

You’re perfect.

“Come up, darling,” he bids you, pulling you up from your position on your knees.

“Are you gonna fill me up, daddy?” You mewl softly as he lifts up and carries you before laying you on your back.

“Yes, pretty baby, but let me taste your juicy little cunt first,” he says before he dives in between your legs.

---

“You’re so good for me, you know that, don’t you?”

He kisses your neck softly as he holds you close to him while you lay in bed together. It’s close to 1am and he’s focused on aftercare, caressing your arms and waist and the curve of your hip gently. You’re facing away from him, not because you’re upset, but because you’re exhausted.

He’s worried you’re having a sub-drop; after all, he’s spent the last two hours slapping your face and calling you disgusting. He wonders if you forgot to use your safe word.

You’re new to this and he’s put you through a lot in the past few weeks.

“Sweetness,” he whispers, directly into your ear. “Look at me?”

You turn, cheeks still flushed from particularly hard slaps. His heart aches a bit for you, because those sweet lips are pulled downwards into a frown and he’s not sure if those are fresh tears that wet your eyelashes. 

He kisses your eyelids then rests his chin on the top of your head.

“Are you doing okay, my princess?”

You nod and reach for his face with your fingertips. Your dom softens under your touch because you are so precious to him. His fingers close around yours and he kisses your forehead.

“The most important thing is your comfort,” he asserts. He taps the collar around your neck that suggests in some way that you are his and he is yours. “You can take this off at any time.”

You wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face into his chest. It’s been fun and it’s also been freeing to have him take care of you. There’s a soft haze that wafts around your brain lately as you surrender to him. You are in love with him, deeply, in such a short amount of time.

“I would never,” you say, finally. 

His heart skips a beat.

“Unless you want to buy me a nicer one, of course.”

He chuckles. 

“You’re a feisty little one, aren’t you?” He remarks. He’s glad to look down at you and see you smiling again, eyes bright and brown. He reaches for your ass cheek, then raises your leg so that it lies across his hip. 

Your eyes twinkle with mischief.

“Well, that’s why you picked me to teach, isn’t it?” You raise an eyebrow, and the cheeky grin on your face is enough to make him get absolutely hard again.

Of course, only if you’re up to the task.

Suga bites gently on your lip again, his hand on your thigh. 

“I didn’t expect you to learn so quickly.”

“Maybe you really do have the gift of teaching,” you reply, as you stick your tongue into his mouth.

[hopeandvolleyball]

You can make a part 2 of when you break up with iwaizumi, akaashi???

when you move on pt 1

sequel to

genre: pure angst. pure, pure angst. fem!reader

w/ iwaizumi and akaashi

an- thanks for the request, lovely <3, also if you meant for it to be another breakup scenario oopsies but feel free to drop another ask and tell me :) thank you

iwaizumi hajime

word had been buzzing around the entire court about morisuke yaku’s new girlfriend, not that hajime really was paying attention. he heard it through the grapevine and same about her visit today but that wasn’t a part of his job. he was here to help train and make sure the boys didn’t do anything to hurt themselves. 

he was looking down at sakusa’s training routine during a break, thinking of new updates for his improvements when the door opened to the gym. he noticed the door open but didn’t do anything. most of the team burst into several questions.

“nice to see you princess.” “hi are you mori-kun’s girlfriend!” “please ignore them” “hi! i’m bokuto!” “it’s pleasant to meet you.” “you’re pretty. sure you wanna be datin’ morisuke?” “i’ll break your kneecaps, miya.”

at the commotion, hajime looked up at the group. 

oh

he felt like it had been years since he had seen you. it felt like an eternity since he had seen those eyes, and the consistent stars that swam within them and suddenly hajime forgot to swim. he didn’t remember how. if he could drown within those eyes he would have. his stomach began to twist violently and he felt the pang of guilt stabbing him. he remembered the night you separated, vividly. the arguments about how he never made time for you, him telling you to leave, and then you walking out of his life and never returning. until now. the core of the argument was how he never made the time for you, something yaku clearly could have done since you were here to visit during break. hajime watched how yaku held you, hand on the small of your back a motion that said he got you, he was here for you. it was the way hajime used to hold you. and now he would never get the chance to hold you that way again. it hurt more than he could have imagined. 

not as much as you looking up and into his eyes. 

you pardoned yourself from yaku and walked over to him. his breath got caught in his throat as you approached the bench he was sitting on.

“hi,” you greeted, sitting beside him.

“hi.” was his choked response. silent.

“it would have been weird to avoid you.”

“i know.” another silence. hajime took a breath. he needed to bite the bullet. “so. yakkun, huh?” he asked with a pain smile. at the thought of your new boyfriend you smiled so very softly. and that killed him. “when did that happen?”

“well, actually, we met the night we broke up,” you admitted, looking into your lap. a fire grew in iwaizumi’s chest. “i went to that late night coffee place and got-”

“an americano,” iwaizumi interrupted and you nodded. he still remembered. 

“and he was there to comfort me. i didn’t want another relationship after we broke up. i wasn’t ready for a commitment like that. we were engaged, hajime. it wasn’t like i was outwardly looking for a replacement. so yaku and i were friends for a really long time,” you looked up at morisuke with the softest of smiles once reserved for him. you leaned into your palm watching yaku’s interactions with atsumu. “but he loved me at my worst and i realized that’s all i wanted. whenever i was hurting and needed him he was there. always. he made the time for me and that meant more than i could have ever imagined.” and it was something hajime couldn’t give you. the words were on the tip of your tongue but you didnt want to say it. he gripped his sweatpants and willed himself not to cry.

“y/n. i still love you.” he admitted. “that night was a mistake and i never got to correct it i’m so sorry.”

“you don’t get to love me, hajime,” you responded, voice not faltering once. your eyes were trained on yaku as if you were born to only look at and love him. “i wish you nothing but the best, hajime. and if you ever loved me at all you’d wish the same for me and mori.”

akaashi keiji

truth is, after his breakup with you akaashi never moved on. he was more focused on his career and everything.

he spent most of his time at onigiri miya, it provided him a good place to work and reminded him to eat, something you were always nagging him to do.

not only this, he ended up with a good friend at the end of the day with owner of the shop, osamu.

“you look like you’re itching to get out of here,” keiji chuckled at osamu’s behavior, he continued to look at the clock. osamu blinked, a blush dusting at his cheeks at the commentary. “what’s the occasion.”

“six month anniversary,” osamu admitted with a sheepish smile. keiji blinked, only able to respond with a soft oh. “yeah i didn’t want to tell ya. i know ya’ve never really moved on from yer last girl and i didn’t want to rub my relationship in yer face.” akaashi held up his hand and shook his head. 

“no no,” he responded with a broken smile. “it’s fine. i’m not going to be one to negate your happiness. besides. it’s been almost a year. i should have gotten over it by now.” but he hasn’t, and that was the root of the onigiri twin’s message, and he knew that. in truth akaashi has never gotten over you. your ghost haunts his apartment, taunting him at every turn reminding him of what was. 

the night you walked out of his apartment for good it gave him a lot of time and silence to reflect on his relationship. things he didn’t like. he knew you were right. his business was no excuse to neglect you. him consistently playing the devils advocate when you were hurting wasn’t right. but it was too late for him. you were gone. many times he had thought of trying to find you with his tail between his legs and begging for your forgiveness. but he couldn’t do that. you couldn’t forget all he’s done, and he knew. by begging for you back he was negating your growth. but he missed you. so very much. he always made you feel like you were the bad guy in your relationship. but that wasn’t it. he was.

akaashi’s ears perked up at the sound of the front doors opening. then at osamu’s soft expression at who walked in the door. 

“there’s my buttercup,” osamu sighed. akaashi, out of pure curiosity, turned around to see his partner only to have his heart shattered. 

you. of all people osamu miya could have courted why did it have to be you. in all fairness keiji never told osamu that you were the other half of the terrible breakup he went through and he couldn’t be mad at you for moving on and finding the love you deserve. but it still hurt. he did love you so very much and now he got the confirmation you didn’t love him anymore. your love belonged to osamu. and he could never get that back. 

you hadn’t noticed keiji yet. you leaned over the counter to press the softest of kisses to his lips while he went to the back to clock out. someone else would lock up. this gave you the time to look over and see akaashi. you blinked and wanted to turn your head away from him but couldn’t.

“keiji.”

“hi.” akaashi greeted with a small smile. “congratulations on your anniversary,” he commented, putting his laptop in his bag.

“thank you,” you nodded. “i’m. i’m sorry for how everything ended. i wish it could have been more dignified than that.”

“no need. i’m the one who messed up our relationship. i realized that a long time ago.” akaashi looked to the back of the shop at the door where osamu walked into. “he’ll treat you well. at least i can rest easy knowing that.”

“hm?”

“i’m still in love with you. and i think i may always will be. you’re like a dying star, loud, explosive, beautiful where the ashes can be turned into something more. and yet i’ll still be able to see the beauty that was from earth and i will for a long time because. anyway, that didn’t make much sense. goodnight, y/n. i’ll see you around.” with that, akaashi walked out of onigiri miya. 

[heyyyharry]

Deep End - Chapter 2: Birthday Boy

…in which Harry gets the birthday surprise he didn’t ask for.

Word count: 4.7k

AU: famous!harry, siren!mc, adult modern retelling of the little mermaid? lol, fake dating, enemies to lovers.

WARNING: MATURE THEMES

All chapters / Synopsis / Moodboard / Playlist

Wattpad link

A/N: Thank you for all the love for Harry and Ezi after chapter 1. Please let me know what you think about each chapter so I can be motivated to write faster 😆

.

.

.

“Humans are so funny. You make up false stories about us and refuse to believe anything that isn’t the same as your imagination,” the siren said.

Harry tossed his head back and laughed. He held out a finger at her. “No, mermaids aren’t supposed to exist. You’re not supposed to exist.”

The siren narrowed her sharp gaze, and Harry quickly moved back a bit in fear of her grabbing his leg and pulling him into the water. To his surprise, she said, “And who are you to decide that? A useless human with a useless tail–”

“Okay, enough with the tail joke.”

“–can’t even survive the drowning deep. You don’t want to believe we exist, so you won’t have to carry the guilt of trashing our homes and murdering our kind.”

Baffled, Harry worked his jaw while silently cursing himself for never taking part in those debate classes back in school. Well, to be fair, he couldn’t have known that one day he would have to debate with a deadly siren in a cave on his goddamn birthday!

He shut his eyes and sucked in a breath. “Look, lady. I’m only one small human, with a bigger than average human tail, FYI.” The siren eyed at his crotch in disbelief, so he quickly crossed his legs. “But that’s beside the point! What I was trying to say was that, if you’re seeking revenge, I can’t satisfy you because I’m not responsible for trashing the ocean or shit like that. I’m a singer, alright? And I don’t even live here. I’m from London. A land far away. If you wanna murder a human, I suggest looking for Elon Musk.”

The siren stared at him like he was the mythical creature. “I’m not familiar with all the names you mentioned,” she said, folding her arms across her chest, which had been a big distraction for him. Good to know that he could still get horny while facing death.

“Don’t you guys have fish Wikipedia?” he asked, and she tilted her head, looking rather confused. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed that you should know all the facts about humans. That sounded like discrimination against sirens.”

For the first time since Harry met this siren, she actually smiled at him. “You have a lot of funny words, you strange creature,” she said, her eyebrows knitted in fascination.

“You know what?” Harry exhaled sharply. “Since you’re my kidnapper, I’m gonna stop arguing with you in case you still wanna kill me. But today is my birthday, so I can’t be kidnapped. I haven’t posted a thank you message on Twitter yet, and I might get cancelled for that. Celebrities get cancelled for literally anything nowadays. It’s annoying.” The siren blinked at him, her pink lips slightly parted. “Right,” he breathed. “You don’t have a Twitter account.”

“You said you were a singer.”

“That’s all you got from my long speech?”

“What is it? Singer.”

Harry bit his dry lip and frustratedly combed his fingers through his damp hair. “I sing. Use my voice to entertain other people.”

“Oh, like sirens.”

“I guess.”

“Except that we use our voice to kill people.”

“What?”

“Sing for me,” said the siren despite Harry’s horrified look. She seemed excited as she rested her folded arms on a boulder and gazed up at him with a twinkle in her crystal clear blue eyes. “Let’s hear it. I didn’t know humans could sing. Let’s see if it’s good.”

“Fine.” Harry blew out his cheeks and cleared his throat.

He began to sing.

“Walk in your rainbow paradise–”

“What’s a rainbow paradise?” the siren asked, but he didn’t stop singing to answer her.

“–brown skin and lemon over ice.”

“Why are you singing nonsense words?”

Once again, he ignored her, this time, closing his eyes. “I get so lost inside your eyes. Don’t you believe it? You don’t have to say you love me.”

“Love,” the siren repeated the word as if she had never heard of it in her whole life.

Harry opened his eyes and found that she was looking at him as if she could see right through him. He went on, “You don’t have to say you’re mine. Oh honey, I-i-i-i walk through fire for you. Just let me adore you.”

“Why would you walk through fire for someone?” the siren wondered out loud as she stared off into the distance, her strong brows knitted. “That's stupid. Fire is hot. I saw the humans on the boats use it one night. I almost burned my fingers trying to touch it.”

“Yeah, don’t play with fire.”

“Then why would you walk through it?”

The siren pouted, and Harry caught himself smiling at her naivety. “It’s supposed to mean that you’d do anything for the person you love. Even risking your life.”

“That’s stupid,” the siren repeated her earlier remark. For a second, Harry saw a curious little girl and not a dangerous sea creature from earlier.

“Well, it’s just a song,” Harry told her. “I personally wouldn’t do that for anyone, either, but some people do love with all they have, and would sacrifice everything for the one they love.”

An angry frown had replaced the siren’s previous perplexed expression. “Some humans murder the ones they claim to love,” she said in a cold voice. Harry felt a chill running down his spine, but then the siren went on with a softened expression. “Sirens are not supposed to love. Love is a weakness for my kind.”

Harry nodded. “Bet you don’t even have a heart.”

The siren cocked her head; a corner of her mouth raised subtly. “Every living and breathing thing has a heart. Sometimes it’s valuable. Sometimes it's not.”

“Only valuable if it’s the heart that you want,” replied Harry.

For a long moment, the siren looked into his eyes as if she was trying to read his thoughts. Could she do that? Read his thoughts?

Beads of sweat were trickling down his back as his heart began to race; he could hear it in his ears. Suddenly, the siren was pulled beneath the water. Harry stiffened at once. The ocean was still for a moment, then two sparkling tails burst through the surface. Harry’s jaw fell slack with a soundless scream when he saw another siren sinking her fangs into the first one's neck.

The other siren had bright red hair and a silver tail. There were visible scars all across her pale, lanky arms, and he couldn’t see her face. Legs too stiff to run and hide, he stood on the edge and watched in absolute terror. The scene in front of him was madness as the sirens screeched, their tails flapping, creating violent waves as they sank their claws and teeth into each other’s flesh. Harry could see blood. The first siren was not as strong as the one that was attacking her. He must save her. Maybe a part of him knew that she wasn’t entirely evil. Maybe because she was the only hope for him to get home. Either way, he couldn’t just stand by and watch her die.

Before Harry could even think of a way, a bony hand wrapped around his ankle and dragged him into the sea.

.

.

.

Harry’s dreams were thick with blood and haunted by the siren’s face. He’d been in the dark water, drowning, and the last thing he’d seen was her sapphire eyes glowing with the sunlight above as she’d stretched out her arm to grab him before he sank deeper. He woke up gasping, still feeling the saltiness of the ocean on his tongue and the pressure of water on his lungs.

He found himself lying on his bed, fully naked under the covers. Had he been dreaming?

Kneading his temple to chase away the headache, Harry scanned his sore eyes around the room and screamed when he saw her sitting in the corner. Naked. He looked away as soon as he caught her ocean blue eyes staring back.

The siren was in his room. And she had legs!

“You’re alive!” she exclaimed.

He heard her standing up but couldn’t bring himself to look. She sat down on the edge of his bed, smelling like the ocean. Not the fishy kind of smell; one that was unique, and Harry liked it even though he shouldn’t.

“This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a dream,” he mumbled to himself while clutching the duvet to his chest.

The siren, now a human girl, let out a sigh. “It’s not. This is real. I’m real.”

“You’re not.”

“Look at me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“You’re...naked.”

Even though Harry wasn’t looking, he could feel her questioning gaze pinning on him. He grabbed the covers and shoved them at her. “Cover yourself.”

“Oh...okay.” The siren did as she was told as Harry quickly placed a pillow on his private part. He finally looked at her, and she smiled while covering her upper body and the area between her legs with the duvet.

Harry let out a sigh of relief. “Better. Okay, why are you here?”

The siren’s eyes widened. “You don’t remember?”

Harry shook his head.

“We were talking when my sister attacked me, then dragged you into the water. You were lucky I saved you twice and brought you back to where I’d found you. This is the only palace on this beach, so I assumed it was yours.”

Harry sat and stared her face, trying to detect a lie but failed.

The siren rolled her eyes. She seemed disappointed as she swept her long black hair over her shoulder, exposing the huge bite mark on her long pale neck. The skin had healed, and the blood had dried, but the area was still bruised. Harry fought the urge to touch it. There was no way this was really happening.

The siren shot a glance at his ankle. And that was when Harry noticed the red claw mark around it. He shivered at the flashbacks of a siren with red hair and a silver tail charging straight at him with her mouth wide open, her sharp teeth ready to tear off his flesh.

“Sorry about my sister. She could be very...deadly,” the siren in front of him said, looking remorseful.

Harry eyed her up and down once again. Finally, he broke his silence, “What happened to your tail?”

The siren refused to look him in the eye as she said, “My mother found out that I saved you, a human, so she cursed me.”

“Cursed you?”

The siren said nothing; the corners of her mouth lowered as she stared down sadly at her legs.

What kind of The Little Mermaid plot is this? Harry thought to himself, yet didn’t say it because it shouldn’t be a joke. She’d lost her tail, which meant she couldn’t go back to the ocean. Ariel from The Little Mermaid had wished to become a human. This girl had been cursed with the life she never wanted just to save him twice.

Harry buried his face into his palms. “Shit. Fuck. I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”

“It is your fault.”

His head whipped up at her honest response. “You always say what you think, don’t you?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

Harry sighed and ran his palm over his face. “Never mind. How...how do I get you back to your mermaid form?”

“Siren.”

“Sorry, siren. How do I help turn you back?”

“I don’t know,” she said sadly, clutching the duvet to her chest. “But I need a place to stay until I figure it out.”

Harry thought for a moment and nodded. “I’ll pay for your hotel room.”

“What’s a hotel?” the siren asked, her eyes round. “And why can’t I stay here in your palace? It’s big and you live alone.”

“This is a house, not a palace,” Harry said. “But I’m going back to London tomorrow, and I can’t take you with me.”

“Where is London? I want to see London.”

Seeing her so excited made Harry laugh. “No, you don’t; trust me. It’s not sunny there. Always dark and gloomy and raining.”

“It’s not sunny underwater, either.”

Harry held up a finger and kept his mouth open for a moment as he pondered over what she’d said. “Good point. But I’m still not taking you to London. That’s not a good idea.”

The siren’s eyebrows drew together. “It was your fault I’m in this situation.”

Harry gasped. “You’re so manipulative!”

“I don’t know what it means.”

“It means you say things like that to get me to feel sorry for you, and so I have to help you.”

“Oh, then, yeah, I’m manipulative,” the siren said. “Take me to London with you, or I’ll find you in London and make your life hell.”

Harry tossed his head back and groaned. As if he hadn’t been traumatised enough by all the events that had happened today, now he had to take responsibility for the life of a mythical creature. If he had been a bad guy, he would have just let the government have her and keep her in a lab like that Oscar-winning movie about the dead girl and her fish lover. But Harry wasn’t a villain. Sure, he could be an asshole, but he couldn’t betray someone who’d risked her life to save his. Twice.

Maybe if he’d just say yes and then leave quickly in the morning, he wouldn’t have to deal with her. He’d ask someone to take care of her, pay for a place for her to stay and her food. Her mother would have to take her back eventually. He didn’t know about sirens, but even in the animal kingdom, mothers never abandoned their children.

“Fine, I’ll take you to London,” he said. Seeing the smile on her face, he was lowkey thankful that he was so good at lying. “First, you have to put some clothes on. Wait here.”

Carefully, he slipped out of bed, holding a pillow in front of his crotch and one behind him to cover his butt, then padded awkwardly to his closet to change and get her something to wear. When he returned, she was still sitting on his bed, humming a familiar song and kicking her feet as if testing out her new body parts. He found it endearing, but of course, he wouldn’t tell her.

He handed her a bathrobe. “Put this on. I’ll find some real clothes for you later.”

The siren accepted the bathrobe and stared at it as if she’d been told to put it in her mouth and chew. She glanced up at him. “I don’t understand the purpose of this.”

“To cover up your private parts.”

Suddenly, she seemed sad. “I think I’m broken.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

She looked at him again, pouting. “I don’t have a tail.”

“I can see that.”

“No, I mean, a tail like yours.”

When Harry realised what she meant, his face burned, and he cleared his throat into his fist. “You’re not supposed to,” he said awkwardly. “You’re...a female. I bet male sirens don’t look the same as you, right?”

“There’s no male sirens,” she told him.

Harry cocked his head to the side, squinting his eyes. “Huh? Then how do you guys...you know?”

She blinked innocently at him. She didn’t know.

“Mate.” The word made Harry cringe. “How do you mate?”

“Sirens mate with mermen. We only need them for children.”

“Okay, that’s...new…”

Harry would be glad to find out more, but this was definitely not the right time. He waved his hand, urging her to hurry up. Clumsily, the siren got to her feet. Harry didn’t intend to stay here while she changed, but since she could barely keep her balance, she had to hold onto his arms. He stood there, staring at the ceiling as the duvet dropped. She was completely naked in front of him now and so dangerously close. The voice inside his head was telling him not to peek. Fuck. Why did she have to be sexy?

“Do you...um...do you need help?” he asked as she seemed to be struggling with the bathrobe.

“No, thanks. I got it!” she said between ragged breaths, then, “Hey your tail is growing!”

Harry’s eyes dropped to the front of his boxers, his face heating at the sight of his erection. He gently pushed her back onto the bed and rushed to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” she shouted after him. “I need to see it in its full form!”

“This is its full form!”

“It’s still small.”

“Shut up! It’s not!”

.

.

.

Ezili felt bad for lying to this human.

Well, lying was the whole point of her mission, but he had been so nice to her when he found out she couldn’t return to the ocean. She blamed her new human heart for these emotions. Siren Ezili would never feel sorry for this ugly creature. No, wait, this one wasn’t ugly. The mermen were ugly. As much as she despised humans, she must admit that most of them were beautiful.

When this human wasn’t looking, Ezili would regard him with as much curiosity as he had regarded her in secret. The way his brown curls swept back messily. His defined jawlines. The deep dimples in his cheeks. The look of wonder in his eyes. He looked about her age, but his eyes were innocent, greener than seaweed.

She looked away as he caught her gawking. They were sitting at a small table on the floor. The room was darkly lit by the light in the corner. On the table was a mushy pile with little fire sticks on top.

“What is this?” Ezili asked, inspecting the object.

The human smiled at her, the firelight dancing in his leaf-green eyes as he said, “It’s a cake. We’re celebrating my birthday.”

“You told me not to play with fire.”

“We’re gonna put it out anyway.” He winked at her. “A little fire won’t hurt.” Ezili watched the human take out a little black thing and flick his thumb. Fire flared out, making Ezili flinch. “Relax,” he chuckled and the fire vanished. “This is called a lighter. It makes fire. This is a cake. These are candles.”

“What do we do with the cake?”

“We eat it.”

“You eat fire?”

The human laughed at Ezili’s distressed look. “No, silly. We blow out the candles, then eat the cake.”

“Oh,” she said, making him laugh harder. She found it disrespectful and annoying. Was this creature making fun of her? “What’s so funny?” she asked through gritted teeth.

The human stopped laughing, yet his dimples were still visible. “I can’t believe I’m celebrating my twenty-fourth with a siren,” he said.

“Who do you usually celebrate with?” Ezili asked.

“My friends or family,” the human said. “My friends were supposed to be here but their flight got cancelled due to bad weather.” The sadness in his eyes disappeared as he gave a dismissive wave and laughed. “Oh well, it’s not bad being alone. In fact, I’ve been alone my whole life.”

“That’s sad,” Ezili murmured, mesmerized by the candles.

“It’s not,” replied the human. “Some people live their whole life surrounded by others, and yet, they’re still lonely.”

As he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, smiled, and blew out the candles, Ezili sat there and pondered over his last words.

They didn’t eat the cake right away, because the humans said they ought to eat it after dinner. Apparently, humans ate three main meals a day—breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Sirens ate when they were hungry, so this was very new to Ezili. She picked up the small shiny thing that shaped like her mother’s trident and pushed around the foods on her plate. “What is this?”

“Fish,” the human said with a smile.

“Dead?”

“You expect me to eat alive fish?”

Ezili scowled at him. “That’s what we eat.”

“You’re human now. Try cooked fish.”

When she didn’t do anything but stare at the plate, the human nudged her hand with his knuckles. “Come on. If you don’t like it, I’ll get you the raw fish in the fridge.”

Ezili doubted that this imbecile creature would poison her with these colourful foods to get away with his responsibility, but at the same time, nothing was impossible.

However, she would probably faint if she didn’t eat. This dinner actually smelled good, and her stomach was rumbling because she hadn’t eaten since yesterday. And so she stabbed the fish’s burned flesh with her little trident, closed her eyes and put it into her mouth. It was soft, salty and a bit spicy, and...surprisingly delicious. She quickly took another bite, and another, and another.

“Wow, you’re really hungry, huh?” The human chuckled. “You like it?”

Ezili nodded fast, unable to answer because her mouth was full.

The human seemed satisfied. “Good. Means I’m a great cook.”

Ezili chewed fast and swallowed as the human began to eat. She tried to copy the way he held the little trident and the knife, and felt like she’d changed. Her mother would hate her so much for enjoying this. And Koa would make sure everyone in their kingdom knew and turn her into a laughing stock.

“Do you have any questions for me?” she said, breaking the silence, mostly to distract herself from thinking about the mission and her family.

The human thought for a second. “Hmmm, I have a bunch so I don’t know where to start.” Then, after a pause, “Why did your mum do this to you? Doesn’t she love you?”

Ezili wished she could stab him for bringing up the topic she’d been trying to avoid. Instead, she sucked in a breath. “She does. It’s just...the way sirens show love is different from humans. We teach our children to be strong from the moment they are born. Sirens live dependent on one another to survive, and so we always have to look out for one another. I guess that’s love for us. My mother is the Sea Queen. She’s very powerful, and so she has high hopes for my sister and I. My sister is better than me, though. I’ve always envied her.”

“Your sister is scary as hell,” the human remarked. “But if your mum is the Queen, you must be a princess.”

“Yeah.”

“Wow, so does that make me Prince Eric?”

“Your name is Eric?”

“No,” the human chuckled. “It’s a reference from The Little Mermaid. You should watch that film. You’d probably hate it though. Anyway, it’s so weird that we don’t know each other’s name. I’m Harry.” The human, well, Harry, put his hand across the table. Ezili didn’t know what to do with it so she just stared.

“I’m Ezili.”

Harry smiled, picked up her right hand and shook it. His hand was bigger than her and warm. She liked it.

“Cool name. Can I call you Ezi?”

Ezili instantly pulled her hand back. “No, you filthy creature. That’s not my name!”

“Ezi is short for Ezili.”

“What?”

Harry ignored the look of confusion she was giving him. “Or I could call you Bubbles. That’s a cute nickname.”

“Why Bubbles?”

“Because…” He tossed his head back and groaned. “Damn, woman, you gotta read the story, too. I can’t make these jokes if you don’t get the references.”

Ezili had so many questions. Just as she was about to ask, the black thing on the table lit up and started playing a song that startled Ezili.

“Sorry. My mum’s calling,” Harry said as he picked up the thing and swiped his fingers across it. “Right on time.”

“Is your mother trapped in that thing?” Ezili asked, clutching the hem of the shirt Harry had told her to wear. It was too big on her but she loved that it was comfortable and kept her warm.

“No, this is a phone,” Harry said, shaking the magical device with light coming out of it. “So my mum’s in London, and when she calls me on the phone, her voice gets transferred through it, and I can hear what she says.” He pushed himself up and told Ezili, “I’ll be right back.”

Once Harry was gone, Ezili sat there and tried her best to process all the new information. It was only her first night on land and she was already going through it. This mission was harder than she thought. Still, she had no choice but to continue. She must have that heart, and her mother would be so proud.

.

.

.

When Harry woke up this time, he was on his private jet.

“Hey.”

He screamed, causing Ezi to fall back into her seat in front of him. He whipped his head around and saw that they were the only two people in this cabin. Before he could even come up with a question, Ezi got up, her hand resting on either side of his seat as she leaned forward, until her face was so close to his that he could smell the vanilla scent of the cake in her breath.

Her eyes sharpened at once. “I know you were trying to get rid of me.”

“No...I didn’t.”

“You did, Harry. You were going to leave me at your beach house. I heard you talking on the phone last night with someone else after talking to your mum. You mentioned a hotel room.”

Harry had booked a room for her on the phone last night. He should have done it on the website.

“But guess what?” A corner of her mouth lifted. “I might not have the ability to control tides anymore, but I still have my voice. And so I can control humans with it. I sang you to sleep last night. Then when your servants came to take you to this metal bird, I made him carry you to the magic black carriage and I came here with you. You think you’re one step ahead, you’re wrong. Try that again. I dare you.”

Harry swallowed hard. He could feel his palms sweating as he rubbed them against his thighs. “Okay, I’m sorry for that,” he said.  “But you can’t control people like that. If someone found out what you’re capable of...what you are...you’d be in big trouble.”

Ezi arched an eyebrow as she slowly backed away and stood straight with her arms across her chest. Thank God, Harry’s mother called just in time. He immediately got up and excused himself to answer the phone. He left a pouty Ezili in the cabin and went to the exit to talk to his mother.

“My precious boy, are you on the plane right now?”

“Yes, Mum,” Harry sighed.

“Good. I just need the name of your date for the seat arrangement.”

Harry stiffened for a second then quickly glanced over his shoulder to check if Ezi was eavesdropping. Fortunately, she was distracted by a magazine.

“Like now?” he asked his mum.

“Yes. Last night you told me you found one.”

Yes, Harry remembered that part, but he’d only said that so his mum would stop pestering him.

He took a deep breath. “Yeah, I did.”

“Her name?”

He hesitated before saying, “Ezili Hans.”

Hans as in Hans Christian Andersen. The writer of The Little Mermaid. If he had the energy to be happy, he’d give himself a pat on the back for the creativity.

“Great,” his mother said, sounding as if he’d just told her he was getting married. “I’m so excited to meet this girl.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, dear?”

“I-I said ‘Well, of course’,” Harry said and covered it up with a nervous laugh.

When he got off the phone with his mum, he felt a light tap on the shoulder and turned around to see Ezi. Shit, had she listened to–

“I promise I won’t use my singing voice to control you again,” she said, to his surprise. "Please. I cannot survive on my own." She twisted the hem of his band-tee uneasily. Even though she looked super cute in his t-shirt and joggers, she was still too underdressed for someone that was travelling on a private jet.

“Fine. You can stay,” he heard himself say while trying to imagine her with actual clothes that fit her.

Ezi’s blue eyes lit up, and the smile that rarely showed up on her face caught Harry off guard. He almost forgot what was happening.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “But we need to set up some rules.”

[cyraclove]

“I hit you with my car and was the only one to visit you in the hospital” with modern BotW Zelink would be amazing :') (you can choose who gets hit and who visits! it works very well both ways)

Link stared into the windows of the flower display, his eyes traversing the plethora of multicolored blooms for the hundredth time. He’d been standing there for a solid ten or fifteen minutes, the tinny muzak of the hospital’s gift shop threatening to drive him out of his mind. The furled petals of a bouquet of yellow roses shook softly as the refrigerated case’s motor kicked on, looking almost as though they were laughing at him.

He decided against those.

Swallowing hard, he absentmindedly rubbed his palms together as he took stock of his ribbon-bound options yet again.

Sweaty. Why was he so sweaty?

Just pick some, you idiot, barked a voice in his head.

“Excuse me, sir,” said a foreign female voice that startled him from his thoughts, “Do you need some help?”

He turned to see an older, brunette woman with the roundest eyeglasses he had ever seen smiling pleasantly at him, her hands clasped behind her back. ‘Alma’, her nametag read.

He shook his head, scrambling for words. “Oh, uh…no, ma’am,” he stammered, attempting a sorry excuse for a smile, “I’m just…browsing.”

“Are you looking for something specific?” She asked, peering into the cooler. “We have flowers for just about any occasion. Flowers can say a lot just on their own, you know.”

How about some that say, ‘Sorry that I hit you with my car, complete stranger,’ he thought to himself. Link chuckled uncomfortably, knowing that he was definitely going to have to lie to this woman. “I’m here to visit my, er, friend. She was…in a car accident.”

Read on AO3

Alma nodded solemnly, clucking her tongue. “Oh, how terrible. I’m very sorry to hear that. People really can be such careless drivers these days, can’t they?”

“Yes,” he said through his teeth, “they certainly can be.” His eyes were drawn to a bunch of sickeningly pink ‘It’s A Girl!’ balloons, a nearby oscillating fan causing them to bob violently every minute or so. The screech of the colliding mylar made his stomach churn, and he silently wished for death.

“Well,” Alma began, a cool burst of air escaping the display when she opened the door, “I’m sure that we can pick something perfectly lovely that’ll have your friend feeling better in no time.”

The woman pursed her lips as she surveyed the case, humming thoughtfully. She eventually gathered up a bouquet of light blue lilies, their pointed petals tipped with white.

“What do you think of these?” she asked, “We just got them in from Necluda. This variety is called the ‘Silent Princess’, I believe.”

Before he could answer, Link’s phone began to ring, the shrill tone making him jump a bit. He grinned sheepishly at Alma as he fished it from his pocket, groaning inwardly as soon as he glimpsed the screen. Tapping his thumb on the red ‘ignore’ button, he tucked it away.

“Those are great,” he replied, “I’ll take them.”  

Alma smiled brightly, motioning for him to follow her the checkout counter. “Excellent,” she chimed, “Can I put them in a vase for you?”

His phone rang again. Link felt his eye twitch.

“Uh, sure. I mean, yes, please.”

“Would you like to add anything else? We have these precious sand seal plushies that would be just ador—”

“Just the flowers will be fine, thank you,” he said, more hurriedly than he’d intended. Snatching his phone from his pocket, he turned away from the counter and held the cell to his ear.

“What do you want?” He hissed.

A jovial cackle came from the other end of the line.

“Well, if it isn’t CHU’s resident asshole.”  

Link pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he inhaled deeply. This was, decidedly, the last thing he needed right now.

“You called me, Revali,” he snapped, “Do you actually need something, or did you just want to be a dick?”

“You wound me, Link,” the other young man drawled, “Oh, no—wait. I’m not the one who’s wounded, am I?”

Link clenched his jaw, the snip of Alma’s scissors on the flowers’ stems suddenly and inordinately loud. He glanced up at the woman only to have her swiftly look away, feigning focus on her task.

“You’re quite the hot topic on campus,” he heard Revali sigh, “I’m almost envious, what with the way everyone’s got your name in their mouths.”

“Who’s talking about it?”

“Who isn’t talking about it? Link, you hit a woman with your car. In the quad, for the love of Hylia. How’d you even manage that, anyway?”

“Okay, look,” he nearly seethed, “It was not in the quad, it was the intersection next to the quad. And it was an accident! I had the right of way, I didn’t see her, and the—the walk sign wasn’t even on!”

“Was she on the crosswalk?”

Link balked as he conjured up the memory from the other day. It had all happened so fast; one minute he was putting on his turn signal, and the next a young blonde woman was sprawled out on the road in front of his car. “I mean…well, yeah, she was on the crosswalk.”

“Then she had the right of way. Pedestrians always have the right of way, genius.”

“I’m hanging up now,” he muttered, disconnecting the call to the sound of Revali’s raucous laughter in the background. His near equal on the university archery team, Revali and Link were self-proclaimed rivals; well-known ‘frenemies’ to the rest of their teammates. While Link undeniably respected him for his skill, he could also be a real pain in the ass.

Releasing a weighty sigh, he faced the counter again, only to be met with a piercing glare of disapproval from the woman standing behind it. His blood ran cold as he and Alma locked eyes, hers narrowed in wordless acknowledgment of his sin. Approaching the register, Link flipped his wallet open and removed his credit card before sliding it toward her across the grey acrylic.

“Ring up the seal.”

-

The ride up the elevator was gruelingly slow, the jarring ding! of the door opening on what seemed like every damned floor made Link’s head throb. The air inside the garishly carpeted box was stuffy and stagnant, the scent of antiseptic stinging his lungs with each inhale. He looked down at the overpriced stuffed animal in his arms and frowned, its judgmental button eyes boring into him. The sluggish chug of the ancient machinery as it whined to a stop was nauseating, jostling him just enough to make him dizzy.

He finally stepped off and onto the tenth floor, referring to the clumsy, smeared numbers written on his palm in red pen. Link wandered down a white linoleum hallway, the idle hum of incandescent lights buzzing overhead as he peered at room numbers; the water in the vase sloshed softly as he went. With the plush tucked under one arm and the flowers cradled in the other, he raised his fist to knock tentatively on a door marked 1003.  

“Come in,” responded a quiet voice from the other side. Link instinctively held his breath as he pressed down on the door handle, inching it open.

The room was cold and clinical, painted and furnished in subtle greens and dull blues. Aside from several dim wall sconces, a large westward-facing window adorned with heavy curtains was the only source of light. Pushed up against the center of the back wall was a slim hospital bed, and in it sat a woman that Link had seen only once before—unconscious on the asphalt in front of his sedan. Her eyes flickered up toward him as he entered, darkening with realization mere seconds afterward.

“What are you doing here?”

Link froze, his thoughts scrambling as both his legs and tongue refused to move. All he could do was stare at her, eyes trained on the clunky, neon-green cast that enveloped her left arm. A purply-green bruise around the size of golf ball sat just below one of her eyes, swallowing the tiny freckles that peppered her cheeks. Her bottom lip puffed out, an angry cut splitting it vertically down the middle.

She looked awful.

And she had somehow managed to be strikingly beautiful at the exact same time.

“Well, I came to, uh,” he started, his words leaving his mouth before he had time to appropriately process them, “I came to see…how you were feeling.”

The young woman scoffed, turning her head towards the window. It was then that Link noticed the sutures running along the underside of her collarbone. Guilt roiled in his stomach for the millionth time that day as she began to speak.

“Let’s see; I’ve got bruised ribs, a couple of chipped teeth, and a concussion. Oh—and my arm is broken,” she replied in a biting tone, “So, I’m not great. Thanks.”

After a moment, he took a few tentative steps nearer to her bedside. He watched her gaze gradually slide in his direction, meticulously studying his movement. Link sighed, looking down at his feet with a shake of his head. His chest felt suffocatingly tight, as though someone had his lungs trapped in an ever-tightening vise.

“Look, I know that nothing I say right now is going to make any of this less shitty,” he told her, “and I’m sure that I’m the last person that you wanted to see today. That being said, it would’ve been even shittier of me to not at least try and come apologize to you. Because I messed up, big time, and I’m really, really sorry.”

The young woman said nothing in response, absentmindedly picking at her fingernails as she considered his repentant declaration. Her brows knitted above her sea-like eyes, consternation marring her delicate features. Link’s resolve just about shattered when he saw the impending tears brimming at her waterline.

“And I brought you this seal,” he blurted out, placing the patchwork creature on the bed near her legs, “You just seemed like, uh…a seal person.”

To Link’s relieved surprise, the corner of her mouth quirked up as she looked at the stuffed animal. Picking it up and setting on her lap, a watery giggle burbled from her chest as tears slid down her cheeks. The chuckle soon morphed into a full-on laugh, a bright, contagious sound that filled the room. Unable to help himself, Link smiled, and was soon laughing with her despite not entirely knowing why.

“It’s cute,” she sniffled, wiping at her eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s really cute. Thank you.”

They smiled through the remnants of their laughter as it faded out, leaving the two in silence again. The setting sun bathed the room in rosy amber and cast fractured, pinkish shadows on the walls. Unsure of what else to do, Link set the bouquet on her curiously empty bedside table. It was then that he paused to take stock of the rest of the room, realizing that it did not resemble what he imagined the hospital room of someone who’d just been hit by a car to look like.

It was devoid of any other flowers save the ones that he had brought, and missing were cards and balloons from well-wishing friends. He furrowed his brow, and his heart sank when the most likely reason for the lack of gifts dawned on him. She must be in Central for school, he thought, and all of her friends and family were wherever home was. Or, even worse—they were around, but couldn’t be bothered to come and pay her a visit. Turning back to face her, he gestured to her plaster-clad arm.

“No one’s signed your cast,” he noted.

She gave him a queer look. “What do you mean?”

“Uh, that’s the thing to do isn’t it? Have your friends write their names on your cast? And put, uh, I don’t know…stickers on it.”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never broken an arm before,” she replied, shooting him a sly look. “I haven’t got many friends, either, I guess,” she added under her breath, face falling.

“Do you have a Sharpie?”

“Oh, um, I think I have a few in my backpack. It’s just over there, on that chair. Should be in the little side pocket.”

Link made his way over to a grey pleather armchair and unzipped the pocket in question, reaching inside to pull out several permanent markers. Returning to the bedside, he held them out to the blonde, presenting her with her choice of color; black, red, or blue. She looked up at him from beneath delicate lashes, grinning as she selected the blue one. She extended her arm, and he sat on the edge on the bed as he gingerly braced it with his free hand. After popping the cap off with his teeth, he scrawled his name on the lime-colored cast as gently as possible.

“Link,” she murmured when he’d finished, “I just realized that I didn’t even know your name until now.”

It was true. He knew her name, simply because he’d had to ask for it at the front desk, but they had never been properly introduced. Not surprising, considering the circumstances under which they came to know one another in the first place. He’d never seen her around campus before the other day, leading him to assume that they must not run in the same circles. That had to be the case, because hers was not a face that he would’ve forgotten.

“My name is Zelda,” she said, “Even though you probably know that already.”

“I do,” he admitted, “but it’s nice to officially meet you. Zelda.”

Her eyes crinkled at their corners when he reached out to lightly shake her fingers that poked out of the cast. He stood up from the bed, shooting her a quick smile before crossing the room to return the markers to her bag.

“Thank you for the flowers,” he heard her say from behind him, “Oh, and for my seal.”

“It’s the least I could do, I think,” he responded, “I mean, considering.”

“Still,” Zelda went on, “It was kind of you to come. I just…I appreciate the company. It was getting a bit lonely here.”

Link stilled at that. So, she really was alone. He almost didn’t want to believe that not even her own parents had bothered to stop by, that not a single friend had sent a card. It had to be a mistake; there was no way that such an enchanting person had no one to call on.

“The, uh, food here must not be very good, huh?” He tried.

She cocked a brow at him. “What?”

“Hospital food. It’s notoriously bad,” he clarified, attempting to mentally signal to her that he was, in fact, going somewhere with this. “If you want, I could bring you something. Later, I mean, for dinner. I think I probably owe you that, don’t you?”

It could have been the sunset, but Link swore that a blush darkened her cheeks ever so slightly when she smiled at him, nodding. “That sounds great, actually.”

“Alright, it’s a date, then,” he announced without thinking, wincing immediately afterward, “I mean, uh, sounds like a plan.”

“Here, let me put my number in your phone,” she offered, holding out her good hand. He fished it from his pocket and handed it to her, watching as she tapped in her contact info with her only her index finger. After a short discussion about what kind of food she’d like to have, they said their goodbyes with the promise of seeing one another later that evening. Link closed to door carefully behind him, glancing back into the narrow window to see Zelda admiring her flowers.

He shuffled into the elevator, wedging himself in between a group of nurses and weary-looking man with a fussy toddler on his hip. It was humid and it was loud, and anyone else might have wanted nothing more than to go home and go to bed. Link stared at Zelda’s name in his phone as the elevator made its agonizingly long descent back down to the lobby, already counting the minutes until he’d get to ride back up again.

-

-

-

I adored this prompt so much, I made it its own thing on AO3. Thank you for the ask! This was so much fun!

[whumpmatsus]

Hmm could do one where one one of boys has rough day, that leads to emotional overeating, and bellyache that they try to hide until they can't. Please and thank.

aaaaaa, lovely!

I went with Totty because it feels like I haven't written him in a while

and there's a tiny bit of Allmatsu, buuuut really it's mostly Cybermatsu :D

hope you like it, I had a lot of fun with it!

-

Most of the time, Totty thinks he does a pretty good job being composed at work.

However, that’s easy to do when the majority of the days are okay. Sometimes there’s a bad moment or two that he can recover from by the time he gets home; never before has it been an entire day full of nothing but bad moments.

Until today, of course.

It’s just been one awful thing after another. One of his brothers accidentally turned off the alarm clock, probably by hitting it or steadying themself against it while going to the bathroom… so he was late to work. When he finally got behind the register, there was already a decent-sized line and the early morning customers were irritable before their coffee. Nearly every single customer during his shift snapped at him in some way even when he was trying to be helpful.

His coworkers were less than pleasant, especially after a couple hours when one of them had to take over for him because he had to go pee. To make things worse, toward the end of the day he managed to smash his fingers in the cash drawer while closing it.

The highlight of the day was when he was on his way out and a customer wanted help. Company policy being that he wasn’t allowed to work in any way while he was off the clock, he told them he was actually heading home and pointed to one of his coworkers. Which apparently wasn’t good enough, as he was accused of being lazy and not wanting to do his job and told that the customer was going to talk to his manager and have him fired.

Is it any wonder he’s spent almost the whole train ride home in tears? It hasn’t been a great day to be Matsuno Todomatsu.

He feels a little better by the time he gets home, but he’s exhausted and overwhelmed by everything that went wrong. Part of him wants to find one of his brothers and bitch his heart out. The other part just wants to shove food into his mouth and pretend none of it ever happened.

Sutabaa allows employees to eat some of the cheap things for free during their break, which Totty doesn’t often take advantage of. He’d rather have a snack at home so he doesn’t have to scarf it down in ten minutes. Today, though, he managed to put away a chocolate croissant plus a couple of cookies, so he shouldn’t be hungry at all when he gets home.

And he’s not… really hungry. He just wants to eat something for the sake of it, so that maybe eating something tasty will make it seem like nothing went wrong today. The food during his break made things seem better for a minute while he ate it. All he wants is more of that feeling, to make believe it wasn’t such a bad day.

He doesn’t know where any of his brothers are, and he doesn’t particularly care. He doesn’t think he’d give half a shit if one of them walked in on him raiding the fridge and pantry as if he’s preparing to hibernate through the winter. They all stuff their faces at any available opportunity, so why would it be surprising to find him doing it, especially after a long day at work which none of the rest of them do?

It doesn’t even really matter to him what he’s eating, either. Just things that don’t require too much time between being in his hand and sliding down his throat.

There’s about a portion’s worth of takoyaki left in the fridge from dinner last night, so he finishes that off. Some daifukumochi that was in the cabinet, along with a packet of konpeitō. A bag of arare disappears pretty quickly, too. He doesn’t really know if the imagawayaki that was sitting on the counter was left for him or if it was a single treat that nobody had fought over yet ― regardless, he eats it anyway.

Each bite is a violent attempt to deny the shittiness of this whole day. It all tastes delicious, so he can lose himself inside it for a moment. What never really occurs to him is that every moment doesn’t last too long, and even though his stomach isn’t built for this kind of eating, he’s reaching for another snack as soon as the last one has dissolved on his tongue.

He throws packaging away as he goes, just to keep things neat. He’s just biting into his latest snack when someone else walks into the kitchen, and looking up, it turns out to be Choromatsu.

“O-oh, hey, Totty, you’re home. How was work?” He starts ducking into the refrigerator, then suddenly straightens up and gives his youngest brother a curious look. “… Uh. That’s my Big Katsu. Why are you eating it??”

Given that his teeth are currently sunk into it, Totty feels a little guilty. So at least he doesn’t have to fake the expression on his face. “Oh… sorry, Choro-nii-san! I’m just really hungry… I’ll buy you another one tomorrow.”

After a moment, Choromatsu sighs, evidently deciding to let Totty off the hook rather than fight with him about it. “Yeah, that’s fine. I was saving it, but if I haven’t craved it this long, I can wait. There’s other stuff I can have for a snack.” He opens the refrigerator door and pulls out a single mini carton of milk, then frowns. “Hey, wasn’t there some leftover takoyaki in here?”

He huffs as he closes the fridge. “Dammit. Osomatsu probably ate the rest of it while I wasn’t paying attention, the douche.”

He shakes his head and gets in the pantry for a bag of potato chips instead. “Guess these’ll do till dinner. Hey, Totty, you’re probably still hungry, right? Why don’t you share with me? I’m not starving or anything… half a bag would do it for me, I think.”

Totty’s stomach twinges suddenly, alerting him that he may have eaten too much. He’s not used to shoveling down this much at one time, though the realization that he’s uncomfortably full doesn’t stop him from hurriedly cramming the rest of the Big Katsu into his mouth.

And, honestly, it’s not like he can say no to the offer. He just told his big brother he was hungry and he’s been gulping down food at an insatiable pace. Thinking about the taste of potato chips sort of makes him want some.

Plus… Choromatsu is being nice by sharing, despite the fact that Totty already took one of his snacks without even asking. It would be mean to turn that down when he’s just trying to make sure Totty gets fed properly.

So he plasters a smile on and tosses the wrapper before stepping toward his older brother. Everything’s fine. “Ah, yeah… sounds good.”

-

Everything is not fine.

Dinner is beginning to be a struggle to get through. Totty hates wasting the food, but his thought is to put it away for later when his stomach isn’t actively trying to kill him. The pain is different to anything he’s ever experienced, a feeling like he’s full all the way up to his chest and so can’t get a decent breath in. He feels cold and clammy even though he knows he’s sweating. In short, it sucks.

The one thing he counted on was his brothers not noticing that he wasn’t eating anything. After sharing the chips with Choromatsu, he started to feel like he was going to burst. Even though the sensation quieted down a little bit, it never quite went away.

Now that he’s been faced with a table full of food, it’s even worse. His stomach is gurgling and swirling and nothing helps. Not taking deep breaths through his nose, not taking tiny sips of his tea, not focusing on any other thoughts. Nothing. It’s all useless. He thinks that as soon as dinner is over, he’s gonna have to go throw up. No ifs, ands, or buts; one way or another, he’s gonna be sick.

His only hope now is that he can ride it out long enough for everyone to head their separate ways so he doesn’t have to face the humiliation of admitting that he ate too much and hurt his stomach.

“U-uh, Totty,” Choromatsu speaks up suddenly, “aren’t you gonna eat anything? You were hungry enough to eat my Big Katsu earlier, I’d have thought you were really looking forward to dinner.”

Ugh. Did he have to???

Totty forces a smile onto his face. “Oh, yeah, I… I guess I’m just not in the mood for this stuff tonight, you know?”

The look on Osomatsu’s face could be mistaken for someone who’d just swallowed a lemon. “What?! But Totty, this is your favorite! You’re not gonna eat any of it? You can’t just skip meals like that, dude.”

“Yeah,” Ichimatsu hums thoughtfully. “You’re not gonna be any more healthy or attractive if you’re starving, you know.”

Geez. His brothers are so fucking embarrassing. Choromatsu is giving him some backhanded concern, Osomatsu is overzealous as usual, and Ichimatsu sounds like a Goddamn after-school special.

Karamatsu, meanwhile, is scrutinizing him just the same. “Yes, Totty, my brother… you look rather pale. You really should eat something!”

“Yeah, yeah!” Jyushimatsu practically launches himself over the table, holding a bite of food from his own plate between chopsticks toward his little brother’s mouth. “Here! Winding up for the pitch… batter uuuuuup!”

“Ughhhhh!” Totty leans back, even though any movement unsettles his stomach further. “You guys are ridiculous! I’m fine! W-what, am I not allowed to have just lost my appetite without every single one of my big brothers making a federal case of it?!”

All the others share a silent look, then there comes a unanimous, “Nope.”

He groans and leans his arm against the table. Shit, it’s getting worse. All he wants to do is run to the bathroom and puke, so that maybe he’ll actually feel better. If he does that, though, everyone will be on his case about how much he ate instead of how little he’s eating right now. He doesn’t need nor want a lecture.

Actually, what he wants more than anything is to just be taken care of and told that it’s okay, he screwed up a bit, it’s not the end of the world. That would require confessing to this stupid mistake, though… and he really doesn’t want to do that. He’s so sure that if he does, he’s just going to get scolded instead of comforted.

When he looks around the table again, he notices that Choromatsu in particular looks worried. “C’mon, Totty. You know we care about you. Osomatsu and Ichimatsu are right; it’s not healthy to skip meals.”

“Dammit, I know that, Fappymatsu! Just because I’m pretty doesn’t mean I’m stupid.” Totty scowls down at the food before lifting his eyes back up. “If I take one bite, will you all get off my back?”

He hates that those words just came out of his mouth. Even if it’s just a single bite, he doesn’t think his stomach will be happy with him. The idea of eating anything isn’t sitting well with him.

What else can he do, though? Just like with literally everything else, his brothers won’t stop bugging him until he caves in and does whatever they want.

The others exchange a look and Osomatsu shrugs. “Yeah, that should do it! Maybe after you take a bite you’ll realize how good it is and how hungry you are.”

Shit. Well, now he doesn’t really have a way out.

He takes as deep a breath as he feels he can, and collects a bite of food with his chopsticks. Although he isn’t sure how noticeable it is, it feels like his hand is shaking as he raises it to his lips.

Maybe it’s better to do it fast and get it over with. So, that’s what he does. The food in his chopsticks disappears in rapid time, and even though it feels like swallowing a spoonful of glue, he manages to get it down.

“Th-there,” he announces as he slams his chopsticks down. A hiccup squeaks out of him, followed by a fist pressed to his mouth, then he glares around the table at his brothers. “Ha… happy now? God, you guys are… you’re such… such…”

His stomach roils aggressively, almost like he’s just been punched in the gut. He cuts himself off with a loud, painful belch… and whines softly, because he knows what’s coming next. There’s no possible way he can stop it, nor can he get up fast enough to make it to the bathroom.

He tries to clap his other hand over his mouth in some childish belief that if he just blocks the exit, so to speak, he won’t be sick. Predictably, it doesn’t work.

Only a second and a couple of retches later, Totty has vomited through his hands into his lap. It’s perhaps more than a little ironic that his attempt to avoid lectures and feeling shameful has led to something incredibly humiliating.

The tears well up almost immediately, and it doesn’t take long for him to be sitting here coughing, not quite knowing what to do except cry.

“A-ah, Totty!!” Someone’s up from their seat, grabbing him gently by the shoulders. It sounds like Choromatsu, he thinks. “Hey… hey, it’s okay. O-oh, no, no, guys, it’s okay ― yeah, Mom, Dad, it’s fine, I-I’ve got him. Totty, hey, c’mon. I’m gonna help you to the bathroom and we’ll get you cleaned up. Okay?”

All he can do is nod, and it seems like even the fact that he leans against Choromatsu, all streaked with puke, doesn’t bother his brother.

It’s a short walk to the bathroom. He thinks he hears one of the others getting up to clean whatever mess he’s left behind. He just concerns himself with getting into the bathroom, then with lifting his arms when told so Choromatsu can help peel the soiled clothes off.

“It’s okay, Totty. E-everything’s alright.” His voice is low and gentle as he manages to also get Totty’s pants off, hanging everything over the side of the bathtub. If he’s lucky, one of the others will come rinse them off so they can go right in the wash while he tries to take care of getting Totty situated on the couch or something. “I’m gonna take care of you. You just cry as much as you need to, as long as you cooperate with me, okay?”

Totty sniffles, doing his best to stop crying. This is so embarrassing. “O-okay…”

Eventually the crying tapers off a bit, to the point that he can breathe normally again. His mouth has a bad taste and his throat hurts; at least his stomach feels a lot better, though. He’s just so mortified that he threw up on himself in front of his entire family after trying to save himself from this fate.

What did you think was gonna happen when you ate something else after already being stuffed and nauseous, dummy?? His mind is exactly no help at all, unfortunately.

Choromatsu is careful as he tries to get his little brother cleaned. As soon as all his dirty clothes are off, he wipes a wet cloth over Totty’s mouth to wash off any remnants of vomit and helps Totty wash his hands in the sink. He holds a couple pieces of toilet paper over Totty’s nose so he can blow, which makes him feel slightly less gross.

Once there’s no more danger of new clothes having leftover puke dripped on them, he darts out to the closet in the other room and comes back with a pair of Totty’s pajamas. It feels somuch better to be in fresh clothes after Choromatsu gingerly tugs them on.

With all of that done, Choromatsu sets a hand against Totty’s forehead and gives a contemplative hum. “Well, you don’t feel warm… you might still be coming down with something, though. I think maybe you should just go right to bed. We’ll get you settled on the couch in the other room so that hopefully the rest of us don’t catch it, and I’ll get you some ginger ale or something, okay?”

The idea of all that sounds nice, sure. He feels a little guilty for not being honest, however, so… “Um, Choromatsu-nii-san… I-I’m not… I’m not sick. I… I think I ate too much today, and… that bite I took out there was just kind of… th-the last straw, you know?”

Choromatsu frowns. “You ate too much? You said you were really hungry when you got home. And all I remember seeing you eat was my Big Katsu and some of the chips.”

“I ate a lot more than that,” he confesses, rubbing at his teary eyes. “There was some stuff I had while I was at work, a-and… and I was the one who ate the last of the takoyaki. I was just going through the fridge and the cupboards for a while before you walked in.”

“Oh… okay, I get that. Why didn’t you just tell us you overate today instead of forcing yourself to eat?”

More tears bubble up and start rolling down his cheeks. “B-because… because I thought if I did, you’d all just lecture me and tell me, ‘Oh, you shouldn’t do that, Totty!’ The day was so bad already…”

The more he talks, the more tears fall. “It was just one thing a-after another! Work was shitty, everything that could go wrong did,and I didn’t want you guys harping on me! I-I know I fucked up eating a lot, but doing it just… made me feel better for a minute… like the day wasn’t so crappy, like I could pretend everything was okay because I was eating something good. So I just… d-didn’t wanna tell you guys… I-I know you’d say it’s bad for me…”

Quietly, Choromatsu pulls Totty up off the toilet and into a hug. His hand rubs calmingly between his little brother’s shoulder blades, shortly after switching to a series of pats. “Hey, you learned your lesson. I know you think we’d give you some big speech… and maybe you’re not wrong. But I’m sorry it felt like you had to hide it and suffer on your own. That’s not what we want! We just wanna take care of you. If we lecture like that, it’s just because we love you.”

“I-I know,” Totty mumbles into Choromatsu’s shoulder. “Are you… are you mad at me? For doing it in the first place and for not telling you?”

“Mad? No! No, no, no way. I’m not mad!” Choromatsu presses a brief kiss to the top of Totty’s head. “You’re my baby brother. How could I be mad at you for this? Just… you know… next time, come talk to us instead of going to the food. I’d rather listen to you complain for hours than have you eat yourself sick.”

He gives a cautious squeeze, somewhat reassured when Totty squeezes back. They stay like this for a few minutes, with Totty burying his face against Choromatsu’s shoulder and Choromatsu rubbing Totty’s back.

Finally Choromatsu lets out a sigh. “Just so you know… even if we lecture you a little, we’ll still try to take care of you if there’s anything we can do. But we’ll… also do our best not to lecture as much when you come to us. Do you feel any better?”

“Yeah… it doesn’t hurt that much anymore.” He mirrors the sigh and just sinks into his big brother’s embrace. “Can I still go lie down, though? In the futon?”

Choromatsu nods and pulls Totty up when he gets to his feet. “Yeah, of course. That’s probably a good idea even though you’re not really sick.”

“And… can I still have some ginger ale?”

“Yeah, I’ll get that for you after we get you settled.”

Totty is silent for a few seconds while they walk down the hall, then he speaks up again. “… Will you maybe stay and cuddle with me for a minute, too? Even though I’m not sick?”

Choromatsu glances down before chuckling. Does he really think he has to tack on that condition, as if Choromatsu won’t cuddle just because Totty isn’t actually sick? “I… o-of course, Totty. All you have to do is ask, even if you’re not sick.”

“Okay…” By this time they’ve reached the bedroom, so he stands aside while Choromatsu unrolls the futon. Before too long he’s lying down, and Choromatsu has both arms around him, gently stroking his hair.

He closes his eyes and nuzzles against his brother. “Thank you… you’re the best nii-chan ever.”

He can feel Choromatsu grinning. “Am I even better than leftover takoyaki?”

Totty pouts at the jab, but snuggles closer regardless. “Way better.”

[crescentsteel]

Just Friends - Part 7

plot: fubu set up with Kuroo , model fem reader warnings: sexual tension, slow burn word count: 7.2k 

A.N:

- Finally!! I'm so glad to finally release this. October was so hectic and I'm a very slow writer. - I'm so sorry for the mistakes on the previous chapters. No one beta reads for me. So I went back and edited Chapters 3-6. - So sorry for the word vomit on this chapter. I was out of control. - Thank you for all the nice comments!! I swear. They keep me fired up and inspired.  - As always, lmk if you want to be tagged in any of my works,

Part 6 | Part 8 |  m.list

“No! It’s not what you think!”

Kuroo almost laughs at how cliche you sounded, a typical response of someone who’s been caught red-handed. You’re about to chase Kenma, but he grabs your wrist to stop you.

“Maybe you should wear your shirt before you go after ‘im.” He tries to hide the mirth in his expression and tone. Your face is so red, you look like you’re about to burst. He also doesn’t want to add up more to the awkwardness you might feel later, so he’s gonna let this one slide. He’ll just pretend that the massage thing was as harmless as it should be. 

You put your shirt in a jumble and walk briskly to Kenma. He follows at his normal pace, settling behind you when he catches up to you and Kenma.

“Sorry about that,” you laugh nervously. “He was just giving me a back massage.”

It was kinda the truth, but Kenma looks dubious. 

“It sounded more than a massage.”

He covers his lips with his back hand so he wouldn’t laugh. Although his rascal self wants to tease you more, he can’t let you feel any more embarrassed than this. He looks at Kenma and shakes his head minutely with a knowing look, hinting not to push the subject any further. 

“Naah. Y/n here is just really stressed so she moans like she’s being fucked.” Okay, maybe he couldn’t completely let it slide after all. 

You irritatedly look at him and punch his arm with more force than usual. “Piss off,” you hiss. 

He dramatically rubs the arm you just hit. “Ow! So violent.”

Kenma ignores the antics and just passes by you two. He’s about to plop himself on the couch, but pauses. He instead gets a chair and seats himself there.

You couldn’t overlook that. Obviously, in Kenma’s mind, you and Kuroo were doing something indecent there so he doesn’t want to be in it. You want to clear it up to Kenma that you really weren’t doing anything of that sort. Well, you were about to pounce on Kuroo, but still, it didn’t actually happen. 

In a way, you’re relieved that Kenma interrupted at the right time. You might have done something you will harrowingly regret afterwards.

“Don’t sweat it, y.n. He just misinterpreted it.” Kuroo’s unusually magnanimous today. It’s strange. He wouldn’t have lived this down on a regular day. Maybe it's because of your no sex relationship? Still, this is aberrant of him. He shouldn’t fail to notice how that last  moan of yours was not of comfort. 

“Right?” He adds, his eyes gauging your own.

So that’s how it is. He is aware. But he’s giving you the option to disregard what just almost happened. You’re relieved, but also confused at the tiny shards of disappointment prickling in your chest. This is what you wanted, for you to avoid sex and Kuroo in the same room. It shouldn’t be confusing.

You look down and break away from the eye contact. You put a hand on your hip and the other on your temple, which then moves to brush your hair back.

With a long, audible puff, you speak.

“Of course, it was nothing,” you return to his gaze with a dry expression to camouflage the lie behind your words. But at the same time, you also wait for him to say something or for his eyes to show something other than indifference. You don’t know what it is you want or expect, but you wait for it. You’ll know it when you see it. 

It doesn’t come though as he shrugs it off like it was nothing. 

Disappointed, that’s what you are. You don’t like the feeling, but you are.

—

You ring your driver again, hoping that this time he’ll finally answer. If he doesn’t get to you any soon, you’ll be late for your shoot. You can’t be late for this shoot in particular. Mitsuki’s the creative director. She’s a very pleasant one, but she absolutely hates tardiness. No exceptions. She gets all sour and crank when someone’s late. 

The other end of the line picks up. “Ms l/n. I’m so sorry. One of the tires got flat. I need to change it, but I’m still stuck in traffic.”

Of all the days to get a flat tire on a heavy traffic, it had to be this day. You exhale heavily to clear the irritation getting under your skin. 

“How long before you’re here?”

“I think about an hour, Ms.”

You aren’t the type to get mad at hired help, but you’re really in a pinch. In an hour, you should be in hair and make up already, not arriving only then. Mitsuki gets enraged when someone’s 15 minutes late. To be late an hour, you can’t imagine how she’d be. There’s no way you’re going to wait here for an hour.

“Don’t come anymore. Just get it fixed.” You say coldly before you end the call. It wasn’t the driver’s fault. You wouldn’t bother getting a driver if your car hadn’t been acting up recently. Being dumb this morning, you forgot about your busted car and was late in this morning’s meeting with a client. You found yourself brisk walking in heels at the hotel’s lobby earlier just to save yourself from any more delayed minutes. And now, even your driver’s car is jacked up. 

“Y.n?”

You turn around at the recognizable calm voice you heard. It’s Kenma, except he wasn’t alone. Kuroo is right there beside him. It was kind of weird to see them together at this place and both in business wear. 

“What’re you two doing here?” 

“I’m working with Kenma here to sponsor our next promotional video.”

You just stared at the two of them. You’re used to the three of you just fooling around when you’re together. Meeting like this when you’re all in the middle of doing your jobs is something new to you. 

“And who might you be giving a hard time on the phone, hmm y.n.?”

They heard that? They must both be near while you were getting bummed out from being late this morning and potentially late this afternoon. 

“Ah! I need to go. My driver can’t make it. I’m going to be late,” you spiral back to your hectic schedule. “Bye.” You give them a quick wave, and despite your heels, you walk as fast as you could towards the entrance of the hotel. 

You try to hail cabs that were passing by, but almost every cab was occupied. And for some reason, someone always managed to get the empty cabs before you can even spot them. To worsen your luck, it began to rain. You frantically tap your left foot on the concrete as the panic sets in you.

Mitsuki’s gonna kill me.

You bite your lip and contemplate how you’re going to arrive in the venue on time. The answer you found made you turn back on your heels to go back inside the hotel, only to find them already there behind you. 

“You’re here,” you exhale, relieved that they haven’t gone anywhere out of your sight. “I’m in a bind. Can anyone give me a ride?” 

The two men exchanged pithy looks, but you don’t bother figuring out what that could’ve meant. You just need the help you typically won’t ask for since you’re always doing things on your own.

“I can’t. I have a stream coming up. Sorry, y.n.” Kenma first spoke. You shift to Kuroo, hoping that he can give you the time of day. “Yea, sure. Am free for the rest of the day actually.” He says with a brief smile. 

“Oh, thank God!” The panic and nerves were clearing out of your system. Despite the awkwardness of your previous massage fiasco, right now, you’re glad that he can help. 

“Bye, then.” Kenma quickly took his leave as the hotel valet stepped out from his car and handed him his keys. 

“Should we go now?” Kuroo asked. “Aren’t we waiting for your car?” “No. I don’t want strangers handling my car.” “Then why did you go here?”

Amusement shows on his face at your question. “I saw your cute attempt to hail a cab. Is that how rich kids do it? Let someone else steal their ride for them?” You smile sweetly, disgustingly sweet, then roll your eyes before saying, “Let’s just go.”

You told him the location of the shoot. The drive was comfortable as you both share work conversations with your usual banters on the side. Being friends with Kuroo is confusing and reassuring at the same time. With the history you two shared, you need to tread the waters of your friendship carefully every once in a while. If it wasn’t the sexual tension, it was the affection you felt towards him that would sometimes seem like resurfacing. Even with all that, you can’t bear to walk away from what you presently have. You feel like you really found genuine company with him and Kenma.

“We’re here. Let me just get an umbrella.” He looks back to the back seat and stretches his right arm to reach for it. The current angle of his face emphasized his sharp jaw and the length of his neck. You were just thinking how you need to tread carefully, but easier said than done when you know exactly how your fingers have grazed that jaw, how your tongue has tasted that neck, and much more. 

“What’s taking you so long? I might as well get drenched from the rain,” you snap because you can’t stand your own indecent thoughts. 

“Found it.” He says and returns to his normal sitting position. “Why the hell are you suddenly cranky? Geez.” You feel bad for being suddenly grouchy. He was just being nice and you were being nasty for reasons you can’t tell him. “Sorry. Just don’t want to be late,” you apologized.

He shrugs it off nonchalantly. “Hey. Where’s my umbrella?” You ask when you see him reaching for the door with only one umbrella in his hand. 

“We’re sharing this. I only have one.”

You purse your lips to the side and sharply avert your eyes elsewhere, your irritation resurfacing again. You feel uncomfortable with the idea of being that physically close to him. You’ve pushed the massage incident behind, but that doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten about it. 

“What is up with you? What are you so pissed about?”

“Nothing. Can we go now?”

He stares at you for a good 3 seconds before getting out and opening his umbrella. He moves to your side of the vehicle and opens the door. You get out and try to avoid any raindrops. He closes the door and presses his car keys to lock the vehicle. 

You both start to walk towards the entrance of the place. You’ve never felt more awkward in your life. You’re avoiding getting past the edge of the umbrella while also avoiding Kuroo’s body. 

“Why is your umbrella so small?” 

“The heck are you talkin about? This is the standard size.”

You don’t answer him. The umbrella isn’t small. He’s just huge and his whole body occupied almost all the space under the shade. You flinch when he suddenly grabs you by the shoulder and pulls you close, so close that you can feel the firmness of his body pressed onto yours. 

You raise your gaze to him with a raised eyebrow. 

“You’re gonna get wet if we don’t huddle closer.” You could accept his reason, if only you didn’t catch the miniscule curl of his lips and the skittish glint in his eyes. It was so typical of him really. Maybe you should stop being so worked up all the time. 

“Fine.” Even though he was messing you, you can’t deny that it’s much more comfortable. You’re safe from the rain and his body provided heat from the coldness of the downpour.

He doesn’t do or say anything more as you both get to the doorway of the bar where the shoot will be held. He puts down the umbrella when you reach the shade of the building. Before you’re able to get away from Kuroo’s hold, the door opens. Mitsuki was holding her phone to her ear when she met your eyes. 

“I was calling you and you weren’t — oh.” Her eyes flew to the hand on your shoulder and traveled to its owner. “Well, well, y/n. You leave for a good while, then come back loaded.” You can always count on Mitsku to not hold her tongue. You gently release yourself from Kuroo’s hold to avoid looking defensive. “It’s not like that,” was your thrift reply. 

“Kuroo, this is Mitsuki, my creative director for today, sometimes my friend too. Mitsuki, this is Kuroo.” 

Both of them exchange casual greetings for meeting the first time. 

“How come you mention our relationship, but not yours?” referring to you and Kuroo. You sigh. “He’s also a friend.” You turn to Kuroo and thank him for the ride and his time. 

“Is your driver picking you up?” he asked.

You seal your eyes shut at your own stupidity. Because you were panicking and irritated, you sent your driver home. You open them again and purse your lips in a straight line. “No. I’ll just take a cab.”

“With your cab-hailing skills in this rain? Good luck with that.” he snorts. “Haha. Real funny.” From the corner of your eyes, you see Mitsuki with an entertained grin on her face, obviously enjoying the exchange between you and Kuroo. 

“Call me when you’re done. I’ll come pick you up then.” You want to protest but it will just drag on. You don’t want Mitsuki seeing more of the dynamics of your relationship, so you thriftly say “Okay.”

“Kuroo-san, right?” Both of you shift your attention to Mitsuki. “Actually, we need a male model because the scheduled one today is a total wimp and cancelled last minute.” She shamelessly eyed Kuroo from head to toe. So that’s why she was about to call you. The shoot was cancelled. 

When she looks at you, you mouth the word “no” to let her know that she shouldn’t do what you think she’s about to do. The reaction you got was her smiling widening before speaking to Kuroo. “Do you have an agent? Can we talk over the phone right now to discuss?”

That’s when you step forward. “Uhhh. He’s not a model. He used to be a volleyball player, hence the height and build.” You say defensively. You nudge Kuroo with your elbow so that he’ll back you up, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s just there waiting for Mitsuki’s next words. 

“An athlete, I see.” She nods approvingly. “That’s perfect! I don’t have to talk to anyone. It’s completely up to you then.”

“Errr. I don’t really know anything about modeling. Sorry.”

Your relief was short-lived when she tugs you to her direction and grips both of your shoulders. “Then your friend here can guide you. She’ll be your co-model anyways.” 

He probably figured out by now why you were so apprehensive during the conversation just now. You don’t want him as your co-model. 

His grin just confirmed your thoughts. “I’ll go for it then.” His eyes sparkling with mischief made you surrender. You already admit defeat in your head even though the shoot is just about to start. 

You both get in hair and makeup. Being a woman, you take longer to finish. The clothes the stylists are arranging on you are taking while as well.  They let you wear a very long, elegant gold dress that fits your upper body like your second skin, but the material is flowy from your waist down. When you arrive at the set, he’s already there talking with Mitsuki while waiting for you. Mitsuki notices you first. “Alright! We’re good to go.”

When Kuroo faces you, you almost don’t recognize him. His usual emo bangs were gone. They brushed his hair up cleanly. The suit he was wearing earlier was replaced by gray slacks and white long sleeve polo that has two top buttons open. You have conflicted feelings towards the hair and make up staff that did the work. They did a remarkable job with his overall style. He does look like a model like this. But also, why the hell did they make him look this damn good? The regular Kuroo was bad enough for you.

“This feels weird. I feel like I have too many things on me.” You scowl at his remark. “Too many? Wanna try being a girl?” He’s about to retort but Mitsuki claps twice which calls both of your attention.

“So our client is a liquor brand and the theme is something like wild love at the bar. What I want is you two giving the impression of having a passionate first encounter while you’re out drinking. Give me something and we’ll work it out as we go on, mkay?” 

You knew you’d be working with a male model for this brand, but you didn’t expect that they’d go with something like this. You thought it was just going to be glamour shots to showcase the drink.

But what Mitsuki said, ‘Wild love at the bar’?? That is not something you’d want to be doing with him. It reminded you of the first night you met. 

“I’m all ears on what to do, y/n” His haughty smile doesn’t help the situation one bit. You take a deep breath. This is not the time to muck around. You’re the experienced one, so you’ll be taking the lead. “Swear to me that you’ll take this seriously.” You glare at him, no trails of humor apparent. The change in his demeanor surprised you. You forgot how intimidating he can get when he’s serious. You’re so used to him being an idiot all the time that it catches you off guard. But for today, you’re glad to have it.

You explain to him how the whole shoot will go. For the first shot, you ask a staff member for a chair and tell Kuroo to sit on it. “Get the glass with the liquor and look at the camera while holding it.” He did as you told, except he has this perplexed look on his face with a noticeable discomfort from the way his lips curled in a corner. 

“On second thought, maybe this is a bad idea,” he said after trying the first time. You want to agree with him, but the shoot is already happening. You just want to get over it already since you’re already there. “Nooo. Uh-uh.” Mitsuki’s tone took a sharp turn. She wasn’t happy with what Kuroo said. “Just imagine you’re in a bar, chilling with your favorite drink and you just snagged the hottest girl in the place.” 

“Hottest girl aka me,” you comment on her instruction. That seemed to work because he changed back to his normal self and looked at you with amusement. “Just like the night we met, huh?” He said it low enough for only you to hear, but you still glanced nervously to Mitsuki if she caught any of it.  

“That’s a nice expression, Kuroo! Keep looking at her like that.” You ease up since it looks like she didn’t hear it. You put your elbow on his shoulder and tilt your hips to give your waist an S curve while angling your body towards him at the same time. You lift your chin up a bit and look at the camera with parted lips.

“Yep. Looking good dear.” Mitsuki signals the photographer to start taking the shots. You both slightly alter your angles so the pose will have variations. Sometimes you look at Kuroo, smile flirtatiously at him, or look at the camera in a sultry way. Every time you two would look at each other, you’d ‘cheat’ and look at the bridge of his nose to give the illusion that you’re actually looking at his eye. 

While looking at the shots from a separate screen, she suddenly asks the photographer to stop. You both straighten your bodies while awaiting instructions.  “It looks nice,” she said before looking at your direction. “But it’s boring. There’s nothing wild about it.”  You space out for a bit because for the first time, you don’t know how to proceed. You’re used to fashion shoots and runway. You’ve never had an ad with this theme. “Y.n, dear, can you be a bit aggressive towards him?”

You raise your eyebrow from disbelief. “A-aggressive?”

Mitsuki nods. “Throw yourself at him, dominate him, take control. mkay?” You feel a bit pressured when she’s just looking at you two and waiting for you to start posing for the camera. You don’t have a solid idea in your head, but you just go for it. You try to prop yourself up on the bar counter, but your dress won’t allow you.

Kuroo notices your dilemma and gets up from his seat. “You could’ve asked for help, you know.” He positions himself in front of you and grabs your waist. His hands were strong yet gentle. With your palms still on the surface of the counter, he lifts you up while you put weight on your arms so you can usher yourself properly. You’ve been deliberately avoiding his gaze, but right now, your eyes are glued to his face. 

“Yes. Like that.” You both flick your gaze towards Mitsuki. “Do that.” She instructs the photographer to move the side so the angle of the shot captures you both without him blocking you completely. You realize the position you two have. “I agreed to this to make you uncomfortable, but I’m not gonna lie. I’m the one extremely uncomfortable right now.” Kuroo whispers with a hint of regret on his face. The camera flashes start going off but something clicked between the two of you that you two end up laughing. It’s probably the awkwardness and the nerves that’s been hanging on the air that something so shallow as Kuroo admitting his uneasiness, cracked you both up.

It was just a brief exchange of laughter but you feel relaxed. Even though Mistuki is pretty cool for a creative director, she’s still as serious as any professional. So when you see her smiling as you apologized for the delay, you’re a bit shocked.

“No worries dear. Let’s continue then.”

You feel more confident now. You’re you. The reason you became successful on an international level is because of your professionalism and ability to produce quality results.

From being seated on the counter, you’re a few centimeters taller than Kuroo. That completed the idea in your head. You took the glass drink and placed it on your right hand. “Put your hands on my hips,” you tell him then lightly lift his chin with your index finger, “and look at me like you worship me.” The command earned a raised eyebrow from him but you pay no heed to it.

You extend an arm over his right shoulder, the glass dangling on your fingertips. With your index finger on his chin, you look to the camera with provocative eyes. If anything looks wrong with Kuroo, you’ll just let Mitsuki handle it. After all, she’s the one who asked him to be a part of this. 

“Oh yea! That’s really good.” Compared to before, she looks pleased with the shots now. The pose was captured a few times before she speaks again. “Instead of using your finger, grab his hair to tilt his head back.” You comply immediately and tugs his locks downwards. You might’ve done it a bit rougher than you wanted because you heard a raspy grunt from his throat. You got distracted, so instead of looking at the camera, you look at him. 

You regret it. When you said he should look at you with worship, you didn’t think he’d do it this well. Because his hair is pushed completely all the way back, you see every aspect of his face. Nothing was blocking his eyes that were full of yearning and desire. He’s looking at you like you’re not just the hottest girl in the bar, but the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes one. 

“Pull him closer and look here y.n.” You do as you’re told, thankful that you needed to look somewhere else. “Damn. You two look so good right now.” She gently claps her hands while looking at the monitor.

“I’m already satisfied, but let’s just do one more for another option. Umm, Kuroo. You be the aggressor this time. Y/n, …. you know what to do.” She winks after.

Well, not really you don’t. She just wants you to do the thinking on what to do. You put the glass down and put both your hands on his shoulders. “Help me down?” You ask with an easygoing smile. You don’t want to ruin the momentum of the shoot, so you decide to be nice to him for now. 

 “You got it,” then his hand travels up your waist and guides you down back to the floor. You tell him to lean on the counter. He follows with no complaints. You get his arm and ushers him to wrap it on your waist. When he goes along with your silent instruction, you raise your leg to his side.   

“Tug my skirt up to my thighs.”

He doesn’t react and just squints at you.. “Huh?” Since he did not grasp what you meant, you take it to yourself to do it and slowly gather the material at the ends. Then, you yank it up to your thigh. “Get it?” He whistles as he gets the cloth from your hands. “Hey. Don’t do that. If you’re a real model, you’d be in trouble if I report that behavior.”

“But I’m not a real model, am I?” You glare at his provocation. You won’t be having any of his crap at your workplace. “Kuroo,” you say with a menacing glare and he immediately gets the threat behind it. “My bad, my bad. I’ll behave again, kay? Stop scowling now.” You relax your face and take a deep breath. “Moving on then.” You enclose your left arm on his neck while you plant your right on his chest. You don’t want to direct him any further than this. If this is unsatisfactory, Mitsuki will say something. 

Aaaand she does. “Kuroo-san. Aggressive please. Own her. You don’t want her to get away from you.” Upon hearing Mitsuki’s additional instructions, everything about him intensifies three folds. He pulls you even closer, causing your breath to hitch when his face is dangerously near yours all of a sudden. His sleeves don’t do anything to mask the firmness of his arms. And even with the velvet fabric, you can still the strength of his thighs as they’re pinned on yours. The heat of his hand ignited the skin of your thigh as he clutched the fabric and your flesh forcefully. And his eyes, they no longer worship you. They spoke of something similar, but not quite. 

He wants to devour you whole. 

It was too overwhelming for you, so you look away and close your eyes dramatically to make it seem like you’re being swept away in the moment. After one camera flash, “Okay dear, but I need you to look at him this time.”

The few seconds of breaking away from his fiery stare did you some good. You were able to collect yourself again, but not enough to truly look at him. You just focus your gaze right between his eyes as you did earlier.  

“Nooo. When I said look at him, I meant really look at him. Respond with your own passion. You’re looking a bit of a scared vegetable right now, honey.” You’ve never had feedback like that in forever. Maybe when you tried modeling the first few months, you received something similar to that. But never when you started doing it full time. 

You don’t want to, but you have to. You finally meet his gaze and tap into something inside yourself that you’ve been holding back. You let your desire for him deluge you, let it surge through your veins until you’re aching for him. You push yourself even closer to him, not allowing even air to pass between your bodies. 

“Yes! YES! You want him so much, but you shouldn’t.” 

It was just as she said. You want him so much, so much that it almost hurts. You part your lips slightly as you get lost in the moment.

“Oh my God.” Her words sounded distant. It was there. You can hear it, but what clouded your senses was your heart pounding hard against your chest, his hot breath mingling with yours, and the way his eyes are now devoted to your lips. Not long after, he angles his face so that your lips are almost touching. Just a tiptoe and a kiss will already take place. You clench your fingers on his shirt, holding yourself back from that one tiny push that will allow you to feel his lips on yours again. 

“Holy Shit! HOLY SHIT! That was it. That was the money shot.” Mitsuki’s shrill voice which was followed by her squeal broke the trance you were in. You know what she meant. The shoot is done. Yet, you still feel hot. The heated atmosphere around you two still hasn’t caved in. He let go of your thigh as you put some space away from him. You settle your hands on his shoulders while you rest your forehead on his chest. He doesn’t move either. His hand remains on your waist, but without the force this time. With his other hand, he caringly skims the curve of your shoulder. 

“You okay, kitten?”

His voice is so gentle, you nearly convince yourself that it sounded loving. You nod weakly before heading back to the dressing room without saying anything. 

Kuroo’s gaze followed your back as you disappeared. He was amazed but also bothered at what just happened. You looked really into it, like you really wanted him. If the shoot didn’t finish any sooner, he might have closed that tiny gap that separated your lips from his. He’s been aching for you for so long that his control is slipping inch by inch every time there’s an opportunity to cross that line of friendship you set. When he saw you let go and completely relent within his hold, it was maddening at how he couldn’t have you at the moment. What’s worse is that even without the glamorous set, he knows you’re still not his to have. 

He walks towards the room where his clothes were hung and changes back to his usual suit. He asked the make up staff to remove everything on his face. He doesn’t like the feeling of having a layer of cosmetics on his skin. The hair they couldn’t do anything about because they used a lot of product to fix it up. 

When he gets out of the room, Mitsuki approaches him with a satisfied look on her face

“You did so well for someone with no experience at all. Do you have a card? I can hook you up for other gigs. You’ll do great.”

He smiles graciously at her generous offer, but he doesn’t want it. “Sorry, but I’m not really interested. I only did it cause it was her.” He said truthfully. Mitsuki’s mouth curled in amusement. “You know, y.n’s really good to work with. She always had this cool facade that never went down, and it works for her. We love her for it. But today,” she pauses as she gives him a meaningful look. “I’ve never seen her show such vulnerability and rawness. It was,” she sighs with admiration for you.

“Beautiful, wasn’t it?” He knows exactly what she’s saying. After all, he has seen several times how captivating your authenticity can be. 

“Soo, are you two dating or what?” Her eyebrows twitch up and down from anticipation at what he’s about to answer. He badly wants to say yes, but he doesn’t have that luxury. “Naaah. Like she said, I’m just a friend.”

She’s obviously dissatisfied with his response. He is too, but that’s the lousy truth. Out of the blue, she takes her phone out. “Too bad though. You two looked really good here.” She showed him the photo and it was you and him earlier. You were seated in the counter with your arms on his shoulders and his hands on your waist. It was when you were both laughing at his stupid statement.

“Can you send me that photo?”

“Why should I?”

He’s well aware of what she’s trying to do. It’s a business transaction, except for the lack of formality. She wants to get something in return, and he knows exactly what it is. 

“You’re good.” He admits with an impressed glint in his eyes.

“I am. So what’ll it be?” He knows that she knows she has the upperhand of the negotiation. She could probably tell that there’s something going on with the two of you. It’s just a matter of deciding which information to give her. But he didn’t have the fortune of having too many options. He didn’t want to reveal the nature of your relationship before. He wasn’t sure of your feelings for him. He can only speak for himself. 

“Fine. I sorta like her.” 

Her eyes brighten up. “Aha! I knew it. You should totally ask her out, kay? You’re gonna have tall and beautiful babies.” She put one hand on her cheek and closed her eyes while screeching at her own daydream of you and him getting together. When she calms down, she sends you the image file. “For real though. I’ve never seen her like that,” she points to your dazzling face in laughter in the photo. 

“Hey. What’re you two talking about?” You’re back to your normal clothes, but your hair and makeup was still there. 

“Nothing. Let’s go now?” He spoke immediately before your nosy director could say something. He walks to your direction before heading out together. “Bye! Update me, Kuroo-san!” Mitsuki said as she waved goodbye. You couldn’t help but be curious on what he should update her about. 

The rain stopped so no more umbrella horseplay. When you both get inside his car, you immediately ask him, “What was that about?”

“Uhh. She asked if I wanted to do other modeling projects.”

“Do you?”

He didn’t hesitate before answering, “No. That sort of stuff is not for me. I only did it to piss you off.” He starts the engine, then pivots his body to face you. “I must say though. I enjoyed seeing you eyefuck me.” Just when you are getting used to the peaceful, non-smug Kuroo, his true personality kicks right back in. Good thing you took your time getting changed and basically just calmed yourself down. 

“Glad you did. That’s the most you can get from me after all.”

His smile turned upside down at your remark. “Tch.” Your lips tug upwards at the side from his lack of retaliation. 

“I haven’t told you yet, but it wasn’t my first modeling experience.” 

You’re a bit surprised. Even though he has the appearance of a model, you didn’t think he’d do it. You agree with what he said just a while ago. It wasn’t for him. He’s best at his job right now. 

He gets his phone and scrolls up. He must be looking for a photo to show you as proof. When you see his screen, your heart swells. It was you and him a year ago. The neckline of your shirt was pulled to your shoulder for a makeshift off-shoulder while he knotted his t-shirt to form a crop top. You two wore large smiles while posing silly in front of the cam. It was right after when you told him that you’re a model.

“I- you... umm. You kept these?” You swipe the screen and see every single photo you took that day. Not one was deleted. You remember the laughter and absurd joy behind each frame. 

“Yea. Why wouldn’t I?”

One more swipe and there’s no other photo after yours. That’s when you notice that the photos are in the Favorites album. You felt like you were about to tear up. You’ve never felt so cherished in your whole life. Even though you left without saying a proper goodbye and no indication of going back, he still kept them. You tried so hard to forget about him, yet there he was, keeping these small tokens of what you had - proof that you really had been a part of his life.You felt something inside you crumble piece by piece. You should be scared, but at the moment, you don’t feel any fear. Instead, you were enraptured. 

You can feel your cheeks hurting from how wide your grin is. You don’t bother hiding it from him. 

“Can you send these to me?” You turn to him with the smile still plastered on your face, but he frowns at your question. 

“Those photos came from you.” 

You look back at his phone, your big smile reduced into a faint one that’s traced with melancholy. “I deleted them when I went to the US.” If he asks why, you wouldn’t know how to answer. Fortunately, he doesn’t. He gets his phone back from your hand and fiddles with it a bit. A few seconds later, you hear a notification from your own phone. When you open it, all the photos are sent to you. 

He looks at you warmly, his face devoid of anything but heartfelt fondness. “There. Like you never got rid of them.”

---

You lie on your bed with bottomless thoughts that night. Kuroo’s words weighed more than they should in your head as you stare at the photos. 

You deleted them to completely erase any trace of his existence in your life. Now they’re back in your phone with not a single photo missing from the stack. Ironically, it’s also you who asked for them back. Yet, you don’t mind. You came to accept that those memories existed. They happened. There’s no use trying to forget they did when he’s already back in your life anyways.

Looking at you and Kuroo in the images, you can’t avoid thinking how simple those times were. You were just two cool people who had sex for fun. You had no clue things would happen as they did - falling for him, leaving, and for some reason - destiny or whatever, meeting him again. The past you tried to leave behind crept up to you and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.

You thought you’ve moved on. You’ve thoroughly convinced yourself that you’ve disposed of all unnecessary emotions that involved Kuroo. You thought that whatever it is that you felt when you met him again was just remnants of yesterday. You were so wrong. That‘s just what you tried to tell yourself, repeating the idea over and over in your head until you believed it. 

But it never really happened. You haven’t forgotten about him. When you went on dates in the U.S., you’d remember him. So you stopped trying to see anyone and attributed that to being scared of getting hurt again. Hence, you shut yourself out to anyone until you no longer found dating to be interesting. You told yourself getting in a relationship would just get in the way of your career. 

That wasn’t true. 

The truth is just as he said. Your feelings for him are still there, you never did get rid of them. The question now is how to proceed from here.

You jerk when your phone rings right at your hand. 

‘Kuroo’

You don’t want to answer it. You basically just admitted to yourself that you’re still in love with him. Hearing his voice right now would be dangerous for your fragile heart.

But it might be something important. He doesn’t usually call.

You press the answer button. You were about to say hello, but your heart was beating so fast that you were unable to get any word out.

“Hello?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat so you could speak. “Yeah?”

“Is something wrong? You sound a bit off?” How he could tell even through a phone call is unbelievable. “Everything’s fine. Why’d you call anyways?” You do your best to sound normal. “Block your Thursday next week. I’m throwing a party.”

“What for?”

“Mmm. Just felt like having one.”

You minimize the call to check your calendar if you had any plans that day. “Alright. I have an event in the morning, but that night’s free.”

“Nice!!” He sounded a bit too glad. 

“Is that why you called?” It’s a bit suspicious that he rang you just for that. It’s just a party. He could’ve texted you instead. 

“Why? Am I not allowed to call when I want to?” Your heart skips a beat from the playful tone in his voice. You picture him smirking on his phone while he’s lying in bed. You bite your lip at the image in your head. 

Screw you and your stupid imagination. 

“Good night, Kuroo.” You said dismissively. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to say anything else important anyways. He chuckles from the other line before speaking so ever softly with tenderness that gives you butterflies in your stomach.

“Good night, kitten.” 

It was just a simple good night but you were reeling. You fight the smile that was forcing itself to form on your lips. You look at your photos one more time and sigh. 

You are so in love with him. 

On the other end, Kuroo is all smiles to himself. Nothing beats hearing your voice after a long day. Once again, he stares at the photo Mitsuki gave him that afternoon. He wishes it was real. He wishes you were smiling for him, laughing with him, and happy with him. If only you gave any indication that you like him more than a friend, he would’ve made his move. 

Even though he knows you still desire him, he wouldn’t settle for just sex. He doesn’t want a repeat of the past. He wants something further than that and more importantly, you deserve better than that. But so far, he could tell you were enjoying the friendship and companionship only. Even if he wanted to take things forward, he’s not sure that that’s what you want. You haven’t given anything away for him to make his move. He doesn’t want to risk it and have you running for the hills. 

Will he ever make you fall for him? Should he just leave things as is or do something bolder for you to realize that to him, you’re not just a friend?

He sighs. 

He’s so in love with you.

Part 6 | Part 8 |  m.list

taglist: @lia-faerie-queen​ @mkkhaikyuu @fastidious-and-precise @winunk @feelkindahorny @cece-lives-here @babythotshq​ @arendizzle​

[sockablock]

Hi! All the political and ocean concerns in the M9 have me thinking about Astrid and Eodwulf and Sabien. Hmm I know this is a reaching prompt, but something about Caleb and Fjord and people that you used to know? Thanks for all your amazing work, and stay safe during these crazy times! 💜

The beach is mostly trashed by the end, so they spend an extra few days on Rumblecusp to help the villagers clean up.

Which isn’t so bad. The food is good, if...adversarial, and the people now formerly of the cult of Vokodo take to wine-making like, well, former cultists.

Beauregard apparently has opinions about their process, but it’s not like they can get Marrow Oak on a tropical island; and anyway, it hasn’t stopped her from drinking any.

It hasn’t stopped Fjord from pouring a cup either, which he sips as Caleb emerges from the gloom. Behind him, sounds of clean-up and commotion, the curling grey smoke of a bonfire reaching toward pinprick stars above.

“Did they kick you out too?” Fjord dips his head. “I always feel like Marius when they start the heavy lifting.”

“Jester said I was getting in her way,” Caleb sighs, and plops down onto the bench beside him. He’s close enough that Fjord can see the glow in his eyes. “I decided that was a good enough excuse to take a break.”

“Man, at least Yasha was polite about it,” Fjord commiserates. “All she had to do was throw the cart over her head, and I got the message pretty fast.”

Caleb answers with a muted laugh, and a lock of hair slips out from behind his ear. Fjord smiles too, and offers his cup.

“So it’s over now, huh?” he says as Caleb takes a sip. “Time to head back soon.”

“I suppose so,” Caleb nods. “It feels like only days since we arrived on the island.”

“It was a few days ago, wasn’t it? Er...you would know, I mean.”

“Yes. If you want to be technical, we arrived ten days ago.”

“And it’s only been, like, ten hours since the Traveler ‘ascended.’” Fjord makes the appropriate air quotes. “Did you see him at the celebration dinner afterward? I’m pretty sure he ate eighteen cupcakes. Maybe nineteen.”

“I can see where Jester learned it from. Although,” Caleb adds dryly, “they were not bad cupcakes. I am still impressed that Caduceus managed to make icing on a deserted island.”

“Vegan, too.”

“Yes. Will wonders never cease.”

Caleb passes the cup back and Fjord gently swirls the liquid inside, a violent mishmash of pinkish-purple that doesn’t seem to settle either way. 

It’s cool in his hands. He looks up and takes a slow breath.

“Do you...that is...it seems a bit pointless to ask, since, well, it’s not like he’s your god—”

“Hm?”

Fjord considers the torchlight on the water. “Do you think we did the right thing?

Caleb is quiet for a while.  

“I...do,” he says, eventually. “We...helped the Traveler accomplish what he wanted, and we gave the people a new—we gave them something. Perhaps their collective belief will be enough to scrape out a new deity entirely, if the Moonweaver decides to pass.”

“Can gods...do that?”

Caleb shrugs. “They are gods. What would we know?”

The waves whistle as they wash against the shore. Then Fjord says:

“But...what about Jester? I mean, I know he promised he’d still be around, and I’m pretty sure Beau would kill him if he wasn’t, but it still feels like an end, doesn’t it? Like the old days are over. There’s no going back.”

Caleb makes a faint humming sound. “The old days had been over for a while.”

“Right,” says Fjord, “but—”

“I understand.”

In the distance, someone tosses another log onto the bonfire. It’s probably Yasha. Cheers go up.

“A lot of things have been changing. Have changed already, for all of us, I think.”

Fjord looks over. “How do you mean?”

He is surprised when he finds Caleb staring back at him. The firelight glows on his skin.

“You are a prime example, no? Think of what has changed for you.”

“Er...”

“The boat,” Caleb clarifies. “The explosion. The sword, then losing the sword, then...well.” And he gestures to Fjord, going up and going down, landing firmly on his symbol to the Wildmother.

“Oh.” Fjord suddenly feels a bit embarrassed. “Well. Yes. But...I think I was overdue for some changes.”

“You don’t miss them, then?” Caleb asks. “The old days?”

Fjord shuffles a little on the bench. His feet leave a groove in the sand.

“Well,” he admits, “it’s not...not like I don’t. It’s just...they were long ago, now. I’m not sure I’m that person, anymore. I...definitely don’t think I want to be.”

Caleb’s glance shifts to the ground. “Yes,” he says. “That, I understand.”

Fjord passes him the cup again. He takes it.

In quiet sort of voice, he says, “You aren’t. For the record. I mean...I don’t think you’re like how you were...like before.”

Caleb looks at the wine. “You didn’t know me.”

“You’ve...filled in some of the details for us, and I have an active imagination. Besides, I’ve been around you for nearly a year now.”

Caleb drinks. It’s his longest swig yet. When he finishes, he exhales and wipes at his mouth.

“You have, haven’t you?”

He hands the drink back.

“Everyone has,” Fjord says.

It’s Caleb’s turn to watch the tide. The breeze moves his collar. Without his coat on, the wind ruffles his shirt.

“I believe...that is what changed me, in the end. If not for y—for everyone, I would not be who I am today.”

“Yeah. We’re all made by who we stick with, I think. In the past and the present. It’s all a matter of luck.”

“I don’t know if ‘luck’ is the word I would use.”

Fjord snorts. “I don’t know if I would, either.”

“Gods,” Caleb says suddenly, “that was—your situation—”

“It’s okay,” Fjord says. “It could’ve been worse. I could’ve been brainwashed by evil wizards who wanted to...what? Turn me into an assassin? Use me as a weapon? Force me to kill innocents?”

“It was a mixed bag. Maybe all of the above? But at least I had a loving family, first.” 

From anyone else, it could’ve sounded cruel. Fjord has long ago gotten used to the weird way the Mighty Nein choose to express themselves.

“Do you miss those old days?”

Caleb’s smile comes back, but this time it’s a little stale.

“Sometimes...hah. Sometimes I even miss the days that came after. Not everything about Soltryce was so bad, you know. And even the...as you say, the ‘evil wizards,’ they were...at the time, despite it all, I enjoyed it.”

“At the time.”

“Yes.”

“And now?”

The smile flickers. “A mixed bag.”

Fjord lets the sickly sweet wine dance on his tongue. 

“I have a feeling I know what you mean. I miss...I miss some parts, too. I miss some people, actually, or...I miss the way I used to know them.”

When Caleb is quiet, Fjord finds himself pressing on. He’s not sure if he even means to.

“I hated the orphanage,” he whispers. “I hated it. I hated everything about it, which just made...it just made...” he blinks, “it made me all the more grateful at least Sabian was on my side. I...I used to think he always would be. I always thought it would be me and him against the world, and then...then...gods, I’m sorry—”

“No,” Caleb shakes his head. “Don’t be. He was important to you.”

“Of course he was.” Fjord huffs. “He used to be my whole world. We did everything together. We even signed up together. And then...”

Caleb’s voice is hesitant, but he still asks, “What happened?”

Fjord laughs. “My world got bigger. I...once I met Vandren, got used to sailing, I...I don’t know. It could be selfish, but sometimes I wonder if Sabian resented the fact that he wasn’t the only person in my life anymore. Though I doubt my feelings are important enough for them to be the reason why he betrayed us.”

He all but spits the words out. It’s only then that that he realizes he’s been crying into the mug.

"Gods, I’m—”

He feels Caleb touch his shoulder. It’s still hesitant, but he does.

“It’s alright.”

“...and I’ve ruined the wine.”

“We can always get more.”

A pause. 

“I...the worst part is not knowing. Not knowing, and...and not being able to understand. Why. Why did it happen? Was it always my fault? Was...was it always like that, and was I too blind to see? What if it was never even what I thought it was?”

“...yes.”

Fjord looks up.

“Did you ever think of talking to them again? Not...gods, not Tr...you know, him, but...maybe that classmate—”

Caleb sucks in a breath. Again, “Yes.”

“Did it...help?”

He lets go. “Er...to be honest? No.” Then he catches Fjord’s expression, tacks on hastily, “Er, in your situation, it could—”    

Fjord bites into his laugh. “It had better. I’m paying good money to find him, actually.”

Caleb doesn’t ask for more details, which isn’t totally surprising. Apparently they’d had similar ideas anyway.

The tension drains away slowly, and Fjord finds it in himself to ask:

“Was she different?”

Caleb shrugs. “In many ways...yes and no. She had changed, but those changes had been in her always. I could see where they came from. I could see why they happened.”

“She was unlucky,” Fjord tries. “The people around her...”

“Yes. She never got the chance I did.”

“No,” Fjord nods. “I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t feel entitled to Caleb’s expression at that. He doesn’t look, instead stares at the water and counts the seconds as the waves skim by.

“Do you think that Sabian—”

“No.”

“Right.” He hears Caleb breathe out. “Probably not. If it, er, if it counts for anything, though, I am of the mind that...though I did not know you before, you...you are a good person now. Our past...experiences to the contrary, you are a person that I would want to be, Fjord.”

Fjord nearly spills his cup into the sand.

“You—what?”

Caleb, to his shock and delight, looks offended. His face reddens to match his hair.

“I just—well—yes,” Caleb gets out, “I just mean...I think you are a good person. You cannot—that cannot be so hard to believe, unless—I told you, didn’t I? That I forgive you for the sword incident—”

Fjord decides to come to his rescue. He puts the cup down and waves his hand. “Right, right, you did, you did.”

“In case you had forgotten. Your memory is...”

Fjord raises an eyebrow.

“Nevermind.” Caleb amends hastily. “My point is, if you are...worried about your past, and the people who have...who have shaped you to who you are, I just want you to know that I...the you that you are now, Fjord, is an admirable person.”

A pause. Then:

“Thanks, Caleb.”

Caleb leans back on the bench. “Of course.”

They sit there in the silence for a little longer, watching the moon pull slowly on the tide, tracing the shape of clouds on the night sky.

“I—yeurk. Oh, that’s bad.”

“Hm?”

“The wine, I definitely ruined it. I, ah, think we might need a new glass.”

A laugh. 

“Come on. Let’s go get one, then.”

— — —

✨ Ko-Fi Link in Bio! ✨ | Requests are OPEN

[peachyteez]

second chances ≫ DAY TWO, NEEDLES.

as a feral wolf hybrid that was violent with all of the employees assigned to him, seonghwa was subjected to be put down. however, jiyu being the softhearted feral hybrid nurse she was, she decided to save seonghwa no matter what.

PART OF THE HEAVEN SERIES.

✧ taglist: @defsoul15, @choisaniskillingme

feel free to let me know if you would like to be added!

✧ note: puppy!beomgyu makes me so soft, y’all don’t even know—

back。| next。

“are you sure this is a good idea?” yeonjun asked for what seemed like the millionth time since jiyu came into work. even though he transferred seonghwa’s file to her, he still had his doubts about leaving jiyu with a violent hybrid.

jiyu sighed. they were walking down the hall towards seonghwa’s room so jiyu can check up on him. “yes, jun. i’ll be fine,” she reassured. “you underestimate my skills a lot, you know,” she teased with a chuckle.

yeonjun pouted and crossed his arms. “can’t blame me for being worried,” he grumbled. seeing they already arrived at said hybrid’s room, he patted her head. “well, this is your stop. hope to see you during lunch and not in the infirmary,” he said before leaving.

jiyu scoffed at yeonjun’s remark, yet she couldn’t help but smile. pressing the numbers on the keypad, jiyu took a deep breath before pressing the enter button.

seonghwa’s ears perked when he heard two voices on the other side of the door. then he heard one of them walk away while the other stayed. hearing the beep of the keypad and the opening of his door, seonghwa turned his head away from the window to look at the person.

he was mildly surprised when he recognized the same female from the previous day. he kept his eyes trained on her with his guard up.

jiyu softly smiled when she spotted the hybrid sitting on the floor and looking back at her. seonghwa didn’t say anything and returned his gaze out the floor-to-ceiling window. jiyu gently placed the clipboard down on the table and walked towards the hybrid and sat down next to him, but maintaining a safe distance. “hi, seonghwa.”

seonghwa glanced at her from his peripheral vision and gave a slight nod of his head—his way of greeting. jiyu’s smile grew wider when he acknowledged her. he wasn’t as bad as others made him out to be, and she didn’t know why.

“can you let me do a checkup on you?” she carefully asked. she saw him tense. “is that a no?”

after a moment’s hesitation, seonghwa wordlessly stood up from the ground and moved to the bed. he sat down and stared at jiyu. sensing her confusion, he gestured with his head towards the stethoscope around her neck.

jiyu gasped. “thank you!” she chirped before springing up from the floor and walking towards the hybrid. she placed the stethoscope in her ears. “don’t be alarmed. this is just to check your heartbeat. i promise i won’t hurt you, okay?” she gently reassured before putting the stethoscope on his chest.

seonghwa flinched from the cold metal object on his chest and he started growling. jiyu immediately retracted the intstrument. “no no no, it’s nothing harmful. see?” she put the metal part of the stethoscope on her own chest to demonstrate how unharmful it was. “it’s not hurting me and it won’t hurt you, either.”

his growling ceased after a minute and jiyu took it as a sign to try again. gently placing it on his chest, she internally sighed in relief when seonghwa didn’t start growling again. telling him to take deep breaths in and out, they smoothly finished with the stethoscope.

“your heartbeat sounds normal,” she mumbled to herself as she wrote on seonghwa’s medical file. most of it was filled out with the exception of his heart rate condition and the shots. it turns out that the previous nurses were never able to give him his shots since he always attacked them.

jiyu took a deep breath as she prepared the syringe. her back was towards seonghwa, so he didn’t notice the needle in her hand. she turned back towards the hybrid. seonghwa spotted the syringe and immediately, his started growling again. and this time, his chilling gaze was fixed on jiyu.

jiyu hid the syringe behind her back. she felt her heartbeat quicken at the thought of seonghwa attacking. “are...are you afraid of needles...?” she asked.

seonghwa backed up on the bed as he kept his eyes on jiyu. like the previous day, he pressed himself ip against the corner and continued growling as a warning. gently putting the needle back on the table, she held her hands up again.

“look, i don’t have the needle anymore,” she showed. “please calm down, seonghwa. i won’t hurt you.”

she waited with bated breath for him to calm down on his own terms. seeing that jiyu was just standing still, not making a move, seonghwa immediately stopped. but he still kept himself pressed against the wall.

“okay, then...no shots today, i guess,” jiyu mumbled as she slowly shuffled back over to the clipboard. putting the cover over the needle, she put the syringe back in the breast pocket of her white coat and turned back to the hybrid in the corner. her face softened. “sorry, buddy.”

seonghwa cocked his head to the side, skeptcism written all over his face. usually whenever he refused the shots, the nurses always tried to hold him down to insert the needle into his arm. not that the method ever worked since seonghwa always went into violent mode.

yet jiyu just put the syringe away and didn’t try to force him?

jiyu sensed his apprehension. “i won’t force you to do something you’re not comfortable with. i don’t know what you went through before coming here, but as your new caretaker, i’ll try to help you recover as much as i can,” she explained with a soft smile. “so no need to be afraid of me, okay?”

a curious expression replaced the glare on seonghwa’s face. did the woman in front of him really have no malicious intents? did she really mean what she said?

glancing at the clock, she realized her time with seonghwa was up. “oh, it’s soobin’s turn,” she said to herself before turning her attention back to seonghwa. “well, that’s all the time we have for now! i’ll come by and check up on you during my lunch break.”

with a little wave and smile, jiyu left seonghwa’s room. like the previous day, seonghwa stared at the door. he cocked his head to the side again. “interesting...”

meanwhile, jiyu internally berated herself as she walked to soobin’s room. “ohmygod, why did you have to whip out a needle on the first day!” she whisper–shouted to herself. “so much for trying to get him to warm up...”

“jiyu!”

turning towards the voice, her eyes widened when she saw a familiar golden retriever hybrid barreling towards her at high speeds. “wait, wait, slow down–”

bam!

her warning proved to be useless as the puppy–hybrid literally crashed into her and they both tumbled to the floor.

jiyu, flat on her back with a hybrid towering over her, crossed her arms and furrowed her eyebrows. “beomgyu, what did i say about tackling people?” she gently scolded as she reached up and flicked his forehead.

beomgyu laughed and stood up before helping jiyu up. “sorry! i just got excited,” he sheepishly explained as he scratched the back of his neck. jiyu couldn’t help but smile.

“beomgyu, come back!”

frantically turning the corner was yeonjun as he searched for the energetic hybrid. finding him with jiyu, he sighed in relief. approaching the two, he bent down with his hands on his knees as he tried catching his breath. “what...did i...say...about running...off?” he panted.

beomgyu stuck his tongue out. “you’re just out of shape.”

yeonjun immediately stood up straight. “yah!”

beomgyu giggled and hid behind jiyu, poking his face above her head since she was significantly shorter than him. yeonjun just sighed—he can never win against beomgyu. jiyu snorted at the scene, letting beomgyu rest his chin on top of her head.

“you actually came out unharmed,” yeonjun incredulously commented. “how did he not attack you?”

“i was just gentle with him. but i couldn’t give him his shots...seems like he hates needles,” she said.

“oh, yeah! yeonjun–hyung told me about park seonghwa,” beomgyu piped up. “if he ever hurts you, i’ll bite him!”

jiyu softly chuckled as she imagined beomgyu trying to bite someone like seonghwa. “thanks, beomgyu,” she thanked as she reached up and scratched behind his ears, making him close his eyes in content.

yeonjun stuffed his hands in his white lab coat pockets. “yeah, he wouldn’t let anyone give him his shots. usually, the other hybrids take a week or two until they get used to us and the checkups, so we can give them the shots. but it’s been about two months already for seonghwa and he’s still attacking everyone, even if he’s seen them everyday.”

jiyu furrowed her eyebrows. “i don’t know what he went through before coming here, but maybe that explains his behavior,” she said. “well, either way, i won’t force him into doing something he’s not comfortable with. the previous nurses were probably too forceful with him.”

yeonjun thoughtfully hummed.

“oh, i was supposed to go visit soobin!” jiyu squeaked in realization.

beomgyu gasped. “can we come, too?!” beomgyu asked, giving her his best puppy–dog eyes.

“yeah, can we?” yeonjun asked. “i haven’t seen him since he was admitted here.”

jiyu nodded. “alright, just try not to overwhelm him, okay?” she asked, although she was directing the question more to the hyper golden–retriever hybrid.

beomgyu smiled and playfully saluted. “yes ma’am!”

yeonjun sighed. “sometimes i think you listen to jiyu more than you do to me.”

[missfangirll]

Strawberries & Cigarettes

Fandom: Guardian Rating: General Relationship: Shen Wei / Zhao Yunlan Tags: Fluff, Kissing, Falling In Love, Pining, First Kiss, Established Relationship, 4+1 Things,            Words: 3461 Summary: Four times strawberries (and cigarettes) remind Shen Wei of Zhao Yunlan, and one time he doesn't need reminding.

Read on AO3

I have had the title (this song) in my head for a while but couldn't find the plot for it. Also, it's really more of a 4 things fic, the last chapter is just crack, I'm sorry ^^ Maybe if I feel like it I'll write a proper +1, but for now that's all I can offer xD

- - - - -

One

It had been an especially draining day for Shen Wei, and he was once more grateful for his mask as he plopped down slightly less graceful than usual next to Kunlun at the campfire, stifling a sigh. The man shifted a little on his log to make room for Shen Wei, with such a natural ease that it made the other’s heart flutter, and wordlessly held a bowl in Shen Wei’s direction. As he didn't move to take it, Kunlun looked up and frowned. “You haven’t eaten anything today,” he said, sounding accusatory, and glared at the younger man, a challenge in his eyes. Shen Wei opened his mouth to answer with his usual evasive politeness when Kunlun added softly, “Let me take care of you, Shen Wei.” His heart stuttered and his breath caught. Having Kunlun’s tender affection directed so boldly at him always left him feeling warm and soft and he didn't have it in him to fight it.

Smiling softly, he took the bowl with a nod and started eating. He hadn't even noticed before how starved he really was, but filling his empty stomach did wonders for the chill in his bones and he felt more energetic than he had all day.

Kunlun watched him as he ate, smiling fondly, fiddling with a strand of hair that had escaped his braids. Shen Wei had to look away and focus on his stew in order to calm his jittery heart. After he had finished and leaned back to make himself more comfortable on the log, he took of his mask and hood, not able to suppress a faint smile. Kunlun always looked so happy, almost giddy when he did that, and he really liked the ever-changing expressions on the other’s face. Kunlun reached into his robes and fished out a small leather pouch that he shook in Shen Wei’s direction, a conspiratorial grin on his face. “I don’t have any more sweets,” he said, grinning, “but I got this,�� he gave the pouch a shake, “from one of the cooks instead.” His smile widened. “She gave it to me when I told her I wanted to impress someone special.”

Shen Wei choked on air and had to hide his blazing face behind his sleeve. After he had overcome his coughing fit, he looked warily at the other, trying to gauge the expression on his face. But Kunlun’s smile hadn't changed, it still held the same fondness and warmth he always saw in it, so he took a deep breath and redirected his attention to the pouch the other still held between them.

“What is it?”

Kunlun grinned and held out a palm. “Give me your hand,” he asked and Shen Wei complied, still feeling a bit shy. Kunlun tipped the bag to drop the contents into his waiting hand and Shen Wei couldn’t suppress a smile at the sight of the small red orbs that tumbled out. Wild strawberries. Dried strawberries, probably collected some months before under a blazing summer sun, carefully prepared to conserve a tiny sliver of summer in the cold dark months.

Mirroring his smile, Kunlun put the now empty pouch away and nudged Shen Wei with a shoulder. “Eat,” he ordered, “I got them for you.”

Ignoring his red ears, Shen Wei shook his head slightly and held his palm closer to the other. “You have to try them first,” he said, “you like sweets.” The other gave him a look. “Ah, Shen Wei, you…” He trailed off, a cheeky grin slowly spreading over his face. “You know, you could feed me,” he continued, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and Shen Wei had to violently smother another coughing fit. To mask his embarrassment, he took a handful of the small fruits and put them into his mouth. Tart sweetness spread over his tongue, visions of summer and warmth flooded his mind, along with a memory of the sweets Kunlun had shared with him all those weeks ago and suddenly he had to smother a completely different sound.

“They are really good,” he stated, slightly breathless, and with a fit of courage he didn't really understand himself, took one strawberry and held it in front of Kunlun’s mouth. The other stilled for a heartbeat, then his whole face lit up in a grin and he leaned forward to carefully take the fruit out of Shen Wei’s fingers with his lips, not breaking eye contact. Shen Wei tried to breathe evenly, his heart beating like a war drum in his rib cage, he could feel his blood sing in his ears and he was certain his face was a deep shade of red. In an attempt to hide his inner turmoil, he popped some more strawberries in his mouth and closed his eyes, enjoying the sweetness, trying to focus on something else. He heard Kunlun’s slight chuckle, felt the man’s warm thigh against his, the taste of the biting-sweet fruits on his tongue and knew he would be forever reminded of this night whenever he tasted strawberries.

Two

Shen Wei had just switched the rice cooker to ‘warming’ when he heard the apartment door open, then close, and someone stepping inside. He tracked the person’s way, listening as he toed off his shoes and kicked them into the corner behind the door, then shuffled over to the couch and plopped onto it heavily, face-down, heaving out a sigh. Without turning around to hide his smile, he asked, “Long day?”

Zhao Yunlan answered with a groan and pressed his face further into the sofa. At the movement, a cloud of unfamiliar scent wafted over to where Shen Wei stood behind the kitchen counter, heavy with cigarettes and… He turned to face the other with a raised eyebrow. Perfume. Cheap perfume with a fruity note. “What did you do?”, he inquired, trying to sound only moderately interested. It wasn't his place to become jealous over Zhao Yunlan, he reminded himself. Not yet.

The man in question didn't turn away from where he had his face smashed into the couch and Shen Wei could only vaguely understand what he said. “…observation… bar… late.” Another sigh. “...tired.”

“It seems that way,” Shen Wei remarked dryly, filling two bowls with the food he had been preparing, then walked over to the couch. He sat next to Zhao Yunlan’s legs and placed the bowls on the low coffee table. “Come, eat,” he said, “I made your favorite.”

The answer Zhao Yunlan mumbled into the cushions sounded suspiciously like a love confession, but Shen Wei stubbornly ignored his burning ears and hammering heart and focused on the food. He couldn’t let his foolish hopes get in the way of taking proper care of Zhao Yunlan.

With another groan Zhao Yunlan shifted into an upright position, his feet still on the couch, dangerously close to Shen Wei’s thighs. He reached for a bowl and made such a happy noise at the sight that Shen Wei had to close his eyes for a second. Stomping down on the fluttery feeling in his chest he took the other bowl and started eating.

They had done this a lot over the last few weeks, Zhao Yunlan seemingly never tired of praising his cooking, always making a remark what a good wife Shen Wei would make, which the latter never dignified with an answer, no matter how desperately his heart reached out to Zhao Yunlan.

After finishing his bowl Zhao Yunlan put it back on the coffee table and shifted on the sofa, tucking his feet under him so that he sat cross-legged. Shen Wei looked at him, considering. “Do you want more?”, he asked and moved to get up, only to be stopped by a warm hand on his thigh that had him suppress a shiver. “It’s alright,” he heard, and then, “Ah, Shen Wei, what would I do without you?”

He didn't answer and concentrated on emptying his bowl, then put it on the table. “I should clean the--” he began, but the grip on his thigh tightened and the other man shifted, leaning his head on Shen Wei’s shoulder. His heart skipped a beat, only to resume thundering in his chest and for a moment he couldn’t breathe. Seemingly unaware of his state, Zhao Yunlan continued to snuggle closer, then paused, looking warily up at Shen Wei. “I should have showered, shouldn’t I? Do I smell very bad?”

Shen Wei had to fight the urge to bury his face into the other’s hair and breathe him in. He just shook his head, not trusting his voice. Zhao Yunlan smiled radiantly and leaned back into him. After a few heartbeats his breathing slowed and his head on Shen Wei’s shoulder grew heavier. Shen Wei didn't dare move as not to wake him and turned his head slightly. The scent he had noticed in the kitchen before was stronger now, almost overwhelming this close and Shen Wei breathed carefully, closing his eyes, savoring the moment. Zhao Yunlan smelled of cigarette smoke and beer, of air freshener and cheap perfume, and with a pang in his heart he recognized the smell. Strawberries. Helplessly happy about it and at the same time infinitely sad, he turned a bit further, holding his breath, slowly, carefully putting an arm around Zhao Yunlan. Resting his hand on the other’s hip he breathed the artificially sweet scent and closed his eyes, letting himself have this moment of peace and contentment, his love in his arms.

Three

Seven. Shen Wei had counted. Zhao Yunlan had gone through seven lollipops during their consultation, and Shen Wei was ready to snatch it from him and replace it with his tongue. It wasn't the fact that the man was eating candy like other people ate bread, he savored them. Not that there was anything wrong with savoring one’s food, not at all, but the way Zhao Yunlan savored his favorite sweets had Shen Wei close to a heart attack. He licked them with visible delight, his dark red tongue darting out, rolling them over his lips, his mouth closing slightly over the round candy, and Shen Wei had to breathe through his nose and stare at the crime scene photos in front of him in order to not do something desperate and foolish.

They had met in his apartment for a change, Shen Wei suspected this had happened because almost all surfaces in Zhao Yunlan’s flat were cluttered with some junk or other and there was simply more space to spread out the photos and files on his own coffee table, but that also meant he had no way to escape the other man’s dangerous presence. They sat on Shen Wei’s sofa, close enough to feel each other’s movements, and Shen Wei had spent the last two and a half hours trying not to notice how warm Zhao Yunlan felt next to his, even through the shirt. He had, obviously, failed spectacularly at this and now could only do damage control, which meant keeping his breathing as steady as possible and under no circumstances look up at Zhao Yunlan. Which he also failed at, as soon as he noticed Zhao Yunlan had stopped talking. Tentatively he looked up and was met with a stare that made his breath catch. Before he could say anything, the other had swooped up the photos and papers into a pile on the table and turned back to face him. “Let’s call it a night, Professor Shen.” He winked. “You look exhausted, and I think my brain can’t handle one more witness report.”

Shen Wei nodded hastily, glad to finally get some distance between them, but Zhao Yunlan seemed to have other ideas, because suddenly his arm was around Shen Wei’s shoulders. He had done that before, but never while sitting next to him, and Shen Wei’s heart stuttered at the sudden closeness.

“Professor Shen”, the other purred and Shen Wei had to swallow hard, “what would you like to do on this wonderful evening, now that we have so much free time.” Shen Wei almost expected him to waggle his eyebrows suggestively, but when he looked up, Zhao Yunlan’s face was serious. He swallowed again and looked down, not able to say anything safe that wouldn't betray his feelings.

Zhao Yunlan reached out a hand and for a heart-stopping moment Shen Wei thought he would cup his cheek, but instead he pushed a strain of hair behind Shen Wei’s ear, which resulted in a shiver Shen Wei couldn’t quite suppress. Zhao Yunlan looked at him with an unreadable look and inhaled deeply. “Look,” he said gently, “I don’t want to do something you don’t want, but…” He inhaled a second time and continued, “But you have been looking at me the whole evening as if… As if you…” He trailed off again and looked at Shen Wei, who found himself utterly unable to respond verbally. With a groan, he closed the distance between them and crashed their mouths together. He could feel Zhao Yunlan’s startled laugh, then plush lips opened for him and it felt like coming home.

Zhao Yunlan’s hand came up to his nape, weaving his fingers in his short hair, and he shuddered with the sensation. As their tongues met, he almost startled when he recognized the taste: strawberries. Artificial and much too sweet, but unmistakably strawberry flavor. Licking into Zhao Yunlan’s eager mouth, he tasted the lollipops and remembered how he had imagined tasting it on the other’s tongue, that night so long ago.

After a few heartbeats, he pulled away a fraction, still close enough to feel Zhao Yunlan’s breath on his lips, then, with a surge of renewed fervor he licked the other’s bottom lip, eliciting a low moan. Groaning, he wrapped an arm around Zhao Yunlan’s shoulders and deepened the kiss, savoring the other’s taste.

Four

The new house, Shen Wei mused, came with a whole lot of improvements for their lifestyle. The kitchen, for one, that now held enough space for a dining table where all of them could fit, and enough cupboards that working there felt sufficiently organised. Then Da Qing’s room, facing west as not to disturb the cat’s sleep in the morning and with a large enough window he could comfortably come and go as he pleased. (Zhao Yunlan had suggested a super-size cat flap for the front door which had Da Qing ignore him for a week.) Shen Wei also had his own office now, with a large desk directly in front of a window that took up the entire wall and enough shelves to store all his books – even the ones that he’d had stashed in his office at the university because his apartment couldn’t contain all of them, which had caused Zhao Yunlan to blink at him, looking first incredulous, then exasperated, then grudgingly accepting.

But the best thing, he thought, was the large garden. (Although, he knew, Zhao Yunlan would argue that the enormous bathroom was the best thing, since it now allowed them to shower together, and, well, but he very deliberately tried not to think about that right now.)

No, in his opinion, the garden was what made him fall in love with the house. Not just because it encompassed some giant walnut trees that appeared almost as old as Shen Wei, or because there was an ivy-covered canopy that held enough space to host dinner parties for the whole SID – he loved it because of the small vegetable garden Zhao Yunlan had planted in a sunny corner. It just held some rows of carrots, lettuce, and radishes, and Zhao Yunlan had even tried his hand at a few tomatoes (Shen Wei would never, not under threat of death admit to sending a bit of dark energy every now and then into the plants to make them sturdier), but it was the meaning behind it that always made his breath catch when he thought about it.

“I want to buy you a house, Shen Wei,” Zhao Yunlan had said, quite early in their relationship when Shen Wei still had to hold on to secrets and lies, and had looked at him with such a tenderness in his eyes that Shen Wei had taken to teasing him so that he wouldn't start crying. “A house,” he had said and tried to make it sound skeptical instead of yearning, “you just want me to cook for you all day and do your laundry.”

Zhao Yunlan’s gaze hadn't wavered as he nodded and answered, “Yeah, and I want to plant a garden where I grow vegetables for you.” He had fixed Shen Wei with a gentle, but still unrelenting gaze. “I want to give you everything, Shen Wei. You deserve it,” he had added and Shen Wei had had to calm his racing heart.

Now that Zhao Yunlan finally knew about the time loop, and their second first meeting, and their first second kiss, and everything in between, he had kept his word and bought Shen Wei a house and planted a garden. Some of the vegetables he grew there didn't even make it to the kitchen, falling prey, or rather snack to whoever was watering the garden, but more often Shen Wei included them in their meals, always to Zhao Yunlan’s unabashed joy.

Shen Wei smiled to himself and turned back to the pile of papers that needed grading, when he heard his office door open. He didn't have to turn to sense Zhao Yunlan, but something else caught his attention and he swung around. Zhao Yunlan stood in the doorway, grinning brightly, in his hand a small bowl with…Shen Wei inhaled through his nose, the faint scent striking in the clear evening air.

Strawberries. He raised an eyebrow at the other. Zhao Yunlan’s grin broadened. “Do you remember our first real meal together?” he asked excitedly, but then frowned. “I mean, in the past, so your first.. Eh, you know what I mean!” Grin back on his face, he continued. “We shared some wild strawberries, do you remember, and then I flirted with you and you blushed so furiously, holy shit, Shen Wei, I thought you would run away, but you stayed and…” He trailed off and inhaled as if to stop himself from rambling. “Anyway, I wanted to surprise you, to share strawberries with you again, but the variety we had then doesn't grow here anymore and the cultivated ones are a pain in the ass to grow, so…” He held the bowl out and shrugged, almost apologetic. “It’s not the same, I know, but maybe---”

Shen Wei didn't let him finish. In a smooth movement he was out of his chair and in front of Zhao Yunlan, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a scorching kiss. Zhao Yunlan almost dropped the bowl, then chuckled, leaning into him, wrapping his free arm around Shen Wei’s waist.

After a while Shen Wei pulled back, looking down at the bowl in the other’s hand, then back at his face. “I…,” he began, but couldn’t find anything to follow that. Instead, he took a strawberry and held it to Zhao Yunlan’s lips, smiling brightly. The other laughed and took the offered fruit, then took another one from the bowl and held it in front of Shen Wei. When he opened his lips, the sweetness that exploded on his tongue brought back so many memories that his knees almost buckled. It tasted of summer and sun and warmth and home, and of so much more, of memories, and of a life with Zhao Yunlan, that he had to close his eyes to fight back the tears. Wrapping both arms around Zhao Yunlan in a tight hug, he hid his face in the other’s shoulder, unable to express the gratitude he felt that all of it had turned out well, that they had earned their happy ending.

He turned his head slightly to press a kiss to Zhao Yunlan’s ear. “I love you.”

Plus One

“You… You bought what?!”

“Look, baby, if you’re feeling uncomfortable with this just tell me, okay? It’s no fun if you don’t have fun as well. I bought this because I thought you might like it, okay?”

“No… I… I mean…”

“Xiao Wei, I love you. There is no scenario, inside this bedroom or out of it, where I would try to force something onto you that you don’t want--”

“I didn't say that.”

“…Oh.”

“But, I mean…”

“So, you do want to try it.”

“Stop grinning like that. Yes, we can try. But if I don’t…”

“If you don’t like it, we’ll stop immediately, I swear. And now hold still.”

“...”

Zhao Yunlan grinned. He had hoped it would pay off to buy the strawberry-flavored lube.

[jackandthesoulmates]

Sam’s Boys

Created for @deanandsambingo and @samwinchesterbingo

Squares filled: Birthday, Fluff, Smut, Dom!Sam, Sam/Jack, Voyeurism

Pairing: Sam/Jack, Sam/Jack/Dean, Jack/Dean

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: It’s Dean’s birthday and Sam has a special gift prepared. 

Warnings: Threesome, Bondage, D/s, polyamory, poly negotiations, established Sam/Jack and Sam/Dean

Read on AO3

Jack’s jaw drops.

“He’s all yours”, Sam says, getting comfortable in his armchair in the corner of the room.

Jack had known something was off today. It’s Dean’s birthday, but he hasn’t seen Dean around in the morning and also not in the afternoon. And Sam’s been suspiciously excited about something he didn’t want to talk about. 

Now it all made sense in a way. A very wicked, very mean, very kinky kind of way. 

Sam’s always gentle and kind with Jack. But the angel knows, Sam’s relationship with Dean is very different from the shy and innocent romance Jack experiences. 

When Sam told Jack to shower, shave and wear something ‘nice’ and was in a suit himself, Jack should’ve known that his begging to become a part of Dean’s and Sam’s sexual relationship would finally be met. And then Sam has invited him to Dean’s room. At first Jack has been worried that he might’ve done something wrong; Dean’s not comfortable with Sam being Jack’s boyfriend and ‘sharing’ him. 

But all of that didn’t happen. 

Instead there’s Sam in this armchair, sipping whiskey out of a tumbler. And he’s definitely not the gentle, soft and vanilla boyfriend of Jack. He’s Dean’s dom now and maybe-

“Don’t just stand there. And close your mouth, baby. You look gullible.”

His voice is different. His body language is. How he looks first at Jack, then to Dean.

Poor Dean, who’s on the bed on his knees, hands tied up with one of Sam’s ties. He’s fully naked and - oh God, he’s trembling. The sight is mouth watering. 

“Sorry, Sam.”

“Daddy”, Sam corrects. His voice stern. His brows furrowed.

“Sorry, daddy.” Jack says, now with a tiny, shaky voice. 

“Let me introduce you two first. It seems you seem a bit stunned. That’s Dean, my slave. And I’m his Master. Jack, meet my slave. And that”, Sam stands up and Jack can see his suit pants already bulge - “is Jack. How should we address you?” 

He’s so tall and he’s intimidating when he’s like this. Jack’s mouth runs dry and he feels like his tongue is glued to his palate. 

“J-Jack is fine, thank you.” 

Sam’s close now, placing one hand in Jack’s neck. Gently squeezing. 

“Okay, Jack. Slave, say hello to Jack.”

Dean hasn’t moved voluntarily since Jack got in, but he can’t hide the trembling. Or the clenching of his ass. Jack can’t even look at him without feeling a hot jolt of arousal flushing down his spine. 

“Welcome, Jack.” 

That’s all Dean says, burying his face in the mattress. 

“And you will call me daddy, I know you like it. Right, Jack?”

He gulps violently.

“Yes, I do, daddy.”

Sam sighs and squeezes Jack’s neck once, before he sits down in the armchair again. It looks casual but Jack can see, he can smell Sam’s arousal. And Dean’s. And his own. The air is thick from the collective body heat. 

“Dean, you… Sam- Daddy, what do you want me to do?”

Sam smiles. And his eyes shoot daggers. They burst on Jack’s burning cheeks. 

“It’s easy, baby. You wanted to join us. And I thought this might be the perfect occasion for us three to explore if this could work. Also, you asked me how topping a man feels. Dean and me give you the opportunity to try. Look, baby, Dean’s been denied an orgasm since Christmas. He also wasn’t allowed to masturbate. Poor slave is on edge for a while now and he’s craving to be fucked and cum. Right, slave?”

Dean nods. “Yes, Master…” He sounds already out of breath. 

“You let Sam tie you up, so I can-- I can…” 

Jack’s so overwhelmed and excited he’s unable to finish the sentence.

“Kiddo”, Dean says, now a bit impatient, “the only way to tie me up like this, is when I ask someone to do so. This is consensual. Don’t worry.” 

Sam looks at Jack. “He called you kiddo. Shall I punish him for that or will you let that one slip?”

Jack’s face grows bright red. He’s not a dom, he thinks. But he doesn’t know for sure.

“No, no, it’s fine. Don’t punish him. I want to… I want to sleep with him.”

“As I said, he’s all yours. Do with him what you feel like. If fucking him is what you desire, do so. It’s his birthday after all. He will be thankful.”

‘I can’t believe this is happening’, Jack thinks.

It’s definitely what he wanted. To join Sam and Dean sexually, maybe even romantically, he liked Dean a lot and definitely more than it was appropriate for a father figure. He admires Dean’s strength. Oh and, oh my God, he’s so pretty tied up. 

“Did you have to tie him up?”

Sam laughs. “Yes. He’s a fidget.”

Jack hears a zipper and sees how Sam opens his trousers. He doesn’t wear underwear. Sam’s rock hard already and Jack’s mouth is watering. His own cock is twitching at the sight of how Sam’s big strong hands start jerking himself. 

“Fuck”, Jack mutters, feeling hot and cold all over. 

“Go on, Jack, we’re waiting.”

Jack struggles while getting out of his pants. His cock is throbbing already and he can’t wait to try it. His face is burning hot, feels like his cheeks start blistering. Touching himself already makes him shiver. He mouthes another silent ‘fuck’ when Dean’s trying to push closer to him, but with hands tied and on his knees there’s not much he can do.

Definitely a fidget, Sam’s right. 

A glance over to Sam is enough to make Jack forget he’s actually super edgy about this new experience. Sam’s eyes make him want to melt immediately. Jack would love to suck Sam off right now, he seems so hard and delicious. But Jack needs to focus now. It’s about Dean. 

Jack touches himself. Slowly, but he can feel how overexcited he is. This won’t be a long session if he already feels like bursting in a million pieces. He grabs the bottle of lube but he can’t open it, his hands are shaking too much. He looks over to Sam again. Sam’s already up, a warm smile on his face. 

He knows when Jack needs help.

And encouragement.

Sam stands behind Jack, takes the bottle from his hands. Kisses his neck. Jack feels like a dying sun this moment. “Sshhh”, Sam whispers, “It’s okay, let me help you with this.”

Sam’s cock is rubbing on Jack’s back, he can feel it through the thin fabric of his shirt. He moans silently and leans onto Sam’s chest. He’s warm and gives Jack a lot of confidence. 

Jack feels better now, but still Sam’s helping hand is much appreciated. He pours some lube on Jack’s cock and spreads it all over his length. The touch feels like electricity to Jack and he bites his lips. Sam’s so close, and Dean’s so delicious. Jack wants to try it so so badly!

“Look, I’ll spread some on Dean’s hole. Like this. Finger him a little, he likes it.”

Dean moans and pants, presses against Sam’s finger that disappears fully in his hole. 

“Master”, Dean moans. 

What a beautiful sound! Jack is fascinated. He lies his hand on Sam’s.

“I want to finger him”, he says. 

“Stage is yours, Jack. You can do it. Just do what feels right and good. Dean will tell you if something’s not okay.” Sam kisses Jack’s forehead before he retreats back to his seat. 

Jack spreads lube over his fingers and Dean’s hole, then pushes in one finger. Dean squirms and sighs. 

“More”, he begs. “Give me more, Jack, please….”

How could Jack deny? 

He pushes a second finger in, moving them inside Dean. He’s hot and tight inside and Jack loves the feeling. The noises Dean makes, how he moves against Jack’s finger.. it reminds him of how he begs Sam himself when he’s in the mood to tease Jack before he finally, finally gives Jack what he’s craving for.

“Good.” Sam breathes. “Very good, Jack. Fuck him with your fingers a little.” 

The praise turns Jack on even more and his fingers thrust in Dean’s hole, opening him up, and Dean’s a moaning and pleading mess. 

“Please fuck me already! I can’t wait for your cock to be inside me!”

Jack utters a surprised moan. He never heard anyone talk so… dirty. And it turns him on. Very. He pulls out his fingers and kneels behind Dean, gripping his cock, keeping it steady. With his other hand he strokes over Dean’s hips and his back. 

“Tease him.” Sam’s voice is hard now. It’s not a request, it’s an order. 

Jack feels sweat running down his spine. He wants to penetrate Dean now, he’s horny, he’s excited and he’s ready for this. He’s ready to fuck Dean into the mattress, he can feel it. He was curious for this way too long. But Sam wants him to tease Dean a little. 

Jack’s hands spread Dean’s buttcheeks apart and he rubs the tip of his cock over Dean’s hole, a couple of times. Dean fights the restraints. He moans and pleads and when Jack looks over to Sam and he nods, Jack knows he can do it now. 

Sam’s eyes are clouded with lust himself and his hand is jerking him fast and steady. 

Both Winchesters drive the Nephilim crazy now!

Jack pushes his tip in Dean’s hole. Dean’s squirming now, moaning and fighting for air. 

“Fuck, Jack! Yes!”, he calls out. “Fuck me, God, please, fuck me!”

Dean’s hole is still tight. He’s hot inside.. and oh so fucking tight, Jack needs to stop for a second and catch some breath. He’s close already and he isn’t even halfway inside.

“Dean”, he moans, “you feel so good, I- oh fuck… you feel so so so good…”

His fingernails dig deep in Dean’s skin on his hips because he needs to hold Dean steady, who’s already trying to push Jack deeper himself. 

“Stop! Stop! I’m close already!”, he utters. The orgasm feels like .. just an inch away.

Dean freezes, whimpering. “Come on, Jack. I don’t care!”

“Take your time, Jack. I told you, he’s a fidget. Imagine what happened if he wasn’t tied up..”

Jack wouldn’t stand a chance then. He would probably come in a matter of seconds. It’s already bad now, Jack’s throbbing and Dean’s tight ass surrounding him isn’t helping. He pushes in deeper, way deeper. When he’s buried to the root in Dean, he breathes in and out, then pulling it out almost completely. Dean protests and cries out, clenches around Jack’s tip. 

“Dean… fuck…” Jack bites his cheek to feel the pain and distract himself. He wants to shoot all of his load inside Dean. Sam and Jack didn’t have sex in a week, which is a lot for them, and Jack didn’t like to masturbate. He rather feels Sam inside his ass, railing him and making him walk funny for a day or two. But this feeling is mind blowing and he has to bite his cheek very hard to feel it. 

“Jerk him. That’ll distract him. A little.” 

Jack looks over to Sam. He’s not jerking himself right now, his eyes are glued to what’s happening on the bed. Jack bends over Dean’s back and reaching for Dean’s cock. He’s already leaking and his thickness drives Jack’s arousal to new heights. Fuck, he wants to feel Dean’s cock inside his ass one day. He would feel amazing.

Jack’s grip is tight, and he starts jerking Dean while thrusting inside him. Dean’s so loud now, he’s yelling. 

“FUCK oh my GOD FUCK, JACK! JACK!” 

It’s too much. 

Jack cums inside Dean’s ass. He’s thrusting helplessly, pumping his full load inside and working himself through the aftershocks. 

The lights in the room flicker for a couple seconds, Jack’s eyes start gleaming golden.

He feels hot cum shooting over his hand when Dean also cums, moaning and whimpering. 

Sam’s not done yet. He keeps looking at them, now rubbing himself slowly. 

Jack feels light headed and a little spaced out. It takes a few breaths to snap back into his body. 

“Whow”, he sighs, laying his forehead on Dean’s tied up hands. Dean reaches out and nuzzles Jack’s nose with his fingers. 

“That was quick, sorry”, he whispers, not ready to look up again. 

Somehow he feels like he should’ve lasted longer, Sam’s stamina was definitely better than his and Sam is his only measurement for all things sexy. He’s a bit embarrassed. 

“Hah, same.” Dean groans. “But it was fun.”

“Who said you’re done?”

Sam’s voice makes both of them flinch. Jack pushes himself up and pulls out slowly. Dean protests weakly, but doesn’t clench this time. Jack's cum is leaking out of Dean’s ass. 

‘Damn, that’s hot’, he thinks. Twitching again.

“You’re half angel, baby, you’ll recover very quickly. I know you do. You’re ready to again in about a minute. Right?”, Sam asks. 

Jack nods. “Yes, I am. Shall I fuck him again, daddy?”, he asks, excited. 

“Of course. You’re finished when I say so.”

Sam’s words make Jack’s whole body tingle. He’s definitely ready for a second round. And Dean feels so good, he needs to feel him again. He adores Dean in many ways and letting Jack top him is amazing. 

Even when tied up and freshly fucked, Dean is confident in his position, enjoying every second of it. Wiggling a little now, which makes first Jack laugh, then Dean himself. And Sam has to hide his smile behind the glass of whisky to not break his role as the dominant partner again. 

This time Jack is calm enough to do it himself. He doesn’t need much lube, his own cum makes Dean slick. With one powerful thrust Jack’s deep inside Dean and Dean whines in pleasure. “Jack, do it! Come on, fuck me. I want to feel you for days!”

“Please gag him, daddy!” Jack says, voice raspy. Giving Dean long and slow trusts instead of the hard rhythm he seems to want. “He’s distracting!”

It’s a soft laugh Sam utters, lounging in his chair, watching his boys. It’s so much fun to watch, he almost feels sorry for Jack. Almost. He knows how Dean is in the sack. He’s a vocal noisy little slut but that’s exactly one of the things that make fucking his brother so amazing. It keeps him going. 

“You’re doing just fine, Jack. I’ll gag him with my cock next time. What do you think?”

Jack staggers a little. 

“Holy shit…” 

It’s hard, very hard to focus on what he’s doing when Dean and Sam decide to dirty talk him through the wall. When they’re alone, Sam never uses this kind of language and he even frowned at Jack when he did. But that’s a special occasion, Jack is entitled to swear when his lovers talk like this. 

Jack lasts longer this time and he can speed up a bit, giving Dean what he wants. He’s living visible scratches and pink marks with his fingers digging deep in Dean’s skin. Sweat’s running, legs are shaking and Jack starts grunting, almost aggressively. It’s a side of him no one knows, he himself didn’t know. But it’s great and the thrill, the feeling and Dean’s reactions, Dean’s moans and encouragement, the dirty talk drives Jack crazy. He even forgets to jerk Dean off while he rams him into the mattress and enjoys the creaking sounds of the bed frame. 

Dean winds his hands out of the ties and gets on all fours, Jack’s surprised but too ecstatic to protest. Now that he’s free Dean supports himself by holding on to the headboard, able to bounce his ass against Jack’s hips, forcing his cock deep inside, up to the root. Jack’s all about touching now, he wants to feel every inch of Dean’s body he can reach. 

Sam doesn’t intervene. Jack’s enjoying himself way too much to disturb him now. 

With an outcry Jack comes again, followed by Dean almost immediately. They collapse together on the mattress, mixing heavy breath with moans and bodily fluids. 

Jack starts laughing in the relief and ecstasy in the afterglow and Dean utters some incoherent words. It’s a new situation, the intimacy with Dean feels so new and so different from what Jack has with Sam. 

Dean tries to turn around, but Jack’s a little too heavy. 

“Move”, he whispers with a tiny wiggle of his butt. “I need to get some air.”

“I’m not that fat, Dean.” 

Both chuckle. 

It takes a third time for Jack to be exhausted - at least for a couple minutes.. Now that Dean’s free there’s a lot of touching, kissing, moaning in each other’s mouth. 

But even after four very intense fucks Dean’s still not fully satisfied. Feeling Jack like this, he had never expected it to feel this awesome! 

It’s when Sam finally joins them on the bed. He undresses quickly, damn he needs to be part of this now. There’s no way he can keep his cool any longer, seeing his boyfriends fuck and being so passionate and devoted to it. 

Dean seems like he wants to devour Jack with every kiss, his hand jerking them both off. Their cocks are slippery from cum and lube, the wet squishing sounds mixing up with their moans and heavy breathing. Sam doesn’t want to interrupt directly, he rather waits for them to notice him. 

And they do - hell yes, they do.

*

It takes a total of seven orgasms for Jack before he surrenders. Dean has tapped out way earlier and Sam’s advantage is only that he knows how much Jack can take and hold back his own orgasms for long enough to not be outplayed by the angel. 

Jack’s on his side, eyes gleaming rich golden, lights flickering all over the bunker. Sam holds him close, kisses his sweaty forehead. Dean’s spooning Jack, kissing his back. All of them shaking in exhaustion. But it‘s a satisfied exhaustion for all three of them. 

“You did a good job there, baby boy…” Sam mumbles against Jack’s hot skin. 

Jack’s humming in tired pleasure. Not able to say anymore than “Daddy…”.

Dean’s holding up his and Sam and him high five over Jack’s body. The angel laughs at them. “Are you celebrating a won match?”

Dean chuckles. His hand down Jack’s hip and it feels great being loved by both this way. There’s nothing more Jack could ask for. 

“Kind of”, he then admits, “We didn’t know if it works out this way. It’s different from Sam being in a relationship with you and me, but not you and me being together.”

Sam nods. “It’s beautiful in every way. But you were very curious and Dean wants to be part of your life too. More than just being my boyfriend and a friend to you.”

Jack closes his eyes. He knows.

“I like it.” He just says. “No, wait. I love it. Because I love you both. You know?”

Sam and Dean nod simultaneously. “Yes, we know.” 

It’s always fascinating to see how the brothers are so close like they’re one person. They’re a union. And Jack’s part of it now, too. It’s probably not perfect, they’re at the beginning of something great. Jack wants to know everything the world has to offer. 

When the body fluids start crusting, Sam stirs.

“How about I prepare the jacuzzi and we clean up?” he suggests, then gets up to stretch. 

“I approve of this idea”, Jack says solemnly. 

Dean chuckles. “You sound aeons old when you say it like that.”

“Thank you, I learned it from Cas.”

[haileyyanneupton]

❄ small - one chicago au ❄

Hailey Upton and Adam Ruzek have been friends for as long as they can remember. When Hailey changes schools to be with Adam in her junior year, she’s introduced to a new group of people who feel strangely like home.

pairings: jay halstead x hailey upton adam ruzek x kim burgess kevin atwater x vanessa rojas kelly severide x stella kidd

warnings (chapter specific): implication of domestic abuse, alcoholism, swearing

masterlist | series masterlist

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❄ three ❄

As Hailey came out of her room and downstairs to the kitchen, she spied her mother standing by the stovetop as the teenager rubbed the sleep out of her eyes with a yawn. Her mother smiled over at her as she flipped a piece of bacon, kissing her daughter’s forehead as she tiredly made her way over.

“Well good morning my Hailey Bailey,” Anne smiled as Hailey buried her head into the crook of neck. “You sleep alright?”

Hailey nodded lightly, her voice raspy as she opened her mouth to speak. “Yeah. I was awoken to the smell of food though, so I’m glad to see that there was in fact something cooking down here and I’m not having a stroke.”

“I’m makin’ some bacon — if you wanna put some bread in the toaster too, that’d be a help.”

“You’re liking your rhymes today, aren’t you?” Hailey chuckled lightly as she yawned once again, pulling the loaf of bread from the pantry as she shoved a few pieces into the toaster without much care.

The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs caused both Hailey and her mother to look up as her father came downstairs. He too wore a smile as he came over to Hailey and his wife, kissing them both on the top of their heads just like Anne had done only moments earlier.

“Morning sweetie,” Hailey’s father squeezed Hailey’s shoulder in passing as he reached around her to turn on the coffee pot.

“Morning dad.”

“I was planning on going into the shop today,” he started, turning to Hailey as he pulled a mug from the top shelf. “Do you wanna come with me, Hailey?”

Hailey hummed in thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Can I think about it?”

“'Course you can.”

It was moments like these that Hailey held onto, storing them at the forefront of her mind for when she needed them. As easy as it was to convince herself that things at home were all bad, all the time — that just wasn’t true. Sometimes there were good moments where she and her parents spent hours laughing with smiles so big that her cheeks hurt. Hailey held onto the memories of sitting behind the counter at her father’s store while she and her brothers would joke around, beaming when their father would bring them soft serve ice-cream that would leave her hands sticky and her nose dotted with white. Her father had been a violent drunk long before Hailey had first made her appearance in the world and would probably be a violent drunk for a long time coming — that didn’t mean that the good moments couldn't quite easily cloud the bad moments for both Hailey and her mother.

As they all sat down at the table, three plates set out in their usual places in front of them, Hailey speared some of the food onto the end of her fork before placing it in her mouth. A cup of orange juice sat beside her plate as she bought it to her lips and took a sip, scrunching her nose up at her mother who was staring at her daughter with admiration.

“Nate called,” Anne began, directing her words at Hailey who perked up at the sound of her brother’s name. “He wanted to know if I thought you were liking your new school. I told him given the fact that a boy who wasn’t Adam dropped you off at home last night, I’d say you were settling in pretty nicely.”

“A boy, hey?” Hailey’s father smirked over at the teenager who rolled her eyes. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“No, he’s not my boyfriend,” Hailey drawled. “He’s one of Adam’s friends and by extension, my friend. He happens to be in my literature class and the teacher paired us together for our poetry assignment. But yes, I’m liking it a whole lot better at this school — I have friends there for the first time in so long.”

Hailey’s mother smiled at her as her father stood up, mumbling something about fetching something from the kitchen as she and her mother continued eating their breakfast. It wasn’t often that they would eat together at the table — which was why Hailey was so shocked when she woke up to the smell of food. It seemed that things were going to go well today by the way the day had started off, but when her father returned with a bottle of rum — the blonde-haired teenager had to physically bite down on her tongue to stop herself from screaming at him.

“Unbelievable,” Hailey muttered under her breath venomously, slamming her knife and fork down onto her plate as she watched her father pour his rum into his coffee. “I’m going to Adam’s.”

Anne frowned deeply, standing up at the same time that Hailey did before reaching out for her daughter’s arm in an attempt to stop her from leaving.

“Hailey, please —”

“Don’t, mom. I’ll see you later — or not. Whatever.”

Anne audibly sighed as she sat back down in her seat, watching as Hailey walked right out the front door and across the street, disappearing out of sight.

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At the Ruzek's house, Hailey found herself in the kitchen as she raided the fridge for something to eat. After leaving three quarters of her breakfast on her plate back at her own house, her stomach was rumbling loudly while she searched high and low for something that would rid her of her hunger. She groaned loudly when there was nothing that she could throw into the microwave to eat, her forehead meeting the refrigerator door over and over again with a distinct clunk.

“Hailey,” Bob chuckled from behind her as he came into the kitchen, his collar unbuttoned and rings around his eyes — he had just come home from yet another night shift. “What’re you up to?”

“Shit — sorry.” Hailey smiled sheepishly over at the man. “Did I wake you?”

Bob shook his head lightly. “No, no, you didn’t wake me. I have some things to do before I go and crash. Now — what’re you looking for?”

“Food. Anything that resembles food. I had a decent breakfast going for me until someone decided to cover it with the stench of rum mixed in with coffee.”

Bob sighed, offering up a knowing look. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. I just — ugh.”

Bob came up beside Hailey as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, squeezing her in a comforting manner as he sighed sadly.

“Tell you what — if you wanna take my car and grab something to eat, you’re welcome to.”

Hailey shrugged, seeming slightly opposed as she rested her head upon the fridge once again. “It’s okay — I’ll wait until Adam wakes up so we can both go and get something.”

“Alrighty. Just know that the offer stands regardless of if you can drag his ass out of bed before midday.”

Hailey let out a halfhearted laugh. “Thank you, Bob.”

And with that, Hailey headed up the stairs and towards her best friend's room, pushing his door open and heading right over to the bed. She pulled the covers back slightly before sliding underneath them, her head on the pillow beside Adam’s as she poked him repeatedly.

“Adam. Wake up,” Hailey started, her finger colliding with his forehead. “Adam. Adam. Adam. Adam!”

A groan came from the boy as he opened up his eyes, glaring at the blonde as she continued poking him, completely unbothered by the sour look she was receiving.

“You’re the world’s most annoying person, you know that?”

Hailey only chuckled as she refused to move from her position, letting out a frustrated huff which clued Adam into the fact that something had happened. He couldn’t quite work out exactly what — she wasn’t upset, just seemingly pissed off — leaving Adam to lay there watching as she shoved her head beneath a pillow to muffle the scream she proceeded to let out.

“Your morning’s going that good is it?”

Hailey grabbed the pillow which was across her face and bought it down to her chest as she huffed once more. “Just one time, I wish we could be a normal family, you know? One time. The closest we ever get to being a normal family is Saturday mornings before he starts drinking, and yet within five fucking minutes of waking up and coming downstairs he’s pouring rum into his coffee right in front of us. In about forty-five minutes he’ll be throwing around insults, and an hour after that he’ll be throwing around a lot more than that. I don’t want to have to be there for that Adam. I can’t. I had such a good week this week, and now the weekend is here and he’s starting earlier and earlier with every week that goes by.”

Adam looked over at Hailey only to catch her forcing back the tears gathering in her eyes, the boy pulling his best friend close to him as she laid on his arm defeatedly. His heart ached for the girl who he thought of as a sister — she didn’t deserve this. Nobody did.

“I’m glad I have you, Adam. I really don’t know what I would do if I didn’t.” Hailey found herself speaking only the truth as her stomach rumbled yet again. “Ugh — I’m so hungry.”

Adam closed his eyes once again, realising where the girl was going with her words as he groaned. “Haileyyyy."

“Adammmm,” she mocked in a similar tone. “Wake upppppp.”

“Why don’t you just take my car?”

“That’s no fun! It’s better when you’re driving because then I get full control over the music!”

“But I wanna sleep,” Adam whined loudly, causing Hailey to laugh from beside him. “It’s like — seven in the morning, dude!”

“Actually — it’s eleven thirty which is why I’m here waking you up in the first place. If it were seven in the morning I would have gone to the guest bedroom and gone to sleep because I do not want to be awake at seven on a Saturday unless it’s because I’m going to fucking Disneyland.”

Hailey sighed when she didn’t receive a response from her best friend, the boy either having fallen asleep again with Hailey laying on his arm or deciding to simply ignore her completely, leaving her to pull her phone from her pocket and scroll through her social media timeline. It was only when she saw a photo that Jay had posted that the man popped back into her head; she realised she needed to get his number so she could thank him for the day before.

“Adam,” Hailey poked the boy once again, earning a single open eye from him. “What’s Jay’s number?”

“Yeah, right — because I can totally remember his number off the top of my head.” Even though his words were muffled through the pillow, Hailey still heard the sarcasm in Adam’s tone. “It’s in my phone somewhere. Why?”

“I just want to tell him thank you for driving me home.”

Hailey didn’t wait for a response as she reached across Adam to get to his phone, unlocking it with ease as she quickly found Jay’s contact and sent it to herself. Before she knew it, she was typing out a message to the freckled boy from her own phone, her fingers seemingly knowing what to say better than her brain did.

Just that small interaction with her new friend had brightened her mood back to what it had been before she had to witness the beginning of her father’s downward spiral. Soon enough she was laying beside her best friend and poking him all over again, although this time, Adam finally woke up and sat upright, much to the girl’s delight. Both Hailey and Adam were still dressed in their makeshift pyjamas as they drove to a McDonalds a few miles away, picking up a few breakfast items from the drive through before parking in the parking lot to eat them.

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Waking up the next morning in the guest bedroom at the Ruzek’s house, Hailey found herself blinking a few times as her eyes adjusted to the light. Although she called it the guest bedroom, the reality was that over the years it had fully turned into her own bedroom for when she stayed the night (or the week). She had clothes hanging in the closet, shoes under the bed — hell, there was even a sign on the door that Adam’s mother had bought for her years ago saying ‘Hailey’s room - stay out!’ Hailey hadn’t ever bothered to take it off, mainly because it seemed like a lot of effort for something she didn’t particularly care much about, but it was little things like that which made all the difference. There were never any questions asked when Hailey would turn up unexpectedly, nobody ever made a big deal when they heard her come inside and creep up to the ‘guest' bedroom at 3 in the morning. When they woke up in the morning only to find Hailey pacing around in the kitchen — or in Bob’s case, to find her hitting her head against the fridge in frustration — they did nothing but give her a kiss on the head and ask what she wanted for breakfast. Hailey was just as much Pamela and Bob’s daughter as Adam was their son — they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Hailey threw the covers off of herself before stretching her arms up, her joints clicking into place before she reached over for her phone. It was almost nine in the morning, meaning she had about an hour before she had to leave to meet Jay at the park. After taking a quick shower, brushing her teeth and getting dressed, Hailey grabbed a bagel from the pantry before texting Adam to let him know where she was as she headed out the front door. She didn’t have to wait for long before Jay showed up in his truck, the boy moving over to the passenger’s side as Hailey jumped into the driver’s seat with a smile, swallowing the last of her bagel.

“Good morning,” Hailey greeted politely as she placed her hands on the steering wheel, rubbing it slightly — it had been a while since she had driven. “How’s your weekend been?”

“Eh,” Jay shrugged. “My dad’s been on my nerves — but when is he not? Oh well — It’s better now that we’re getting pancakes and coffee.”

Hailey grinned toothily. “Pancakes and coffee make everything better.”

“They really do.”

Driving Jay’s truck was surprisingly easy for Hailey, who for the record, wasn’t the tallest person around. Even he had thought she looked adorable hopping out of the vehicle when they arrived at the diner, the pair of them walking side by side as they found a table and pulled up a menu. While Hailey named off the things she had tried and gave her very detailed opinion on each and every one, Jay caught himself staring at the girl in complete admiration. There was something about her that lured him in and put him into a trance — he hadn’t ever been like this with anybody else in his entire life, and somehow it intrigued him yet also terrified him all at the same time. She was like some kind of goddess, roaming the streets and commanding the room with her nonchalance that she was completely oblivious to.

Jay and Hailey each ordered a plate of pancakes and a coffee each, the wait time not being long at all as their orders were delivered right in front of them. He watched — studied almost — every move that Hailey made, from how she picked up her knives and forks to how much creamer and sugar she put into her cup.

“You’re left handed,” Jay observed, his voice quiet as though he was making a note of it for himself. “Either that, or you never learned how to use a knife and fork properly.”

Hailey chuckled lightly, looking down at the utensils she was gripping. “Yes, I’m left handed. Are you already trying to eye off my pancakes, Halstead? I expect this from Adam who runs under the idea that when it comes to food, what’s mine is his — I thought you were more of a gentleman.”

“I am a gentleman, thank you very much! More of a gentlemen than Adam is at least. I wasn’t eyeing off your pancakes — I’m. . . learning.”

Hailey gave the boy a look to show she was not convinced in the slightest, provoking Jay to give a similar look of disbelief as he leaned back in his chair and threw his hands up incredulously.

“I am!”

“Uh huh. What learning would you be doing by looking at my pancakes slash hands, you weirdo?”

“We do have an assignment that involves us learning about each other, you know,” Jay defended, chuckling between his words. “I feel like the balance is uneven at the moment. You know heaps about me, yet I know barely anything about you.”

“Hate to break it to you, Halstead — that just means I’m doing my job.”

Jay huffed playfully with a roll of his eyes. “Hailey!”

“Okay, okay!” The blonde haired girl laughed heartily before settling down at last. “What do you want to know?”

“Who is Hailey Upton? Like — who is she really? What does she like to do? Does she have siblings? What secrets does she hold? Tell me random facts about yourself."

The two teenagers stared at each other for a heartbeat or two before Hailey cleared her throat, preparing to speak.

“My middle name is Anne. My birthday is May 23rd. Uhh — I have two brothers — both older — one’s in college in LA and one works as a mechanic up in Madison. I guess I like to read. I’m about as interesting as a blank piece of paper, Jay — I don’t really have much more to offer to you.”

Jay chuckled lightly at her choice of analogy. “Well I think you’re very interesting. Far more interesting than you let on.”

Hailey only smiled in response as she pushed a piece of hair out of her face gently, tucking it behind her ear as she took a bite of her pancakes, smiling to herself in content. She was completely unaware to the gaze of the boy sitting across from her, his eyes trained upon her in complete admiration at how one person could look so — perfect — doing the most regular things. Between sips of coffee and more bites of the syrup covered goodness sitting on his plate, he sat, he watched and he listened. Her voice was like a siren — soft and sweet — Jay could listen to it all day. And he did. But it was all in the name of completing their assignment . . . right?

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taglist: @ruzek-halstead​ @lissethsrojas​ @sammywiths​ @butterflies44​ @upsteadheart​ @shawnscheeks​ @puckluck28​ @karihighman​ @thetwit​ @azu1ang3188​ @juu-series​ @justanotheronechicagofan​ @stinaax​ @stayupton​ @fullwattpadmusictree​ @anna-justice​

a/n: are these too long??? i have issues working out when chapters are too long/short lmao tell me if they are dragging on a bit too much please!

[notagamersdey]

The Dream

Painting by: Henri Rousseau

Photo (2021) and Story By Tyler D. Ortiz

Rating: T

Word Count: 2k~

Warnings: bad language, panic attacks

A/N: So this story is inspired by the Pedro Pascal episode of the podcast Talk Art (31:14-34:15). Go check that out if you want to hear some fun stories by the hosts and pp.

Summary: Matias, after losing his chance to act in a popular TV show, is taken to the Museum of Modern Art by his sister where he realizes he has nothing to lose.

~~~

Today, I’m supposed to meet my sister Lyanna here at East Village Pizza. She said it was a special treat for getting my first “big” role on Law & Order. When I told her the news, she had jumped up for joy, squealing my ear off. It wasn’t a big deal, just another job for the bills, but she was adamant that this job was a life changer. She’s says that about every job.

I came to the pizza parlor early, grabbing my favorite seat in front of the window. We normally sat here when we came because it gave us the perfect view of cold, angry New Yorkers. I had ordered our pizza, waiting for her to arrive when my phone starts to buzz.

I open it up and put it against my ear, holding it with my shoulder, “This is Matias.”

“Matias, I'm sorry to tell you…” Fuck, “…but we’ve decided to go in a different direction...” It’s the fucking casting director, droning on, saying those same fucking words, “You have wonderful talent.,” “You didn’t fit the director's vision.,” etcetera. Etcetera. ETCETERA. It's all movie-talk for “You weren't good enough.”

Grabbing the scruff behind my neck, I slammed my phone shut and stuffing it into my jacket pocket. What the hell was I going to do now? Three hundred bucks – gone in an instant.

“Here’s your order, Sir,” A waiter places the small pizza in front of me, and you know, today was one of the rare days I was able to scrounge enough money to afford the luxury of a decent slice of pizza, and now I can’t even enjoy it.

“God dammit,” It’s moments like these when memories of my father came hit me like a freight train. He used to berate me about goals and aspirations, telling me, “It’s never going to happen, Matias,” and “It’s not a job. You won’t get anywhere with that.” In high school, I used to constantly fight with him, telling him my dreams were achievable. That I would succeed as an actor. He would laugh in my face; tell me they were unobtainable. I mean... Maybe he was right.

Now, I’m living in one of the most expensive cities with over 300,000 dollars in debt, 40 bucks to my name, and a dead-beat waiter job at Planet Hollywood that barely pays for food let alone the bills. I have no back-up plan, no emergency fund. I just had my bachelor's degree in acting, which won't pay for shit.

I shake my head. My neck and back start to ache, an oncoming migraine sitting on my temples.

Matias, the fuck do you want to do that for?

Matias, you’re not good enough.

Matias, you will always be alone.

I stand to leave, throwing the untouched pizza in the trash on my way out the door. The cold winter air bites at my nose when I step outside. I pull my scarf up closer to my neck and make my way down East 9th Street.

Leaving the restaurant doesn’t help. Hopelessness rushes over me like a tsunami. The texture of the wool sweater underneath my jacket scratched annoyingly at the exposed skin on my wrists. It’s a cold wintery day but I feel incredibly hot underneath the layers. A nervous sweat builds underneath my beanie. Everyone’s staring, I know it. They know I've failed yet again. They know I’m just a naïve child.

His voice repeats in my head like a tornado siren, yelling, screaming at me, “You will not survive.”

You will not make an income.

You will not have healthcare.

You are setting yourself up for failure.

…You will die- My phone starts to buzz again. I really want to fucking ignore it but if it’s Lyanna, she’d have every cop in the city on my ass within the hour.

“Hey.” I cough, trying to clear my throat. Act normal.

“Mat! I’m sorry I’m late, I’m-” She sounds like she’s running.

“Actually, Sis, I left…” I stop in the middle of the pavement, getting shoved and cursed at by the impetuous crowd around me.

“What? Why?” Her concerned voice seeps through the phone. Suddenly, heat shoots up my back. She’s going to be upset.

I move off to the side, leaning up against a wall of graffiti, “I didn’t get the job after all.”

I hear her let out a breath, “Different direction?” She asks, knowingly.

I nod, “Yea... said I could act the part, but I didn’t fit the type of Latino they were going for... whatever the hell that means.” I spit out, bitterly.

“Means they’re bigoted.” I can hear the annoyed twinge in her voice.

“Yea... probably...” Lyanna stays quiet. “Hey... So, I’m not really up for doing anything... Can we just go home?”

“Umm...” She hums, clicking her tongue, “No.”

“Lyanna...” Please.

“No, no, I’m serious, I know you. Once you get home you're going to sulk in your room for days. Let's bypass the self-pity and go have fun. Take your mind off it.”

I’m silent for a moment, feeling my anxiety subside as I focus on her words, “What do I get if your wrong?”

“A fresh slice of cheese pizza to replace the one you probably threw away...” She laughs, “Now, how ‘bout MoMA?”

“Sure… MoMA sounds good.”

I’ve always found it difficult to find the Museum of Modern Art. The only way anyone would be able to tell where this museum was is with the three bright red banners hanging off the side of the building holding their acronym in an even darker shade of red. This was basically every building in New York so, of course, I pass right by it. Lyanna managed to catch me before I got too far. She runs up to me and immediately linked her arm into mine.

“Hey stranger, took you long enough.” She greats, warmly.

“You know how it is.”

“Oh common, where’s that smile? We are celebrating!” She starts to pull me into the museum, warm air painting my face when she opens one of the doors.

“Celebrating a failure.”

“Celebrating life.”

We walk in and are bombarded with hordes of people packed in front of every corner of the room. It's as if every single person visiting New York had decided that they would all collectively visit the museum on this specific day. Maybe they were having an event. People of all shapes and sizes were packed in front of each art piece, creating a thick barrier preventing outsiders from looking in on their beauty. In the corner of the room is a balloon man handing out replicas of Jeff Koon’s Balloon Dog to children. I clench my teeth at the disgusting sound of rubber and latex rubbing together. I feel a hot prickling in my neck at the sight of a child squeezing the neck of their bright metallic green Balloon Dog, another child on the edge of crying as she violently hit her blue Balloon Dog onto her stroller seat.

Someone bumps into me. I feel myself tense up. Don’t touch me. I take my arms away from Lyanna, hiding them in my pockets. Lyanna looks up at me, “Hey, are you okay?”

Fuck no,“Yes.”

“You sure? You seem tense,” she raises her eyebrow.

“No. No... I'm good... There’s just.” Act normal, “A lot of people.”

“Well, if you’re sure...” Everyone is breathing my air - of course I’m not sure. “You wanna start off this way then make our way around?” she asks pointing to her left. I nod.

She guides me to the fifth floor, to our first painting. Shes pushing through the crowds so we could get a closer look. It’s a dark painting with a black, shadowy silhouette of an elephant trudging on an upwards incline. The air around him grey, as if he was pushing through a sandstorm. He is struggling to get to wherever he was headed. I’m suddenly pushed closer to the struggling elephant. Lyanna snaps at someone behind me. A balloon pop’s. A child's scream echo around the room. The dark clouds surrounding the elephant fill my edge of my vision as my eyes zoom into the lonely elephant. My throat begins to close. My heart hurts. A voice in my head whispers “You’re dying. You’re dying.” in a joyous chant. I try to breathe but nothing can get through. My hands prickle. My chest stutters. The elephant fades. Only the shadowing and silhouettes of people fill my vision. I still feel the pain in my throat, as I try to breath in air.

Lyanna speaks but her voice is muffled. The darkness that had overtaken my vision slowly fades away. I sit up straight, feeling the soft leather beneath me, becoming aware of my surroundings. We are in different exhibit. It's completely empty. I shift, feeling the leather bench beneath my finger tips. The silence is soothing.

“You feeling better?” Lyanna sits next to me with a cup of water in her hands, causing the leather beneath creaked.

I close my eyes. God. She grabs at my hand but I pull away. Please go away. I can feel her eyes burning into my soul. It’s unbearable. I turn away from her. Please go away. She grips at the cup tightly. The crunch of the cup is excruciating.

“Matias.” She attempts to grab my hand again. I see it coming from a mile away. Like in slow motion. The closer she got, the more I dreaded the contact.

“Fuck! Stop! Can you please just give me a God damn minute?” I stand up trying to get away.

“What is happening?” She’s mad. You’ve ruined everything.

“I don’t want to be fucking touched, Lyanna. Just stop. Stop everything. Leave me alone.” I’m staring at the floor. If I look at her, I’m going to lose it. Shameful. Embarrassing.

“I’m only trying to help.” You’re an embarrassment.

“You’re not!” She’s going to never going to forgive you.

“Okay…” She stands slowly, “Let’s relax for a moment… I’ll be back in a few minutes… Just text me if you need anything.” I don’t say anything while she walks away, the sound of her shoes fading. I sit back down onto the chair, head in my hands.

I take a few deep breaths, focusing on the ground beneath me. The floor is smooth, my hair is soft and messy, the pressure of my elbows on my knees grow. My eyes leave the floor only to be met with a flood of green. A naked woman waking up on a large red couch in the middle of a jungle. Light green paints the leaves towards the bottom of the canvas and becomes darker going up towards the sky. The bright flowers burst up in different directions as the moon peaks through the canopy. The woman is surrounded by hidden animals. I spot a few hidden tigers, a white bird on the top left, a person hidden in the shadows playing an instrument, a few monkeys in the trees and an elephant beyond the trees staring back at me. It was a paradise. So sure of herself, she sits there facing away from me as if she has nothing to lose. She sits unafraid of the world around her.

I can’t relate. I’ll never get my chance. I’ll never not be afraid. I continue to stare at her, trying to understand what she may have done differently. Maybe she kept going. Maybe she stopped caring. Or maybe someone gave her a chance. Whatever she did must’ve worked because she continues to sit as if she has nothing left to lose –

“Henri Rousseau’s The Dream,” I jump. Lyanna stands on my right, staring at the painting with a hand on her hip, “Most people hate this painting.”

“I don’t see why…”

“Eh… Everybody has their own opinions…” She approaches cautiously, “Do you feel any better?”

I nod. “S-sorry,” I look back to the painting, “I just needed a moment to myself.”

“Don’t apologize… I should’ve… I don’t know, been more mindful, I guess.” She sits down next to me. I can see her hesitate before she puts a hand on my shoulder, “Are you going to be okay?”

I don’t answer at first. I look back at the painting. The Dream she called it. Maybe, this was the woman’s dream. Maybe she is like me. Our chances will arise. She strives towards her peace with nature around her as I strive for success in the asphalt jungle. Just as she has nothing left to lose, I, too, have nothing to lose. We are the same.

“Yea… I think I will be.”

~~~

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Till Next Time!

-Dey

[perfeggso]

till the sun’s seeing through my eyes (yumark)

hitting for six

Yuta and Mark are next-door neighbors who grew up together, joined at the hip until Yuta went off to college. Due to their four-year age gap, Mark’s freshman year at the same school marks the halfway point of an unprecedented amount of time apart. Yuta is sure he can handle it, until Mark’s arrival home for spring break makes him wonder if the fondness he has for his friend might be blooming quite literally into something stronger. It’s up to him to handle the consequences.

Chapter 1  |  Chapter 2  |  Masterlist 

Characters: Yuta x Mark + NCT ensemble, other SM (and non-SM (?)) idols tbd, character families 

Genres: heavy angst, fluff, Hanahaki!AU, small town!AU, slight Witchcraft/Magic!AU, College!AU

Warnings: blood and gore, mentions of death, disease, vomiting, college-typical alcohol use, swearing  

Rating: T

Length: 8.3k

Yuta twirled the stick of rock candy he’d picked up at the market around between his lips, enjoying how it felt rough on his tongue and filled his mouth with the flavor of unadulterated sugar.  He checked his phone – no new messages.  

He tapped the toe of his sneakers against the linoleum floor of Kun’s coffeeshop and drummed his hands against the seafoam counter before pulling the candy from his lips with a pop and dunking it in his glass of mint tea.  All around him, the clinking, hissing, and chatter of a well-liked café filled his ears, and the arousing scent of coffee steam kept him a fidgety kind of alert.  On second thought, replace “alert” with “distracted.”   

“Did you hear me, Yuta?” Sicheng was saying, sitting at the table nearest the espresso machine and picking at a mini egg custard tart.  Yuta had not heard him, that much was evident.  

Yuta sighed with some effort, then made a fake sorry face.  “No – no, I apologize, babe, I didn’t.”    

Sicheng rolled his eyes.  “Whatever, it wasn’t important.”  He took a large bite of his tart, pale, buttery crumbs affixing to his lips.  

“Neko latte!” Kun interrupted, setting a white coffee cup in front of Yuta, the frothed milk on top of it shaped like a stubby-tailed cat that wiggled as the cup moved.  Yuta had to restrain himself from jiggling its foam butt into oblivion.  Kun returned a moment later with a plate. “Aaaand, let’s see, one slice of orange poppy seed bread.”  He dropped his smiling customer service face momentarily as he leaned in towards Yuta. “I thought you said you could handle calling out the orders.  That was my condition for letting you behind the counter, wasn’t it?” 

Yuta shrugged, repeating the order at double Kun’s original volume and smirking when a customer instantly shot out of her seat to come collect it.  Yuta downed his tea, burning his throat, and stuck the melting candy back into his mouth as she made her way over, pushing the now-empty cup forward as an encouragement to leave a tip in it, which the poor girl did.  Kun snatched the sticky bill from the cup and shook it out, disapproval contorting his face as he voiced his disappointment with a simple “nope.” 

“But Kun, I watched her earlier and she didn’t leave a tip when she ordered,” Yuta protested, making himself laugh until it was threatening to become a cough.  Dammit.  He pulled in a shaky breath.  “I’m only trying to help.” 

Kun pointed to the seating area.  “Out.”��

Yuta sulked his way to the chair opposite Sicheng, noting on his way that it was still pouring not insignificantly outside.  Yuta had gotten off work early because of the rain; the indoor soccer field had been reserved weeks earlier for the high school team.  Instead, he’d taken his kids to Yukhei’s gym for a short workout and then sent them home, choosing to wile away the rest of his time waiting for Mark with his buddies over a warm beverage.  

“Has he responded yet?” Sicheng asked.  

“No,” Yuta pouted.  He’d sent Mark a text nearly twenty-five minutes ago saying he was ahead of schedule and to come meet him at Kun’s shop.  “Ugh, wait, I’m sorry.  What were you saying earlier?  Nothing you say is unimportant, friend.” 

Sicheng looked like he wanted to smack Yuta and hug him at the same time.  Yuta was used to this.  

“I was only teasing you for missing my speech last night because no one cut you off,” Sicheng clarified, wiping his hands against each other once he’d finished eating.    

The memory of heaving in his bathroom in an attempt to extract whatever was obstructing his airways hit Yuta like an unforeseen ocean wave.  He nodded slowly, schooling his face to pretend to be irritated rather than scared.  He didn’t want to lie to his friend, but not even he knew what the real issue was, and it would undoubtedly get sorted, so why worry people?  

Yuta made his face into the disappointment emoji.  “Mm-hm,” he said.  “Well since you can only process my suffering as it pertains to you, maybe you’ll cut me off next time you have something important to say.”  

Sicheng raised his eyebrows.  “Someone’s feeling bitchy today,” he observed.  “This is because your boyfriend’s not texting back, isn’t it?” 

Yuta scoffed.  “Boyfriend,” he huffed in disbelief, but the word stirred a sickened feeling inside him.  He chose to ignore that.  “Yeah, it is,” he teased, “you jealous?” 

Sicheng shook his head.  “Not at all,” he said.  “It means you’ll let me be for a couple weeks.” 

Yuta laughed, his body once again nearly giving into coughing.  Like, choking on one’s dinner and needing the Heimlich kind of coughing.  Instead of letting that happen and calling attention to himself, he doused his throat in the contents of a glass of water.  

His breathing had been a bit better since he’d spoken with his mother that morning, but the problem wasn’t gone, and the raw coughing fits that started the day before were only growing more frequent.  A particularly violent one had gripped him during practice, scaring some of his kids enough that he’d run away to the bathroom to get it under control.  Thankfully, Yukhei had been in another room.  

*

Yuta came from a tradition of hedge witches, of which his mother was a shining example.  She ran an apothecary in town with his father; handling the medicine and potions side of it while he handled the business angle.  She was a skilled potion-maker and healer, and she had a keen sense of spiritual effects on the physical.  She was often able to gain insights that seemed so spot-on that Yuta had no choice but to believe whatever she told him to do.  

She’d encouraged her children to utilize tarot cards from an early age and endeavored ever since to teach them everything she knew.  Now and then, having someone so spiritually inclined as a parent could be burdensome, but it was times like these – when Yuta felt something strange and unwelcome stirring in him – that he felt he was lucky.  

When Yuta had gone to the main house that morning, he found his mother in the kitchen, making banana pancakes as his little sister looked over her advanced biology homework.  The high school still had a week left before spring break.  

“Hi Haruna,” Yuta greeted, shoving her face softly into her papers and receiving a well-earned glare.  

“Good morning, dingus.  You really shouldn’t be partying when you have work in the morning.” 

Haruna was a senior, less than a year younger than Mark (a fact which regularly escaped Yuta’s mind) and possessed an attitude problem – though one quite different from Yuta’s.  That morning, she wore a long, eggplant-purple frock dress with lots of heavy eyeliner and her hair in a helmet-like bob.  She might have been sartorially challenged and a bit of a bitch in Yuta’s view, but she was also his adorable little sister, and a veritable genius, he had to admit.  

Yuta went to the fridge and pulled out an apricot yogurt.  “I assure you I can handle myself,” he said, grabbing one of a collection of mismatched spoons and plopping it into his breakfast.  “The last thing I need is a seventeen-year-old lecturing me on alcohol.”  

Haruna tried to flick some of the syrup on her fork into her brother’s hair but missed.  “I can’t wait until Momoka comes home to visit,” she grumbled.  “Maybe you’ll listen to her.”   

Yuta’s mother gave her youngest and middle child a heavy look of disapproval as she flipped a pancake with a wet, resounding plop.  The action itself communicated as much authority as any scolding words could have.  Yuta just smiled sweetly, digging into his yogurt.  

“Yuta, dear,” she began, “can I interest you in some pancakes?” 

Yuta shook his head, feeling a little guilty, but he was rarely very hungry in the mornings.  “No, this is enough for me,” he said.  His mother smiled.  It was the same smile Haruna would flash when she was about to tease him.  

“Well, I’m sure you didn’t come all the way over here just to bother your studious sister and refuse my cooking, so there has to be something else, hm?  I’m right, aren’t I?” 

Yuta sighed.  As usual, she was indeed correct.  “As a matter of fact, there is something bothering me.” 

His mother listened attentively as he recounted the last day’s events: the asthma scare, trying to use the potion she’d taught him with a prayer, his concern over the reading he’d had that morning.  All the while, she finished shaping her stack of pancakes and leaned on her elbows, steam rising from the food and swirling in front of her paisley house dress, fluffy hair, purple kerchief, and concerned face.   

“It sounds to me like you’re having anxiety about change,” she offered once he’d finished.  “You always tend to have flare-ups during transition periods.” 

“Yeah,” Haruna cut in, spearing a chunk of pancake and narrowly escaping dropping it on her school papers, “remember when you were a freshman and you had a panic attack before coming home for winter break?  You said you could hardly breathe all night and that you didn’t think you wanted to come back.” 

Haruna seemed a little too casual with that difficult memory for Yuta’s liking, although she was right that he hadn’t forgotten.  He pinched his eyebrows together.  

“Is this a transition period though?” he asked.  Everything for him was more or less the same as it had been all year.  

His mother nodded.  “I’d say so.  Some of your younger friends are coming home, and Taeil will be going back to the city soon.  There are a lot of moving pieces in your life at the moment, dear.  I don’t think it's at all strange that you’re feeling off and maybe hiding some things from yourself.” 

“Alternately,” quipped Haruna as their mother went to fetch a cloudy, pastel purple concoction she had sitting in a beaker by the window, “you’re just a drama queen.” 

Yuta started.  “Wanna get your butt kicked by a college athlete?” he threatened.  Haruna stuck her tongue out at him. 

“You mean former intramural college athlete?” 

“That’s enough!” 

Yuta and Haruna both turned to face their mother.  She looked like her hair would be suspended in exasperation if she were in a Ghibli Movie.  Yuta knew that meant it was time to Shut Up.  Oops.  

She sighed, running her hands over the lip of the beaker in her hand and muttering to herself to calm down.  Then, she slid it forward to her son.  

“Bring this to work with you, Yuta,” she advised, voice still stern.  “I made it fresh this morning for the shop, but I think you could use it.  It has lavender, mint, chamomile, soy oil, salts, and I’ve charged it with moon water.  It’s something I’ve been messing around with for dealing with anxiety and stress during liminal periods in life.”  Yuta nodded, listening attentively and twirling the little vial in between his fingers.  She went on.  “Then later whenever you have time, I want you to sit alone with your confusion for a little while.  I think that might give you more insight into what is driving this spiritually and subconsciously.  Try not to smother it, whatever it is.”  

Of course his mom’s advice was essentially “meditate.” Why had he even bothered to ask? He nodded one more time, subdued, and dropped the vial of pale liquid into his pocket.  He would put it into a water bottle and bring it along.  

Yuta finished his yogurt and chucked the container into the recycling.  “Thank you, Mom,” he said, snagging a pancake on his way out of the kitchen just to win a little more of her favor.  “And have a good day, Haruna.” 

“You too, dingus.” 

“Tell me if you’re feeling better tonight!” his mother called after him, finishing off with a mild threat: “And I’ll be able to tell if you didn’t follow my directions!” 

*

Yuta sighed for what felt like the eightieth time all day, watching the café’s glass door from over Sicheng’s shoulder for any signs of Mark.  He didn’t know how to summon people or things, but he half-imagined that he did, concentrating so hard on the door that it was making his eyes cross.  And in a matter of seconds, it worked (or, at least, the universe gave the illusion of it working).  

Mark rushed into the coffeeshop, looking harried and tugging a cumbersome guitar case along with him which he tried desperately to protect with a too-small umbrella.  The image put Yuta at attention, smiling.  

“I’m so sorry!” Mark spluttered as he rushed through the door.  “I was practicing, and I didn’t check my phone!” 

“Whoa there,” Kun warned from behind the counter.  “This does not need to be advertised to my entire clientele.” 

Mark shook out his umbrella and shoved it into the holder in the entryway, checking with Yuta that they planned on staying for at least a little while and apologizing sheepishly to Kun.  

He sat down at the table with Yuta and Sicheng as Yuta grinned at him.  

“Don’t be sorry, Markie-boy,” Yuta said, poking Mark in the side and making him almost giggle his way out of his chair.  As the chair tipped and then slingshotted violently back to its starting position from Mark regaining his balance, it clattered so loudly that it attracted more concerned looks than Mark had when he’d busted through the door.  Yuta hardly seemed to register this as he gushed about how devoted his friend was to his craft that he would haul his equipment through a rainstorm.  Kun rolled his eyes and huffed in defeat at yet another disruption. 

“Mark, the usual?” he asked, and Mark nodded after nervously confirming Yuta didn’t have other plans for them to go eat somewhere.  

Only then did he allow himself to settle in, peeling off his damp jacket and balancing his guitar case against the side of his chair.  

“Did you carry that all the way here?” Sicheng asked, and Yuta shot him an obvious look.  

“Of course he did,” he replied for his friend, and Sicheng glared at him.  “The kid can’t drive, after all.  Just like you.” 

Mark nodded in confirmation as Kun set a mug of hot chocolate and a cream cheese bagel in front of him.  “I love being referred to as ‘the kid’ as if I’m not present,” he snarked.  “Also, thanks, Kun.” 

“Sure thing.” 

Yuta crunched absently at the end of his rock candy.  “Aw, don’t go trying to make me feel bad when you forced me to wait for thirty-five minutes and didn’t even tell me you were on your way.  It’s like you want to keep me in constant suspense with your little surprises.”  Mark scowled, but his mouth was too stuffed with bagel to form a retort, so Yuta went on.  “Anyway, you got a guitar in there?” 

Mark swallowed.  “What do you think?” 

“I think we’re just impressed you lugged it all the way here,” Sicheng clarified, trying to clear the air of Yuta’s usual bitchiness.  “Surely, you brought it for a reason.” 

Mark clapped his hands against each other to rid them of crumbs, body going taut with excitement.  

“Actually yes!” he mouthed around his food.  “I did have a reason.  I wanted to show off what I’ve been practicing!”

“Oooooh!” Yuta buzzed, applauding preemptively at hyper-speed.  “You might want to check with the stickler in charge though,” he warned, stage whispering and indicating towards Kun.  The subject of the jest frowned at his table of friends.  

“I can hear you, Yuta,” he said, “and it’s fine.  Just give me a minute to turn the speakers off.” 

Soon enough, Mark had extracted his guitar from its case and had it over his knee, strumming experimentally to warm up and drawing the attention of most of the customers behind him.

“Don’t look now, Mark,” Sicheng began.  “But it looks like you’ve roped yourself into a little concert.”

“A little what now?” he asked, immediately going against the advice he’d just received and turning around to meet the gazes of at least fifteen people he only marginally knew.  “Oh, uh, okay.  This is fine.” 

Yuta smiled to himself as he watched his friend adjust his fingers over the metal strings and clear his throat, red face betraying that he might not, in fact, be fine.

Pretty soon though, he was finger-picking his way through the intro to Frank Ocean’s “Cayendo.”  Once Mark started singing, Yuta found himself lulled into an admiring trance at the smooth sweetness of Mark’s voice.  Mark was usually shy about singing solo, but he’d been working on it and Yuta loved that he had gained some confidence.  The fact that the song was in a language Yuta couldn’t understand served even further to pull him under its calm spell.  

He pretended to swoon at the little performance, rolling his eyes around and fanning himself theatrically.  “Ooh, Markie, take me now,” he joked, just loud enough for his table to hear and no one else.  Mark’s ears went red and he struggled to sing through a giggle.  

Right in the middle of the song though, Mark sang a stanza that Yuta did understand.  It ended with a melancholy plea of love:

When I still really, really love you, like I do

If you won't, then I will

If you can't, then I will

Is it love to keep it from you?

It was such a sad sentiment.  Yuta thought that if he were a more sentimental person, and under different circumstances, he would have started to cry.  Though, maybe he wasn’t as unsentimental as he thought he was… 

Mark transitioned back to singing in Spanish and Yuta took the moment to lose himself less in his friend’s voice and more in the space around them: the chatter of impressed coffee-sippers, the whirring of the espresso machine, the soft and appreciative expressions on his friends’ faces.  It was almost as sweet as the leftover sugar which coated the inside of his mouth – almost sweet enough for him to forget that some kind of repression within him was causing him vascular stress.  Almost; almost.  

Mark plucked the last note of the song and the café broke into a pitter-patter of applause which echoed the pounding of rain outside, and in that moment, as if to remind him of the tenuousness of his almosts, Yuta found himself hurled into the most intense pain he’d felt in the last twenty-four hours.  

He bent himself over and started retching into a napkin.  It was the same sensation he’d gotten the night before at the party, when he’d locked himself in the bathroom and coughed himself raw into the white sink, trying to force something out that just wouldn’t budge.  He felt like he had a copper wire weaving through his muscles, and someone was sending shocks of electricity through it.

Sicheng and Mark stared at him in concern and Sicheng pushed a glass of water his way.  He choked out his thanks before downing it in one go, once again taking note of the clump of – something – which drifted back down along with the liquid.  By the time he had himself back under control, both his friends were posing some variation on the same ‘you okay?’ question.  

“Yeah, yeah,” he lied.  “Just aspirated some very sharp candy.” 

Sicheng winced.  “Ouch,” he said.  “At least you had the courtesy to wait until Mark was finished.” 

Yuta stuck his tongue out, but the way his friend went so casually back to teasing him actually made him feel a little better.  

“I know the Heimlich maneuver!” Mark said, a stupidly proud grin crossing his face as he set his guitar back into its case and puffed his chest out involuntarily.  “So I could have saved you if it came to that.” 

Yuta smiled weakly.  “That’s very reassuring, Mark.”

“NBD.”  Yuta groaned, the sharp pain from only moments ago leaving him just as quickly as it had come.  He cringed.  Had Mark really just said “NBD?” Whatever.  Mark continued.  

“Seriously though, what did you guys think?” 

“It was really good,” Sicheng said, “and I would say, a glowing testament to your four years of high school Spanish.”  

Mark snickered.  “What about you, Yutaaa?” 

“Well if you couldn’t tell by the way I reacted at the beginning, I loved it!  Really, like your voice just keeps getting better and better.”

Mark placed a hand over his heart, meaning to indicate that Yuta’s compliment had touched him.  

“Aren’t you not supposed to be using instruments though?” Sicheng chimed.  “I mean, considering you’re an a cappella person?”  

Mark rolled his eyes.  “Very funny,” he said.  “But thanks, guys.  I think I might play it live sometime on the Serotonin Hour.”  That was the name of the radio show Johnny had left to him upon graduation.  

“You know,” Yuta began, rapping his fingers against the table, “when Johnny willed his time slot to you, I don’t think he expected you’d use it for such self-serving purposes.”     

Mark rolled his eyes even farther into his head this time.  “It’s an hour where I impose my music taste on the small group of people who actually bother to tune in.  What could be more self-serving?” 

Yuta clicked his tongue.  Mark had a point.  

“Anyway,” said Mark, hopping to his feet, “what do you want to do, Yuta?” 

*** 

Since it was raining out, they decided they would have to stay mostly indoors, so they resolved to wander around the market hall until they came up with a more exciting activity, Yuta letting Mark store his guitar in the trunk of his car while they perused.  Sicheng was invited along too, but he had a dance class to run in half an hour and needed to review his lesson plan ahead of time, so it was just the two of them.   

Well, it was just the two of them until they got to the Jung family farmstand at the end of the long, warehouse-like building.  Jaehyun sat behind it, writing something into a notebook and looking so bored that his face was practically melting into the hand supporting it.   

“Oh, thank god,” he said when he saw his friends approaching.  “It’s been such a slow day I was ready to choke myself out just to have something to do.” 

“Ooh, kinky,” Yuta guffawed at his friend as Mark nodded slowly.  

“Nice to see you too, man,” Mark said.  

“Want anything?” 

Yuta and Mark surveyed their options: a selection of dairy products, meat, and eggs in a set of coolers, and a table covered in artichokes, celery, pears, asparagus, broccoli, brussels sprouts, cabbages, and a veritable rainbow of root vegetables.  As usual, the Jung family farm’s output looked delicious.  Maybe Yuta would get something for his parents to put in tonight’s dinner.  He grabbed a bundle of radishes by the leaves and shoved them at his friend with a grin.  

Mark, on the other hand, knew immediately what he would go for.  

“And, uh, can I get a banana milk?” 

Jaehyun nodded as Yuta gave his younger friend his best side-eye.  

“You just drank a giant hot chocolate.  Haven’t you had enough dairy for one day?” 

Mark pouted, fishing for his wallet, and Yuta couldn’t help but smile at the way Mark’s eyes looked like shiny tea saucers.  He could be devilishly cute sometimes.  Cute enough to make Yuta want to buy shit for him, which he did, paying for the radishes and the milk before Mark even had the opportunity to complain.  

“Drink up!”

Mark glared.  “Fine.  I’ll just sneak-buy you something next time.” 

Yuta wobbled his head like an anime heroine as he spoke.  “Oh, so I’ll get a next time?  Man, this date is going so well!” he said, and Mark’s ears flushed for the second time in thirty minutes.  A niggling voice in the back of Yuta’s head told him he wanted to see Mark like that more often.  He brushed that idea away, not quite knowing how to process it.    

“Whatever,” Mark mumbled as Jaehyun looked on in his usual casual detachment.  Yuta turned his attention back to him.  

“By the way, Jae, where are your parents?  Can’t they come relieve you of your existential dread?” 

Jaehyun blew a puff of air at his bangs.  “I wish,” he responded.  “They’re out of town for the weekend though, so I’m left to suffer alone.  Oh – which reminds me!  Can you go check on Sugarfoot and Lacey for me?  They probably need their water troughs refilled right about now.  And besides, I’m sure they miss Mark.” 

Yuta and Mark agreed easily.  Everyone loved those horses, even if Sugarfoot could be a pain in the ass.  When Yuta was a teenager, she had apparently decided he’d lived long enough, because she tried to buck him off until Yuta was pretty sure he’d suffered acute whiplash.  Besides Jaehyun, Johnny was the only person she seemed to tolerate (and tolerate simply meant she was a bitch to him rather than straight-up murderous), but alas, Johnny wasn’t around.  

“Perfect,” Jaehyun said.  “I’d do it myself, but everyone here knows my parents and they’d definitely somehow manage to tell them I’d abandoned my post.  You know where the keys to the stable are and everything, right?” 

“Yup!” 

And with that, Yuta and Mark left Jaehyun to return to pondering auto-asphyxiation. 

It had stopped raining outside, and the sky was in the process of clearing from a mournful grey to a clear periwinkle, like a windshield-wiper was slowly swiping across it to rid it of clouds.  They ran into Taeil on the way to Yuta’s car, in the middle of walking five dogs of varying sizes and breeds.   

Naturally, Mark became immediately preoccupied by the tangle of fur attached tenuously to Taeil’s wrist by a set of leashes.  The cute scene made Yuta’s chest go tight with fondness.   

Yuta told Taeil they’d missed him at the party the night before as Mark rolled around on the wet ground, getting his face smothered by a particularly friendly Chow Chow and laughing like his lungs were about to burst out of his chest.    

“I know, I’m sorry!” Taeil said, trying not to let himself get tugged around.  “It was just last minute and I’d already been roped into cooking for my family, and we had friends over – bad timing.” 

Yuta waved him off.  “Don’t worry, I’ll only hold it against you forever.  But when do you go back to the city?” 

“Next week,” Taeil replied, leaning down awkwardly to save Mark from five rough tongues.  Taeil didn’t have a dog himself (although he did have a goose in his backyard, a fact which Yuta was never not perplexed by) but his family owned the local pet shop and he always had dog-walker duty when he was home.  It was also how he made money when he was in high school.  “We should definitely get together before I go back though!” Taeil continued.  “You guys can help me make this pasta dish I’ve been wanting to try.  Sound good Mark?” 

Mark got up, brushing the wet dirt off his backside.  “What?  Oh yeah, for sure!  I’m always down to eat – and to see you, Taeil.  I didn’t forget about you.” 

Taeil looked dryly at his younger friend. “Yeah, of course.  But listen, Mark, it’s really good luck we’re home at the same time.  I need you to tell me all about how the Aca-Fellas are doing.”  Mark nodded shyly.  Taeil had been the star of the a cappella group at his college, so he’d had plenty of run-ins with the Fellas at competitions.  His own superiority at singing was something it was at times difficult to get him to shut up about.  Taeil continued:

“Anyway, I should be going.  These guys are getting squirrely, and I don’t want them to do their business right here.  I’ll see you two around, I guess.  Enjoy the rest of your date!”

Hey, Yuta thought, that’s my joke.  Somehow it made him feel weird to hear someone else use it.  

*** 

They were at Jaehyun’s stables after a short drive, and they found the keys easily.  Mark scratched lovingly at Lacey’s chin as Yuta filled the troughs with water.  Then, they decided it was as good a time as any to see if Johnny was free to FaceTime.  He was.  

“Heyoooo,” Johnny greeted once his pixelated face flashed onto Yuta’s phone.  Yuta laughed.  His friend looked happy and healthy.  “Oh what? You have Mark with you?  Sweet!” 

They caught up on Johnny’s life for a few minutes; he was having a great time on his own, but he missed everyone and couldn’t wait to come home in the summer.  

“Hurry home,” Yuta joked, getting up from the bail of hay he’d been sitting on because Sugarfoot was cribbing on the door to her stable.  “I think Taeyong is wilting without you here.” 

Johnny chuckled indulgently.  “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”  He gasped and his image froze in the exaggerated reaction face he’d pulled, making Mark squeak with laughter.  “Is that my favorite girlie?” came his crackling voice.  

Yuta held the phone up to Sugarfoot, nudging her head a bit to get her to detach her teeth from the wood.  “Sure is.” 

Johnny asked if Jaehyun was there, so Yuta informed him on their friend’s predicament.  Then Johnny addressed Mark, telling him he should try braiding Sugarfoot’s dark mane – he’d found she had come to enjoy it.  Mark, being the least experienced with Jaehyun’s bitch of a mare, immediately fell for it and tried, causing Sugarfoot to squeal and jerk her neck away from his touch.  He fell back on his butt in surprise and Johnny cackled through Yuta’s phone speaker.  

“Aw, I see college hasn’t made you less gullible, Markie-boy.” 

“It most certainly has not,” Yuta confirmed, and Mark attempted a glare, but it only ended up looking like what he’d done when Johnny tried to teach him how to flirt that one time.  

Johnny continued.  “Anyway, Mark how are you really?  I don’t care about this old hag; Yuta, give the phone to Mark.”

Yuta handed over the phone with a casual threat of murder.  

Mark was doing well.  Johnny asked if his a cappella group had let him rap yet.  Mark rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, leaning against the stable door right next to Lacey.  

“Naw, not yet,” he said.  “Just beatboxing for now.  Eventually...” 

Johnny shrugged.  “It’s okay.  When you’re a senior you can run the group and do whatever the hell you want.  And, when they see how good you are, that’ll really show ’em.” 

Yuta watched the conversation unfold, reveling in the warm feeling he got from watching some of his favorite people interact.  

“Are you doing the Serotonin Hour justice, by the way?” Johnny asked.  “Playing that good shit?” 

Mark fumbled around a response so Yuta cut in, yelling from off-screen.  “He’s great, Johnny!  Wish you were here to tune in because I think he might be surpassing you in quality already.” 

Yuta heard Johnny scoff as Mark looked embarrassed.  “Impossible!”  Yuta leaned in next to Mark and Johnny asked about his own parents.    

Yuta frowned.  “Can’t you just call them and ask how they’re doing?” 

“I did! I do!” Johnny said, exasperated.  “I wanted to hear it from a third party though, otherwise all they tell me is ‘we’re good, John, we’re good.  Everything’s just fine.’  Know what I mean?” 

Mark answered.  Mr. and Mrs. Seo were doing just as well as they let on to their son, as far as he could tell.  This seemed to satisfy him.    

Johnny had to go soon after this, so Yuta and Mark took the opportunity to get back in Yuta’s car and drive to his house, where brand new purple crocuses had pushed through the dirt in the front yard.    

Yuta led Mark straight to his loft when they arrived, happy to finally have some actual alone time with his friend.  He didn’t know where this territorial streak was coming from.  He usually did it as a joke – especially with Mark and Sicheng – but all of a sudden, he didn’t feel like he was joking anymore.  He shrugged it off mentally.  It probably had something to do with his repression, he figured, realizing he hadn’t followed all his mother’s instructions yet.  Oh well, the meditation could wait.  

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” he offered.  “We can hang out all day that way, until you’re absolutely fed up with me.” 

Mark giggled as they traipsed through the wet grass, passing the fresh crocuses.  

“Uh, yeah, that sounds good,” Mark agreed.  “I’ll text my parents and ask them.”

“I don’t think you’ll need to,” Yuta remarked, pointing straight ahead to where Mr. Lee stood in his driveway, getting ready to go out.  “Mr. Lee!”

Mark’s dad turned around, startled for a moment, before waving.  

“Your son is eating dinner over here!”  Yuta yelled.  “We’ll take good care of him!”

Mark laughed nervously at Yuta’s side as his dad consented.  Yuta had to admit that his life was a little emptier when Mark’s ridiculous giggle-fits weren’t a daily feature.  

Back in Yuta’s room, Mark hooked his phone up to Yuta’s Bluetooth speaker and played one of his most recent DJ set playlists while Yuta sat at his vanity and yanked a radish from the bunch he’d bought earlier from Jaehyun, biting off a chunk.  It tasted watery and sharp.

“What are you doing?” Mark protested.  “I thought those were for your parents.”

“I’m only taste-testing,” Yuta defended, mouth full of radish.  “Calm down.”  He poised the other half of the radish as if he were about to overhand chuck it in Mark’s direction.  That was, in fact, what he planned to do.  “Open up.” 

Mark’s eyes went wide.  “But it has your spit on it!” 

Yuta rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a baby.” 

Mark nodded in acquiescence, opening his mouth for a split second before thinking of something else to worry about. 

“This seems dangerous though, like what if I choke on it?” 

“Then that’s really too bad because I do not know the Heimlich,” Yuta snarked.  “Try not to.” 

Mark opened his mouth again and Yuta threw the radish in an arc the few feet between them.   Mark shuffled a little to align his mouth and caught the radish, doing a little dance of victory when he realized he’d succeeded.  

“Yoooooo!” he yelled around his mouthful.  

Yuta clapped, he remarked to himself, like a cheerleader congratulating his boyfriend. Whatever.  He wasn’t above that.  

“That’s what I call synchronicity!” he said.    

Then, Yuta decided to experiment with combinations of the new earrings he’d bought recently while he and Mark talked.  They ended up mostly reminiscing about the stupid hijinks they’d gotten themselves into over the years: the time they got drunk and went skinny-dipping in the bioluminescence despite a slew of recent shark sightings (Mark kept trying to drift off into the mist and when they heard a loud splash near them in the water, Yuta asked Mark if he’d retrieve his dick if it got bitten off.  “Is that something you would want me to do?” Mark had responded); the time they went cliff-diving as a group and somehow Yuta managed to injure himself while stumbling over rocks to take a picture and then tried to tell everyone who hadn’t been there that he’d hurt himself jumping into the water so he wouldn’t sound like an idiot; the time Mark tried weed for the first time and became convinced he was suffering an aneurysm, begging Yuta to make him a potion for it; all the times Yuta and Mark travelled to dance competitions together as kids and shared hotel rooms, planning their entire futures as they waited to get sleepy.  They had promised to always have houses next to each other, and that their families and spouses would be forever close.   

Yuta sometimes found that, with long-time friends he didn’t get to see as often as he would have liked, it was easier to reminisce than to create new, whole memories.  It had nothing to do with Mark’s value as a friend, and they still came away from every summer with plenty of additional experiences and stories, but Yuta hated the feeling he sometimes got of their rhythm being off during the shorter breaks.  He worried their friendship would calcify into something past tense.  But then again, he figured, a deep understanding like what he and Mark shared didn’t need constant updates.  

Being with Mark sometimes took him back to being eighteen – right before he left for college – and in a way he liked that as much as he liked his friend.  He just got an occasional sinking feeling that they were missing each other’s landmarks.  It was irrational, but he couldn’t deny it. 

Mark had moved on to updates about his friend group as Yuta held a thin and dangly silver earring against his lobe.  Mark nodded in approval and Yuta worked to stifle a sudden bout of coughing.  Ah yes.  There it is. 

Later, at the dinner table, Yuta hardly got a word in edgewise with his parents and sister grilling Mark on how his first year was wrapping up: was his friend group holding up?  Yup.  Did he like his second semester classes?  He did.  Was he still sure he wanted to pursue a conservation major?  Yes.  Did he know who he’d room with the next year?  He was going to try to room with his friend Yeri, but they had to sign a consent form for co-ed housing first.  When was his next a cappella performance?  The big one was in late April.  Did he have a significant other?   

Yuta almost hacked up a spoonful of his root vegetable soup before glaring at his mom, the source of that query.  

“Aish, why does everyone wanna know that?” asked Mark, setting his spoon down for a second.  “Sorry, it’s just really funny to me.  No, I don’t.” 

Yuta looked across the table to his mother and caught her sending an irritated look right back at him.  He figured it was probably related to the vague threat she’d made earlier that she would know if he didn’t follow all her advice by the time he got home in the evening.  

Once they’d finished eating, the boys helped wash the dishes and Mrs. Nakamoto gifted Mark a little vial of her signature lucky potion for him to use during finals.  

“Bye, little dingus,” Haruna called to Mark as he and Yuta were on their way out for a quick post-prandial stroll.  Yuta turned around. 

“Don’t talk to your elder that way!”  She rolled her eyes.    

Outside, it was fully dark, and a distinct late-winter chill tinged the air enough that Yuta had to burrow his chin into the collar of his bomber jacket.  Rather than the chatter of crickets they would have heard at that hour during summertime, the air sung with the hush of breeze rustling the pines and the distant break of ocean waves.  Yuta thought bittersweetly about how the next time he’d see Mark for an extended time, the crickets would be back.  

“Sorry for all the prying,” Yuta grumbled as the two made their way to the little pedestrian suspension bridge over the river on the edge of town.  The river led to the ocean eventually, but inland, it felt thin and closed-off all the same.  This bridge passing over it was one of Yuta and Mark’s favorite spots to sit and chat late at night without anyone hearing.  In fact, it was that type of spot for most of the town’s young residents.  

“Don’t be,” Mark said jovially, kicking his feet leisurely as he walked.  “I expect it at this point.  Bet you remember what that’s like.” 

Yuta nodded.  He did.     

“You know,” Mark began, “it’s actually sorta calming to get the same questions over and over again.  Cuz like, for some reason I keep getting really stressed out when I come home.  I don’t know why…It’s kind of annoying.”  

Yuta pointed at Mark in recognition as he chimed in.  “No – I know exactly what you mean.  I used to get that too.  Remember when I had that panic attack?” 

Mark nodded.  “Oooh yeah, man, I do.  You were calling me at like two in the morning and you sounded like you were crying.  I had no idea what you were on about.  But I guess now I understand more.”  

Yuta smiled to himself as the sound of the river added its own particular hush to the mix of natural noises.  He tried not to take too much comfort in the idea that his friend was now suffering the same way he had.  At least it was a pretty privileged form of suffering…

Yuta took a deep breath, looking up and trying to find stars in the hazy dark sky.  

“My mom calls it liminality.  She says it's natural to feel spiritually detached at times of transition.  It’s like your identity is thrown into flux and it can be hard to balance your competing selves all at once.  You’ve got your independent college self and my little Markie boy who lives with his parents and can’t drive.”  At this, Yuta grabbed Mark and tried to give him a noogie.  “I think that’s what’s stressing you out. Might do you some good to recognize it and hear it verbalized.”    

Mark laughed.  They were approaching the entrance to the bridge.  “I guess that makes sense.  I – wait.” 

Yuta took a second to register that Mark had cut himself off and stopped walking.  He was staring into the distance towards the bridge, so Yuta followed his gaze.  He blinked a few times in the dark, but once his vision focused, he noticed what Mark had been looking at: a dark lump in the center of the suspended walkway.  It seemed to be moving – writhing almost – and Mark placed a finger over his mouth to indicate they should be silent.  Little groans and giggles emanated from the wiggly lump over the rush of the water.  It was a person – no – people.    

Yuta felt himself about to start laughing, and he didn’t want to disrupt whatever moment was going on in front of them, so he grabbed Mark’s arm and hauled him away, running back towards their houses and cracking up the minute they thought they were out of earshot.  

Mark tried to catch his breath from all the exertion.  “Were, were they –” 

“Fucking?” Yuta finished for him.  “Yeah, I think so.” 

Mark leaned over his knees.  It was the same position Yuta had used several times in the last day to combat his lung issue.  “Shit, man,” he said.  “I was not expecting that.” 

Yuta shook his head in disbelief.  “Me neither.  Here; on that note, let’s get you home. The Lees deserve their son back.” 

“Sounds good.  That’s enough excitement for one night.” 

***

Yuta tiptoed back into the kitchen before going to the barn to sleep, opening the fridge to sneak another few bites of the raspberry meringue cake his mom had bought on a whim from the Seos while shopping for dinner.   

Her voice in the dark startled him so badly that he jolted against the refrigerator shelving, rattling a whole row of bottled drinks and sauces and causing a racket.

“Holy shit, mom, you’re going to kill me,” he said, holding a hand against his chest like a 19th century gentlewoman.  

“Come to the living room with me, Yuta,” she said, bypassing his griping.  

Yuta gulped, following his mother’s directions until he was sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of her lounge chair.  

“Didn’t I tell you I’d notice if you blew off my instructions?” she asked, sipping from a cup of tea.  It smelled like chamomile and it was making Yuta sleepy.  

“I know,” he said, “but I was with Mark all day and I didn’t want it to be weird for him while I like, went off into a corner to ruminate on my inner demons or whatever.  I was still gonna do it.  Also, I drank the potion you gave me.” 

“I understand Yuta,” she said, cutting him off before he could spew any more excuses, “but you’re going to do it right now.  I want you to feel better.” 

“I already do feel a little better,” Yuta said, though he knew he was lying.  His mom knew it too, because she gave him a skeptical sideways glance.

“You looked like you were holding in a coughing spell all through dinner,” she informed him.  Had he?  Yikes… “So, close your eyes.” 

Yuta knew how this was going to go, but still, he let his mom lead him through breathing and visualization, focusing on tracking and changing the color and temperature of his internal energy as it passed through each of his limbs, his gut, hit neck and shoulders, his head, and finally, to his lungs.  He tried to pull air in until it touched the extremity of them, boundaries of his body going fuzzy in concentration, but it was difficult for him; shaky almost.  

His mother’s voice floated into his consciousness, instructing him to imagine the hollow of his mind and let thoughts begin to trickle in without obstruction; to let them come and go without judgement. 

He thought of what Mark had been saying on their walk and how it resonated with his own experiences, how it frustrated him that he could never quite recreate the comfort of his and Mark’s dynamic when he visited him at school and they were with all Mark’s first year friends (at least Kun and Jaehyun were around at times, but still).  He thought about how weird it felt for all his friends to be scattered around.  Mostly though, he thought about the strange burning tightness that had been threatening to cut off his air supply over the last day whenever he dwelled too much on thoughts of his best friend, on observing him, on feeling lucky to know him.  

Next thing he knew, he was coughing aggressively again, dragging in empty breaths whenever his throat gave him a break from its violent convulsing.  The metal wires felt like they’d made their way into his heart.  Neither his breathing nor his coughing was satisfactory though; there was still something stuck.  What on earth was wrong with him? 

Yuta latched back onto the sound of his mother’s voice as he calmed down and opened his eyes.  She knelt next to him on the floor, rubbing over his back and knitting her brows in concern.    

“Oh darling,” she cooed.  “Have some tea.”  He drank gladly, but this time the obstruction inside him stayed right where it was halfway down his windpipe.  “It’s just as I thought.  Something is blocking you off from your spiritual self.” 

Yuta blinked some tears of exertion from his eyes, smirking as he returned somewhat to himself.  

“You sure it’s not just my sarcasm?” he joked, and his mom scowled.  

“Well, that’s certainly not helping,” she said.  She kissed his forehead and pulled away to find her tarot deck.  “But I am proud that you took that seriously.  It obviously stirred something.  Let me do a quick reading for you and then we can both get to bed.” 

Yuta waited as she set up the deck and drew a six of cups, reversed.  He sighed.  Intense nostalgia; feeling caught in the past or with a past self.  That much was obvious.  

Yuta’s mother smiled at him softly.  “Whatever this is, it’s holding you hostage in memories and longing.”  He nodded, remembering his earlier conversation with Mark where they couldn’t seem to stop dwelling on an idealized highlight reel of teenage shenanigans.  Right.  “Do you want to talk about it now?” 

“Not really.”  Yuta yawned.  He didn’t know if it was because he was actually tired or because he wanted this to wrap up.  

Mrs. Nakamoto started packing her cards back up.  “That’s alright.  You should get some sleep anyway.  Good night, dear.” 

“G’night.” 

***  

Yuta gave back into coughing the minute he’d crossed the threshold to his room.  He ran to the small trashcan next to his desk, still full of bottles from the night before, and heaved into it so hard he thought his eyes might pop out.  Finally though, he had a twinge of relief when the thing that had been caught in his airway materialized on his tongue and his trachea cleared fully for the first time all day.  He reached into his mouth and plucked out the offending object, holding it between his fingers over the trash.  It was long and yellow and smooth, shaped like the wooden paddles Donghyuck’s ice cream shop gives out for testers.  

A horrifying thought crossed Yuta’s mind as he rolled the delicate yellow petal softly between his fingers, watching it disintegrate under his touch and the acid of his saliva.  He turned to the bouquet on the coffee table to his left, shivering as he caught a glimpse of the sunny yellow rays of petals adorning each of the three baby sunflowers in the vase.  His heart dropped into his feet.  

Of course.  

[mdzsgildedfate]

Gilded Fate - Chapter 1

{In the case of souls who lived traumatic lives and died violent deaths, regaining those memories in the next life can have dire consequences. With the need for cultivators having died with the reign of the gentry clans, Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi apply their skills to locating these reincarnated souls and guiding them through Awakening.

Meanwhile, Jin Ling investigates a mysterious surge in Yin energy accumulating in the mountains where Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen reside.}

In a moment of weakness… I lied… And in a moment of weakness… I said yes… ` Xiao Xingchen… My Daozhang… Please, forgive me…

Darkness brought with it a certain kind of peace. Fingers were numb. Eyes were rested. The body stopped aching. The heart was at peace. It was impossible to tell how long had passed in the darkness. Minutes? Years? The clock ticked by while his brain muddled through fuzzily. Memories of his life had disintegrated like sand falling into a rushing stream. It felt nice to forget. What good had those memories ever done?

In the blink of an eye, the light came rushing back, blinding and painful and unwanted. Everything hurt. His fingers, his eyes, his skin ached like he’d fallen off a cliff. If he could remember how to cry, he would. God, why did his eyes hurt so much? What was this horrible pressure against his back?

“Xiao Xingchen?” The words came through deafeningly loud. Without meaning to, he brought his hands up to his ears to cover them.

The words came again, but they held no meaning to him. All he could think about was how his head was spinning, his neck was screaming, and there was some annoying force grasping at one of his hands. Reluctantly, he forced open his eyes, squinting at the light that came rushing in. As was to be expected, nothing was familiar. He was in a white room with white curtains and white furniture and soft blue accents.

“Xiao Xingchen, can you hear me?”

His eyes followed the sound of the voice, settling on an unfamiliar face that grimaced at him with some unfamiliar expression. He grimaced back, despair filling his heart as he came to the horrible realization that he was alive. What cruel force had chained him back to this existence?

“Xingchen… don’t you remember me?” The voice asked again.

No, I don’t… leave me be…

The man reached behind him, fumbling for something beyond Xingchen’s line of vision, before turning back to hold up an object for him to see. He stared at the unfamiliar sword, confused further at why he was suddenly being presented a weapon. Did this wretched human really summon him to carry out revenge for him? Could the living not leave the dead to rest in peace?

He pushed the sword away from him, casting his gaze instead to the other figure standing in the room. One unfamiliar face after another. At least this one wasn’t staring at him with pleading eyes. In fact, compared to the one at his side, this one was quite pleasant to look at. He had soft, youthful features and passionate eyes that looked quite satisfied with the events transpiring before him.

“Good to see you again, Jiujiu.” He smiled, the expression lighting up his whole face.

Jiujiu…?

He grimaced again. He had no memory prior to the darkness, but he was certain he didn’t want to be here. Some horrible feeling of despair sat in the pit of his stomach as a reminder to that. Carefully, he brought one hand up to his neck, letting the tips of his fingers graze over the old injury. He frowned. The ghost of a face could almost manifest in his mind.

“Xiao Xingchen? Say something, please…”

He turned his head to meet the other’s gaze once again. “...”

“Wei Wuxian, what’s wrong with him?”

The other figure simply shrugged his shoulders. “It has been a decade since his death, he might not remember who you are.”

“Wei Wuxian-!”

“Don’t blame me, I told you there were some risks. This is a brand new path of cultivation, the only ones to broach this territory are myself and Xue-”

“ Don’t say his name.”

Wei Wuxian shrugged again. “I’m just saying. I did what you asked, and as far as I can tell, it worked. Anything else is just going to be a side effect of having been dead for so long.”

Xue…. Xue who? Why can’t he say his name? His eyes flickered between the two men, finally settling on the one at his side. He reached out one hand, letting it hover over the man’s eyes. Something seemed wrong about it.

“Xingchen?” The man said his name, sounding much sadder this time.

He narrowed his gaze, trying to figure out why his attention was drawn to this person’s eyes. Why did that name echo in his brain when the two men in front of him drew no memories forth? He clenched his jaw. Some deeply buried Yin energy bubbled in his gut, urging his hand to reach out and pluck the eyes out of this man’s head.

“...Mine.” He managed to say, surprised by the sound of his own voice.

The man looked taken aback, shuddering slightly. “Y-yes… These are your eyes, Xingchen.”

He let out a hum of approval, nodding his head slightly.

“Do you remember me?”

He clenched his jaw again. His head hurt. How many things did he have to remember today? He already felt exhausted.

“My name is Song Lan. You remember me, don’t you?”

Xingchen hummed again. The name sounded strange to him, bringing forth a swirl of different emotions.

“Zichen, give him some time to adjust to being alive again.” Wei Wuxian warned. “Don’t rush him all at once. He’s back now, you don’t need to force things.”

Song Lan let out a defeated sigh, nodding his head. “I know. You’re right.”

“You guys have the rest of your lives. Which, considering your conditions, is pretty much forever.”

Forever. Xingchen shuddered at the word. Forever? He had to be alive… forever? He frowned at Song Lan. This was his fault. Whatever reason he had, he’d ripped Xingchen from blissful nonexistence and forced him back into the harsh, painful world of the living.

~X~

No matter how many reincarnated souls Lan Sizhui encountered, the feeling of dissonance never faded. Several milleniums had passed and the world had become utterly unrecognizable. The cultivation clans of old had been completely forgotten- even myths and legends no longer existed. The Immortals had long since gone into hiding, shutting out the rest of the world. Were it not for Jingyi and Jin Ling, Sizhui would have been left alone.

As it were, they provided no help when it came to identifying reincarnated souls. That was Sizhui’s work. Most of the time, it was easy. Souls who’d passed naturally and reincarnated peacefully- those souls untouched by the corrosion of traumatic death- those souls could be recognized easily. Over the centuries, he’d easily identified fellow Lan clan members, friends from the Nie and Jiang sects, even some of Jin Ling’s distant Jin relatives.

But the souls who had suffered in death, those souls who’d been corrupted and changed and took time to heal enough to reincarnate, those souls were more difficult to identify. That was Sizhui’s very problem now. This man that stood before him resonated a strong spiritual energy, one that felt forebodingly familiar to the Lan Immortal, but had changed so greatly he was struggling to place a name to the face.

“Professor?” The man urged, pulling Sizhui from his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, Xinyi, but your attendance in my class has been too poor for me to pass you.” Sizhui repeated the words he’d already spoken to the student. “I’ve offered all the extra credit I can, my hands are tied on this.”

Xinyi let out a frustrated hiss but bit his tongue, eyes glued to the floor.

“I do hope you take this more seriously next semester.”

Xinyi raised his eyes, biting back what Sizhui could only assume were some pretty colourful insults. “Professor, I do take this class seriously, I just-.”

Sizhui held his gaze, waiting patiently for whatever explanation the younger man could come up with.

“-I just… Nevermind.” Xinyi spun on his heel quickly, snatching his books off the desk behind him and rushing out of the lecture hall.

Sizhui shook his head. This soul’s identity was on the tip of his tongue, but this student was getting on his last nerve. Maybe it was both. Maybe this soul was someone Sizhui truly couldn’t stand in his past life. He let out a sigh and shrugged his shoulders, packing his own belongings to head home for the night.

[JY]: Any luck with your latest project? [LS]: None. He’s hopeless. Truly, students these days lack discipline. If we’d slacked off our studies like this kid does, Hanguang-Jun would’ve left us outside all winter. [JY]: I meant with figuring out who he is. [LS]: I know… No progress there either… He’s infuriating [JY]: Are we sure Jin Ling didn’t die? Could be him… [LS]: I think we’d know if Jin Ling suddenly died after 8,000 years [JY]: Any ideas as to what Sect he was at least? [LS]: None. I’m not sure he was from any of the major clans. [JY]: But you’re sure you knew him well? Who did we know well that wasn’t from a major clan? [LS]: No one that I can remember. He just… unnerves me. [JY]: Maybe it’s Hanguang-Jun [LS]: ….

Sizhui rolled his eyes and shut off his phone, tossing it into the passenger seat of his car. Jingyi was never any help. He knew just as well as any of them that Lan Wangji had disappeared into the mountains with Wei Wuxian half a dozen millennia ago, along with the rest of the remaining Immortals. If he’d died, they would have felt something. The passing of an Immortal threw the whole energy of the world into imbalance, it was impossible to miss.

No, this soul was definitely not Lan Wangji. The feeling he got was not that kind of familiarity. Driving home, his mind wandered, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he should even pull on this string. Wang Xinyi unnerved him enough as it was, knowing could make it worse and make it impossible to continue on as the unassuming moral philosophy professor.

~X~

Xinyi paced back and forth within the confines of his shared dorm room, muttering under his breath with no regard to his poor roommate. He paused every so often to stare out the window or flip through one of his textbooks or simply to throw his backpack across the room in a fit of sudden rage.

“Take this class more seriously, Xinyi- It’s a fucking moral philosophy class, how seriously can I take it?” He grumbled to himself, fishing his textbook out of the trashcan, having thrown it away twice already tonight.

“Why are you even taking that class?” His roommate grumbled back, half asleep.

“It was supposed to be an easy anthropology course.”

“I thought you hated anthropology.”

“I fucking do! But apparently I need a degree in it to take over my family’s collection.” Xinyi huffed, finally falling back against his bed.

“Collection? You mean all those creepy fucking swords and scrolls all over your parents’ house?”

“They’re not creepy, Chen.” Xinyi huffed indignantly, folding his arms over his chest. “You realize those swords and scrolls are thousands of years old, right?”

“That means they could have thousands of years worth of ghosts attached to them.” Chen shrugged, pulling his blanket up to his chin.

Xinyi sighed and slumped down onto his bed. He switched the bedside lamp off and resigned himself to sleep, or what little he could get in between the dreams. Ever since starting college, he’d been plagued by them nearly every night, and they’d only gotten worse as the year was ending. He could only consider himself lucky that the one night he’d actually woken up screaming, Chen had been staying the night somewhere else.

Some horrible vision of having his hand run over, so real it still ached long after he’d woken up. Xinyi blinked at the ceiling in the dark, squeezing his left hand at the memory of the dream. After a moment, he shook the thought from his head and rolled over, closing his eyes and hoping that he’d get some half-decent sleep before packing up his car in the morning to drive back to his parent’s house for the summer.

The long, white robes billowed in the wind like a pair of butterfly wings. The stark contrast between the pristine clothes and the black hair that cascaded along them was almost breath-taking. Even though only the back of the figure could be seen, it was a sight more beautiful than any he could remember. His fingers twitched with the desire to touch this person, but the hand that reached up was a bloodied, battered mass.

“You… are truly disgusting…”

The words echoed back, over and over, sounding too distant and too close. Blood gushed from his wounded hand, pooling at his feet. Blinking twice, the blood had crept up to his ankles, showing no indication of stopping anytime soon. He looked back up, practically nose-to-nose with a ghostly white face and jet black eyes- a man’s face growling back at him. His mouth opened and closed as if trying to say something, but only blood came out, adding to the lake of blood that had now reached their knees.

Xinyi finally got his legs moving, taking steps back with much effort, as though the blood was as thick as butter. The ghostly man in front of him moved back, mirroring his movements for a minute before falling straight back into the blood, disappearing beneath the surface. Xinyi tried to call out, but his voice was barely a whisper. Looking down at the lake, which was nearly his chest, half a dozen hands shot out and grabbed the front of his shirt and dragged him down.

When his eyes finally shot open, Xinyi was drenched in sweat. He kicked his blankets off onto the floor beside his bed and sat up, ripping his shirt off over his head. The dawn light was pouring through the cracks in the blinds and he was surprised to see that his white t-shirt was not red with blood. He tossed it down with the pile of blankets and looked at his hand, relieved to see that all five fingers were still there. He let out a ragged sigh and rolled out of the bed to walk to the bathroom.

“Fuck, man, do you ever sleep anymore?” Chen grumbled, his voice hoarse from having just woken up.

Xinyi jumped, startled by the voice. “Did I wake you up?”

“Yeah. From a really good dream too.” Chen rolled onto his back and stretched for a few seconds before looking back to his left to check the clock on the nightstand. “Fuck.... I need to get up anyways.”

Xinyi groaned and kicked his blankets out of the way. “Guess it’s officially summer.”

~X~

“Three months really isn’t enough time between school years.” Jingyi grumbled, his face pressed against Sizhui’s back.

“You sound like the students.” Sizhui laughed. “Being a teacher was your choice you know. You could spend your immortality doing something else.”

“I know that.” Jingyi pulled his face back, running his hand over Sizhui’s hair a few times to smooth out where he’d messed it up. “But then I’d see you less.”

Sizhui shifted to the side so he could look at Jingyi. “Am I really your whole purpose in life anymore?”

“Of course you are. We can’t all be dedicated to finding reincarnated souls.” Jingyi shrugged, taking a small sip from his wine glass.

Sizhui was quiet for a long time, watching Jingyi with soft eyes. “It feels like doing cultivation work again… you know? We don’t have as many ghosts or yao to deal with anymore, but it’s nice to guide souls on the brink of remembering.”

Jingyi folded his arms over his chest and nodded very seriously. “I can’t argue that, of course. It’s at least more respectable than what Jin Ling is doing.”

“What’s wrong with what Jin Ling is doing?” Sizhui laughed, giving Jingyi a small shove.

“What’s wrong- A-Yuan, come on, don’t try to defend his little Ghostbusting business!”

Sizhui just laughed harder. “It works though! It’s a little dressed up for the modern age, but he is still cultivating.”

Jingyi just waved his hand, as if airing away Sizhui’s words, and sipped from his glass again. Sizhui rolled his eyes and leaned forward, planting a kiss on Jingyi’s cheek. Before he had a chance to pull away, Jingyi wrapped an arm around Sizhui’s shoulders and pulled him back, pressing their lips together. The wine glasses and empty takeout boxes were left, forgotten on the floor, as the two entangled with each other, enjoying the last night of summer before returning to campus.

And then Sizhui’s phone started ringing.

“For fuck’s sake.” Jingyi hissed. “Let it go to voicemail.”

Sizhui shook his head, picking himself up from the floor and out of Jingyi’s grasp. “It’s Jin Ling.”

“Are you serious? Even when he’s not here he’s bullying me!”

Sizhui chuckled softly and answered the phone. “A-Ling, it’s unusual for you to call so late.”

“You know the weird energy I’ve been investigating outside the city?” Jin Ling’s voice came through loud enough for Jingyi to hear.

“Did you find the cause?”

“Yeah. You’ll never guess who I just fucking saw at a tea shop.”

“You saw someone familiar? Reincarnated, or…?”

“A-Yuan. I saw Song Lan Daozhang.”

Sizhui and Jingyi exchanged shocked looks, both at a loss for words.

“Hello? A-Yuan? Did you hear me?”

“Y-yes, I heard you. Are you sure it was him?” Sizhui asked.

“I haven’t seen a Fierce Corpse in at least 5,000 fucking years, I’m pretty damn sure.” Jin Ling hissed, sounding just as indignant as ever.

Jingyi grabbed the phone from Sizhui’s hands and put it to his ear. “Jin Ling. Can you never just say things nicely?”

“Shut up! Give the phone back to Sizhui!”

Jingyi ignored Jin Ling and put him on speakerphone instead. “Have you already talked to him?”

“No, I wanted your opinions on it first.”

Sizhui nodded, his eyes narrowed in thought. “It’s not a problem that needs resolving, but it might be nice to have a meal with him. It’s not every day we run into people from back then, he might welcome it as well.”

Jingyi nodded. “A-Ling, since you’re already there, you should try to meet with him again and see if he’s interested.”

~X~

With Autumn on it’s way, the weather was perfect for a casual hike. It was finally starting to cool off and the leaves on the trees were beginning to change colour. With eyes closed, Jin Ling could almost imagine himself on Dafan mountain with Jiang Cheng, or in the back paths of Lanling with Guangyao. If he didn’t pay too close attention, he could almost imagine the husky following closely at his feet was Fairy.

“You don’t really seem like the type.”

Jin Ling’s eyebrows twitched downward. He could almost imagine. But the young girl trailing alongside him was a constant reminder of where and when he was. Which was part of the reason he kept her around, but, of course, he’d never been much of a people person and she poked and prodded at his nerves just like anyone else.

“The type for what?” Jin Ling asked, opening his eyes again and looking down the trail.

“You know, the ghost-hunting type.” She replied, laughing softly. “Paranormal investigation. You’re so uptight, I thought you’d be more skeptical.”

“Is that so?”

“What happened?”

Jin Ling slowed his pace, sucking in a breath of air. “What happened to what?”

“What happened to make you take up ghost-hunting? You see a ghost or something?”

Jin Ling furrowed his brow, tossing a puzzled look at his acquaintance. “MingYue. I’ve been doing this for years, if I hadn’t seen a ghost by now, I wouldn’t still be doing it.”

MingYue skipped a few times to catch up to Jin Ling on the trail. “Well yeah, but what about the first time?”

“The first time…” Jin Ling turned his gaze forward again, letting memories flicker through his mind. “Hmph… I suppose, there was that time in Yi City.”

“Yi City? Never heard of it.”

“You wouldn’t. It’s a ghost town.”

“Fitting.”

Jin Ling rolled his eyes. “I doubt there’s any remnants of it still standing, it was almost completely abandoned when I visited.”

“So?” MingYue urged, taking a few large strides and turning around to face Jin Ling, walking backwards along the path.

“So what?”

MingYue smiled, though her eyes had narrowed slightly. “You’re doing that on purpose, quit avoiding the point.”

Jin Ling smirked slightly. “What do you think happened? I saw a ghost of course. My friends and I were taking shelter in this old shop, and my uncle, who thinks he’s so funny, tricked us all into looking through this hole in the paper window. Made it sound like there was some amazing sight on the other side, only for it to turn out to be the bleeding face of a ghost.”

MingYue looked up at the sky, looking as though she were thinking very hard about what Jin Ling had said. “I don’t believe it.”

“You don’t believe in ghosts? Find someone else to follow then!”

“No, I mean, I don’t believe you’ve ever had friends.”

“You-!” Jin Ling raised a hand as if he wanted to hit her, only eliciting a series of aggressive barks from their canine companion. “Gongzhu, hush!”

To Jin Ling’s relief, MingYue fell silent in favour of finding sticks to throw for Gongzhu to run after. Despite how she’d angered him only moments before, he smiled softly to himself as he watched them play. As the sun started to descend in the sky, the trail finally opened up to reveal the valley below. According to some of the locals in town, there was an abandoned temple nestled in the valley. Jin Ling figured if the ancient Daozhang were to be hiding anywhere, that was the most likely place.

Another hour passed, and then another, and finally they were reaching the bottom of the mountain. The sun had disappeared behind the high horizon, but there was still plenty light to see by. Though they were both feeling the exhaustion of hiking all day, they both quickened their speed, keeping their eyes peeled for any indication that the temple was close.

“Gongzhu- hey, what’s wrong?” MingYue knelt down, attending to the dog who’d suddenly gone stiff, her neck outstretched towards the East.

Jin Ling watched carefully, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “We must be close.”

“How can you tell?”

Because she’s a spiritual dog, of course. “Because she’s trained to know things.”

MingYue just smiled back- the same look she always gave Jin Ling when he was being purposely vague and irritating.

“Just quit asking so many questions.” At that, Jin Ling stood back up, signaling the end of their brief rest.

MingYue followed suit and Gongzhu resumed her trot as though nothing had happened. “I have to ask questions, that’s the point of being an apprentice.”

Jin Ling scoffed. “You’re not my apprentice, you’re my dogsitter.”

The farther down the trail they got, the more the husky trotted circles around them anxiously, occasionally darting ahead out of sight before sprinting back to them. MingYue kept glancing at Jin Ling, expecting him to say something about Gongzhu’s erratic behavior, but he stayed silent. It wasn’t until the gate of the temple finally came into view that he broke the silence once more.

“MingYue.”

She turned to look at him. “Gege?”

He grimaced at her. “Don’t call me that.”

She smiled back.

“Just- Keep an eye on Gongzhu, and don’t ask questions while we’re here. Assuming the person I’m looking for is here, it’s likely you won’t understand a lot of what we’re talking about.” Jin Ling explained carefully, making eye contact with the girl. “Mind your manners in Song Lan Daozhang’s presence, he’s hidden himself away in the mountains for a reason. Don’t make me regret bringing you.”

MingYue considered saying something, but Jin Ling rarely showed this degree of severity in his words, so she thought better to hold her tongue. They continued on through the gate and into the temple court, rousing the attention of the two Taoist priests sitting across from each other at a small table.

“This temple is not open to the public.” Song Lan called to them, barely turning his head to look their way.

“What about to fellow cultivators?”

The two men turned their heads now to look at Jin Ling and MingYue. Jin Ling set his hands out in front of him and bowed deeply. After a moment, Song Lan stood and crossed the court, studying the two faces. After a moment, a small look of recognition crossed his features and a small smile appeared on his lips.

“You’re one of the young disciples from Yi City.”

Jin Ling returned the smile. “My name is Jin Ling. My companion is MingYue.”

Song Lan bowed his head in greeting.

“I apologize for the intrusion. I saw you in a tea shop in town about a month ago and couldn’t help seeking you out.”

“Understandable. It’s not common to encounter other cultivators these days. Is your friend…?”

“No.” Jin Ling shook his head. “Though, two other disciples you met in Yi City live nearby in Beijing, they were hoping to meet with you again.”

Song Lan looked at him thoughtfully, considering the proposal. “I suppose it would be appropriate. I’m sure Xiao Xingchen would be grateful for the company. It’s been a long time since we’ve had guests.”

[snowdice]

You I’ll Come Back For (Part 1) [Dice Roll 5]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton/Virgil, Logan/Deceit/Roman (in the background and not in this part)

Characters:

Main: Patton, Virgil

Appear: Roman, Logan, Deceit, Remus

Summary: They’d met in a jail cell, you see, but unlike now Patton had not been anywhere near trapped, not that Virgil had been aware of that fact. He’d just seen his sweet little cell mate who’d clearly not done anything to deserve being on that side of the bars. Virgil had said “What did you do to get stuck in this joint?” and Patton had started crying. It had taken zero lies and five hours for Patton to coax out the information he’d needed. He’d thought when he’d pranced up to the bars and told Roman he was ready to leave that the absolutely astonished expression which was quickly slipping into fury would be the last thing he’d ever see of the man whose crimes numbered enough to keep him in prison for the rest of his life.

He’d escaped during his transfer to federal prison.

Universe: Cops and Criminals AU

Genre: Crime

Notes: Murder mentioned, murder attributed to a main character mentioned, torture mentioned, knives mentioned, a morally dubious kiss on both sides, very slightly graphic description of someone contemplating biting someone’s nose off...and then kissing them... It’s actually a much more gentle AU then the warnings seem to imply.

This is part of my Roll the Dice Event which is where I do random ships, universe, and genres for the Sanders Sides fandom. For more details see this post. I posted a few days ago my results from this dice roll here.

Well. This had been a turn of events. Even Virgil seemed surprised by his success, panting for breath and staring at Patton with an unsure look on his face. Somehow, and Patton wondered if Virgil had any better idea how it had happened, Patton had ended up on his knees, restrained by his own handcuffs to a railing.

He should… he should probably be a bit scared about that shouldn’t he? He was, after all, here to arrest the man for murder.

And it wasn’t like it was completely unfathomable that he’d really done it. After all, Patton knew for a fact that he worked for a criminal organization. He’d been ordered to torture Patton once for goodness sakes and while he didn’t, it was a little hard to tell if he would have if Patton hadn’t been 100% able to get out of those restraints. There was no guarantee that he’d get the same treatment if he was actually helpless.

Yet, it was really hard to be terrified of a man staring at him with that wide-eyed unsure look on his face.

“Well I guess I should have been a bit more prepared,” Patton said. “This is what I get for working off the cuff.”

“That,” Virgil said. “That’s your line? That’s what you’re going with?”

Patton shrugged. “Well I thought it was a pretty cop notch pun.”

“You do realize you’re my prisoner, now right?” he asked. “Is now really the time? Do you really want to be telling jokes that remind me that you’re a police officer? One that’s fucked me over countless times, remember?”

“Sorry, I’ll give it arrest.”

“Oh my god.” He ran his hand through his hair and shifted his weight back and forth nervously. “What do I do with you?”

“You could let me go,” Patton suggested, voice dripping in sugar. He glared back. He was clearly not going to fall for the sweet and innocent act again.

They’d met in a jail cell, you see, but unlike now Patton had not been anywhere near trapped, not that Virgil had been aware of that fact. He’d just seen his sweet little cell mate who’d clearly not done anything to deserve being on that side of the bars. Virgil had said “What did you do to get stuck in this joint?” and Patton had started crying. It had taken zero lies and five hours for Patton to coax out the information he’d needed. He’d thought when he’d pranced up to the bars and told Roman he was ready to leave that the absolutely astonished expression which was quickly slipping into fury would be the last thing he’d ever see of the man whose crimes numbered enough to keep him in prison for the rest of his life.

He’d escaped during his transfer to federal prison.

Patton had still not expected to face any real consequences of his unorthodox interrogation technique as he had almost surely skipped town if not the country. In truth, there hadn’t been any sign of him for over a year before on an undercover op, Patton had turned around to be introduced to someone new. They’d locked eyes and Patton had basically accepted his imminent death as he watched recognition flash over his face. Yet, he had said nothing.

They’d spent a week working together side-by-side in tense silence before Virgil had finally managed to get him alone, cornering him against a wall. Unluckily for Virgil, that had been the night of the sting and when the sirens started blaring, Patton had drawn a knife on the man to keep him there.

“I spared your life you bastard,” Virgil had spat while being cuffed. Again, Patton had thought that would be the end of it.

He’d not even made it to the precinct this time.

They’d kept running into each other after that to basically the same results each time. Patton would always win, and Virgil would always escape afterwards. Patton was starting to think he should hand deliver the man to federal prison himself because, apparently, no one else knew what they were doing.

Except today, Virgil had actually, truly, gotten the drop on him.

Virgil had walked forward until he was in Patton’s space. “You should be absolutely petrified of me right now,” Virgil hissed, hovering menacingly, his face just inches from Patton’s. The idea that he should lean forward and chomp his teeth down directly on the man’s nose until the cartilage snapped, crossed Patton’s mind. Of course, Patton would still be chained up if he did that and would definitely face retribution even if Virgil wasn’t intending to harm him currently. Maybe he would have if Patton had thought he was actually going to die here. But he wasn’t. He could tell. He tossed away the idea to inflict damage on the man in front of him. He was still there though, his face hanging close enough that Patton could feel his breath. He was waiting for a response by word or action. He expected, perhaps, for Patton to cower or maybe even act on the violent thought he’d had moments before. But he did not.

The next moment, Patton had pressed forward to kiss him.

Oops. He was very definitely not supposed to be doing that. He didn’t stop though, and Virgil didn’t stop him. Soon it was not just Patton kissing him, but them kissing.

Oh, this was very, very bad, because Virgil was all sorts of soft and gentle while kissing him and it made something flip in Patton’s stomach.

Virgil pulled back just barely to look at him. “I am,” he said, “legitimately surprised that you weren’t using that as a way to get out of the handcuffs somehow.”

“You can’t blame me for just wanting to steel a kiss,” Patton whispered.

“You were spelling it s-t-e-e-l in your head, weren’t you?” Virgil asked.

“Maybe.” Then they were kissing again, and Virgil’s hand was softly stroking through his hair. Patton tugged on the cuffs and whined. “I wanna touch you,” he breathed.

“Not a fucking chance Patton.”

“Hmm. Was worth a shot.” Patton still lunged forward for another long kiss. Was he really having a make out session with a known criminal on the floor while handcuffed? Yes, yes, he was, and he should probably feel more conflicted about it, but gosh if it wasn’t just the gentlest most tender kiss of Patton’s life. The kiss ended abruptly when Virgil’s phone buzzed.

“Shit,” he cursed and drew back to look at it. “Dammit even when you’re handcuffed you manage to get in my way.”

Patton just shrugged at him a bit cheekily.

Virgil made some kind of sound in the back of his throat that had Patton almost swallowing his tongue. “You I am coming back for,” Virgil said lowly. A threat or a promise? Maybe both. He drew away and, apparently, he’d pick-pocketed Patton because now Patton’s phone was in the other man’s hands. He typed in Patton’s passcode without even hesitating. “Who’s closer to our location? Roman or Logan.”

“Roman probably,” Patton said.

“I’m texting Logan then.” He snapped a picture of Patton. assumedly to send it to Logan and then sat the phone down and placed the handcuff keys on top of it. He looked back once at Patton before he was gone.

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 2 Part 3