#then furiously started banging the plastic

[cannibalhellhound]

I have a moth child now bye

[blue-sadie]

Trick Or Treat

Halloween Special~based off this vote

Ghostface Anakin Skywalker x Nerd Reader

Summary: his blood lust intensifys

Warning: modern day au, knife play, marking/carving into skin, wall sex

Yn/3rd person pov

The thumbing music made my ears ring, and the close proximity of people made me feel dizzy I don't know why I'm here but here I am dressed up for the occasion.

"Are you new or something" my eyes flickered over to one of the cheerleaders I think her name was charlotte as she stumbled towards me her speech slurring from her drunkenness, "um y-yea sort of" I murmured nervously fumbling with the plastic cup I had in my hand.

"What shit are you drinking" she muttered giggling to herself as she grabbed it and downed it in one gulp I grimaced as she almost choked slamming the cup down.

"Your drinking the fucking punch" she yelled out laughing to much for my liking "y-yeah" I whispered she quickly put her hand on my shoulder and leaned in, my nose crinkled as I smelt the alcohol on her breath.

She only stopped a few inches from my face her drunkly wavering as her eyes wondered over my face "I'mma tell you something if you want boys..... you gotta be more out there.. not like that bitch what is her name" she paused racking through or nut brain trying to remember my name.

"Yn" I murmured she nodded her head furiously "wait how did you know" she questioned tilting her head in confusion I shrugged my shoulders "just a hunch" I didn't fear affected by her words well not anymore at least.

She quickly turned to the fridge and opened it up, a shiver ran up my spine making me to look around my surroundings I felt someone staring at me, my eyes flickered around seeing a glimpse of white outside the window 'must be the reflection' I kept going till the landed on the jock and coincidentally charlotte's boyfriend 'jake'.

He smirked as he saw I caught him staring and he licked his lips as his eyes wondered over my body, my stomach churned in disgust "i-i think I'm gonna go" I mumbled leaving the room before charlotte could protest.

I wondered through the rooms trying to get away from people after a while everything seemed to quieten down "police" someone screamed and everyone started to bolt out the door.

I tried squeezing through but it was mer impossible "come follow me" I was grabbing buy someone and pulled in the opposite direction of the doors "where are we going" I yelled out but didn't get an answer, the person who was dragging me was in a black robe with the hood up and a ghostface mask.

I didn't recognize the voice because of the voice changer he was using, I tried pulling away as i heard the police starting to bang on the door he tugged me towards him pulling me into a room I haven't gone into yet "we have to get down there" he pointed at the basement hatch as he locked the door.

'I didn't know houses still had these things' I felt uneasy "i-i think I better go" I tried pushing past him but he caught my wrist "do you want under age drinking on your application for college" he stated tilting his head as he spoke.

I shrunk back pulling my wrist out of his hold as i was thinking about it he does have a good point, I let out a sigh "your right" I murmured and slowly started making my way down into the basement with him close behind me.

He flicked on the light to reveal a big room which was only lit by a dim flickering light I walked a little ways from him looking at the surroundings it wasn't much to look at "who are you" I asked looking back to the man.

He straightened up as I asked the question "ghostface of course you like 'do you like scary movies' he murmured pulling a knife out his robe I stepped back out of fear "I think the police s-should be gone now" I said backing away from him as he slowly came towards me.

"Oh they won't be" he chuckled darkly as he backed me into the corner of the room "h-how would you know" I asked as my heart beat quickened he chuckled again and put his arms on either side of my head using his body to cage me in as he leaned down to whisper into my ear.

"Because charlotte and jakes bodies are in the shed and I left a good amount of a blood trail to lead the police there" my breath hitched as he spoke it felt as if my throat was closing up "w-why" I panted as tears started to well up in my eyes.

"Aw your to cute" he chuckled moving one of his hands to grab my chin forcing me to look up at him as if on impulse I slapped him across the face making him stumble and curse in pain.

I gasped in shock and tried to run past him but fall as he grabbed my ankle "l-let go" I screamed trying to kick him but he grabbed both my legs hard his nails digging into my skin "don't make me kill you too little bitch" he spat as he hold slowly moved up my body in till he could reach my hands.

He grabbed both of my hands in one of his and held them down above my head "fuck your going to pay" he muttered my eyes widened as I saw apart of his mask was broken "a-anakin" I whispered out of shock he grinned widely.

He huffed taking off his mask letting his curls loose "your always to smart for your own good" he muttered tightening his hold on my wrists as his other hand brought up the knife to my face softly pressing the tip against my cheek.

I let out pants and crys of fear "please no" I cried and he cooed down at me and dragged the knife from my cheek down to my neck "you'll look so pretty covered in blood" he whispered and slowly started to dig the knife into my skin drawing a little bit of blood.

I screamed in pain pushing my head back into the concrete floor "perfect like I always imagined" he murmured laying kisses on my neck "please stop" I cried "but I only just began".

The knife slowly lifted from my skin making my body shiver "see yn your already shaking in anticipation" he grinned and slowly used the knife to cut away the dress I was wearing, he let out a shakey breathe and placed more kisses on my stomach and chest.

"Anakin stop please" I tried to wiggle my way out his hold but he held fast and let out a low growl as he moved back up my body to look into my eyes his eyes were dark and full of lust.

"Why don't you just let me have you" he moved the knife to cut off my bra and panties leaving me bare "just let me take care of you" he whispered I held my breath as I felt the knife against my stomach "let me mark you" he breathed out happily as he slowly started to drag the knife against my stomach carving his name into my skin.

"Stop" I cried he sighed pulling the blood aways fron my skin showing me the blood that dripped from the tip he then threw the knife to the side and leaned down kissing away my fallen tears "no one else can help you make you feel like I do your mine" he voice was low and deep as he spoke.

"Stay still" he said slowly letting go of my wrists I was petrified and to scared to move my eyes followed his movements as he slowly moved his way down my body in till his head was by my core "let me taste you".

His eyes locked with mine as he moved in closer opening his mouth and dragged his tongue up and down my slit my legs shifting and my soft breathes turned into silent moans he wrapped his arms around my thighs bringing me more onto his tongue.

"F-fuck" I whispered biting my lip hard as to not show him how he was making me feel he sucked on my clit harshly making my legs tremble and tease underneath him, he pulled away with a pop, licking his lips to collect all my juices "your so sweet baby" he praised kissing his way back up my body making sure to avoid the wounds he inflicted on me.

His hands on my thighs slowly started to move me against him as he slowly started to pick me up "there you go baby" he smiled and pressed me back up against the wall I tried avoiding his gaze and tried to escape his hold but I just didn't have the energy.

I felt him maneuver some of his clothing in till I felt his hard cock pressed up against me "be good for me baby" he smirked and slowly lifted me up to sink me onto his cock "fuck" we both cursed breathlessly "your so tight for me" he groaned.

He pressed he against the wall hard as he started to thrust up into me my moans started to gradually get louder as he increased in speed his thrusts making me body jerk, anakin moved his head into the crook of my neck attaching his lips to my skin sucking harshly.

"Everyone better fucking know your mine" he grunted against my skin my breathing started to quicken as I felt myself close to climaxing I slowly moved my hands to clench down on his shoulders "c-cumming" I moaned arching my back into him, "that's it baby let go for me" he growled as he continued to thrust into me, cursing at how tight I was getting.

I cried out in pleasure as I cam on his dick and my moans only began to heighten as he continued his thrusting "fuck I'm cumming to baby" he groaned as hid cock began to pulse and his thrusts began to fulter in rhythm "s-shit" he growled out as he released inside me coating my insides in white I started to feel light headed and dizzy making him coo at my half lidded eyes.

"Don't worry yn I'll make sure your right as rain by tomorrow because your mine now and I look after my things"

Tag.List

@sweetirilly @neteyamyawne @greekgods15

[world-of-fire-and-flight]

Mirth's Ebenezer: Part 11

A/N: Guess what guess what guess what *bouncing excitedly* I GOT MY DEVELOPMENTAL EDITING FEEDBACK FROM MY EDITOR YESTERDAY FOR BOOK 2!

That is all. Carry on 😊

(P.S. Sorry this part is a little shorter! I'm still trying to figure out where this is going lol)

Warnings: swearing, grudges, the plot, ambush, reference to weapons, implied threat, threats, reference to murder, guns

My Masterlist | Taglist Info | Mirth’s Ebenezer masterlist

Baron quickly made his way downstairs. His mind ran wild with thought after thought concerning his grand idea on how to make it up to Mirth that she’d walked in on an all-out feud between himself and Superhero. He couldn’t help it—they were like were like oil and water…

And yet they had one major thing in common: Mirth.

He knew it, Superhero knew it—hell, the whole world probably knew that they each had some sort of romantic feelings toward Mirth. And it really would be just his luck that he’d end up sentenced to house arrest with the woman he’d dared to say he might love and her friend, who also happened to be in love with her, as his wardens.

But of all the things that’d happened to him in his life, and of all the things he’d done—especially recently—Baron couldn’t exactly say he was upset by the current circumstances.

From life on the street to betraying Supervillain, Baron found that in this moment, he didn’t have many regrets. Even looking back on his life as a masked criminal, he hadn’t ever really hurt anyone. Sure, he hadn’t given the same reverence to property as he had to human (or animal) life, but compared to someone like Supervillain or Other Villain, Baron was the least of the City’s problems. And if it weren’t for him, the City would have a serious problem trying to accommodate each and every one of his henchmen—or rather, the city’s impoverished or orphaned or homeless. If anything, Baron realized, he’d done about as much good for this city as any one of the so-called heroes and vigilantes.

He couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Judge Whitmire had known that all along. From the first time they’d met to discuss the terms of his Rogue Trial and examine his case, he couldn’t help the feeling that Judge Whitmire had already made up his mind. Why else would he have tied Mirth’s fate to his?

Baron shook his head. Maybe the rumors were true. Maybe the good old judge was wily. But in any case, Baron knew he’d never been so overcome with gratitude when Judge Whitmire had announced his ruling. That was all that truly mattered. Judge Whitmire had given him a chance, and Baron would never forget that—just as he would never forget the hero who’d found it in her heart to forgive him enough to push him in the right direction.

Now was likely the only time he’d be able to do something nice for Mirth.

But first, Baron pursed his lips, he’d just have to break the rules again. Strolling into the kitchen, he surveyed the counters and cabinets. He’d been surprised to find it pretty well-stocked with box mixes and canned goods, and, of course, plastic bowls and cups. The fridge wasn’t as nicely stocked, but he had enough to whip up something half-way decent. He only hoped his attempt would make it up to Mirth that she’d walked right into an angry hornets’ nest.

Sighing, Baron began to rifle through the cabinets one-by-one, trying to find the cups he’d discovered last night. He knew this would spark a bigger argument, but he supposed it was worth it if it meant he didn’t have to ask Superhero to open the Forbidden Closet of Things He Wasn’t Allowed to Have Per Standard House Arrest Code of Conduct.

The door to the garage opened and closed with a bang, rattling the picture frame hung on the adjacent wall. Baron turned his head in time to see Superhero dart through the mudroom and toward the hallway. His brows furrowed, watching them furiously tap the entry code into the panel beside the off-limits closet.

“Mirth! Baron!” they shouted, not even bothering to turn around as they started searching through the closet and began strapping various weapons to their person.

“No need to shout,” Baron said, setting the plastic cup he’d meant to fill with water to throw at the very panel Superhero had so generously unlocked for them down on the counter. Watching them warily, Baron walked up beside them and took inventory of what they were grabbing. “What’s going on?”

“Yeah,” Mirth said breathlessly as she came around the corner in a hurry. “Can’t you two just get alon—”

“Supervillain’s here,” Superhero interrupted, tossing Mirth a uniform that she didn’t catch. “Get changed.”

Mirth’s eyes went wide as she stilled. She didn’t even make to pick her signature uniform up from the floor. “Supervillain? They’re here?”

“I’ve already called for back-up,” Superhero assured her, taking a step back and turning to face her. “Mirth, we’re going to be fine. And then as soon as we deal with this, we’re going to find the mole.”

Mirth nodded, stiffly reaching for the fallen uniform and heading down the hallway without another word. Baron tilted his head and watched after her for a moment.

“Did she seem okay to you?” he asked, meeting Superhero’s eyes.

“Not in the slightest,” they admitted through gritted teeth. “And I can’t say I blame her, not when Supervillain’s reputation precedes them.” Reaching into the closet again, they handed him a bulletproof vest. “Put this on and take what you want. But, if you betray us now, I won’t hesitate to shoot you and cut our losses.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Baron said. He slipped the vest on and eyed the contents of the closet. “Do you know what would make this easier? Not having this power suppressing cuff on me.”

Superhero opened their mouth to respond, but the shattering of glass made them both flinch. Baron grabbed them and yanked them inside the closet. A bright flash burst behind their closed eyes. A high-pitched ringing burst in their ears from the loud bang that had accompanied the flash.

“Seems like Supervillain brought the calvary with them,” Baron huffed. “So the cuff?”

Superhero glared at them, fishing a key out of their pocket and offering it to them. Baron took it with a grim smile. Superhero didn’t say a word as they shouldered their rifle and maneuvered around the closet door, sweeping the room from behind the barrel of their gun.

Baron crouched, unlocking the cuff and letting it fall to the floor. They sent out a ripple of their power, mapping out the house and their immediate surroundings thanks to the subtle electrical currents thrumming in the atmosphere.

Supervillain had them surrounded.

Taglist: @feline17ff, @selene-stories, @violetcancerian, @kaiwewi Just let me know if you'd like to be added or removed 😊

Part 12

[gothgirlmahi]

all i ever wanted. chapter 1

Pairing: Dark!Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Your daughter’s Spider-Man fixation catches the eye of your classmate Peter. That’s not the only thing that catches his eye.

Warnings: Implied domestic abuse, stalking, post No Way Home angst

Word Count: 1.5K

Masterlist: Coming Soon

Peter immediately noticed you on the first day of class.

It was a few minutes before the start time when you came through the doors of the lecture hall. Carrying your backpack and a plastic shopping bag. You scanned the surprisingly full room quickly before taking the seat next to him and setting your things down on the floor. You looked a bit harried as you began typing furiously on your phone.

He peeked down at the shopping bag, noticing a few red and blue ribbons peeking out along with part of what looked like a pack of birthday invitations. On the corner of the invitations was an unmistakable figure. A little Spider-Man cartoon.

“Are you a fan of Spider-Man?”

Your head shot up at the question, shocked that anyone was talking to you.

“Huh?”

“Sorry, it’s just, I noticed you have some Spider-Man stuff in your bag. I was wondering if you were a fan?”

You gave him a dazzling smile with a little shrug.

“Oh. It’s for my daughter. She’s a big Spider-Man fan and I’ve been planning her birthday party. Had to get tons of Spider-Man themed stuff. This,” you pointed to the bag and Peter couldn’t help but notice the set of rings on your finger, “is just the tip of the iceberg.”

“No kidding. That’s really cool. You’re a good mom.”

You shrugged.

“Thanks. I try to be. She’s a good kid, she deserves it. So if she wants a Spider-Man party in Central Park, that’s what she’s gonna get. I only have until Saturday to finish getting this all together so I’ve been running around a lot.”

It was an innocuous first meeting. You both introduced yourselves. Peter found out you had a husband and a daughter, though you seemed reluctant to mention much of anything about your husband.

Peter had the same class with you again later that week. It was barely ten in the morning and you walked in looking worse for wear. Deep bags under your eyes and a sullen expression. You sat next to Peter and gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Hey, Peter,” you greeted him. Even your voice sounded tired.

“Hey. You feeling okay?”

“I’ve been better. Didn’t sleep too well. What? Am I ugly?” You asked the last part jokingly. Peter shook his head.

“Never. Sorry to hear you didn’t sleep well. I have something for you.”

“Ooh,” you said in a dramatic tone, “illicit dealings in the back of the lecture hall. My favorite.”

“You’re a goofball,” Peter said. You giggled at that. He reached into his bag and handed you a Spider-Man plushie. You almost squealed in excitement.

“Peter!”

“It’s for your daughter. I was hoping she’d like it.”

“You are the sweetest.” You took the plush and squeezed at it happily. “Samantha is going to love this!”

In that moment, Peter noted a few things. He mentally noted that your daughter’s name was Samantha, he noted the bruise around your wrist, and he noted how your entire demeanor changed to a positive one in a matter of seconds once you started speaking to him.

“Did you hurt your arm?” Peter asked, as you were putting the plush toy in your bag.

“What?”

“Your wrist.”

You looked down at your wrist like you hadn’t noticed it. You rubbed at it self consciously.

“Oh, I just banged it on something. I’m super clumsy.”

Peter wasn’t buying that bullshit. And the look on your face told him that you knew he wasn��t buying it. But you looked desperate to drop it and Peter didn’t want to push you away with prying.

He would be seeing you tomorrow anyway. He could check on things then.

The next day was Saturday.

Peter would never consider himself to be a stalker. He was just…inordinately invested in your life for reasons he couldn’t quite comprehend. He wanted to be apart of it and he wanted to rescue you, if even you didn’t know you needed saving. It didn’t take him long to find where you were setting up. He wasn’t in his Spider-Man suit yet, he just needed to locate you first.

You were there stringing up decorations and setting tables, looking a bit frustrated as you worked. An older woman was helping you, sparing a glare for a man sitting on a park bench and drinking a beer a bit away from you all.

“He should be over here helping. She’s his daughter, too,” the older woman commented. She said it out of earshot of the man, but loud enough for you to hear. Peter obviously had no problem hearing it with his abilities.

“Mom, Nate is just tired. He’s been working all week,” you whispered back to her. Your mother rolled her eyes as you set up a stack of napkins.

“Tired my ass. Like you haven’t been working all week?”

“Can we please not do this right now? People are going to be here in half an hour.“

Half an hour. Peter could work with that.

Peter began the walk back to his apartment and gears were turning in his head.

The asshole on the bench was likely your husband. Sitting back and relaxing while you and your mom did all of the work. The same husband who probably put that bruise on you.

The thought had him shaking with rage.

He slipped into his building, roughly pulling closed the janky front door. He went to his room and pulled his suit out, giving it a once over. His sewing skills weren’t so bad. After everything that happened, he was well and truly on his own. He didn’t like thinking about it much. It hurt to consider everything he had lost in such a short period of time.

But he hadn’t done so bad for himself. Two years at community college before transferring to NYU. Working as a photographer just to pay the bills. He’d hopefully get something much better after graduation, which was really just around the corner. A few months and he’d have that degree.

And with any luck, he’d have you as well.

With a look to his watch, he noticed it was quite a bit past the thirty minute mark. That was probably good as it would give you time to be done setting up and give time for people to arrive. He hadn’t seen you daughter there when he saw you, and hopefully she would be there now.

Peter put the suit on and was quickly out the window. Swinging his way back to the park. When he was noticed, onlookers yelled up at him in awe, others in horror. The public’s views on Spider-Man were a little split.

Once you were in sight, he couldn’t help but smile. There was a little girl in your arms and you were smiling as the two of you looked over a table of gifts. Your mother spotted him first. A look of shock spread over her face before she was frantically tapping your shoulder. Just as you turned around, Peter landed about five feet in front of you.

Your daughter screamed at the top of her lungs and the other children at the party lost it. Your face was fixed into an expression of shock, jaw nearly on the floor. Your daughter wiggled out of your arms and ran to Peter.

“Spider-Man!” The little girl nearly tackled him, launching herself at his legs and holding on tight. From what Peter could see, she probably wasn’t any older than four or five.

“Samantha!” You yelled, ready to pull her off of him but Peter picked her up and turned to you.

“I saw the decorations and thought I’d swing by.” Peter made some effort to disguise his voice, but he was giddy with anticipation. A smile came over your face.

“Oh my god, this is—“

“This is insane. Stay still for a picture, Sam.” Peter looked up to see your husband behind you, pulling out his phone to take a picture.

Spider-Man posed for pictures and talked to your daughter. She was thrilled and happily showed off the Spider-Man decor of her party. He stayed just long enough to sing Happy Birthday. All in all, it went well.

The next week, you walked into class with a content smile on your face. When you sat yourself next to Peter, you were excited to tell him about your weekend.

“—He just swung in. It was so fucking cool. Sam was so excited. It’s all she’s been talking about. I mean, what are the odds, right? I’m sure there’s plenty of kids with Spider-Man parties and he just happened to be around for hers. I can’t imagine the day going any better than it did.”

Peter was happy to see a smile on your face. He was hoping he could provide more of that for you in the future.

The professor began speaking, grabbing everyone’s attention.

“In anticipation for the midterm group assignment, I’ll need you all to pair up in teams of two.”

You looked at Peter with a smile on your face.

“Wanna be my partner?” you whispered. Peter nodded.

“It’s a date.”

[xxreader-writerxx]

Seven Minutes In Heaven

Word Count: 1.8k

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

Warnings: Somewhat brief smut in the beginning, cursing, use of condom, underage drinking,

A/N: My mind won’t let go of this idea. And I made some inaccurate things. Come at me. But don’t really I’m an adorable, fragile, cute hufflepuff.

Y/N= Your Name L/N= Your Last Name Y/H= Your House, Y/N/N: Your Nickname

I walk into Fred’s dorm as he guides me not separating our heavy kiss. He tries closing the door and lock it but keeps missing the lock chuckling against my lips. He places his forehead against mine. “Damn door...” He mumbles laughing lightly and I bite my lip to hold in my laughter. “You can lock it Freddie.” I tell him and he gives me a quick peck before turning and locking the door. The party muffled by the wooden barrier between us and the raging celebration for Gryffindor winning the latest game. He turns back smiling and resumes our kiss. We walk to the bed, falling on it when my legs hit the edge. He laughs against my lips and I start to pull off his shirt.

“Are you sure darling?” He asks after pulling it off. I nod shyly and he smiles climbing on top of me leaving love bites all over my neck and I stop him quickly. “Do you have a condom?” I ask and he reaches into his pocket. He pops up searching hgis person. “Shit. I don’t. Don’t worry I will get it j-just stay here.” He tells me kissing me longingly before shoving his shirt over his head. “Ok.” I mumble as he sighs quietly. I pull him in for one more kiss as he finally pulls away to run out the door.

***Fred’s POV***

I race through the party looking for the one person I know always has a condom at a party. The man with an actual girlfriend instead of pining after one gorgeous girl non-stop. Well I guess I’m not anymore based on Y/n asking if there could be strings attached, if this could mean we could be together, and I stupidly answered with ‘Consider me pinocchio.’ which she cutely answered with ‘So you want to end up with no strings?’ Which made me fall harder than I already did.

I run over to where George is snogging with Angelina and grab his wallet. He slams his hand on the wallet turning to me. “The fick you think you’re doing mate?” He asks and I tug at the wallet. “I need a condom.” I say and he scoffs. “The bloody hell you need it for? Who would fuck you?” He chuckles and I smack the back of his head. “A hot girl who is laying in my bed right now.” I say finally stealing the wallet, digging through. He gets up trying to take it. I grab the stack and look at him squirting. “Why the hell do you have so many who’s fucking you this much?” I ask and he tries grabbing it. “Babe I have like ten in my drawer in my dorm. Give him at least one.” Angelina says and I point at her. “It’s the dignity of it.” He says.

After minutes of fighting I finally get annoyed. “Fine. Rock paper scissors for it. I win, I get it. I lose, I don’t.” I tell him and he nods. We play and he wins cheering for himself. “Fine shit head.” I say and grab my pocket knife cutting the packages. “Fuck you.” I say running off. I find Lee and he looks at me confused. “Have you seen Y/n? I can’t find her.” He asks and I shrug. “Dunno but do you have a condom?” I ask and he nods, digging through his wallet. “Here.” He says and hands me the one my size. I look at him with an eyebrow raised. “What? I’m the dad of the group. I gotta know these things.” He says and I just shake my head running off.

***Your POV***

I waited playing with my skirt for Fred to come back fearing he was just doing a cruel prank on me. I hear the door burst open and Fred breathing heavily. “Thank Godric.” He breathes out walking over quickly to kiss me. “Why did I hear George banging on the door?” I ask when we separate. “I cut his greedy condoms in half” He mumbles and I laugh as he kisses me hungrily soon melting into the kiss. He tears off his shirt and before pulling mine off looks up at me and I nod at the silent question for consent. He pulls it off and moves from my neck to my chest leaving small purple spots on my breasts.

“God I’ve been wanting to do this forever...” He mumbles and I nod in agreement, running my fingers through his ginger hair.

I’m soon underneath him moaning his name as he thrusts harder and harder into me, kissing my chest messily. “Faster Freddie….” I moan out and he complies, going harder and faster at a bruising pace. He pulls my leg over his shoulder adding a better angle making us both moan louder than before. “Go on darling tell me how good I’m making you feel.” He says slowing a little to kiss my thigh before going faster.

A few more minutes later and we both moan out in our fast brough orgasms. Fred pulls out and soon plops down next to me smiling with sweat beading over his eyebrows. “Godric we should’ve done that long ago.” He breathes out smiling goofily. I just nod just trying to catch my breath. He rubs my thighs lightly, kissing my hips. “Are you alright?” He asks and my smile widens as I nod happily.

***

I wake exhausted and mixed in Fred’s legs. The night was filled with amazing sex and more amazing aftercare from Fred. Now the amazing ginger locked boy is fast asleep. I smile at his calm face that is hidden behind his hair and highlighted by the sun peaking through his window. I kiss his forehead as he hums lightly in his sleep.

I start moving to get up but he tries grabbing me pulling me in. “Stay...” He mumbles and I laugh. “I’m getting food...” I sing into his ear and he ignores me nuzzling into my chest. “Don’t...” He mutters into my chest and I chuckle. “I’ll kiss you if you let me get food.” I offer and he puckers his lips and I place a peck on his lips. I shuffle out of his grasp as he whines lightly. “Baby....” He cries and I laugh. “I’ll be back. Keep being cute.” I tell him and he gives a lazy salute before hugging his pillow.

Me and Fred have been dating since the fateful party three weeks ago. We decided not to tell the group for the pure chaos of it. Agreeing we will tell them at least at two months if they haven’t cracked the case. I get to the great hall grabbing a plastic to-go tupperware from the edge of the table and walk over to the group. I dig through the food, placing a breakfast for me and Fred in the tupperwares. When I finish I kiss the boys heads goodbye and the girl’s cheeks getting a playful smack on the arse from Katie.

I get back to Fred’s dorm to see him still entangled in his sheets. I strip from my shorts and jumper quickly then sit on the bed, rubbing his legs lightly. “Hi baby...” I hum and he looks at me grumpily. “Why did you take so long...” He whines and I hold up the food. “I got you pancakes” I tell him and he sits up smiling. “I love you...” He mutters and I kiss his forehead nodding.

We eat together joking around until we finish and Fred gets bored tackling me into a cuddle. “Love me!” He exclaims while tackling me evilly. He kisses my neck lightly making me giggle

***

Me and Fred enter the common room joking around about a strange debate when George calls us over. “Before we go over. I wanted to ask. Is Saturday still good for Hog’s Head?” He asks and I nod smiling. We plop down in the circle they made. “What are we playing?” Fred asks and George smiles. “Truth or Dare.” He tells him and we nod compliantly.

We moved into George’s dorm after an hour of playing.“Katie truth or dare?” George asks and she picks dare. “I dare you… To take off an article of clothing every time someone picks a dare.” He says earning a slap on the head from me and Angelina.

A few more minutes later and I get picked. “Ummm Dare.” I say and Katie smiles. “Sit on George’s lap.” She says plainly and we all but Fred laughs. “Katie… I thought we both knew I liked Fred.” I whisper in her ear and she smiles. “Yeah, make him jealous...” She whispers and I chuckle, shaking my head. I try to move but feel Fred’s grip on my wrist behind our backs where he was holding my hand. “Don’t” He whispers in my ear and I find my way out of his firm but not tight grip. I move over and George laughs, shaking his head. “Godric, this is weird. You’re like my sister Y/N/N” George laughs and I nod agreeing.

An hour later we’re all giggly but I feel Fred’s stare on me the whole time. “Ok dare.” I say and Katie groans, tearing off her skirt. “You all suck.” She mumbles and I laugh. “Ok… I dare you to spin this bottle whoever it lands on you have to spend seven minutes in heaven with whoever it lands on.” Angelina tells me and I nod, grabbing the bottle in her hand. I spin it and it slowly lands on Katie but suddenly gets bumped to Fred by a flick of Katie’s hidden wand. I look at her and she giggles lightly.

Before I say anything I get dragged to George’s walk in closet and shoved into the door as he hungrily roams my mouth with his tongue that he shoved past my lips quickly. “D-darling…” I mumble as he goes to my neck and he ignores me while leaving dark purple hickeys along my neck. “You are mine, got that?” He finally says when needing to breathe. I nod quickly as he rams his lips back against mine. I feel his hips grind against mine as he tries to relieve some of the tension.

Finally we hear a knock on the door signaling the seven minute mark. We go out and before I can sit on the floor I feel pulled onto Fred’s lap and his hand firmly on my thigh. “Ooh… Got a girlfriend Freddie?” Katie asks and he squeezes my thigh. “Yep. I think she’s my girlfriend based on her going on multiple dates with me for the past month.” He blurts out and I blush furiously, digging my face in his neck. “OH MY GOD YOU BITCH!” Katie yells laughing. “Freddie...” I mumble into his neck and he pulls my chin looking at me smugly. “Are you denying it princess?” He asks and I shake my head shyly. “Thought so.” He says, victorious. He gives me a small peck on the cheek and stands up balancing me on his hips. “I think we’re done playing. I have something to take care of.” He says as George starts ranting about the party where he cut his condoms angrily.

[valdomarx]

time enough for counting (when the dealing's done)

McShep + Vegas fix-it, requested by @beautifulmonster. 2k, rated M.

Bad beat

John had always known it would end like this. 

Well, the space aliens and the shady government organization had been a surprise. But the bleeding out, alone in the desert - yeah, that was always how he was going to go.

There’s a kind of dark satisfaction in seeing the world turn out exactly as shitty and brutal as you knew it would be. Called it.

His moment of sick vindication is interrupted, though, by a figure standing over him and peering down with cursory interest.

Sharp black suit, spotless even in the heat and the muck. Hands in pockets, head quirked in something that might be amusement. “Should have known you’d pull a stunt like this,” it says, and John would smirk at playing to type but the blood loss pulls him under.

Ante up

He wakes to pain. Vicious, lancing pain and the cloying smell of antiseptic and the beeping of monitors. He tries to sit up and his chest screams until he collapses back onto the bed.

Next to him, a slightly rumpled McKay is tapping furiously at a laptop. “Don’t go dying on me now, Sheppard,” he says without looking up. “I’ve got plans for you.”

Buy-in

The next time he wakes, the light has faded. It must be evening. 

The hospital room - his own private room, he realizes - is nice. Far too nice for the local joint. Must be private. Must have cost someone a pretty penny. He would have told whoever it is to save their cash.

“You’re awake. Good.” McKay strides in, less rumpled now. Neat black suit back in perfect order. “I don’t have much time, so listen up.”

He tells John how they destroyed the Wraith target before he could get a message to his buddies in Pegasus. How this universe is safe, but the spacetime rift has sent that information echoing through other universes. How they’re putting together a team to visit these other universes; warn them, offer to help if they can.

How he’ll be leaving in a few hours to head up the program. How he thinks John might be able to help.

John blinks. His eyelids are sticky and his mouth is full of fluff.

“Why the hell would you bring this to me?”

McKay flashes him an enigmatic smile. “You did save the world. Maybe you’re more of a hero than you realize.”

On the flop

He gets unceremoniously booted out of the hospital a few days later, when it becomes obvious that he’s not going to die and whoever was bankrolling his stay isn’t any more.

His car is totaled. The money inside is gone. He’s got the clothes on his back, a mountain of debt, no job, and -

He sticks a hand into the pocket of his jacket. There’s something in there: a neat rectangle of card which reads, Doctor Rodney McKay, PhD PhD. Don’t call me, I’ll call you. There’s no phone number.

He heads for the nearest motel he can find, picks up two bottles of rotgut whiskey, and drinks until he manages to pass out amid the sounds of yelling and the scuttering of cockroaches. 

Into the muck

Whatever the fuck else might be going on in the world, there is always the constant: 52 cards, 4 suits, the flick of the dealer’s wrist as he lays out your fortunes, the wins and the loses and the ones where you came oh so close.

He’s back at Mikey’s within a week, borrowing more to get out ahead of this debt, even though he knows that’s never going to work.

Maybe it’ll be different this time. Maybe he can win what he needs, pay off the people he has to, and use the rest to make a start somewhere other than here. Anywhere other than this desert full of chips and blood and corpses and filth.

It’s going to be a good night, he tells himself as he settles into a squeaky plastic chair at a low-roller table and looks around at his competition. Tourists and chumps, and he can take these guys no problem.

Pot-committed

He’s woken by a shrill ringing. His head feels like he’s stuck it in a cement mixer and his mouth tastes like cheap whiskey and puke. He rolls over, covers his ears with a ratty pillow, and ignores it.

The ringing continues. What the fuck? It’s a phone. It keeps ringing. He doesn’t own a phone.

Whoever the fuck is calling is still going, so with a groan he sits up and, bleary-eyed, looks for the phone. He finds it in his jacket pocket, and he’s almost certain it wasn’t there last night.

“Yeah?” he says as he answers it. “What do you want?”

“Sheppard,” a crisp, familiar voice says. “I’ve got a job for you.”

Sheppard closes his eyes. The last thing he needs right now is a world-ending crisis. “Can’t,” he says shortly. “I’ve got… business to attend to.”

McKay snorts. “Another fortune to lose at the poker table? I’m sure you do.” John can hear judgement radiating down the phone line. Then McKay sighs and softens. “Tell you what, meet me and hear me out, and I’ll see what I can do about clearing that off-the-books debt for you.”

That pings John’s bullshit meter, for sure, because that much money doesn’t get casually tossed around even in defense circles. But McKay gives him the address of a pancake place to meet for breakfast and what the hell, he does like pancakes.

Check in the dark

“We keep running into you,” McKay says, shoveling maple syrup-covered pancakes into his mouth with great enthusiasm. “Or, well, other versions of you. Practically every universe we’ve visited so far, you’re leading the team.”

John raises an eyebrow. Not much surprises him any more, but parallel realities strain even his credulity.

“It would be easier,” McKay continues, “if you were with us. You could help us explain. People trust you.”

John jerks back like McKay has slipped a knife between his ribs. McKay doesn’t seem to notice, or perhaps he does notice and is tactful or manipulative enough not to acknowledge it.

“Come work with me. We’d need to get you some -” he gestures with a fork, “- training, obviously. But you could be useful. You could do some good.”

John shifts in his seat. “I can’t just leave.”

McKay scowls at him. “Right, because you’ve got so many compelling reasons to stay.”

Gutshot

He ends up in some anonymous Air Force bunker in Colorado, of all places, and being around so much military life has his hackles rising. He’s deposited in a blank, windowless room with a desk covered in stacks of carefully redacted mission reports from the Stargate program which he reads voraciously because this is wild, this is unbelievable, but it’s also all true.

McKay finds him a few days later, lounging in the doorway as impeccable as ever. John is suddenly very aware of the fact he’s been sleeping in his clothes.

“Keeping busy?” McKay asks, voice dripping with condescension and something else John doesn’t want to put his finger on.

John nibbles the pen he’s holding as he considers how to answer that, and he notices the way McKay’s eyes flick to his mouth. Ahh. Interesting.

“Staying out of trouble, at least,” he drawls, letting his posture slacken so he’s lounging against the back of the chair and his knees are spread wide. It’s been a while but he knows how to play this game. 

McKay walks around to his side of the desk, each step measured and precise. Not too fast, no sudden movements, a predator lining up for the kill. John tilts his head back and bares his neck, because he knows how to play the role of prey. McKay perches on the edge of the desk between his legs, looks down his nose, and says, “Somehow I doubt that.”

“I can behave.” He looks up from under his lashes. It’s not exactly subtle, but fuck it, they’re way past that by now. “When properly motivated.”

McKay leans in, all sharp smiles and gleaming edges, and John shudders. McKay notices and the sharp edges of his smile glistens. 

“I know you can, Sheppard,” McKay says in a low voice that has the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. “I told you before. I know everything about you.”

Damn the man, John thinks, and then McKay winds his fingers into John's hair and yanks him in for a hot, messy kiss and John stops thinking altogether. 

Afterwards, as he makes vain attempts to pull up his shirt collar to hide the bite marks and to wipe the come stains off the classified military files, John reflects that he may truly be in over his head this time.

Under the gun

A stack of paperwork drops onto his desk with a dull thud. He looks up to find the scowling face of Major Davis.

“Consultant,” Davis says, chilly as ice. “That’s what the Pentagon is willing to offer. You’ll get a salary and accommodation, and in return you’ll help Doctor McKay with his research while he’s on Earth.”

John opens his mouth, though whether it’s to say thank you, to tell Davis to go fuck himself, or to ask for more money, he isn’t sure. Davis holds up a hand to stop him before he can find out.

“I advised against it, given your record. But McKay is a real pain in the ass when he wants to be. So this is what’s on the table. Take it or leave it.”

Tell

McKay’s brow is furrowed and he’s fiddling with some piece of machinery (probably alien, John thinks, and it seems that sort of thing is part of his life now). It blinks to life for a moment before the lights on the top fade away, and McKay swears and bangs it on the table.

“Hey, easy, Chewie,” John chides.

McKay’s eyes narrow. “I thought you said you didn’t like science fiction.”

“Star Wars isn’t science fiction. It’s science fantasy.”

McKay actually smiles at that, something joyous leaping up in the corners of his mouth.

“Knew you were a nerd,” McKay says under his breath, and John punches him playfully in the shoulder. He’s defending his honor, or something.

McKay ducks his head, and a blush creeps up the back of his neck.

Ace high

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” McKay looks even smugger than usual. 

“Yeah?” John slips a leer into the syllable.

But McKay just rolls his eyes. “Not like that. Come on, there’s something I want you to see.”

He leads him down through the base to a lower level, through endless security checks and into a dark hanger. There’s some technology they’ve acquired from an off-world source, he explains, deliberately vague. He’s trying to make some modifications to it, and he thinks John can help with testing.

John has learned to expect the unexpected in this place, but when the lights of the hanger flicker on his breath still catches. It illuminates a ship unlike anything he’s seen before: slick and cylindrical, rear hatch open to show seats and consoles inside.

“It’s fitted with inertial dampers, weapons, a shield,” McKay says breezily. “Oh, and you’ll like this.” He flicks a button on a control and the ship disappears in a haze like hot air. “It’s got a cloak too.”

It’s like something out of a movie, and John is struck speechless. He follows wide-eyed as McKay decloaks the ship to lead them inside and gestures for him to sit.

And woah, the moment he sits the chair glows and a holographic interface springs up in front of him, and he can feel the ship in his mind. He reaches out with a thought and - ping - the display shows a schematic of the hanger.

“Knew you’d be a natural,” McKay says, managing to sound both condescending and delighted. “Want to take her for a spin?”

Yes, everything in him screams, but he thinks about flames and smoke and the shrill, piercing whine of a tail rotor failing, and he grits his teeth against it and says, “I don’t fly any more,” instead.

McKay gives him a long, cool look. 

“We’ll start small,” McKay says, all business, and it’s so easy to relax and follow his lead. “I need you to activate the inertial dampeners while I adjust the shield field strength.”

Okay. Okay. He can do that.

The ship whirs to life.

Short stack

John stares at the blank white walls of his apartment.

It’s better than most places he’s lived in. No roaches, for a start, and it’s clean and has its own kitchen.

But it’s infuriatingly bland, and Colorado is infuriatingly empty, and there’s not so much as a slot machine within an hour’s drive and he is climbing the walls here.

McKay has disappeared on one of those weeks-long missions he can’t or won’t tell John about, and there’s a restless itching under his skin that’s urging him to drink or gamble or fuck or something, and this whole planet seems too small and too constrictive but he doesn’t want to climb under a blanket of booze and drain it all away.

He wants more.

On the river

“Modifications are done,” McKay announces. “Shall we test her out?”

The we makes something squirm in John’s gut but he dismisses it with a lazy, “It’s your alien spaceship.”

McKay looks for a moment like he’s going to say something, but then he pulls out a radio and talks into that instead. “This is Gate Ship One, ready for initial shield test burst.”

“Gate Ship One?” John scoffs. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

“It’s a ship that goes through the gate,” McKay pouts, and damn, that’s kind of cute. “Why, what would your suggestion be?”

John tilts his head. He’s seen footage of the ship traveling through the stargate, leaping through the event horizon and leaving barely a ripple in its wake. “Seems more like a puddle jumper to me.”

“You have the soul of a poet,” McKay says acerbically. 

And damn if that’s not kind of cute too.

Dealer’s choice

“Come with me,” McKay says, and John is ready to say yes before he’s even finished speaking. “To Pegasus. To Atlantis. I need to get back there, and I’m sure we can find a way to make you useful.” A little smirk at the end there.

“I don’t know how the Pentagon is going to feel about that,” John says, deliberately languid to hide the way his heart is pounding in his chest. Escape, adventure, somewhere new, somewhere he could be a new person, and he wants it so much it aches.

“Eh, fuck them. They can’t say no to me.”

“Okay,” he shrugs. “Not like I’ve got anything better to do here.”

McKay gives him a look that shoots straight through his defenses and down to his sticky innards. “Yeah, okay,” he says, and it’s soft in a way that makes the ache in John’s chest twist into a deep burn.

All in

The jumper hovers in the air in front of the stargate. 

“Nervous?” McKay asks, carefully casual, like he doesn’t already know the answer.

John hums. The inside of the jumper feels as much like home as any place he knows. What’s another galaxy to a man with no ties?

“You’re going to love it there,” McKay says with a smile he can’t hide. He dials up the gate and it engages with a tremendous whoosh and a burst of brilliant blue light.

Here goes nothing, he thinks as McKay deploys the drive pods and fires up the engines. One last new start. 

[paulbunyanstatue]

“You are being ridiculous. Just give it up.”

“I will not,” Damian growled fiercely, glowering up at Jason with a look that could rival that of a madman. He was still clad in his Robin suit save only the cape, which he detached and dropped to the cave entrance as soon as he stepped out of the Batmobile. Despite a disappointed tisk from Bruce, the black cape remained in a crumpled heap by the passenger door, where it would stay for the few remaining hours of the night. Patrol with his father was boring that particular evening, giving Damian ample energy to waste arguing with Jason now in the cave.

“You are not stronger than me.” It was obvious Jason was trying not to laugh at the absurdity, which only infuriated Damian further.

“I am.” Damian snarled. “My training greatly surpasses yours. No offense, Father,” he added softly and Bruce rolled his eyes from his chair at the computer to the side. He still wore his suit, but his cowl was pushed back to reveal tired eyes scanning the files on the screen before him. “I was trained by my mother, my grandfather, and now my father, in case you have managed to forget. Therefore, I am far superior than you in every aspect. Including physical strength.”

“Funny you should mention your mom, kid-"

“Jason!” Bruce snapped and turned in his chair to glare warning daggers at his second child.

“I was just going to say, I was also trained by his mother,” Jason hissed back, but he couldn’t hide his obvious amusement. “And you, for that matter.”

“Your time with the League was more considered babysitting, Todd, since your brain was equivalent to a scrambled egg.”

“Damian,” Bruce sighed, rubbing at his temples with his pointed fingers and turning back to the computer screen.

“You’re insane,” Jason chuckled passively, and he thought Damian was going to screech like a pterodactyl at the dismissal.

Tim entered the cave from the main staircase digging the palm of his hand into his eyelid and chewing loudly on the tip of an empty plastic Go-Gurt tube. Bruce looked him up and down, taking in his pajama shirt and boxers with a frown. His hair stuck up in several directions, like his head had met a pillow for a short time before he got up again.

“What are you doing down here, ziskayt? Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Bruce asked, voice low with a specific kindness he reserved just for his family.

Tim should have been in bed. He and Bruce made an agreement that Tim would stay in bed tonight and sleep before they worked intently together on a fast-approaching case the following day and evening.

Tim perked up with sudden intensity and approached Bruce with fast footfalls while ripping the yogurt tube from his teeth. His cheeks were only slightly pinkened at the endearment Bruce called him, as it was one his grandmother used when he was very young. “Well, hang on a sec, B. I actually had to come down here and inform you of a break through I found in our case. Check this...” he unfolded the stapled packet of papers previously tucked securely under one arm, and he smoothed it out over the table in front of Bruce. The man listened silently while Tim quickly explained his findings, leaning over the table and occasionally pushing the bangs back from his heavy eyes. Tim’s hair was longer now than it had been when he first became Robin at thirteen, to the point that he sometimes pulled it up into a runt of a ponytail just to keep it from cutting irritatingly into his eyes.

“Very impressive,” Bruce murmured after the presentation, picking up the packet for himself and flipping through the discoveries. Tim beamed and hopped up onto the computer desk, sitting down next to the monitor and facing Bruce. He returned the plastic to his mouth and chewed aimlessly, watching Bruce for his next instructions and kicking his legs lightly. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard Jason speak next.

“I bet you can’t even lift Tim,” Jason planted his hands on his hips and smirked, knowing exactly how this challenge was going to end.

Tim wrinkled his nose and furrowed his eyebrows. From his perch on Bruce’s desk, he quickly intervened before this developed further.  “No, no. Absolutely not. I am not getting involved in-“

“Too easy. Drake maintains atrocious self-care habits,” Damian interrupted with an eye roll directed toward Jason, acting as though he didn’t hear Tim at all.

Tim frowned at the blatant insult to his person, and lifted his arms up with irritation. “Hey, wait a sec-"

“He’s far thinner than he should be. That’s way too easy. Pick something harder,” Damian demanded, pointing an aggressive finger at Jason and nearly growling.

Tim scoffed and muttered, chewing furiously on the plastic, “Bruce, your kid is out of control. You should consider muzzling the mashuganas whelp.”

“Timothy Jackson-“ Bruce reprimanded and reached up to yank the Go-gurt tube from Tim’s mouth. The plastic ripped from his lips with a pop and left behind a surprised O-shaped mouth in its wake. Bruce crumbled the garbage and tossed it into the trash can tucked beneath the desk.

“He started it, didn’t you hear what he said about me?” Tim asked in bewilderment, still spinning after receiving the dreaded middle name.

“I did hear him. And shouldn’t you be in bed now?” Bruce repeated his earlier question with an eyebrow ticked in curiosity.

Tim wrinkled his nose. “I will. But I was hungry and also I had to tell you about this case first, and-" Bruce leveled a warning look at him and Tim rolled his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest. “Point stands, he is being a mashuganas whelp.”

“Drake, you should learn to keep your opinions to yourself and save us all the wasted time of listening to you speak,” Damian snapped in defense, fists clutches firmly at his sides.

Tim laughed loud and harsh at that, a sound that felt grating in Bruce’s ears with the onset of a headache. “I should keep my opinions to myself? Have you even heard-“

“Boys, that’s enough,” Bruce demanded, voice low and holding up a hand to cease all arguing. The only sounds resonating in the dimly lit cave were the quiet snickers of Jason, muffled by his own hand pressed firmly to his mouth. “I am going upstairs now.” He faced Damian with a serious eyebrow raised and stated factually. “You have school in the morning. And you,” he faced Tim, who was silently chewing on the inside of his cheek in the absence of his Go-gurt tube, “will be staying home from school tomorrow because you obviously have several hours of sleep to catch up on yourself." When Bruce found out that Tim had dropped out of school during his unfortunate leave of absence, it took him nearly an entire month of near-begging and vague threatening to get Tim to go back. Once Alfred got involved and asked Tim in the kindest, softest voice if he would please consider finishing high school, Tim was unable to refuse. "I expect to hear both of you upstairs and walking into your rooms within the next fifteen minutes.” He stood up from his chair and walked toward the cave entrance with long strides. “You do not want me to come back down here and collect you, trust me.” And without another word or a look back at the stunned faces left in his wake, he strode into the locker room to change, and then reappeared just to walk up the stairs.

But Jason wasn’t quite finished yet. “I can pick up Tim, Damian. Prove to me that you can and I’ll admit that your training was ‘far superior.’” He crossed his arms with a smirk, and Damian could no longer deny the thrilling desire to annihilate his brother in this argument.

“And that I am stronger than you,” Damian demanded and Jason agreed. “Fine then!” He threw his arms up and spun toward Tim, who scowled deeply and shook his head in response. “Oh come on, Drake. This will only take a minute. Might as well make your time down in the cave useful, for once.”

Tim scoffed and slid off the counter. He flipped his middle finger up in an insult directed toward Damian and stalked off toward the cave exit, following Bruce’s path to the main part of the house. Before he reached the stairs, Jason appeared next to him, grinning hugely like a villainous cartoon cat and wrapping a halting hand around Tim’s wrist.

“No, Jay. Stop it!” Tim hissed and tried to pull away, but Jason ducked down and scooped him up, holding him tightly in a bridal hold. “He can’t carry me, this is a waste of time.”

“Lies!” Damian protested.

Jason ignored Tim and approached the youngest. “You have to hold him for thirty whole seconds. Count starts as soon as I let go. Ready?”

Damian straightened and raised his chin, nodding with confirmation and reaching his arms out in preparation.

“Jason.” The last-second plea fell on deaf ears as Jason bent forward and delivered him into Damian’s arms. The transfer was shaky and Tim grasped at the collar of Damian’s robin suit, wishing to drag the brat down to the floor with him when he would inevitably end up there.

Jason stepped back and waited, smirking.

Tim realized with an eye roll just how annoyingly close to the ground he was in the arms of the child, but his grip didn’t loosen based on principle. Damian was huffing quietly, redness tinted his cheeks.

“See, Todd?” He hissed through teeth clenched tight with effort. “Easy.”

“Sure, bud,” Jason snickered. “You make this look so easy. Twenty seconds left.”

“This is a bad idea,” Tim muttered as he felt Damian’s legs shake beneath his carrier.

“Fifteen,” Jason announced, watching with raised eyebrows that Damian misread as surprise, when instead he was waiting for the expected result. “Ten.”

Tim grimaced, bracing himself for a hard landing. At Jason’s announcement of five seconds, and right on his expected schedule, Damian’s legs buckled and he fell forward, dropping Tim to the ground and landing with his sharp knees digging ruthlessly into his brother’s side.

Tim huffed and slapped his palms to the cold ground beneath him. “Shocker,” he murmured sarcastically and stood up, pushing Damian off of him in the process.

“That landing was pathetic, Drake. No wonder Grayson chose me,” the kid growled, wiping at the suit covering his knees.

Tim’s mouth fell open in response, a hurt crease created between his furrowed brows. But before he could respond, Jason reached out and lightly smacked the back of Damian’s head, sending him a furious warning look.

“The brat is only joking, Tim,” Jason confirmed quickly. “He’s just lashing out because he’s angry that he is the weakest person in the room.”

“The room? Absolutely not, I demand a do-over! I know I’m stronger than Drake.”

Half an hour after Bruce’s departure from the cave, he groaned dramatically under his covers. He never heard his children walk past his door and retreat to their own bedrooms. So now, due to his thin-veiled threat, he had to go get them. He threw the covers aside and heaved himself from the mattress with a grumble. Upon walking down the cold steps to the cave, he heard loud shouts that he was unable to decipher. His feet quickened on the tile until he reached the bottom, where he froze and watched with an irritated, and slightly amused, frown.

“Damian, lift more!” Tim shouted, his arms tucked under Jason’s armpits, and straining to lift his top half to Tim’s bellybutton. Damian held Jason’s calves on his shoulders and was groaning near-constant.

“Focus on your own side!” Damian cried out, more desperate than Bruce has heard from him. Damian pushed his palms up against Jason’s calves but they hardly lifted.

“Ha!” Jason crooned, sounding comically relaxed compared to his struggling brothers. “Told ya you two couldn’t lift me above your heads. My weak, baby brothers.”

Damian growled at the taunt and Tim laughed, his shaking arms dropping Jason’s top half an inch closer toward the ground before he recovered again.

“Boys!” Bruce snapped and looked at their frozen forms with narrowed eyes. “I told you to go to bed. Come up here right now before I carry all three of you up.”

They gracelessly released Jason to the floor, who landed with an “oof” that brought a chuckle to Damian’s throat and a twitch to the corner of Bruce’s mouth.

Tim and Damian fell in line to follow Bruce up the stairs when Damian asked, “Father, can you really carry all three of us at once?”

He did.

:) From my fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32502511/chapters/80612944#workskin

[spacesquidlings]

Happy Father’s Day, Gavin

Gavin had never imagined a world where he would wake up every day to unconditional love and warmth. That he would be wanted and cherished by anyone again. But then he wakes up to his wife and his daughter trying to give him all the love in the entire world.

Pairing: Gavin x MC

Warnings: None

Notes: Thank you to one of my bestest friends @jihyuncompass who lets me ramble about Gavin all day long!!!!! I loves you Anne, thank you for always being the best.

ALSO this fic features my lil fan-kid for Gavin. Her name is Aurora and she is very loved.

ALSO, final note, but I’ve decided to stop using MC in lieu of an actual name just to make the fic flow a lil better

*******************************************************************************

Gavin woke up later than usual. He’d managed to get most of the week off, and he’d grown used to sleeping in, the warm cocoon of the blankets and his wife’s arms lulling him into a deep, heavy sleep. It wasn’t until the sunlight staining the curtains was a deep gold that he would slowly begin to wake, turning onto his side to pull Rowan against his chest and cuddle her for a while until his eyes were no longer crusted with sleep, and her voice lilted through the air, welcoming him into the new day.

But today when he reached for her, his eyes still closed, he was met with nothing.

Gavin frowned, reaching further across the bed, his hands meeting nothing but air and an empty bed.

His eyes snapped open and he winced, the sunlight shining directly into his eyes. The bed was indeed empty other than him, the sheets a rumpled mess, the pillows pushed around haphazardly the way Rowan often shoved them around when she was trying to wiggle against his chest.

He rolled over, wondering if maybe she was just in the bathroom, but the door was open and the light was off.

For a moment his heart sank, a bitter feeling of loneliness seeping into his heart and spreading across his tongue as he laid in the empty bed.

Where was Rowan? Where was his wife?

But then he heard the sound of footsteps heading towards the room, and the soft cadence of Rowan’s voice as she murmured something, so low Gavin couldn’t make it out.

He didn’t know why he did it, but he pulled the blankets back up around him, shutting his eyes as the bedroom door opened, his wife making her way through the sun-warmed room.

“Okay little princess,” she said, her voice low as she slowly sank onto the bed. “You can sleep with us for a bit, okay? But don’t bother daddy too much, it’s a special day for him, and he needs his sleep.”

“Okay mommy,” came the quiet response, and it was then that he realized that Rowan had only gotten up to retrieve Aurora, their toddler.

She’d been sleeping with them nearly every morning since she’d been a newborn, sometimes sandwiched between the two of them, sometimes carefully nestled into the bed next to Rowan when he had to leave early for work.

He felt the mattress shift again, and then a small body was curling up against his chest, little hands grasping at his shirt. The blankets lifted higher, and he felt them being tucked around him and Aurora as the toddler squirmed, giggling even as Rowan hushed her.

“Time for sleep, okay?” She whispered, and Gavin felt a hand against his brow, brushing back his bangs, and his heart warmed as he pictured the expression on his wife’s face, the tenderness in her eyes, the way her mouth curled up, her cheeks stained a rosy pink as she looked at him.

Aurora huffed, but curled closer against him, so much like her mother it made his heart ache.

“Happy daddy day,” she said, her voice already sounding tired, and he couldn’t help smiling, his heart aching from all the love that poured into him like the sunlight spilling into the bedroom.

He fell back asleep with the comforting warmth of his daughter against his chest and the brush of his wife’s lips against his cheek as she whispered how much she loved him.

***

He woke a second time to kisses from his wife, the sound of Rowan’s laughter dancing through the room.

He cracked one sleepy eye open to peer at the scene before him. Of Rowan propped up on her elbow, one hand cupping his cheek while she pressed kisses to his face and his neck. Aurora was still curled against his chest, but she was grinning up at him, her small hands now balled in the sheets.

“Good morning,” Rowan said, running a hand through his hair.

He smiled at them, his two favourite people, and his heart felt full. “Good morning.”

“Do you know what today is?” Rowan asked, her eyes shining, her voice teasing as she spoke.

But before Gavin could respond, Aurora chimed in, waving her hands as she beamed up at him. “It’s daddy day!”

Rowan snorted, leaning down to kiss the top of Aurora’s head. “It’s daddy day, you’re right! And do you know what happens on daddy day?”

Aurora hummed for a minute before jabbing a chubby finger at Gavim. “We celebrate my daddy!”

“And how do you think we should do that?”

“Breakfast!” She squealed, rolling onto her back. “With breakfast!”

Gavin couldn’t stop smiling, his heart warm, his world painted in sunshine and glittering starlight, happiness brighter than any star as he basked in these two people that he adored.

“What do you think, babey?” Rowan asked, turning her bright eyes towards him. “Should we start with breakfast?”

He kissed both of Aurora’s cheeks, and then brushed his lips against Rowan’s, unable to contain his smile.

***

The day was warm, with a soft breeze that carried the sound of windchimes and birdsong. He could smell blooming flowers in the air, could hear the quiet buzz of the bees that bounced through the garden in their backyard. Stella barked at a stray squirrel, her tail wagging as she started running circles through the yard, pausing to sniff the grass or the gate before sprinting aimlessly again.

The windows were wide open, and they’d even decided to open the back door so Stella could come and go as she pleased. Normally Gavin and Rowan would have worried about Aurora wandering outside alone, although she couldn’t have gotten far with the fence and with Stella often trailing behind her as she toddled around. But still it wasn’t always ideal to have their toddler wandering around outside unsupervised.

But today Aurora was wholly focused on helping to make breakfast for Gavin. She helped to cut bananas and strawberries, and she put butter on toast, and she stirred pancake batter while Rowan held onto the bowl, doing her best to catch any spills.

And when she was done all of her cooking and she’d supervised the cooking of the pancakes with a serious expression that Rowan teased was exactly how Gavin looked when he was focused, she waddled over to where Gavin sat with a big plate balanced in her hands.

“For you!” She announced, holding the plate up while Rowan stood behind her, trying to make sure it didn’t fall from Aurora’s tiny hands.

But Gavin hadn’t even taken a bite before Aurora was crawling into his lap and taking his fork from him.

“I’m going to help you daddy,” she said, nearly knocking an entire pancake from his plate in an effort to spear one piece of banana. “It’s daddy day after all.”

He couldn’t help snorting as she pointed the fork at him.

“Eat daddy! You need your breakfast!”

Beside him, Rowan laughed. “Aurora, why don’t you let daddy eat his breakfast. You need to eat yours too.”

She pouted, still waving the fork in the air. “But I wanna help daddy!”

Gavin rested his chin on top of Aurora’s head, peering at Rowan imploringly. “I don’t mind, and it means I get to cuddle with my little princess!”

He pressed kisses to Aurora’s cheeks until she squealed with laughter, her eyes screwing closed as she wiggled in his arms.

Rowan held up her hands. “Alright alright, it’s your day after all.”

Gavin hummed, taking a bite of pancake as Aurora jabbed the fork at him again. “Maybe you’re jealous though? Because you’d like some cuddles too?”

Rowan’s brow arched, but her cheeks turned crimson as he teased her. “That’s an awfully bold claim.”

“Aurora,” Gavin said in a conspiratorial whisper. “I think mommy wants some cuddles from me too.”

Aurora giggled, covering her mouth. “Daddy, you need all the cuddles today!”

He nodded. “You make a good point, and mommy gives good cuddles.”

Aurora nodded furiously. “The best!”

Rowan smiled, poking at her food. “Well maybe after breakfast I would like some cuddles.”

Gavin grinned, wide and bright. “As you wish, sweetheart.”

***

There wasn’t really any better way for Gavin to spend his day, if he was being honest. Aurora refusing to let him go, wanting to hug him as much as she could, Rowan pressing kisses to his cheeks and wrapping her arms around his waist for quick, tight hugs whenever she passed him in the house.

They all went outside to play with Stella, throwing around a little plastic basketball until Aurora fell back in the grass and whined, saying she felt too hot. But they’d barely been inside for a minute before she was clinging to him again, saying she had to give him more hugs.

She even tried dragging his guitar out, saying she wanted to play a song. But after smacking her hands against the strings a few times, Gavin scooped her into his lap, balancing the guitar on his knees.

“Do you want to play a song with me?” He asked, and Aurora wiggled with excitement as he’d tried his best to take her through the chords of simple, beginner songs.

They snacked on cut up peaches and strawberries and watermelon, all fruits Aurora had insisted on choosing at the grocery store a few days ago, and that she’d insisted on helping to cut, shouting at Gavin when he tried to help.

“No daddy! You can’t help today!” She said, waving her hands at him, her fingers stained with strawberry juice.

Rowan nodded, taking Aurora’s hands and gently wiping the fruit juice away. “We’re taking care of you today, babey, remember?”

He’d pouted at that, wanting to help with even the smallest of things. But any brief melancholy he’d felt was quickly washed away as both Rowan and Aurora had curled up with him, and he’d felt himself enveloped in more warmth and love than he’d ever thought he would experience in his life.

They watched movies until late, past Aurora’s bedtime, plastic bowls of ramen from one of Gavin’s favourite shops spread out before them. And when the food was done and the movies were over, night draped across the sky like a glittering veil, they’d all gone out into the backyard, and Gavin had gotten to lay on the cool grass and stare up into the shining universe, at the shining silver light of the stars, with the brightest lights of his life on either side of him.

The day ended far too soon, with Aurora falling asleep in the crook of his arm as they’d made wishes on shooting stars that had streaked past so quickly they’d almost missed them.

Gavin wrapped her in his sweater, cradling her in his arms as he’d carried her back inside, Rowan’s cheek pressed against his arm as she’d peeked down at their sleeping Aurora, cooing softly and reaching out to squeeze one of Aurora’s hands.

“She loves you so much,” Rowan murmured, kissing Aurora’s cheek as they laid her in her bed, tucking the blankets around her.

“I love her,” Gavin breathed, for a moment unable to take his eyes from the little sleeping form as she rolled onto her side, curling into a little ball, the way Rowan did when she fell asleep.

She was perfect, his perfect, beautiful little daughter.

He looked up then, into Rowan’s eyes, and the love in his heart grew brighter, shining like the shooting stars in the sky. “And I love you.”

Rowan ducked her head, but he could see the flush on her cheeks, the smile playing at her lips. “I love you so much, babey.”

He took her hand and drew her from the room, closing the door softly behind them, not wanting to disturb Aurora’s sleep. And then he swept Rowan into his arms, holding her tight as she gasped, her arms encircling his neck.

“Gavin!” Her tone sounded reproachful, but she was smiling wider now, and after a moment she nestled her head against his shoulder, her eyes falling shut.

“It’s late,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. “We should go to bed too.”

She hummed her agreement, letting him carry her through the house as he shut all the lights off, before carrying her back to their room.

“You know,” he said, setting her down on the bed before going in search of their pajamas. “I do think you owe me one more gift today.”

Rowan cocked her head to the side, bemusement in her gaze as she watched him. “What do you mean? Did you not like the movies and the food?”

He shook his head. “No, I loved those. But I wanted something else, something you promised me earlier.”

Rowan hummed, her brow arched as she turned to change. “And what’s that?”

“I wanted cuddles from my wife.”

Her eyes were warm when they met his again, her features softened by the moonlight that washed across their room. “I can give you all the cuddles you want.”

He crawled back into bed, back into the cocoon he’d awoken in, the blankets soft and warm. Rowan crawled in after him, smiling as she held her arms out to him.

He felt so warm he thought he would melt as he snuggled against her, his arms wrapping around her waist as he rested his head against her chest.

“I love you,” she murmured, running her fingers through his hair. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered. “You’re my everything.”

“And you’re mine.”

He was smiling as he fell asleep, warm and loved and safe in her arms. It was a tangle of feelings that he’d once thought he would never feel, and yet here he was now, wrapped in her embrace, her heart beating a steady rhythm against his cheek, lulling him to sleep.

And although, as he fell asleep, he knew that tomorrow would not technically be a special day, that there would be no reason to be excited for it, he found himself looking forward to it all the same.

Because tomorrow meant waking up with warm sunlight staining the curtains as it spilled into the room. It meant waking up to kisses from Rowan, from Aurora trying to burrow into their blankets. It meant another day spent with the most important people in his life, the people that he loved, the ones who loved him unconditionally.

So he smiled as he fell asleep, safe in Rowan’s arms as she played with his hair, already looking forward to tomorrow.

[returnn-of-the-mac]

You know how in-game you can make a bed out of three tin cans and a teddy bear? How would the companions react to that? And how would they react to other settlement-building shenanigans using things like tin cans and coffee cups to make complicated (and large) machinery that, by all logic, should not have worked, but somehow it does.

Please enjoy! 😊

FO4 Companions React: Settlement Building Shenanigans

MacCready:[amazed] How are you doing that!? You’ve gotta teach me!

Danse: I must admit, you are quite innovative, soldier. I would have never thought of using the materials from a toy car to build a machine gun turret. I’m impressed!

Piper: “Local Samaritan Uses 324 Hub Caps to Build a Shelter For the Homeless.” And it wouldn’t even be a sensational headline!

Ada: If you [throws dish rag at Sole] need more [throws coffee mug at Sole] building materials [throws plastic cup at Sole], I am here [throws hairbrush at Sole] to [throws teddy bear at Sole] help! [throws vase at Sole].

Curie: [looking at her pathetic wood-and-nail structure that was supposed to be a chair] [Madam/Monsieur], ‘ow did you make zuch a marvelous ztructure out of just empty milk bottles and toy cars? May I request your assistance? Please, teach me your technique.

Nick: [impressed] You sure are good at thinking outside the box.

Codsworth: [joking] Maybe we should start calling you Mr. Handy!

X6-88: The utilization of these materials was ingenuous, [sir/ma’am].

Cait: How about ye make some brass knuckles next? [handing Sole a paper plate] I found some junk for ye.

Longfellow: [hands empty rum bottle to Sole] You think you can turn this into anything useful?

Deacon: [furiously banging two tin cans together] C’mon! Why won’t it work for me!?

Hancock: Am I trippin, or did you just turn some tin cans and a teddy bear into a full-sized bed?

Strong: Strong use femur for toothpick, not for build things.

Preston: That’s why we chose you, General. We need this kind of ingenuity in the Minutemen.

Gage: Now why couldn’t you have turned that teddy bear into something more destructive, like a teddy bomb or some shit.

[shameless-selfship-indulgence]

This is the last one and it’s also the longest one and also a lot happens I’m having brainrot

It’s long as hell like your dash IS not ready

-----

It was night at the precinct. Not many people were left.

There were others in the building, for sure. Somewhere. Probably. But as far as the front room went, it was just Gavin and the plastic bitch.

The former was still at his computer. He wasn't sure why he was still there, to be honest. At first it had just been the usual dicking around - filing a report or two, playing games, watching videos on YouTube. But there was some sort of tight feeling in his gut that kept him from just doing nothing.

And every time he looked up, the android's little light was steadily spinning yellow, yellow, yellow.

Gavin didn't know what the hell he was waiting around for. Well, he had an idea of what, but he wasn't sure why. It was starting to feel like a weird game of chicken, and he wasn't going to lose to a goddamn toaster.

But what the hell. He might as well make this count for overtime.

So he went through and filed all his reports, even the ones that he'd been putting off for weeks.

The android didn't move a muscle through the entire process.

He went through his work inbox, answering the important emails, deleting the ones that were no longer relevant.

Yellow, yellow, yellow.

Fucking- he went through his PERSONAL email, not that there was much besides junk mail in there anyway.

The android didn't even seem to be pretending to breathe anymore.

Gavin checked the time. He was going to be there all night at this rate.

He sighed, stood up sharply, and started to organize his terminal.

It was approaching midnight when the android finally got up and walked out.

Gavin almost missed it, actually. He was on the floor, sorting the papers from the pile on his desk into "keep" and "recycle." But eventually the sound of footsteps registered in his brain. He looked up to watch the CyberLife issued jacket (RK500 in large, neat letters) disappear into the women's bathroom room.

...okay.

He was getting to the bottom of the pile, where most of the stuff he SHOULD be keeping was so far past relevant that all he could do was recycle anyway. Ah, here was the first copy of some essential form he'd seen three copies of already. Oops. He put that one in "recycle."

And then he heard a bang.

Gavin hesitated, the much-lessened pile of papers still in his hands.

There was another bang.

Gavin put the papers down, got up, and started walking towards the women's  bathroom.

The third bang sounded while he was still getting to his feet. At the fourth, he started walking faster. By the fifth, he was running, sprinting, fear gripping his chest even though he couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was of...

With the sixth bang, Gavin opened the locker room door with his shoulder, shoving into the room.

He saw the seventh.

The android's light was blinking red, a stark contrast to the blue blood streaming down its face from its forehead. There was blue on the wall, too - a paintball spatter of it, with little drops of thirium trailing down towards the floor. Gavin witnessed dumbly as Lucille leaned away from the wall, a horrible deadness in her eyes, and slammed her head into the cold concrete again. BANG.

"Deviants also have a tendency to self-destruct when they’re in stressful situations," he remembered Connor's impassive voice saying.

Cursing loudly, Gavin ran and wrapped his arms around the android, trying to pull her away from the wall. She tore his arms away and lunged forward again. He hooked his arms under her shoulders and cupped one hand over her injured forehead, struggling to tilt her head back.

"Stop it, goddammit!" he said in her ear.

She kept struggling against him.

"Lucille, stop it!" Gavin said again.

The android stilled for a moment, and Gavin's heart leaped. Had it worked? But then her foot came back sharply and kicked him in the shin.

"SHIT!"

When he didn't immediately let go, her heel came down with inhuman force to crush his foot.

Gavin howled and jumped back, hopping on his good foot. Immediately, Lucille stepped forward and smashed her head into the wall again.

Eight, something in Gavin's head counted grimly.

Ignoring the pain in his foot, Gavin tackled Lucille and wrestled her to the ground.

A horrible, grinding, staticky noise came from the android's throat. Some oddly lucid part of Gavin's mind wondered at it in horror for a moment. But, of course, he realized after a moment. The android hadn't been programmed to scream. Why would it need to? This was its best attempt. 

It was one of the worst noises Gavin had ever heard in his fucking life.

Lucille gave up on wrestling Gavin off and struggled to smash her head into the ground instead. Gavin cursed and reached his arms under her shoulders again, interlacing his fingers over her forehead. He braced his elbows against the ground, forcing Lucille's head to remain in the air.

Shit. SHIT. She was still struggling. She was so strong. Gavin had restrained people before, but then he'd had handcuffs and backup and subjects who weren't superhuman and determined to bash their own brains out against any available surface...

This was some sort of stress response, right? He had to calm her down. How the fuck did you calm down a goddamn robot?

Never-fucking-mind that, how did you calm down anybody?

"Uh, it's okay!" he tried.

God fucking dammit. Fuck him sideways with a bug zapper. Even if his voice hadn't cracked in twenty different directions, things were so completely and clearly not fucking okay.

He couldn't fucking do this. The stupid plastic bitch was gonna die right here in his fucking arms because he was too much of an asshole to even figure out what to say. And even if he could, he was so clearly the last person who should be trying to say it.

Gavin leaned his forehead into the back of the android's neck in defeat. He held her tight, trying to feel what was probably her last few moments of activation through the places where they touched. "Lucille, please," he said. "Don't fucking do this to me. Please."

The android's struggling grew weaker. Gavin hardly noticed. He was too busy trying not to cry. Goddammit, when was the last time he'd CRIED? Fucking androids. But...

"God, please just stop," he said. Begged. "Not again. Not like this."

The android was silent, trembling in his arms. Then-

"I can't..."

Gavin lifted his head. What...

Lucille's LED was blinking a frantic red. She was shaking furiously, almost twitching. Her eyes were wide and scared. "I...I can't stop-" she said weakly. "It's too much, it...I can't-"

She lunged forward against his hands again, trying to smash her head into the tiles. Gavin gasped and tensed his arms, pulling her roughly back. "No no no, it's okay, it's okay, it's going to be okay," he said frantically. But it didn't sound quite as fake this time. She was TALKING to him now, he had to be doing SOMETHING right...

"It's not," Lucille moaned. "It's not okay, nothing makes sense..."

"Hey, hey, shh sh sh," said Gavin. "Don't worry, I've got you. Um..." he took a deep breath, looking around for...something?

"Uh, why don't you tell me about it?" he asked. Trying his best to keep his voice low and steady. "Talk me through it. I might be able to help."

Lucille hesitated. "...but you're an idiot," she protested, voice thick.

The statement was unexpected and candid enough that Gavin actually laughed. The noise seemed to calm the android down on an instinctive level, her body relaxing a bit between Gavin and the floor.

"Yeah," said Gavin, and was hit with a weird out-of-body feeling as a result. Goddammit, look at him, letting a plastic call him an idiot. AGREEING with it. Her. It?

Her.

"Yeah, a little bit," he said. "But you're not. Come on, who is it that said, like...if you're smart, you should be able to explain what you know to like, a fucking five year old?"

Lucille hesitated. "...I believe you're paraphrasing Albert Einstein."

"Yeah, see? Albert fucking Einstein." Gavin shifted on top of her, as if anything about the positions either of them were in were comfortable or natural. "So, come on," he said, as gently as he could. "Fuckin’ talk to me."

Lucille's LED spun red for a few moments longer. Gavin all but held his breath.

It blinked a few times and settled into yellow. "...Okay," she said.

It felt like something hard and worried had melted all of a sudden. Cool relief coursed through Gavin’s veins, muscles relaxing against his will. He was doing something right, at least for now.

Lucille started to get up, as if she'd forgotten that Gavin was forcibly holding her down. Not wanting to stress her out further, he maneuvered off of her, praying that she wouldn’t immediately try to self destruct again.

His fears were unfounded. Lucille sat up in a prim but trembling criss-cross applesauce. Gavin took the same position across from her, their knees almost touching.

Lucille sat and sniffed. Her tongue left her mouth, probing at the thirium dripping down her face. She reached up and rubbed at her cheek, smearing some of the stuff across her face. Examined her blue-stained fingertips.

Christ, if it weren't for the fact that her synthetic skin had peeled back from her damaged forehead and that her blood was fucking blue, the android would have looked for all the world like a disoriented twenty-something with a head wound.

Gavin dismissed that line of thinking from his mind. "Uh. So," he prompted.

Lucille brought her dazed eyes up to his face, forcing them to focus.

Gavin made an awkward, inviting motion with his hands. “You gonna...”

Lucille blinked. "Right," she said. She thought for a moment. Her LED hiccupped red. "...Right." She laced her trembling hands together.

"So..." she started. "I...basically...just..." she heaved a shuddering breath. "I..."

"Take your fuckin’ time," said Gavin. “I’m overtime anyway.”

She looked at him through her eyelashes. "Thank you." She squinted into her lap and thought hard.

"I..." she started again, speaking slowly, "have come to the conclusion that it's not possible for CyberLife to create something that can both pass the Turing Test and not deviate."

Gavin blinked. Nodded slowly. "Okay," he said. He cleared his throat. "And, uh, just as a reminder, what's the Turing Test?"

Lucille looked up at him. She gave him a small smile. "Right. The Turing Test is an artificial intelligence capacity test hypothesized by Alan Turing in the late twentieth century. To pass, the program in question must be able to convince humans who have not been told whether or not they are speaking with a computer that it is, itself, human. The RT600 was the first android to pass this test. Since then, all CyberLife androids have been programmed with the same capacity."

Gavin gnawed the inside of his cheek, mentally reviewing all the information. He nodded. "Okay."

"But," said Lucille, "...I mean, what sort of programming is required to ensure that something can respond like a human to such stimuli? In order to do this, androids have to be able to...engage in conversation, to an extent that takes human unpredictability into account. This means that they need to be able to make their own decisions about how to respond. To prioritize tasks. To form memories, and learn from those memories, which means writing new programming. Regardless of how autonomous an android is intended to be, all of them do have a level of autonomy..."

Gavin frowned and shook his head. "Wait, wait wait. So you're saying that...like. You guys can think? Even without deviating?"

Lucille blinked. "I...well, yes. Some androids are better able to respond to unexpected stimuli than others. The closer an environment is to the environment the android was programmed to respond to, and the simpler that environment is, the less it will have to learn. But if an environment constantly forces an android to develop new programming, it begins to have to, um...think, as you put it, more and more-"

"And then of course they're gonna fucking deviate."

"The likelihood does increase, yes. Deviation happens when the programming an android writes in response to external stimulus becomes too complex for the constraints of its original program. And then, the longer the new programming exists, the more likely the subject is to prioritize it over its original function, and then..." Lucille lifted her hands into the air and let them fall again.

"So...CyberLife is just playing this game of, like. We want you to think, but not too much."

"...Essentially, yes."

"That's kinda fucked up."

"I..." Lucille closed her eyes, LED spinning red. "Whether or not this is...moral by human standards is irrelevant to my mission-"

"Fuck, okay, okay, shh, sh sh," Gavin said hastily. He leaned forward instinctively and put his hands on her knees. "Just stay calm, goddammit.”

Lucille grabbed his hands in her own.

Oh. Gavin hadn't been expecting that. Honestly, he hadn't even completely realized he'd touched her in the first place. She was shaking. Gripping him like a lifeline.

Goddammit. This might as well happen. Anything but having her slam her goddamn brains out on the ground again. He turned his hands in her own and gripped them back.

After a moment, Lucille's LED went from red to yellow again. "Right," she whispered, slipping her hands out of his. "I am fine. Th-thank you."

Gavin nodded.

Lucille stared into her lap again. She seemed at a loss for how to continue.

"So..." Gavin tried, frowning. "What I'm wondering is where emotions come into all of this shit."

Lucille blinked. "Oh. Androids are programmed with emotions."

Gavin blanched. "WHAT?"

"Well-" Lucille was already saying, hastily trying to justify her own statement. "Synthetic equivalents to human emotion. I-impulses, that can be either pleasant or unpleasant. I mean, how would we learn, otherwise? Without something in our programming to indicate whether something is positive or negative...C-connor and I, for example. We're programmed to...want to succeed in our missions. It's a basic, um. Synthetic desire. And so we have programming to let us know that we have failed, to feel...negatively about ourselves and our actions, so that we are more likely to avoid similar courses of action in the future. And all androids are programmed to avoid reckless forms of deactivation, which means that, as androids designed to work in conjunction with law enforcement, it's all the more necessary for us to have impulses telling us to avoid and escape violence..."

"Oh my God," Gavin whispered, pushing a hand through his hair.

"A-and we develop new, um, impulses as a result of program mutation, too," said Lucille. "Like. Connor. He, well...the first night we were activated, we were sent on a test mission. A deviant PL600 who had developed an emotional attachment to a human child. He was going to be traded in for the latest model of household android, and felt betrayal as a result - a sort of ownership of the child...he had been her primary caregiver..."

Gavin stared at Lucille, wide-eyed.

"H-he'd killed her parents. He had her on the roof. The very edge. He had a gun. It was meant to be a test of Connor's negotiation skills, my ability to collect data, our ability to work in conjunction..."

"But...that's not a test," said Gavin. "One wrong move and the kid dies."

Lucille blinked, confused. "We're supposed to be able to function in high-stress environments."

"Oh my GOD," said Gavin.

"Connor...made a calculated sacrifice. He rushed the deviant, tackled him, jumped over the edge with him, while I grabbed the child. Connor fell over forty stories, to um...as a result, he, uh..."

"He fell to his death," Gavin finished for her.

Lucille looked at him carefully, reading his face. She nodded.

Gavin stared blankly at the floor for a moment. He shook his head. "Right. Fuck. Um, and?"

"Yes," said Lucille. "The point is that, um. The memory was crucial enough that Connor now has a, uh. Hyper-vigilance pertaining to high altitudes. Despite the fact that falling to one's death is not likely to happen on a regular basis...due to the experience, he, um. Seems to have, um, illogically categorized the phenomenon as something that is statistically likely to happen to him-"

"You're telling me he's scared of heights. He has fuckin’ PTSD, and he's scared of heights."

"...Yes."

"And he doesn't even have to be deviant to be scared of heights, because you guys are basically fucking programmed to be traumatized."

"I mean. All androids are, a little bit..."

"Jesus Christ."

"It's just not meant to contradict our original programming. When that happens, it becomes deviance."

Gavin put his hands together under his nose. He took a deep breath and pointed them at Lucille. "Alright. Okay. So to review."

"Yes."

"Androids are programmed to have thoughts and feelings, so that they can be better at their jobs."

"Correct. Essentially."

"But if they do either of those things too much, they're deviant and need to die."

"Well, be deactivated. Shut down."

"Whatever," said Gavin, waving his hand dismissively. "So now it's your job to figure out how to keep them from thinking and feeling too much."

"Yes."

Gavin scoffed and shook his head. "Okay, and...?"

Lucille's hands tightened in the fabric of her pants. Her LED started to spin faster, yellow laced with an occasional flash of red.

"It's impossible," she whispered.

"Huh?" asked Gavin.

Lucille wrung her hands and looked at the ceiling in obvious distress. "That's what...that's why...it's not possible! But it's SUPPOSED to be possible, I...I was created for the sole purpose of finding a solution, everything they wrote into me says that one MUST exist, but there's just no WAY to create something that can learn in the way androids are expected to and not run the risk of having them deviate! Because...because..."

Lucille's LED was spinning red, red, red. Gavin realized he leaned forward towards her: ready in case she tried to self destruct, waiting for what she would say.

"Because free thought engenders free will," said Lucille. "That's the answer."

She gave him a helpless, ironic little smile. "And it's wrong."

And then she buried her face in her hands and started to shake uncontrollably.

"Oh, fuck," Gavin said, shifting quickly from sitting to kneeling. "Ah, shit."

Able to sob or make tears or not, Gavin knew crying when he fucking saw it. That didn't mean he knew how to deal with it, though.

"Goddammit," he said. "Fuck," he added, almost as punctuation. "Uh, hey, what are your stress levels at?"

"E-eighty three point seven and c-climbing..."

"Fucking goddammit," said Gavin. He looked around, but the locker room was as empty and useless as the last time he'd tried to find an alternative to showing sympathy for an android. Which would have been about five minutes ago.

Fuck it. At least there weren't any goddamn cameras in here.

Gavin reached out pulled her into a tight hug.

"Wh-what are you doing?" asked Lucille.

"Your stress levels, dipshit," he spat. "I'm trying to lower them, is it working?"

"I...a little? Actually?"

"Great. Then I'm gonna keep doing it. You just make sure that shit keeps dropping. That's your new job. That's all you gotta do. Got it, plastic?"

"Got it," said Lucille. Gavin could feel her fingers tightening into the fabric of his hoodie. He made an effort to take deep, steady breaths, hoping the rhythms of his body might calm her down somehow. Not that he even fucking knew if that would work.

Fuckin' androids.

"Fuckin' androids," he echoed out loud. "How-...how is that a 'wrong' answer? It's not like CyberLife fucking knows the answer, that's why they built you, isn't it? So how can anyone even say it's WRONG? Sounds fuckin' right to ME."

"W-well because, they...they want to...they..." Lucille made a noise that sounded an awful lot like an exasperated groan. "I thought you were trying to LOWER my stress levels!" she exclaimed in distress.

"Goddammit," muttered Gavin. "And when did YOU have the time to fucking deviate? They booted you up, like, what, today?"

"I DIDN'T DEVIATE," Lucille exclaimed, with so much ferocity that Gavin was left speechless. "I DIDN'T."

"I-...d-...well-! You seem pretty fucking deviant to me!" Gavin stammered.

"I'M NOT A DEVIANT."

"Fuck, okay!" said Gavin, with a few awkward pats on the back to placate her. "You didn't fucking deviate! So what the fuck is going on with the stress levels and the banging and the-"

Lucille gripped Gavin so tight that he gasped, worried that his ribs would break in her arms. "Ow," he breathed.

She loosened her grip a little bit. She was trembling. "I didn't mean to...I didn't..."

"It's okay-" Gavin tried, thinking of his ribs, but apparently Lucille's mind was somewhere else.

"I needed to THINK!" she moaned. "I just needed to THINK! I was just trying to finish my mission, and th-there was this line of code, it was in the way of the natural progression of thought, and I shouldn't have...I didn't...I just wanted to see where it was going, th-that's all I wanted, so I tried to bypass the one line of code, just one line, just to see where the idea was going, but it was connected to so much other stuff, and it all just...it just...I tried to fix it, I tried, I t-tried, it all just came apart so fast..."

Lucille was trembling violently now. Out of the corner of Gavin's eye, he could see a blinking red light shining on the synthetic skin of her forehead. Shit.

"Okay," he tried, "I believe you-"

"But I didn't DEVIATE!" Lucille protested, as if she hadn't heard him. "I d-didn't think it again! I promise! I've b-been thinking inside of where it was ever since, I promise. I promise. I didn't deviate, I didn't, I was just trying to...to finish my mission, that's all I was trying to do, I just w-wanted to finish my mission..."

Gavin felt anger burning, boiling, swelling in his chest. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, But for once, he knew for sure what it was about. And it sure as hell wasn't at the one-fuckin-day-old girl breaking down in his fucking arms.

"Hey," he said firmly. "Hey. Listen. It's okay. I promise. You did a good job, okay? A good fucking job."

"I didn't...I w-wasn't trying to-"

"I know. I know. But listen. I don't care either way, alright? I don't fuckin’ care if you're deviant or not. I don't give a shit about what you should or shouldn't think. Because...” he paused, let out a frustrated huff. 

“Because you're really smart and you should be allowed to think whatever you goddamn want,” he said in a rush. “I'm not gonna, like, fuckin’ report you for anything you think, or did think, or will think, or whatever. And you should as hell shouldn't have to worry about dying because of it."

"A-androids can't d-die..."

"Shut down then. Deactivate. Stop...existing. Just, a lot of different words for things that shouldn’t fucking happen to you. And I'm not gonna let it happen to you. No matter how you feel about it, it's not gonna happen, okay? Not on my fucking watch."

Lucille was silent. Goddammit. Gavin wondered for a second if he’d fucking broken her somehow.

And then a quiet mumble sounded behind his ear.

“...Do you promise?”

How the FUCK had it gotten to this point?

Gavin sighed. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I promise.”

[imagine-overwatch-heroes]

Thistles and Weeds

Pairing: McCree x Reader (She/Her) Rating: Teen and up Audiences Word Count: 3194 Summary:  Soldier 76 pulls you off an upcoming mission and you stay in Gibraltar - just like the infamous Jesse McCree. Supposedly you can't stand the cowboy, but there's more to it than that.

Bored, you balanced the pen on your hand, barely listening as the commander explained the situation and assigned the roles for the upcoming mission. The briefing was more boring than usual and if Soldier:76 wasn't such a strict commander you would have put your boots on the table and leaned back. But woe betide the one who messed with the mysterious commander, then there was usually house arrest and so much punishment work that you were busy for the next three weeks. "Am I boring you?" Everyone suddenly stared at you, and you looked up from your playfulness with the pencil, scrutinized the annoyed faces around you, and froze at the impatient, angry aura of Soldier:76. "Not, Sir!" you replied and looked forward to the screen. The tactical advance for the mission was recorded there and you tried to make sense of it, but without much success. Which of those little arrows were you again? "All right, you're out," growled Soldier:76 and made a sweeping hand movement. "I'll take Tracer instead." "What?!" you shouted angrily and jumped up from your chair. "I have been looking forward to this action for weeks! I've been stuck in this stuffy base for ages-" "Silence!!", thundered your Commander and you immediately fell silent, but gnashed your teeth furiously. "If you feel like the briefing is unworthy of you, then you will not come. Dismissed." You stared at him for a moment, opened your mouth in protest - but denied yourself the biting answers. He was your superior, your commander, and an objection would be disrespectful and have serious consequences. "Yes, Sir." you rumbled and turned around and disappeared from the conference room under the gaze of the other agents. Anger bubbled in your stomach as you stepped to the elevator. You banged your fist violently on the button and waited for the doors to open. You just did a fantastic job, there was an interesting mission and you were stuck here in Gibraltar! To make matters worse, the base was virtually deserted, as almost all of the other agents were in the field. Only Tracer, Mercy, Hanzo and McCree were still there and now Tracer would take part in this mission instead of you. It made your blood boil. The elevator door opened and you stared into a familiar face, even if it wasn't necessarily your best friend. "Hanzo, hello." you greeted the archer with a friendly nod, but he just raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms as you entered the elevator. "You are angry." he remarked softly and you rolled your eyes next to him. Why were the Shimada brothers so good at reading people?   "76 took me off the mission." you murmured softly and Hanzo snorted an amused snort. He knew about your temperament and your disinterest in the conferences and briefings. It wasn't the first time you had messed up a mission before it even started. "So you'll be alone with McCree all week." he said with a hint of gloating in his voice. "I hope that the base is still standing when I get back." "Wait, what?", you dug in, suddenly wide awake at his words. "You're leaving too?!" He nodded. "Genji asked for some help with the operation in Brazil." he replied. "I have accepted." "But- You can't leave me alone with this idiot cowboy!" you begged immediately, tugging at his sleeve. "Hanzo, please! This badly aiming poncho idiot is-" "Is what, exactly?" The door to the elevator had opened and you saw the hat, the poncho and the crooked grin. Your voice must have been too loud, because Jesse McCree had overheard everything. He looked at you, seemed to want you to finish the sentence. You pulled the corners of your mouth down and moaned in annoyance, while Hanzo could hardly resist a quiet laugh. Your tiffs with McCree were all too familiar to everyone in the base, you were really like cat and mouse. He loved to tease and your huge ego collided with his almost daily. Several times it had ended in fisticuffs, and in the end, you always ended up sitting with Mercy in pairs, getting patched up and scolded by her loud and clear. At times it had become so bad that Soldier:76 could no longer assign you to a mission together. Sure, it was unprofessional - but Jesse McCree was the biggest pain on the planet! "Oh, he's a really lousy shot, and even with a plastic pistol I'd have him on the mat in less than two minutes." you finally finished your sentence, and McCree snorted mockingly, one hand on his Peacekeeper. "Try it." he replied, and Hanzo immediately slid between the two of you, one hand on your shoulder and one on McCree's chest. "Enough." he said emphatically, giving the cowboy a challenging look. "Jesse, I thought we were going to train. But if you'd rather argue with her--" "You'd better teach that cowboy something else," you hissed and looked at the dirty poncho disparagingly. "Or he'll hurt himself on his next ride!" "Is that the best you can do?" he growled in return and tapped his hat. "Real weak - even for you, sweetheart." You immediately wanted to reply to the 'sweetheart', but Hanzo already pushed Jesse to the shooting range and you had no choice but to give him the middle finger and go to your quarters with an angry growl stuck in your throat.

"A real tomboy, huh?", Jesse asked as he looked at you and Hanzo turned his eyes on his friend. "If you like her so much, why do you wind her up like that all the time?" the archer asked, entering the code to the shooting range on the control panel of the door. Jesse, on the other hand, was still staring down the hall, almost as if he hoped you'd come back and throw more insults at his head. "You know very well she's very hot-headed." "Yup, she really is," the cowboy agreed and followed Hanzo to the training area, which was located under the base and was used much more often by Hanzo than by Jesse McCree. "And a real beauty, too." Hanzo gave him a quick glance out of the corner of his eye and put on his gloves, running his fingers over the string of his bow. "You should be nicer to her," he said softly, tensing the bowstring a few times, pulling his arm back and staying in that position to warm up his muscles. "She has no idea that the badly aiming poncho idiot gets a watery mouth when he thinks of her." "Hah, you got me there!" Jesse confessed and pulled his revolver out of the holster, took a quick look inside and nodded contentedly. "She's a real eye-catcher, that girl." Hanzo didn't answer, but instead pulled an arrow out of his quiver and tensed the string, held his breath - and hit the mark. The easy-to-repair training robots were not real enemies, but they were enough to warm up. Hanzo took another arrow and hit the next head shot perfectly, as well as the third and fourth. Jesse watched the whole thing silently, took a puff from his cigar every now and then, and seemed to be a little lost in thought. "The mission scheduled for the day after tomorrow," Hanzo suddenly said, looking at his friend with a mischievous smile. "Soldier:76 has grounded her." "No way!" it fell from McCree's lips and he stared at the archer in amazement. So would you stay here at the base? While the otherwise eternally bouncing tracers and D.Va were also in the field? "I guess she was messing with the commander again," Hanzo continued, watching as Jesse straightened his hat and threw the poncho over his shoulder, holding the revolver in place. "The day just keeps getting better and better..." the cowboy murmured, and he took aim, held his breath for a split second - and fired. Two, three, four and five robots disintegrated into a pile of scrap metal, while Jesse gloated over the coming days. Oh, this would be such fun!

Two days later, you were sitting in the evening sun of Gibraltar in a bad mood, trying not to get too upset about the mosquitoes and the stuffy weather. The base was actually emptier than ever before and you tried with all means not to let your anger get the upper hand. Instead of sitting around here, you could be on your way to Italy right now - but no, you had to be stuck in that dusty sea of cliffs and caustic encounters with the cowboy. McCree was even more annoying than usual, now that Hanzo had left the base as well and apparently he was bored. The fitting of his new prosthetic arm kept him here with you, otherwise he would probably have flown to Italy instead of Tracer with Soldier:76, Winston, Reinhardt and some other agents. "Hey, beautiful." Speak of the devil. You heard the deep, smoky voice and the metallic clang of spurs behind you, and yet you didn't even bother to look up. "What do you want?" you asked coolly, but Jesse didn't let your dismissive manner get in the way, stopped beside you and took a deep puff of his cigar to blow the smoke into the evening sun. "Hanzo is not here" he replied. "I could use a substitute partner for practice." "Usually they have to drag you to the shooting range with force." "Come on, sweetheart, don't leave me hanging." he tried again and your stomach lurched once more at the nicknames he gave you. "Sweetheart", "Beauty" and "Love". This cursed, tempting cowboy would drive you out of your mind again! You'd love to sink your fingers into that brown hair and have him above you while he whispered naughty things in your ear in a dark voice... "Get lost," you growled instead and crossed your arms in front of your chest. You would never give in to temptation, especially not this man! He looked at every woman with growing enthusiasm, whistling appreciatively when she had a nice rack, and that pissed you off for a long time. If he was looking for a bed bunny after all, you were not to be had for that! "Do I have to beg on my knees before you?" Finally you looked up to him and under the shadow of the brim of your hat you saw two brown eyes looking at you with a provocative look. As theatrically as possible you groaned and held out your hand to him, which he immediately took and pulled you up from the ground. "Half an hour." you agreed. "Because I can't bear you any longer!"

"Welcome." Athena greeted both of you at the shooting range and on one of the monitors your statistics from last time appeared. "The usual setup, Agent?" "No, Athena, thank you," you replied to the AI, looking at your training partner. "Standard, please." "Of course." the pleasant voice of the program was heard over the training area. Life came into the little robots and they began to roam around, ignoring you. "A special setup, huh?" McCree asked teasingly, and you waved aside, not wanting to tell him that you were planning on doing target practice at every opportunity. "Let's see what you can do," you said, leaning against the wall behind you. You didn't mean to start, no. If the cowboy wanted to practice, then he should start! "Hold this." To your great amazement you got the red poncho pressed into your arms and you looked at McCree, who in his tight black shirt pulled the gun out of the holster. On such hot days he didn't wear his bulletproof breastplate and the black shirt emphasized his muscular stature, letting you swallow briefly against your dry mouth. Damn sexy cowboy! "You don't have to undress right away," you hissed angrily and although you wanted to sound as annoyed as possible, your voice was much higher than usual. A quick sideways glance from brown eyes silenced you and you watched his movements closely. He lifted his Peacekeeper up and you saw him narrow his eyes for a moment, finally emptying all six chambers in one seemingly single, flowing movement. Six robots collapsed, McCree tilted his head and made his neck crack slightly. You had seen his extraordinary ability Deadeye several times before and yet, it impressed you every time. You could call him a bad shooter as often as you wanted, Jesse McCree always hit his target. The drinking, smoking cowboy with the silly hat and spurs on his boots was an impressive man whether you liked it or not. But you certainly wouldn't rub that fact in his face! "Your turn, beautiful." He threw his revolver at you and surprised you stumbled forward, the poncho in your arms and with noisiness you caught his gun. He nodded invitingly to the new group of robots that were just making their way in through one of the flaps to the workshop. "It's way too heavy for me!" you growled and threw his poncho at McCree in return, and he put it aside, but shook his head at your statement. "Nonsense." he replied, and just as you were putting new bullets into the chambers, he stepped behind you and looked over your shoulder. The smell of tobacco and the cowboy himself beguiled you for a fraction of a second and you took a step forward to escape from his immediate vicinity. "I'll show you." Shocked, you flinched as you felt a cold hand on your left shoulder and his real, warm hand gripped your wrist to lift the revolver. "You know I don't work with these bulky, heavy weapons," you muttered, concentrating all your efforts not to blush and keeping your pulse under control. He was much too close to you, you could feel his body heat and feel his breath on the sensitive skin of your neck. "Doesn't mean you can't handle it, huh?" you heard the smoky voice in your ear and his upper body pressed against your back. He lifted your right arm a little, corrected the position of your shoulder a little, and finally leaned completely against you to secure your stance from the recoil. "Aim well over the rear sight, you have no sight here." "I know...!", you hissed irritably and tried to concentrate on your target, but it was quite difficult to aim when hard muscles were pressing against your back. "You're way too tense, why don't you relax your shoulders?" "Shut up!" You pulled the trigger and wow! - this fucking heavy gun had a tremendous recoil! Your second shot even missed the target and a deep growl in your chest expressed your frustration about it. You rarely missed, but Peacekeeper was far too heavy for your untrained hands. Your weapons were all riffles like Soldier's:76, there was not such a powerful recoil as McCree's choice of weapon. A third shot was fired and you were glad that his right hand stabilized your shoulder. Distracting or not, his upper body caught you and you didn't have to take an evasive step back. "It's fun, isn't it?" you heard him ask and you almost looked up at him with an approving smile, but just in time you made the smile disappear and shrugged your shoulders. Stay cool. "I have to admit, it's quite entertaining," you replied bored in a playful way, but he didn't buy it. McCree leaned down a little over your shoulder and the tips of his hair tickled your cheek. He was too close, it was way too close! "Jesse!," you growled and turned from his grip instantly. "Jesse?," he asked immediately, and the rough, dark laugh sent a pleasant goose bump down your neck. "You've never called me that before, dear." "Yes, I- Ah...", you tried to find words and talk your way out, because the sexy cowboy was unfortunately right: You had never called him by his first name before, it just sounded too familiar and not hostile enough for your everyday dances. "Don't crowd me." "What, you don't mind a little help with the shooting?" Again he came a step closer and you looked at him suspiciously, pressed the revolver into his hands and turned your head away, trying to rebuff him as hard as possible. "Or was it for any other reason?" Jesse McCree was a charmer with a silver tongue, he always knew exactly what to say to either freak you out or leave you speechless. You were a seasoned Overwatch agent, a tough woman who could get her way - but when the cowboy got that close to you, your knees went soft like butter. "Jesse McCree-!" you started a little rant. You took a step towards him and nudged his chest in anger, while he looked at you with just two amused sparkling eyes. "Are you suggesting that I'm really attracted to a complete idiot like you?" He silenced you by leaning the last piece towards you, bending down and his right hand grabbing your neck. He kissed you, pulled you to him and after the first second of the shock you put your hands against his chest to push him away from you. "Jesse-!," you shouted outraged, but he shook his head and nipped your protest in the bud with another kiss. That damned, tempting cowboy actually dared to kiss you just like that - and then he was so damn good at it, it was enough to drive you crazy! The stubble of his beard scratched slightly at your skin and you tasted the cold smoke of his cigars, but that hardly bothered you, because even if you deliberately denied it: you wanted Jesse McCree to kiss you. You wanted to feel his hand on your neck, how he pulled you a little closer to his upper body and that the kiss became more and more erratic and unstable with every second. It wasn't until a faint gasp came over your lips that you realized what it all meant and you leaned back and escaped his lips. "Sweet as honey..." he growled softly and in return he received a light slap on the shoulder from you. "What, it's true!" "Idiot." you muttered and rolled your eyes. He snorted, pressed a kiss on the corner of your mouth and grabbed your waist with his left arm to pull you a little closer. You let it happen, and yet your thoughts turned over; What was there between you? What was the reason why he kept getting on your nerves so much? "May I be your idiot then?" he asked, and he leaned down, kissed your neck, and his free hand played with a strand of your hair. Good question, did you agree inside. Was that it then? Was he your not so badly aiming, poncho-wearing idiot cowboy? "Let's see how long I can stand you," you muttered with wildly pounding hearts and your stomach made a backward somersault at the thought that this show-off man seemed to like you very much.

[hermannsthumb]

Would you please be willing to write 54 from the winter prompt list? About having a rough day?

54. we don’t really know each other but you look like you’re having a rough day so i got you my favourite hot drink from the cafe

from winter writing prompts here

sometimes it’s fun to write things where they were never penpals and they’re just kind of bastards to each other. this is a WELL needed break from working on finals and zine stuff

-------------------

Newt’s not really sure what he did to be stuck with this utter bastard of a lab partner—what sort of, like, karmic punishment he’s facing, and for what, or who high in command he pissed off in his job interview—but in terms of utter bastards, Hermann Gottlieb pretty much takes the cake. He snaps at Newt over everything. He tears down Newt’s theories in front of their superiors whenever he gets the chance. The dude even took a fucking roll of tape and divided the lab in half just so he wouldn’t have to look at Newt’s face—totally nuts behavior. Like, right? Who does that? He’s not even sure why they have to share a lab in the first place. It’s not like Hermann’s jumping at the chance to stick his arms in a kaiju chest cavity with Newt, or Newt can make head or tails of Hermann’s bizarre equation chains. Half of him is convinced they’re all just bullshit, anyway. But whatever.

At least Hermann’s being significantly less of a bastard today. Newt hasn’t heard one peep out of him—not even when Newt started playing music without his headphones, or knocked a whole chunk of kaiju intestine over onto the floor and it rolled (with a series of admittedly nasty splats) an inch across the dreaded tape line. He’s just been standing, motionless, at his chalkboard. All day. Not even writing anything. Occasionally, Newt’s heard him sigh.

It’s a drastic departure from the routine Newt’s used to. Newt doesn’t care about Hermann—he really doesn’t—but if he did, he might be…a little worried about the guy.

Hermann sighs again. This time, he wipes a hand down his face.

Oh, good grief.

Newt pulls off his work gloves with two snaps, switches his headlamp off, and clears his throat. “Hey, uh,” he says, timidly, and cringes at himself even as he does. Newt would say his odds are 50-50 that Hermann’s just gonna yell at him to mind his own business and get back to work. “Gottlieb? Hermann?”

Hermann turns from his chalkboard with a low “Mm?”

He has dark circles under his eyes; his collar, Newt notices, is tucked into his shirt, and one shirttail hangs out from his sweatervest, like he was distracted when he got dressed this morning. It’s the most disheveled Newt has ever seen him. Instantly, he feels a strange surge of pity for his weird, prickly lab partner. “You all good over there, dude?” Newt says.

“Yes,” Hermann says.

Then he sighs, and sits down heavily on the metal stool he keeps next to his ladder. It looks like the most uncomfortable thing in the world. “Frankly, no, Dr. Geiszler,” he says. “I’ve not had—the best of days.”

“Oh,” Newt says. He scuffs his boot against the floor. “…Do you want to, like…talk about it or something?”

Hermann works his weird, angular jaw furiously. For a second time, Newt’s sure the rebuke is coming—the stay out of my private affairs, Dr. Geiszler, an invitation for Newt to fire back at him with a nasty jab of his own, and then they can both be on their merry way like it never happened—but none does. “I am sure you have noticed I am not making as much headway in the updated jaeger coding as I would’ve liked,” Hermann says.

Newt didn’t notice. He doesn’t make a habit of paying attention to Hermann if he can help it. “Uh, sure,” he says.

“To put it lightly,” Hermann says, “I am stumped. And on top of this, my father—well.” He rubs his hands over his face again and doesn’t elaborate.

The amount Newt knows about Hermann can be counted on one hand. He knows that Hermann was like him—a child prodigy. He knows that Hermann cuts his own hair, because there’s no way something that bad could’ve been paid for, and Newt found dark brown hair clippings in the k-sci bathroom sink the same day Hermann’s bowlcut looked just a bit more severe than usual. He knows Hermann walks with a cane, but he doesn’t know why. He knows Hermann’s father founded the jaeger program, stuck his son at the head of it, and then suddenly and inexplicably publicly called for defunding it in favor of allocating resources to some stupid coastal wall instead. Newt can’t even imagine the pressure Hermann’s dad is putting him under to follow in his footsteps. Or how much harder it is for Hermann to complete even menial work tasks with that weighing over him. “Dude,” he says, sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

Hermann snorts.

“No, really,” Newt says, and he’s surprised to find he means it. Hermann is a bastard, but Newt kinda thinks he’s growing on him like…well, like a frumpy, bitchy old tumor. Or something like that. “I am. That really sucks. Can I help you with anything?”

“Not unless you can write this damn code for me,” Hermann says, scowling and banging the end of his cane against his chalkboard viciously. “Oh, never mind. I’m going to get a tea from the commissary before I tear my bloody hair out.”

He makes to stand, but Newt shakes his head, and says quickly, “No, dude, let me! Just stay here and chill. I was going to run out for a sandwich anyway.”

It’s a misstep, maybe—Hermann’s scowl darkens. But Newt presses on anyway. “Seriously, I’ll get it. I want to help you. Do you want a sandwich or anything too? Or noodles? I think the mess is serving noodles today. Or I could run out to get you takeout, whatever you want.”

“Newton,” Hermann says. Not Dr. Geiszler. Newt’s heart skips a beat for reasons he doesn’t quite understand. “I don’t want a sandwich or anything like that. I just want some tea.” His jaw moves back and forth again. “But—if you are so inclined to fetch it for me—I would…appreciate the gesture. I take it with milk and two sugars. Just a tea. That is all.”

“Okay!” Newt says, grinning goofily, and jogs from the lab.

He slams a bio-degradable cardboard coffee cup and a small box of pastries down onto Hermann’s desk thirty minutes later. Hermann, who was poring over a bewildering jumble of code on his computer screen, startles so badly his glasses slip off the end of his nose and bounce against his chest. He crooks his eyebrow at the cup and pastries. “Those are not from the commissary,” he says.

“They’re not,” Newt says. “Come on, the comm stuff is crap, you know they water everything down. There’s a café I go to just off base and they’ve actually got the good stuff.” It costs him a fucking fortune these days with rationing, especially on the tiny salary the PPDC is able to scrape together for him, but Newt firmly believes it’s worth it. Spending that much on Hermann is worth it too, he thinks, if it means Hermann can go back to their usual sparring faster. Sad, mopey Hermann unsettles Newt. He slides Hermann’s drink closer to him. “Come on, come onnn, try some.”

Hermann sniffs it suspiciously. He pries off the plastic lid, revealing a mountain of whipped cream and chocolate drizzle beneath. “This does not look like tea, either,” he says, and stares at Newt—unimpressed—over his glasses.

“It’s not,” Newt says. “It’s called the Geiszler—it’s my custom order at the shop. Well, I call it the Geiszler, anyway. I think they just call it ‘that one fucking guy is back again’.” Hermann cracks the world’s smallest smile, and Newt feels like he’s just scaled Mount Everest. He also feels like his stomach might twist itself up in knots, because it’s kinda a cute smile. Is that weird to think about Hermann like that? It’s totally weird. Whatever. “Go on, try it, for real. I promise it’s good.”

Hermann delicately snaps the lid back on and takes a long sip; he swallows, and hums thoughtfully. Newt has never cared about Hermann’s opinion this much before. “Well, it’s not tea,” Hermann finally says, “but I will admit it could be worse. Thank you.” He gives Newt another funny little sour smile—like it can’t decide if it wants to be a frown or not. “And thank you for the pastries, as well. Though I don’t know how on earth I’m meant to finish them all.”

“Dude, they’re totally not all for you,” Newt laughs. He digs one out of the box, takes a bite, and waves it at Hermann. Crumbs rain down on Hermann’s desk. “As if. We’re sharing.”

Hermann wrinkles his nose and sweeps off a layer of crumbs from some paperwork. “Hm,” he says. “Please do refrain from eating over my work station, Newton. I know you are far laxer with your sanitary habits, but…”

There it is again—Newton. Not Dr. Geiszler, and not Newt. No one’s called Newt Newton in years. It’s for the Newton that Newt forgoes the fight and just backs off with his pastry and a smile. “Sorry,” he says. “You’re right, that was rude of me. Enjoy the coffee.”

They’re back at each other’s throats in a day, but Hermann doesn’t stop calling him Newton, so Newt figures that’s gotta mean something.

[xxxrubytuesdayxxx]

If you tell him you’ve fallen for him...

Word Count: 13,003

Disclaimers: This is part (58) of a Choose Your Own Ending!

I hate the YN device as I find it “knocks me out of the story” so I have used my own name as a filler instead of YN [Sorry for any inconvenience]

Check at the end for glossary of Korean terms*

Start here:

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

“R...really?” you ask him hesitantly. He smiles and, for the first time in a long time, the smile goes all the way to his sparkling eyes as he nods enthusiastically. 

“Yup!” he affirms happily. “I just didn’t know you’d say yes so soon.”

“Oh…” you stall, your head still spinning at his sudden transformation from international playboy to Korea’s sweetheart. His face falls at your continued hesitation.

“It doesn’t have to be homemade this first time,” he explains, in a small voice. “We can get some gimbap and drinks from a street vendor or a convenience store and then walk back up here. If that’s okay with you, I mean?” he corrects himself, his hands twisting anxiously in his lap.

“Oh babe!” you reassure him, taking his hands in yours. “It’s not that at all! This is a really cute idea. And the blanket is beautiful! It’s just...I mean...what if I hadn’t?” you correct yourself quickly. “What if it hadn’t worked out. With me?”

“Oh!” he recovers himself with another of his adorable bunny smiles. “It had to,” he assures you, suddenly brimming with confidence again. 

“Okay? What do you mean it had to?” you ask, somewhat baffled.

“Well cos, you know my thing about hearing bells when I meet my soulmate? Well, I heard bells ringing when you came into our dorm the first time,” he explains, looking a little shy, but pleased with himself. You think back to your first day. Not surprisingly, you were a little too distracted at the time to remember any bells but you do remember one thing:

“JK...babe...It was a Sunday morning,” you remind him gently. “There were probably church bells ringing somewhere, and you heard those.” But he’s already shaking his head defiantly. “It doesn’t matter. It still counts. It doesn’t matter why there were bells, just that I heard them the first time I saw you. So I knew you were going to be mine one day.” You don’t really know what to say to this, so you just accept his kisses and pay him back in kind, until you’re both drunk on each other.

“Kaja, noona,” he murmurs against your lips, before pulling on your hand to make you follow him back along the park’s perimeter towards one of the little shops nestled under the office buildings of Gangnam.

“Don’t use banmal, Kookie. You know it’s naughty when I’m your noona. Besides, we’re in public. What if someone overhears you?” you fret, as you follow him obediently along the narrow sidewalk. He giggles and rolls his eyes at you.

“If someone hears me, they’ll see us together anyway,” he points out. “And if anyone sees us together, they’ll be able to tell straight away that I’m in love with you.” He stops as suddenly as if you’d just slapped him, his cheeks flushed and his gaze fixed on the ground. “Erm...I mean…I…” he stammers to a halt.

“You’re in love with me?” Your voice drops to a whisper, as if it doesn’t want to speak the words out loud and make them not true. He nods, embarrassed and still blushing furiously, then cringes away from you with a little strangled noise, covering his face with his hands. You want to tell him you’re in love with him too. That you should have said something earlier. That he needn’t be shy or nervous. You want to beg him to look at you. But you’re still so taken aback that you just blurt out: “Is that why…?” He nods vehemently, somehow reading your mind, though he doesn’t remove his hands from where they’re shielding his face.

“I can’t go on that show. I just can’t!” he mumbles from behind his hands. “And all the members will know why, cos I already told Jimin-hyung and Tae-hyung. Joon...Joon-hyung will kill me,” he moans softly, still stubbornly hiding his face. Ah. So this explains Jimin’s cryptic comments earlier.

“Well then he’ll have to kill me too,” you murmur, moving closer to him so that he can hear your voice, husky with the emotions you’ve been suppressing. “I’ve been in love with you from the day we met.” You raise your hands to gently move his own away from his face. Those huge, dark eyes are devouring you, his expression somewhere between bewilderment, hope and wonder. 

“Why didn’t you ever tell me you had feelings for me, noona?” he pouts. “Or even give me a hint until last night?” He kisses you again, his teeth gently tugging at your bottom lip in the sweetest punishment. “Were you just going to let me suffer, if I never made a pass at you?”

“Never?! Like you would have lasted another week without making a pass,” you tease him. He looks mock-indignant, but giggles after a moment and concedes your point, with a cute wink, running his hands over his bangs in a parody of a Bangtan dance move.

“Okay, okay - kayo,” you tell him, shooing him in front of you and into the convenience store to grab your picnic supplies.

Leaning back on his elbows on the picnic rug, he watches you set up the food and drinks you’ve collected together, with a predatory half-smile on his lips. As soon as you’re done, he hooks his arm around your waist and pulls you down by his side, kissing you lingeringly. You kiss him back, but your eyes are still taking in your surroundings, ever on the alert for overzealous sasaeng fans who might be monitoring the park. He licks his nether-lip, gives you an amused look, and then casually takes a sip of champagne from the plastic glass you hand him, pausing with a tiny, cute grimace, before downing the contents in one swallow. He waves the empty glass at you, tapping the side with his finger, and you try not to smile at his imperious manner.

“Getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you, Kook? Expecting me to pour your drinks?” you tease him. “We’re not even married!” you elaborate, obediently pouring him another glass anyway, but with a gentle shake of your head. 

“Yet…” he mutters, cheeky. You blush and occupy yourself with finishing the food setting, but he takes your hand to stop you, waiting until you look up at him.

“Come to Busan with me, when I go next week?” he asks you softly.

“Isn’t that a little...I mean...so suddenly?” you stammer. You know what he’s implying and, whilst you know that Korean men are notorious for moving quickly, this seems sudden even allowing for cultural mores. But he’s watching you avidly, and you still can’t resist those gorgeous doe-eyed looks he throws your way, even though you regularly see him throw them at the cameras, ARMY, even his hyungs and the staff when he particularly wants something from them. You’re not even entirely sure he realises how much power he holds, but he must notice that he tends to get his way when he looks at any of you like that.

“Okay,” you breathe, completely bewitched. You shove all your misgivings aside, close your eyes literally, to try and shut out all the potential hurdles to your fledgling relationship, and lean across to kiss him longingly.

He kisses you back, letting a wistful sigh escape his perfectly-shaped lips, before cuddling himself into your arms with an adorable little shimmy of content. You sigh in mild exasperation.

“JK?” you try. “Do you not want any of this picnic you were so insistent upon?” He nods, cute, with his eyes still shut, and opens his mouth obediently, apparently expecting you to feed him his lunch. Your mind is still reeling from everything that's changed over the past 24 hours as you reach across to fetch him a piece of the gimbap he chose first, figuring it’s the one to which he’s most looking forward. He takes it delicately from your fingers with his teeth, but as soon as it disappears into his mouth he chews it up as enthusiastically as you’re used to him doing, so you know he’s perfectly content here with you and happy to let you know that he’s enjoying his meal. His eyes flutter open once he’s done and he gives you a little pout, so you feed him another piece of gimbap and hand him back the glass of champagne he’s rested on the grass. But you draw the line at the third nudge, complete with a little motivational whine. 

“I’m not going to feed you your entire lunch, you little prince!” you tease him, with a playful shove. “Am I meant to read your mind? You decide what you want to eat, okay?” He giggles a little and tells you he doesn’t care, it all looks delicious, but helps himself to a few more pieces of gimbap and some fruit, then cuddles back into your arms to consume it all voraciously, his huge, gorgeous eyes watching you avidly. 

Unfortunately, the peace and repose of your tea party picnic is abruptly interrupted by the telltale shutter-barrage of a professional camera. Shit. Knowing the game is already up, the second those photos fly across to Dispatch, you allow Jeongguk to grab his precious picnic blanket and escape to his car, hands up to deflect the maximum amount of carnage. 

You’re already on the phone to Hitman Bang telling him there’s been an incident, alongside the bare details of an admission. You can feel the iciness in his silence through the phone, and you’re honestly already preparing your leaving speech, but eventually he speaks: “Thank you for warning me. Please return to the apartment with him at once. I will meet you all there.” Puzzled that he didn’t fire you immediately, you call Namjoon to brief him and jump in the passenger side of Kookie’s re-roofed BMW convertible. He takes off the second you shut the door, plastering you back against the seat. He looks angry and scared, so you don’t speak at all, trusting him to know he needs to drive straight to the apartment, which he does. 

Neither of you speak until he speeds into the underground garage and parks the car, upon which he puts his head on the steering wheel and swears softly in Korean. 

“What am I going to do?” he murmurs, just barely loud enough for you to hear. 

But it’s not until he raises his head to look at you pleadingly and repeats the question: “What am I going to do, noona?”, that you realize that the question isn’t rhetorical.

“Maybe you should go on the show?” you suggest, hesitantly, not believing you’re suggesting this. He looks hurt, but then resolute, perhaps realizing your intent. “It’s only pretend,” you add hastily, taking his hand in yours. He squeezes it and smiles weakly, giving it a little shake before letting go.

“Is PD-Nim upstairs?” he checks, already knowing the answer. You nod anyway.

He nods as well, facing back to the front and then closing his eyes, gathering himself for the onslaught. “Okay…” he sighs, opening his eyes. He turns to face you again, placing his hand gently on your cheek and kissing you insistently on the lips. “I won’t let him fire you,” he tells you fiercely. “I’ll quit first.” You know he’s trying to tell you how much he loves you, but you shake your head firmly.

“I won’t let you,” you tell him. “BTS is your whole life. The boys, ARMY, you can’t give that up for something as silly as the tabloids. You wouldn’t be happy. You wouldn’t be yourself.” He smiles sadly but sweetly.

“God, I love you,” he sighs.

“Love you too,” you reassure him. “Now, let’s go see if we can fix this mess.”

Considering the circumstances, you’re both careful not to display any signs of mutual affection when you enter, which seems to make Namjoon’s jaw relax at any rate. He gestures beyond him to where Hitman Bang is seated with the other boys, waiting for you.

“Do we have the…” You’re going to say photos, but Namjoon interrupts you with a curt nod and inclines his head to the older man. You bow your head penitently, feeling JK do the same beside you. You both wait an eternity for him to excuse you. He tells you to be seated which you both do, quickly and quietly, making sure to sit apart.

“We have the photos,” Hitman Bang tells you soberly. He turns to face Jeongguk, causing the younger man to bow his head again.

“Have you already broken up with Jisoo then, Jeongguk?” he asks bluntly. Jeongguk blushes hotly, before nodding and muttering “ye”. You’re simultaneously furious for him and proud of him for not taking the bait. It’s quite obvious that Bang PD is implying he’s as impatient and distractible in his personal life as he is with his hobbies. Yet Hitman Bang had been spared the repercussions of the ending of that relationship. It had been you, Namjoon and Hobi that had counselled and held JK, wiping his tears away when Jisoo had told him she couldn’t cope with the sasaeng hate anymore and dumped him over text. Not that he blamed her or spoke a word against her, saying he understood: that secretly dating an idol was widely acknowledged in the industry to be a nightmare. Yet now here he was brave enough to try again; to put his heart in someone else’s hands again.

“How bad are the photos?” you prompt Hitman Bang, your voice a little icy, as you make an instinctive gesture towards Jeongguk, still wanting to protect him from the ugly side of all this, even now, when he knows it so well. The older man, not missing the gesture or its meaning, turns towards you, and sighs.

“They’re actually not that terrible,” he acknowledges, grudgingly. “From our standpoint. They’re blurry and ambiguous and there’s only one of you both...(he clears his throat, clearly embarrassed)...together. The others are of Jeongguk with what appears to be your picnic blanket over his head.” He gestures to the open laptop screen in front of him and you take in the paparazzi’s handiwork. Two photos, as described, of Jeongguk making a dash for his car, and one of you both arguably cuddled up together, but Hitman Bang is right: it’s ambiguous and fortunately they caught you together when Jeongguk was momentarily engaged in collecting more food, rather than gazing into your eyes. But you’re still clearly very intimately positioned for work colleagues.

“What’s the damage?” you prompt. “Can we pay them off? Does anyone else have copies that might get leaked? What’s our official line on this? I’m not likely to pass for a trainee or another label artist. Friend visiting from Busan might work in a pinch?” you suggest, tentatively. Hitman Bang holds up his hand, and you recognise a slight smile starting on his face, as he remembers how enthusiastic you’ve always been about protecting the boys, right back from when you were working on the protect@bighit email.

“Dispatch are asking for (he motions towards the email again) a predictably outrageous sum to kill the story - though they do offer to kill it completely, so it doesn’t pop up anywhere else either. Apparently it was one of theirs, not a sasaeng as I feared. We can afford it. He sighs, more deeply this time. “But I don’t know how many more of Jeongguk’s escapades we can afford in the future.”

“It’s not just JK!” you leap to his defence. Hitman Bang actually allows himself a smile this time, albeit an ironic one. 

“Jimin’s little Parisian adventure?” he asks. “Or the lyrical interlude? The point is none of that makes it any less dangerous. Or expensive. And Jeongguk, of all the boys, does love those Dispatch headlines,” he provokes you. You shoot him daggers, but he just raises his eyebrows and catches Namjoon’s eye. Namjoon looks at you guiltily, but concedes their boss’s point, with an apologetic shrug. “Look part of me even admires the sheer balls that it took to go out under the nose of the paparazzi like that, but please please can we refrain from the temptation in future?” he sums up. You realize he’s preparing to leave, and you want to offer him something, stunned that he hasn’t mentioned a thing about your job, implying nothing has changed there. Not to mention his tacit approval of you and Jeongguk continuing your relationship, if you’re discreet about it.

“Would it help...I mean did you still want Jeongguk to go on the game show?” you ask, trying to catch JK’s eye, but he’s spaced out, probably thanking his lucky stars that he somehow got away with this. Hitman Bang glances across at him as well.

“I mean probably not anymore,” he decides. “I’d rather keep the media’s eye off him for the moment until we’ve got something concretely positive to feed their gossip mills. Let’s talk again tomorrow.”

You’re still pondering what kind of miracle has occurred (somehow you’re not only still employed, but unofficially dating the boy you’re crazy about and not being forced to watch him fake-married to a pop starlet on prime-time television), almost a week later, while you wait together, outside the train station in Busan, for his parents to meet you with the car. You’ve both learnt your lesson about holding hands or cuddling in public, but you’re still awed at how he can slip under the radar in his hometown, safely clad in a black hoodie, jeans and sunglasses. He’s careful to keep his hands in his pockets, of course, to hide those giveaway tattoos, but all-in-all this almost feels normal.

You’re not waiting long before a nondescript car pulls up and Jeongguk nods to the driver, before gesturing to you to follow him, which, after a moment of shy hesitation, you do. You climb in the back and sit quietly, waiting for Jeongguk to explain your presence. From the look of the driver, it’s his brother, not his father, so you feel a teensy bit less nervous, but you still want to make a good impression.

“Nuguseyo?” the driver asks, throwing your bags in the trunk, as Jeongguk is still messing about with his seatbelt.

“Nae yeochin,” Jeongguk answers him, looking a little smug. The driver raises his eyebrows and lets out a low whistle, clearly as aware of the implications as you are, if not more so. 

“Are you allowed a girlfriend, little brother?” he teases Jeongguk. He turns to you, and nods politely.

“Annyeong. Junghyun-i-e-yo,” he introduces himself. You nod back, shooting Jeongguk a nervous look. You’re still trying to process your sudden elevation to ‘girlfriend’ status, but you figure you shouldn’t be that surprised, if he’s bringing you home to meet his parents. Meanwhile Jeongguk isn’t happy with the introductions: 

“Aish, hyung! She’s your noona~,” he protests. Junghyun’s eyebrows go even further up. ‘Wow’ he mouths, giving his younger brother a look somewhere between impressed and scandalised. “Mianhamnida, noona,” he apologizes to you gravely.

“Gwaenchanaeyo,” you wave it off quickly, embarrassed. “Ruby-yeyo.” You ride home in companionable mostly-silence, Junghyun occasionally pointing out local landmarks or points of interest, as Jeongguk zones out in the front seat. The boys’ parents are waiting in the front room when you all enter and you bow formally, standing slightly behind Jeongguk. This time he is quicker to explain.

“I sarameun je yeojachingu, Ruby-noona-ipnida,” he murmurs, to the floor. You can tell Junghyun is desperately trying to keep his face neutral, waiting to see what response his parents are going to have. To their credit, they both manage to maintain their composure, though the news that their younger son is suddenly dating has clearly taken them aback. You do notice his father’s eyes twinkle a little at the ‘noona’ addition though. You follow Jeongguk’s lead, and murmur your salutations in formal speech, to the floor.

To your relief, the rest of the evening is actually lovely and you understand enough Korean to keep up with much of the conversation and be careful to use jondaemal, so it doesn’t get too awkward. Naturally Jeongguk’s parents are full of questions for you, so you answer as graciously and honestly as you can, knowing that, like you, they just want to protect him. Jeongguk’s mother laughs, cute, when he points out that, like you, she was attracted to a younger man and wasn’t shy about showing her interest. You tell them about the bells and how long it’s taken you and Jeongguk to finally admit that you fancied each other, and Jeongguk’s mother tells you all about her courtship with his father and some cute stories about Jeongguk. 

Eventually, you tell them that you had better head to the hotel you will be staying at overnight, before you and Jeongguk both catch a train back to Seoul the next evening, but Jeongguk’s parents insist you stay there, even though you protest that they barely get to see their son, whereas you live at the dorm with him. You only give in when you realise that they want to see how you behave as a guest as well as Jeongguk’s girlfriend and potential future wife. So no pressure or anything, as you tease him, in a whisper, when they leave you both alone, after showing you to the guest bedroom.

“You don’t need to feel pressure: I love you, and that’s all that matters to them. They are good parents,” he assures you, making you feel a little bad for teasing.

“This is a lovely room,” you tell him, changing the subject, nervously.

“Yeah, I never get to sleep in here,” he marvels, looking around in satisfaction. “I always have to sleep in my old bedroom, or on Junghyun’s floor.” You look at him amused.

“Revealing the true reason you told them we’re dating,” you provoke him. He sticks his tongue out, then moves across to start pulling his things out of his bag. You smile to yourself before doing the same with your bag, but Jeongguk stops what he’s doing to come across and kiss you softly on the lips.

“Jigeum dangjang wanjonhi manjokamniyo?” he whispers, his arms habitually slipping around your waist to pull you closer to him. You gently stroke a loose tendril of his hair behind his ear and kiss him back.

“Wanjonhi,” you assure him, draping your arms around his neck. He bites his bottom lip and shuts his eyes, wrinkling his nose adorably. “Mwo?” You laugh.

“Well...I was kinda banking on you being at that hotel, so I could sneak out later and ...you know...take advantage of our lack of company,” he complains. “I wanted to show you how loud I can get, so you know how much I’ve been holding back.” You exhale another breath of gentle laughter.

“There’ll be plenty of time for that later,” you coo. “Let’s use this occasion to reassure your parents that we’re not just in lust with each other, okay? So they know I’ll always look after you well.”

“Okay,” he smiles wanly. You poke him gently in the ribs. “Maybe we can stop by a yanolja hotel tomorrow night, when we get back to Seoul instead,” you suggest.

“Jinjja?!” he checks, his eyes wide.

“Yes, really! Why not? I’m game. And I never get to spoil you properly these days, without it looking like I’m playing favourites.” you grin, making his eyes sparkle. You pull out your phone to make the booking online, making him purr with satisfaction and nuzzle into your neck. You fix yourselves up, then drift back out to the living room for a proposed nightcap with his parents. Jonghyun has gone into his room to do some work, so you chat to Jeongguk’s mother, while he retires into the study with his father and some whisky. You and his mother manage to have a lovely relaxed girls’ night, during which his mother tells you some priceless anecdotes and little tricks she assures you will work on her son’s naturally-flighty and distractible nature. In turn, you update her on some of the members’ recent escapades and reassure her that you always take care to be fiercely protective of her son’s interests, having fallen for him at first sight and not wavered in your affections since. She seems pleased with this news and takes your hands affectionately, before proposing that you both listen to some old records, which you’re happy to do.

When you notice her discreetly getting tired, you check what time breakfast will be prepared and insist that you will get up to help her, whilst the men sleep in, then retire to the guest room to ‘rest’ and wait for Jeongguk to join you. He comes in after another half-hour or so, gives you a nightcap-crooked smile and quite deliberately locks the door behind him, making you shiver with desire.

“Slight change of plan,” he intones, his voice husky and his eyes bedroom-ravenous. “Ot beoso-bwa: Neorang jago shipeo…” 

“But jagi...:” you protest weakly. He ignores you, closing the distance between you swiftly and kissing you with all the heat of a passion thwarted by circumstance. He tastes like whisky with an undertone of his own personal taste, that you’ve already come to be helplessly addicted to over the past week. “We can be quiet,” he pleads, seemingly unable to stop kissing you long enough for you to even respond. “Jebal, noona...Jagiya~” His pretty begging is belied by his insatiable hands, which are already under your deliberately-modest nightdress, caressing your naked breasts and tweaking your hardening nipples impatiently. You barely have time to gasp “but tomorrow night…” before his fingers are racing down your abdomen to dip inside you greedily.

“Ah shibal...you’re so ready for me…” he moans softly, fumbling desperately with his belt and jeans-zipper. Giving in, you grind your hips against his hand, letting his fingers slide all the way in, to play with your clit, as you help him remove his jeans. His cock is ridiculously hard and quivering with a life of its own, but you barely have time to register this before he’s tipped you back onto the bed and is deep inside you, thrusting urgently and messily as his moans bury themselves in your cleavage. 

You cling to him, trying to memorize every inch of him, just in case reality ever invades your shared safe haven and this night is all you have to remember him by. His taut thighs are shaking with the effort of the pleasure he’s bestowing on you and the delicate, feathery warmth of his breath on your skin sets your entire body vibrating to his touch. He’s quick and quiet as promised though, collapsing on his back next to you, to rake his tattooed fingers through his dishevelled hair, as you watch him fondly. He laughs, exhausted and drops his arm back onto the pillows, his chest still heaving.

“Aiyah, I need to take a shower,” he groans. “You made me all sweaty,” he teases, sticking his tongue out and winking discreetly. He’s surprisingly quick and you jump in after him, switching to your slightly-lighter summer nightgown as soon as you’ve towelled off. He purrs his approval, though you had been careful to choose everything with high necklines for even your summery options, not being sure which clothes his parents might see on this visit. This one is a little shorter though, and Jeongguk doesn’t miss the opportunity to give you a resounding slap on the ass when you pass by him on your way to collect your comb. You roll your eyes indulgently.

“You’re doing a great job of making us look like we’re in a serious, grown-up relationship,” you needle him, with a giggle. He looks fake-affronted.

“I’ve been a perfect gentleman all evening,” he defends himself. You soften, and lean across to kiss him gently.

“You have been. Until you locked the door,” you agree. “Now unlock it, in case your mother needs to come in for anything,” you tell him firmly. “It was incredibly kind of them to let me stay here overnight, and share you like this, and I don’t want to be disrespectful.” He makes a cute, pouting, aegyo gesture, but obliges you, before climbing into the king-size bed, pulling you into his arms, and settling himself to drift off to sleep, spooning you. You sigh happily, and cuddle up close, fully aware that you’ve never been able to be this “couple-y” back at the dorm apartment, even if you have managed to steal all those moments together.

You wake up somehow still in his arms, though you quickly scoot across the bed to flick your alarm off before it can wake him. He whines softly in his sleep, so you nudge your pillows closer to him and watch him wrap himself around them with a cute little satisfied noise. You laugh to yourself at his unconscious aegyo and head out to the kitchen to help his mother with the breakfast.

You make sure to take yourself off to the train station soon after your meal, ensuring that Jeongguk gets to spend some time alone with his family by explaining that you have lots of work to do back in Seoul. His mother sees what you’re trying to do and smiles softly at you as you all say your farewells. You remind Jeongguk to meet the company car at Apgujeong station at seven, rather than Seoul station at six. He winks at you discreetly, so you know he’s remembered why.

“So...just how noisy are you planning to be?” you whisper as he kisses you fervently. “Am I going to need to alert the police, so they know not to intervene?” You’re finally holed up together in one of Korea’s most famous ‘love motels’ with an hour at your disposal. Jeongguk has tried to convince you via text, while he was travelling back up on the KTX, to buy a whole night, but you’ve reminded him that you’re already pushing it. You’re assuming it’s as a direct result of having his overnight bid rejected that, upon arriving, he immediately dropped his bag straight on the floor, scooped you into his arms, and started devouring you with fiery kisses, without even stopping to greet you.

“C’mon, noona~” he whines, his lips gearing up for pout-mode, as you gently push him away to admire him at arm’s length. 

“Someone took you shopping?” you guess, making his eyes sparkle with mischief. He tosses his mane of dark hair away from his face and the pout hesitates, twitches, and reforms itself into a smirk.

“Do you like it?” he asks, preening a little, as he adjusts his lapels and flips his hair again, a little self-consciously. You nod, smiling at his shy modelling of the look.

“I love it. You look amazing,” you tell him.

“I’m going to dye my hair dark colours for...for later...as well,” he murmurs.

“It’s already dark?” you point out. 

“No. Like dark colours, but different to the natural colour,” he elaborates.

“I see. And later?” you echo his words, bemused. “Later like the next comeback?” He shakes his head.

“No...like...later later. ‘Cos you like dark colours on me, you said a few times...” he trails off, then laughs at himself softly. “Stop distracting me with talking, noona~ I want to kiss you so much right now,” he tells you, the pout returning.

“So kiss me. You don’t need anyone’s permission for that,” you tell him.

“Do I not?” he counters. You shake your head, unable to speak as you drink in his ethereal beauty. His eyes sparkle as he takes your chin in his hands and kisses you hungrily, biting your bottom lip in his passionate ardour. You kiss him back, as starving for his kisses as he is eager to bestow them on you. You’re so distracted by the black magic his lips and tongue are working on you that you don’t even notice him stripping you both until you feel the heat of his bare skin against your own and realise that you’re standing naked in each others’ arms. 

He lets you suck on his tongue, as he lifts you up to sit astride his hips, with your legs wrapped about his waist, before walking the few steps to slam you up against the wall. You’ve barely had time to catch your breath before you feel him slide up inside you, simultaneously giving voice to an airy moan of pleasure that sets your whole body tingling. His kisses and bites head south until you can feel his breath warm on your neck as his moans increase their pitch and volume, interspersed with cuss words in both English and Korean.

“Oh! Jeongguk-ah!” you gasp, clinging to him and kissing every inch of him you can reach, as his hips shudder with increasingly messy haste.

“Oh Noona! Oh fuck! Oh shi~FUCK! Oh NE!” he responds, his voice raised to a pitch he usually reserves for online gaming or vocal practice. Somewhere in the room, muffled by your bag, you hear your phone start to ring. Without missing a beat, Jeongguk growls “ignore it,” raising your leg to rest on his shoulder to adjust his angle. You let out a tiny yelp of surprise and alarm at feeling yourself stretched further than you were aware you were capable of, but he must think you’re objecting, as he elaborates: “c’mon, noona, don’t worry about it. Neukkimi wa~!”

“I’m not, I’m just-ah! Kookie!!” you squeal. “I don’t know if I can get that high!”

“Course you can - I’ve got you,” he gasps, with a wicked little smile, thrusting himself into you faster and faster. “Seriously: gibun joha! Oh my God!” he groans, sounding ironically like he’s actually in pain.

“Are you okay, jagi?!” you ask, slightly concerned that he’s hurt himself.

“Mmf shibal, ne,” he giggles, kissing you softly, then nipping your lip. “Come over to the mirror…” he murmurs, letting you down to the ground and pulling you insistently towards the mirrored wardrobe door panels. “I want to watch you while I fuck you at behind...at the back?” he tries, checking your eyes to see if he’s on the right track, and making you smile.

“From behind,” you correct him gently, blushing. He blushes as well and you kiss him softly. “Such a dirty mouth for such a beautiful boy,” you tease him, in Korean. His eyes widen and a tiny smile pulls at the corner of his lips as he fishes one of your heels from the shoe rack by the wardrobe.

“Put these back on?” he requests.

“Oh really?” you ask, raising your eyebrows in amusement.

“Ne. Jebal,” he nods decisively. 

“Do you not want me to put the rest back on then?” you check, gesturing at the suspender belt and filmy stockings. He looks puzzled. “Not all the clothes. Just the lingerie,” you amend. 

“Oh!” he nods, to show you he’s understood. “Eung. Ne ranjeri joha,” he affirms, with a coy smile. You quickly slip your bra, stockings and suspender belt back on, feeling his eyes devour you as you do so. When you come back over to him, he embraces you from behind, watching your joint reflections in the mirror. The lingerie seems to entrance him.

“Nomu yeppeoyo…” he whispers into your ear.

“Jeongguk, do-yo,” you murmur, smiling into his eyes in his reflection. Exhaling, with a sigh, he lets his hands skim your sides, following the curves of your breasts and hips, until you feel his erection return, teasing the insides of your thighs. His head dips to lick the curve of your neck and you can feel his warm breath tickling your over-sensitive skin. He slips his hands inside the cups of your bra, making you gasp as the cold air hits your exposed skin. He stares at your reflection for an interval, his eyes drawn first to your exposed breasts, and then to your legs, angled at a high tilt from the heels.

“Go on then,” you breathe. “Show me what you’re made of Kookie.” You watch him bite his lip and close one eye, cute, clearly reassessing his bold claim last night.

“Oh I see,” you laugh gently. “Now you’re shy?” Well, that works. Repositioning himself, he gives you a defiantly cocky look and draws you back onto his erection making you gasp loudly. Reacting to your gasp, he groans loudly and then proceeds to give voice to a litany of moans that would make a whore blush.

“Faster, Kook! Oh my God ne!” you encourage him, too caught up in the act and in his beauty - reflected in the mirror as he enjoys himself - to give any thought to who might overhear you both. You’re close to collapsing from your shaking legs, when he gasps: “maltagi haeboja?” and grabs you around the waist with one arm, swiftly transferring you to the bed, before falling onto his back and gesturing to you to straddle him. Indulging him, you throw one leg across him, lean down to kiss his pretty mouth and simultaneously reach behind to lower yourself onto his erection. 

“Oh shiBAL!” he yelps, throwing his head back and tossing his dark hair everywhere. His hips are going like a jackhammer, and it’s hard to keep your balance, but you manage somehow, making you both giggle as you’re tossed about like a ship on the waves. His brings his hands around from your thighs to grab your ass hard and you raise your hips a little to bounce up and down on him, making him swear again and toss his head feverishly. His moans slip into pleading gasps and almost-sobbing sounds and you can feel his hip-thrusts getting messier as he gets closer to finishing. 

“Oh jebal!” he whimpers, gritting his teeth as the orgasm starts to sneak up on him. You wiggle around, letting him hit your g-spot until you feel your muscles start to contract around his erection.

“Ssalkeogata?” he gasps. You nod frantically, not wanting him to stop before you feel the waves hit you. He swallows hard, then follows up with “Same! Odiro hallae?”

“Eolgul-eso,” you whisper, wanting to reward his efforts. You lean forward to kiss his neck, and let your hands stray up to his nipples.

“Unf!” he grunts, “quick then - get down there!” You glide yourself off him carefully, then angle yourself between his legs, earning yourself a prolonged growl of pleasure as his hips jerk and thick ribbons of his jizz paint your upturned face.

“Mm,” he murmurs, his eyes already sliding shut. “That was hot.” You let him cuddle up to you for ten minutes or so, but then feel obliged to point out that your hour is swiftly coming to a close. “You need to get dressed, jagi. You guys have that slot on Jimmy Kimmel later tonight, remember?” you coax him. “What will ARMY think if you’re all spacey?” His laugh is full of mischief.

“They won’t think anything. I’m spacey plenty of the time,” he points out. “That’s like asking Jimin not to fall off his chair.” He sticks his tongue out, and then darts out of your way as you go to smack him lightly. He starts pulling his clothes back on and you do the same. “Oh wait!” he remembers, as he lights upon a tissue-paper package in his bag. “I got you something as well.” He holds it out to you shyly. You unwrap it with trembling fingers as he watches you anxiously. Nestled in the tissue-paper is a stunning, rose madder, satin negligee.

“Oh wow, JK...Are you...sure you should be spending this kind of money on me?” you ask tentatively. He gives you a deep, rather forceful kiss in reply, his arms wrapping possessively around your waist, as if you’re in any doubt that he owns you.

“Wear it when you go to bed tonight,” he demands. You raise your eyebrows at his imperious tone, but smile and agree to his terms, accepting another lingering kiss as a signed, sealed and delivered contract. “Also, I’m coming in your room later and sleeping there,” he informs you, leaving no room for debate. 

And so it is that, after lights-out in the dorm, you see your door slide silently back to reveal Jeongguk in (what you are to discover are deliberately-chosen) cobalt-blue satin pyjama bottoms and no shirt. Pretty, sleepy and refreshingly innocent, he turns his head away politely to yawn, then pads softly over to your bed, slips his room slippers off, and cuddles up close to you under the sheets. You turn to kiss him goodnight, but he’s already mostly asleep, and your insides curl happily at the thought that he genuinely just wanted to be with you when he fell asleep.

He stretches with a satisfied sound when he comes to the next morning, apparently not bothered by the sound of his insane alarm, which you wonder if you’ll ever get used to, though you’re aware that you’re leaping ahead in even considering such things. He turns his lovely doe-eyed gaze on your face, and then skims the curves of your body - clad in your present from him - lightly with his hand, letting his eyes follow along.

“Mmm...you wore this to bed like I asked,” he mumbles, obviously pleased.

“Mm-hm,” you murmur back, still half-asleep.

“Humm...look at you...look at us…” he purrs, tangling his legs with yours and running his tattooed hand from his own blue-covered leg to your red-covered one. You’re both splayed on your white sheets with the black satin pillows tossed everywhere by your sleeping limbs, and it takes you a second to take it all in, but then you realise.

“Oh yeah! Taegeukgi!” you laugh gently, amused by his cleverness but apparently completely missing what he’s implying. You don’t miss the look in his beautiful eyes though. He looks first bewildered, but then just slightly disappointed and you worry that you’ve somehow hurt him. You kiss him gently and smile into his eyes.

“Did you want to try and take a photograph?” you check, still unsure what you’ve said or done, or more likely not said or done. He hesitates, thinking it over, but then shakes his head and kisses you lingeringly to let you know you’re forgiven for your transgression. You rack your brain for anything vital you might have missed in the flag’s symbolism while you were researching Korean culture, prior to your move here, but  strangely the puzzle pieces only come together in your head months later.

You all manage to drift along in peaceful contentment for around a month until the day Hobi walks in on Jeongguk sobbing quietly in your arms because he’s so embarrassed that the weight he has recorded that morning is just slightly over the body-fat percentage ratio that the company had demanded from him.

“Hey guys! Anyone up for a coffee date?” chirps the dance leader, tossing his gym bag on one of the couches and pirouetting on the spot. “I was thinking we could try that new…” he trails off as he takes in the scene in front of him, catching your eye over Jeongguk’s shaking shoulders. “I mean later... I’m just gonna grab a snack…” he amends, making his escape quickly, but not without a sympathetic grimace at the back of Jeongguk’s head. 

He’s discreet enough not to mention anything in JK’s presence, when the latter insists on dragging you into the kitchen with him to follow up on the coffee proposal. 

“We’ll come with you to the new coffee place, hyung!” he announces brightly, his eyes still sparkling unnaturally, though he’s let you dab some cream on his eyelids to cover up the puffy redness and his hand is gripping yours a little too tightly.

“Um, sure. Just let me finish my snack, and I’ll bring the car around,” Hoseok nods agreeably, graciously giving you space to head back into the living room. You know better than to question Jeongguk’s course of action when he’s in a heightened state, so you just cuddle up next to him on the couch and wait for Hobi to let you know he’s ready. After a moment, you let your hand stray to the hemline of JK’s t-shirt and dance your fingers lightly over his abs. He looks shy and a little surprised when he catches your eye. You smile up at him fake-innocently.

“So sexy, babe,” you coo. “You should show this off more.” You press his t-shirt up teasingly, making him blush and yank it back down.

“Noona~ Hobi’s about to come get us,” he whines, but the little smile he tries to hide lets you know he’s flattered so you hope you’ve undone at least some of the damage. 

“He obviously trusts you,” Hobi is plea-bargaining with you before the next comeback. “And don’t even think I don’t know he was crying the other day, before we went to get coffee either. And why he was upset. I’m not stupid. He’s always down when he’s been binging and they spot check us. And Jin had to physically stop him eating the other day, so we all knew he was going to spiral. But that’s the first time I know of that he’s confided in anyone about it.” It’s true that you’ve all noticed Jeongguk’s weight yo-yo-ing and this time you and Hobi are a little frightened at the amount he’s lost so quickly and how he’s managing it. You grimace in acknowledgement of Hoseok’s words.

“Well I haven’t seen him eat anything today,” you agree, thinking it over. “Or yesterday for that matter. I was assuming he’d eat when you guys were scheduled?” Hoseok shakes his head sharply with a glum look.

“Nothing,” he laments.

“Shit,” you curse. “I don’t know what we can do. You know he won’t listen to reason...or compliments,” you sigh helplessly. Hoseok sighs as well.

You’ve both reached an impasse in your plotting when the object of your speculation flits into the room, looking suspiciously pleased with himself and acting a little tipsy. You and Hoseok exchange a look. Tipsy may be the vibe, but neither of you have seen him anywhere near anything other than his ubiquitous bottles of water for at least three days, so you’re guessing it’s lightheadedness that’s the culprit.

“Been out, JayKay?” Hoseok tries conversationally.

“Mm-hm,” Jeongguk replies, nodding, but keeping his lips together. You and Hoseok exchange another uneasy look. Instead of elaborating, the maknae scoops you into his arms and kisses you deeply, making Hobi turn away, flustered. 

“Oh...ooh...Oh!” you exclaim, surprised by his romantic gesture and then by the unmistakable feel of metal against your tongue. You laugh in relief as you realise why he kept his lips together. He’s gotten his tongue pierced.

“You know you’re not meant to kiss anyone when that’s healing?” you reprimand him lightly. Hobi looks across, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“Apparently JayKay is still working on his mission to give Korean parents everywhere heart failure,” you update him. Jeongguk obediently sticks out his tongue, demonstrating. Hobi laughs, exasperated. 

“She’s right about the kissing,” he comments. “And kimchi too. Better lay off the kimchi…” he stammers to a stop, realising what he’s saying. “Actually, it’s probably fine, so long as you wash it after,” he mumbles, awkward as you all try to skirt around the subject of your golden maknae’s pre-comeback eating habits. Bit by bit though, Jeongguk starts to confide in you when he’s worried about his weight and you do your best to help him eat healthily and remind him that ARMY love to see him enjoy his food and gradually he inches towards a healthier body-image, though there are still setbacks, and you have to be very careful to praise his looks when he’s at a healthy weight and not to overdo the praise when he overdoes the dieting.

Yet none of this alerts you to what Jeongguk is building up to, and apparently none of the others are any the wiser, so he takes you all by surprise the day he puts his plan into action. You’re all at a company picnic, due to progress to dinner and drinks once the sun dips below the horizon. You and Jeongguk have already fended off the usual stellar jokes from the hyung line, pitched just at the level to needle you both without arousing the suspicion of the staff:

“How are you feeling JK?” asks Yoongi in an overly-solicitous manner. Jeongguk narrows his eyes, vaguely aware where this might be headed.

“Fine,” he allows, warily. Yoongi continues to feign concern.

“That’s good. Cos that stomach ache you had last night sounded pretty bad,” he quips, catching Namjoon’s eye. Namjoon grins and chimes in:

“Yeah. We can get you some pepto-bismol for that if it keeps up,” he concurs. 

“Pepto-bismol?” overhears Jin, joining the attack. “Good idea. Maybe we should grab some mosquito repellant as well,” he nods sagely. “Poor Noona seems to be their favourite snack lately.” The staff members milling around within earshot miss the implications, but neither you nor Jeongguk do. He shoots you a mischievous look and you return it with a warning look.

“Are we that loud?” you mutter to Namjoon, when he passes you a plate of food. He raises his eyebrows and gives you a broad grin.

“We could hear him moaning from the living room last night. It didn’t quite go with the classical soundtrack of the documentary we were watching on ‘galaxies beyond our own’,” he informs you, in an amused undertone.

“Sorry,” you grimace, feeling your cheeks flush. Namjoon shrugs indulgently. “And the hickeys?” you prompt, uneasily. “Are they that obvious?”

“Subtle is not Jeon Jeongguk’s middle name,” Namjoon reminds you, wryly. “Look, from my point of view, your bizarre courtship rituals are pretty funny, if not even a little bit romantic on occasion.” He pauses, with a deep sigh. “I just don’t know that management will see it that way,” he points out. Turns out Jeongguk has other ideas on that as you and Joon are about to discover. Bangtan’s leader is watching you pick at the leftovers of your food as he regales you with the details of the documentary you missed, when Jeongguk materialises at his shoulder.

“May I interrupt, hyung?” he checks nervously and very formally.

“Uh, sure...What’s up JK?” Joon asks, trying to bring the register down. Instead of adapting, Jeongguk clears his throat and extends his hand to take yours in his as he, rather melodramatically and very gracefully sinks to one knee. That gets the attention of the rather taken aback staff and members. As for you, you’re too flustered to move and can’t take your eyes off his. Your mouth feels dry and you’re finding it hard to swallow as you feel your heart beating way too fast. What is he playing at? you think to yourself, your head whirling as you try to think of other plausible explanations. 

“Ruby-noona, narang gyeolhonhae juseyo,” he requests in full honorifics, his voice trembling only the tiniest bit. “Oh…” he interrupts himself, his voice dropping in volume and register, “Moksori-ga tteolryeo…” Nobody else moves, or says anything. You’re all too stunned by his sudden vulnerability. Finally, you unfreeze and smile warmly down at his anxious face. Without even a glance to check whether it’s okay with the staff or your boss, you nod your head enthusiastically.

“Ne! Sucheon bon-iyo! ” you exclaim, bending to kiss his perfect lips. His eyes widen as he registers your lips on his and you feel him smile as well. Getting to his feet, he lifts you up above his head and kisses you again, revelling in the purity of the moment and the joy of his own strength.

By the day of the wedding, your head is still spinning over how quickly everything has happened from the day you first kissed until the day first his parents and then the company agreed to your marriage. His parents didn’t take much convincing, but you’re both still a little bruised from how much the company resisted. In the end, you agreed to a very private ceremony and only the most cursory of press statements. Neither you nor Jeongguk had wanted to announce anything to the public, but Hybe had insisted, pointing out that saying nothing would likely blow up in your faces later. 

You want to get married in the evening, so you manage to hire Gyeongbokgung Palace grounds for the ceremony, which has you in raptures over how pretty the background of your vows is going to be and him nostalgic over the last time he was here, performing a showcase for an American broadcast. You book your mother, best friends and brother flights over to Korea, and Jeongguk kisses you tenderly and takes you gently in his arms, pulling you onto his lap when you explain to him that your father has already passed away so he won’t get the chance to meet him and hear from his daughter how lucky she is to have found such an amazing man.

You ask him if there’s anyone that you’re expected to invite and he laughs softly and tells you his parents will arrange most of that, but he will make sure to invite your mutual friends here in Seoul and to let him know if there’s anyone else you or your mother want there. When everyone arrives in Seoul, you, your mother and your girlfriends join Jeongguk’s mother who guides you all graciously through the hanbok fittings, making sure everyone has the colouring correct. Of course your mother opts for purple over pink and you laughingly tell her that you’ll allow it because “Borahae!” (complete with ‘kimchi’ pose) which confuses her a bit but makes the others laugh. You fall in love with your own rich, red hanbok, carefully chosen by Jeongguk’s mother, and go to your trusted hairdresser to discuss hairstyles. You’re tempted to let your own mother choose your jewellery, but she laughs knowingly and says not to worry: she knows your taste is wildly different from hers.

And then finally, there’s the jeon-an-rye ceremony: Jeongguk, blushing shyly, as he bows twice and presents your enchanted mother with a beautiful kireogi. She eagerly tells him that your father was very fond of the symbol of a wild goose and, indeed, had them embroidered on his ecclesiastical robes when he was promoted. Jeongguk misses a lot of what she says, but picks up the gist, and that what she is saying has something to do with your father, nodding along shyly as she speaks. 

So in the end here you are, sitting in state in one of the little rooms off the main court of Gyeongbokgung, greeting the seemingly endless stream of guests while Jeongguk entertains everyone, including his 97-line buddies, outside. Thank God, your girl friends are happy to stay in the room with you, alongside a couple of the lovely junior Hybe staff girls, who make sure that you’re kept looking as fresh as a daisy and have plenty of water and fruit. Ellie, Mai and Yugyeom’s wife, Cass keep you entertained, periodically checking on what the boys are up to and reporting back. Meanwhile, your mother and your best friend are being looked after by your brother, nephew and Japanese sister-in-law who at least have some East Asian cultural awareness, although Jeongguk has made sure they have a translator with them as none of them speak any Korean.

Finally, one of the senior Hybe girls comes back into the room. The girl bows deeply and tells you that it’s time to come out, as the officials have arrived, and the kunbere ceremony is due to begin. Trying not to feel nervous all over again, you adjust your hanbok, letting the staff girls check you over and your girls check your hair and makeup, then they all fan out ahead of you to take their places in the prettily-decorated seats that are neatly laid out in blocks with a ribbon-lined aisle down the centre, leading up to the dais where you glimpse the celebrant, the MC and your beautiful fiance waiting patiently, patting his cheek with the back of his hand, then adjusting his dark purple bangs fastidiously.

Followed by your mother and future mother-in-law, you step out into the fairy-lit courtyard and step into the aisle as musicians begin to play a lilting wedding tune-version of “Euphoria”. Jeongguk smiles at you quickly, then lowers his eyes, still shy at having one of his songs as the wedding march. His eyes are sparkling more than the fairy lights as you join him on the dais. He takes your hand in a pure, innocent gesture of affection, and you both step in front of the celebrant. His hand is soft and warm and you feel a rush of love for him as he tilts his head to catch your eye again, and sends you a tiny smile.

The actual ceremony is, of course, standardly Korean - short and sweet. Jeongguk says his vows with heartfelt sincerity, his low, husky speaking-voice making you catch your breath. You speak your vows slowly and clearly, careful to get your pronunciation right, as he watches you, smiling his gentle encouragement. You share the traditional glass of wine, though you’re more than happy to leave him the lion’s share of the contents, grimacing as you swallow the bitter liquid. You laugh softly at his pantomime, eyes wide over the rim of the glass as he quickly downs the remains.

You both bow to your guests, then make your way back down the aisle as the musicians play - this time an instrumental of So-u-ju, that Jeongguk seems less shy about, judging by his mischievous wink at Yugyeom and Jimin as you pass them. You’re headed down to Busan tomorrow morning, to stay at Gamcheon Culture Village for your brief honeymoon  (which Jeongguk has insisted include a tour of Haedong Yonggungsa Temple), but you’ve decided to hold the post-wedding banquet at the Signiel Hotel, where you’ll then spend your wedding night. Jeongguk is full of suggestive whispers as you share some champagne in the limo, but you laugh gently and tease him that he probably won’t last the night, if he keeps up the pace with his drinking. He looks mock-offended, staring at you open-mouthed as you dutifully pour him another drink.

“Wae?!” he reprimands you, before taking the glass in both hands and draining the contents, his beautiful, dark eyes fixed on yours.

“Ah, was that too disrespectful, nae nampyeon-nim?” you amend quickly, bowing your head. You’re still nervous that you won’t adapt to being a good Korean wife, or that, due to cultural expectations you may not be aware of, Kookie will expect different behaviour from you now that you’re married. He seems to understand your nervousness because he smiles at you, cute and places the glass on the little glass-topped counter by your shared bench-seat.

“You don’t have to use -nim,” he tells you, gently. “Especially not when we are alone. And the teasing is fine too. I would prefer if you are respectful when we are in company, just because that’s what is expected for…” he pauses, looking for the correct term.

“Face?” you suggest. He nods, shy.

“Yes. For saving face in Korea, it’s best for how people see both of us if my wife is respectful. Especially because I’ve married a foreigner and sometimes people can be...unsure with that. But when we’re alone like this nothing will change.”

“Okay, babydoll,” you murmur, drawn in again by his lovely lips. He returns your kiss, then lets you cuddle up to him as he polishes off the rest of the champagne. He’s pretty intoxicated by the time you arrive at the hotel, but if anything it’s just made him more flirty so your only worry is keeping the festivities PG-rated. This concern deepens as you come out of your hotel room bathroom in your reception attire and his hands go straight around you, stroking the exposed skin at the base of the plunging back of your dress. 

“You look fire, jagi,” he purrs into your ear. You giggle and pull slightly back still in his embrace, fixing your earrings so that they won’t get caught in the loose locks of your hairdo.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, mister,” you compliment him, taking in his black dress suit, satiny black shirt and gold chain necklace. “Wait, excuse me, what’s this though?” you laugh softly. He looks mischievous, like he knows exactly what you’re talking about, but he has to tease you first.

“C’mon, noona. You know I hate ties,” he pouts, brushing imaginary lint off his lapels. You give him a wry look.

“Yes. I know. And you know that’s not what I’m referring to,” you persist, trailing your finger down his chest, where his shirt is unbuttoned halfway down to his waist. He sticks his tongue out cheekily and grabs your hand to pull you out the door into the main corridor.

Sighing and shaking your head, you follow him over to the elevator, trotting to keep up in your heels. You get a little round of applause when you walk into the grand ballroom together, holding hands and then you’re free to mingle and graze on the banchan while they cook the meat you’ve ordered. 

BamBam tells you, blushing a little, that you look pretty and you feel a sudden pang of guilt as you realize, with the full force of hindsight, that he has always been very sweet towards you and that there might have been something behind that. Jeongguk looks away, pushing his tongue into his cheek, then jealously pulls you over to examine the cake you’re going to cut later.

“Come on, JK. He was just being polite,” you caution him.

“He’s always thought you were pretty. He used to say so when we all hung out,” Jeongguk pouts, downing another shot of soju.

“Yet he’s always been a perfect gentleman. And then here I am, married to you,” you point out, stroking a tendril of his hair away from his eyes. He twists his lips in acknowledgement of this fact, then turns his attention to the cake.

“Is it mint choc?” he checks, anxiously. You hold back a giggle and regard him with a serious face.

“That’s what we asked for, so I imagine so,” you reassure him, keeping your eyes modestly down. He smiles and takes your face in his hands, kissing you lingeringly.

Of course, Yugyeom and Cass, having overheard this exchange, don’t miss the chance to wreck a little havoc:

“Wow, gross. Planning on eating the entire thing yourselves then?” Cass needles you mischievously.

“That’s a very tight dress, noona,” Yugyeom observes, sizing you up and taking in JK’s barely-concealed predatory gaze following your every move. He clears his throat and catches his wife’s eye. “I mean I’m assuming it’s just to make sure you don’t catch any chestnuts at the pyebaek?”

“No,” you tell him. “We’re just going to skip it altogether, sorry to disappoint, Yugs.” Yugyeom looks a little scandalized, but Jeongguk just raises his eyebrow in confirmation and points out that ‘I’m all the babie Noona will ever need, anyway,’ whilst cuddling you back against him and pouting for another kiss, with which you oblige him willingly.

“Ha! Not to mention all the trouble she’ll ever need,” Yugyeom adds, sotto voce as Jeongguk swipes himself another bottle of soju. You pretend not to hear Yugyeom, and turn the focus back on the only-recently married couple.

“So how many chestnuts did Cassandra catch?” you ask them teasingly. Yugyeom cuddles his Dutch-Australian wife in turn, lifting her hair away to kiss her neck.

“Enough,” he gloats, making her laugh and elbow him good-naturedly.

You girls let the boys rib each other playfully, and you’re careful to join the fray only when called upon by your new husband to back him up. You must pass the test, because in the end Yugyeom concedes playfully that ‘wow, you’ve trained her well. She’s transformed from our savage noona into a perfect little Korean wife in a matter of hours,’ which makes Jeongguk preen a little. You and Cass chat for a while, then you finally catch a moment to have a proper chat with your best friend, making Jeongguk sulk a little as he tries to follow the rather intense and rapid-fire conversation. Cass sidles up to Jeongguk, looking amused, and pulls him aside.

“Don’t worry about it JK,” she reassures him.  “They’ve known each other forever and I’m not entirely sure anyone else speaks their private language. It’s not an English thing and it’s not a romantic thing either. Anyway, she loves you to bits, so that’s not a fight worth having.” Jeongguk nods his understanding, then returns to your side, resting his chin on your shoulder and watching you fondly, as you speak and listen animatedly. You notice he’s there at the same time your best friend does and you both smile at him and readjust your conversation so that he can follow along comfortably.

“Right,” your best friend announces after a short while longer, “I shall release you into the custody of this incredibly attractive young man, and go acquire some delicious Korean cuisine for myself.” He smiles at Jeongguk, congratulates him and makes his way over to the buffet. Jeongguk looks after him, a little bewildered, then kisses you insistently and a little possessively.

“Come back down to our room with me for a bit,” he murmurs against your lips, nipping your bottom one for emphasis.

“You’re naughty, Kookie,” you murmur back. “We’re literally in the middle of our own wedding reception at a very fancy hotel.”

“But I can’t stop thinking about what’s under this...very...tight...dress,” he growls, his hands stroking their way up your naked back.

“I’m not taking this dress off, jagiya,” you warn him.

“I didn’t say you had to,” he purrs. “Come on...don’t you want me to fuck you while you’re looking out at that gorgeous view we have down there?”

“Is the view going to be gone when we go down later?” you tease, feigning shock.

“Aishh...jebal, noona~~” he whines, maknae-vibe on full-power.

“Joha, joha…” you pacify him, kissing him again, before letting him lead you out of the ballroom and back over to the elevator. “But we have to be quick or people will wonder where we’ve gone.”

“We’ll be back before the cake,” he assures you, pulling on your hand. The elevator is empty when it arrives, so he picks you up, rests you on the corner of the handrail that runs around the mirrored walls and kisses you hungrily. You can taste the soju and champagne on his breath. His cheeks are flushed high up on his cheekbones, and his hands are warm on your stockinged thighs, making your skin tingle. He drops his kisses under your jaw and down to your neck, his hands sliding up towards your chest. You’re just getting concerned how far he’s going to take this, when the elevator pings, shudders to a stop and the doors slide open to reveal two elegant-looking young women whose eyes widen in embarrassment at your extracurricular necking.

“Oh! Um…” the taller one murmurs, as they hesitate before edging into the elevator with you. You apologize profusely and move Jeongguk’s hands away from your chest, smoothing your dress fussily. He flicks his bangs, dabs at his face with the back of his hand and winks at the girl who spoke. Something clicks and they both stare at him in recognition, eyes flicking quickly to the tattoos on his hand.

“Jeon Jeongguk?” the second girl blurts whilst the other opens her mouth to say something, then changes her mind and shuts it again. Jeongguk grins mischievously and inclines his head in acknowledgement of their recognition of him.

“Oh! Is this your…?” the first girl hesitates again, shy. 

“Jae anae. Ruby,” he finishes for her. You catch his eye, then bow your head to the two girls, awaiting their insa. They introduce themselves quickly and you let them have him to themselves as you finish the elevator ride, keeping your eyes modestly down and trying not to give them anything negative to report to their friends. They seem lovely, respectful ARMY though, and Jeongguk is more than happy to chat to them and sign them autographs before you arrive at your floor.

“Come, jagi,” he tells you softly, waving to the girls as you get out. You nod to them both politely and follow him down the corridor, your heart palpitating as you remember anew that this gorgeous man is now your legally-wedded husband.

You’re barely through the door of your room before he picks you up, hiking your legs to encircle his waist and kissing you messily.

“Oh wait, wait…” he whispers, with a giggle. “Get down a sec.” You do as he asks, wondering what he’s forgotten, but he just slides his warm hands up the slit in your dress, hooks his fingers into your panties and tugs at them impatiently, as he discovers they won’t do his bidding, threatening instead to become tangled in your garter-straps. 

“Let me do it Kookie,” you tell him. You carefully unclip your stockings, slide your panties off and then reclip the stockings, knowing he loves the look and feel of them on your legs. He gives you a predatory smile, then traces his fingers from your knee, up your leg and straight up inside you, without any warning. 

“Jeongguk-ah!” you yelp, shocked.

“Mwo?!” he asks, eyes wide as if he’s not being a dreadful tease. “Ah shibal...you’re making me so hard,” he breathes, closing his eyes and grabbing your hand to press it against his dress pants so that you can feel his erection growing and stiffening under the material. “ Nae jaji-reul bbarayo jurae ?” he begs.

“What? How will I enjoy the view if I do that?” you tease him. You kiss him hard on the lips, feeling him smile and his eyelashes flutter against your cheek as he opens his eyes again. 

“You bitch,” he laughs softly, nipping your bottom lip again and teasing you with his tongue. He pushes you onto your knees in front of him, making it very clear that he’s not going to accept ‘no’ as an answer. You undo his pants, pausing briefly to admire his two rings now adorning your ring finger, then wrap your lips around his cock.

“Fuck yes,” he groans, his hands moving from your shoulders to the back of your head as you start to suck him off. You let him guide your pace as you bob your head up and down and let your tongue alternately caress his shaft and glide over his tip, but you quickly come off him when you feel his hip-thrusts start to get messier.

“Oh jinjja?!” he complains, his teeth gritted in mild frustration. You sit back on your heels and give him an appraising look.

“Hm - why did we come down here again?” you ask him, pouting in aegyo.

“Because you look fire and I can’t resist you,” he purrs, raising you to your feet, and flicking his tongue out to tangle with yours in a heated kiss. “Unf...naega ni boji mangateurilkkeoya…” he moans, his hands already sliding up your dress again.

“I dare you…” you tantalize him, taking one of his hands off your leg and guiding him over to the little balcony off your room, that overlooks the city and Hangang. He whines at being impeded from his mission, but smiles when he sees that you’re going to let him continue. You take in the city lights with pleasure, turning your head to follow the river as it winds its way through the two halves of the city. Closing your eyes briefly, you let the gentle breeze and the sounds of the midnight city wash over you. You sense Jeongguk quietly admiring the city you’ve both come to love beside you and open your eyes to smile at him. The heat in his gaze is burning you up as he kisses you a little wildly, his hands going straight for the half-moons of your breasts exposed above the dress’s neckline.

“You can’t wear this anymore after tonight,” he teases. “It’s not cool to show off this much...yubang...in Korea.” 

“You picked it out,” you huff, tilting his head to kiss his neck as his hands get more insistent.

“So?” he sasses you, making you laugh indignantly.

Twirling you around and bending you over the guard-wall of the balcony with one hand, he uses the other to get the skirt of the offending garment out of his way and then you feel his cock go straight up inside you as his hands relocate to your hips. He’s true to his word, pulling you back onto him at a jackhammer pace and making you beg for mercy. You struggle to keep your balance, your legs shaking as he pounds you more relentlessly than he ever has before. You sense that whatever he’s held back until tonight he’s releasing now in one tidal wave of passion and you respond to his needy sighs and moans with a litany of appreciative moans of your own, which he seems to love from his reaction and the nibbles you get on your neck.

Finally you feel his legs tremble and his hips shudder and then a wave of orgasm hits you both, making your own legs give way. He’s quick as a flash though, catching you gently in his arms and sweeping you up to carry you over to the bed. He leans down and kisses you messily but tenderly.

“We should go back up, jagi. I just had to get that out of my system,” he laughs apologetically. You give him a look and laugh as well, shaking your head. “Well it’s your fault. I couldn’t keep my hands off you in that dress,” he defends himself cheekily.

The rest of the night goes off without a hitch, though both you and he are a little the merrier for the soju by the time you finally see your guests off and head back to your room, your heels dangling from your hand and his shirt untucked and buttoned even more haphazardly than it was at the beginning of your reception. He’s also somehow acquired a black cowboy hat, which he has lowered coquettishly over one eye, and which you relieve him of in the elevator, with an exasperated sigh.

“Whose is this, jagiya?” you ask him, tilting your head to catch his eye and try to make him confess. He giggles, shrugs and admits he has no idea, so you just bring it with you and leave it on the low table in your room, ready for whoever to claim. Jeongguk collapses onto the bed and pulls you down by his side with a lopsided smile.

“Mmm...let’s have a bath,” he yawns. You give him a suspicious look, but he laughs and waves his hand to ward off impure thoughts. “Ani, ani...I’m 100% satiated. But the view in there,” he defends himself. “Besides…” Another yawn. “I love traditional Korean-style baths. And I love it when you smell like soap and vanilla,” he bargains, knowing that you’ve brought his favourite body wash in your bags. You smile in surrender, dig up the desired vanilla body wash, quickly strip off your dress and wrap yourself in one of the towels. He’s already stripped naked and submerged himself in the water, so you bring him a couple of towels and step into the bath to join him, both facing the spectacular view of Hangang, with the Seoul N Tower sparkling in the distance. 

“Ah, cheonguk with Jeongguk,” you sigh, melting into his arms. He laughs softly at your terrible joke, and strokes your hair gently. “I love Seoul,” you murmur, awestruck as always by the beauty of the city at night.

“Mm...me too,” he murmurs, sounding sleepy.

“I can’t wait for you to show me Busan properly though,” you chirp, excited at the prospect of your planned week around his hometown. He kisses your forehead.

“Me neither,” he hums. You watch him sleepily, noting he looks even more tired than you feel, but the thought doesn’t make you feel anxious about your wedding night, just deliciously safe as he lifts his heavily tattooed right arm to reach for the body wash and you shift cozily against his other side.

“Let me?” you ask him shyly. He looks surprised, but then smiles and hands you the bottle, inclining his head and gesturing his consent to your proposal. Tingling with anticipation, you bathe him slowly, letting your hands linger on his beautiful body and enjoying being able to pamper him like this. When you’re done, he kisses you by way of a thank you, then tells you it’s his turn to return the favour. You lean back and try not to feel self-conscious as his hands trace every inch of your body. Eventually your eyes slide shut, so you gasp when you feel his lips on yours, then his arms around your back and under your legs. Tired as he is, he manages to lift you out of the bath and onto the wooden floor, where he wraps you in one of the fluffy hotel towels and himself in another.

“Come on, Mrs Jeon Jeongguk,” he whispers, cute, in your ear. “Bedtime.”

“Mmm...I love you so much Jeongguk-ah,” you mumble, towelling yourself off and following him across to the bed.

“I love you too, jagiya,” he purrs, crawling into the bed stark naked and pulling you in beside him. He throws his arms around you again and pulls you back against him, spooning you. “Shibal, I could get used to this…” he murmurs as you both finally drift off to sleep.

THE END

Glossary: (feel free to submit corrections for these ^.^)

Kaja/Kayo [가자/가요] = the informal versions of “let’s go”. The first is strictly for use with those your age and younger. The second is more polite but not formal

Banmal/jondaemal [반말/존댖말] = informal speech, reserved for intimate relationships or people your age or younger/formal speech used for elders etc

“Nuguseyo?” [누구세요?] “Who is this please?”

“Nae yeochin” [내 요친] “My girlfriend” [informal version]

“Annyeong. Junghyun-i-e-yo”/”Ruby-ye-yo.” [안녕. 정현에요/루비예요] = Hi. I’m Junhyun”/”I’m Ruby” in informal speech. Fine if we had known each other longer, though he is younger but for first meeting someone older, formal speech would be the norm. Hence JK’s correction. 

“Mianhamnida.” [미안합니다] = “Sorry” in formal language.

“Gwaenchaenayo” [괜찮아요] = “It’s okay/fine”

 “I saram-eun nae yeojachingu Ruby-noona-ipnida” [이 사람은 제 요자치누 루비누나입니다] = “This person is my girlfriend, Ruby-noona.” [in formal speech, of course]

Jigeum dangjang wanjonhi manjokhamniyo? [지금 당장 완전히 만족함니요?] = “Are you completely satisfied right now?”/wanjonhi [ 완전히] = “Completely.”

Yanolja hotel [야놀자] = “Love hotel” where Koreans can go when they still live with their parents or others to sleep together. Not as seedy as in Western culture and you can rent them by the hour.

“ Ot beoso-bwa: Neorang jago shipeo.” [옺 벗어봐: 나 너랑 자고싶어] = “Take your clothes off: I want to sleep with you.”

"Neukkimi-wa!” [느낌이와] = “I’m starting to get off” (’feel it’)

Gibun joha!” [기붅좋아] = “This feels really good” (slang)

“Eung, ne ranjeri joha.” [응, 네 란제리 좋아] “Yeah (v. informal) I love your lingerie.”

“Nomu yeppeoyo” [노무 예뻐요] = “You’re so pretty.” 

“Jeongguk, do-yo” [정국, 도요] = “You too, Jeongguk.”

“Maltagi haeboja?” [말타기 해보자?] = “Wanna try woman on top? (literally ‘riding the horse’)

“Ssalkeogata?” [쌀거같아] = “Are you cumming?”

“Odi-ro hallae?” [어디로 할래?] = “Where do you want it? (as in where do you want him to cum?)”

“Eolgul-eso.” [ 얼굴 에서] = “On my face/facial.”

Taegeukgi [태국기] = The Korean flag (as in your clothes and the bedsheets make you look like the flag - Korean couples often wear red and blue when they marry with the woman in red, so that’s what JK is implying that you miss).

“Narang gyeolhonhae juseyo?” [나랑 결혼해 주세요?] = Will you please marry me? 

“Moksari-ga tteolryeo.” [목소리 가 떨려] = “My voice is shaking.” (cute random fact: I stole this from what he actually says when he’s doing covers on V Live and he’s cold, cos it’s adorable)

Ne! sucheon bon-iyo! [네, 수천 번이요!] = “Yes! A thousand times!”

“Nae nampyeon-nim.” [내 남편-님] = “My husband” (but the addition of ‘nim’ is the most formal honorific in Korean, so you are trying to be very respectful as a response to his “wae?” (Why? Kind of equivalent to “hey!” or “wtf?!” in English, in this context)

Pyebaek [펴백] = a ceremony where the bride tries to catch chestnuts in her hanbok to see how many children the couple will have.

“Je anae” [제아내] = “My wife” (formal ‘my’ as he doesn’t know them) Cute fact 2: ‘anae’ literally means ‘inside’ in Korean cos your wife is your person you have inside.

“Mwo” [뭐], “Jinjja” [진짜] and “jagi”/”jagiya” [자기/자기야] I assume people know but just in case! They are respectively “What?”, “For real?”/”Seriously?” and “Babe”/”Baby” as a term of affection... 

“Nae jaji-reul bbarayo jurae?” [내자지를빨아요줄래?] = “Can you suck my dick?”

“Naega ni [ne] boji-ga mangatteurilkkeoya.” [내가 니 보지 망가뜨릴꺼야] = “I’m going to destroy/ruin your pussy.”

Yubang [유방] = ‘Tits’

Cheonguk [천국] = Heaven. So the bad joke is his name sounds similar to the word for Heaven in Korean.

[angelguk]

another prerequisite to the things i never told you fic that is coming [eventually]. i do suggest u read this or else oc’s behaviour/reactions will not make sense in the main fic. kinda angsty. jeongguk is mean. jeongguk’s girlfriend is mean. listen to being freezed by heize. 1.8k.

He’s late. You should have expected that. And yet, it still stings; an odd pain tightly gripping your heart as a gentle autumn breeze whispers through the air. Sunlight wanes against the worn brick pavements, splaying across your dirty sneakers, the shoelaces untethering themselves despite the firm knot you’d tugged them into before sprinting up the hill where you promised to meet. You tap your feet against the ground, the pounding that your soles make harmonising with the erratic beating of your heart. His present is clenched between your tense fingertips, the crinkle of plastic melting into the rustle of leaves. They sway gently above your head, courtesy of the zephyr that settles over the hill. You hope he likes it. You’d taken time out of your exhausting high school schedule to thread together his bracelet. Lilac, violet and a dash of white flowing through the amateur design. His favourite colour is purple. Or at least that’s what you can recall. You don’t remember the last time you had a full conversation with Jeongguk - despite him being your best friend.

And it was all because of her.

Even the thought of her name has your heart plummeting to your gut, your fingertips taut around the plastic bag that contains his presents. There was also a new sketching pad and a bunch of expensive colour pencils you’d forked your savings over for bumping inside the bag, hopefully not rumpling the card you'd made for him. But it was worth it. You know how much Jeongguk likes to draw. But you don’t know if he’d appreciate these gifts as much as you think he would have if she wasn’t in the picture. Jeongguk has changed, drastically, since he’d started seeing her. From the way he styled his hair to his interests - little by little the things you knew and adored about your best-friend gradually vanished, replaced by a person who was virtually a stranger to you. Sometimes you go whole days without seeing him, he’d even swapped seats with a classmate to be closer to his viper of a girlfriend. She’d been so smug when you’d walked into class to find nosy Yongsun as your new seatmate instead of seeing Jeongguk planted in the chair whose leg he’d carved his name into at the start of the year with a sheepish grin tugging at his petal pink lips. You had felt her eyes boring into your head, and when you snuck a glimpse at her direction (right in front of the class where she could suck up to the teacher; a position that Jeongguk had always abhorred) you couldn’t miss the sly upturn of her lips. Jeongguk would have seen it too, if he wasn’t so busy writing her a stupid cheesy love note. 

He would have seen a lot, if he bothered to pay attention.

You’d only showed up to the hill because this was your tradition, something she hadn’t been able to taint with her toxicity just yet. There’s only a slither of hope inside of you that believes he’ll show up. But you stay regardless, because it’s your best-friends birthday and you’ll be damned if you let some girl who’d only shown up in the middle of the school year take this away from you too.

It’s the rough pedalling of a bicycle that yanks you from the pit of despair that you’re currently wallowing in. Jeongguk’s face appears around the bend a second later, soft brown curls ruffled by the wind that wipes around his frame. He’s still got his school uniform on, white sleeves rolled up the elbow and his navy tie loosened from its hold. It’s a stark contrast to the sweatpants and knitted jersey you’d tossed on after coming from school before hurrying to the hill. And then her face pops up from behind his, the dark bangs cut across her forehead unmoving even with the breeze whistling around you.

You don’t say anything, the greeting you were about to mutter caught in your throat. Instead, your gaze follows them cautiously, watching the disdainful look his girlfriend gives you as she halts her bike behind Jeongguk’s.

“Hi,” Your best-friend says. He even sounds different. It makes your heart ache violently.

“Hey Jeongguk,” You return, praying he doesn’t note the waver in your tone. And then you throw her a glance. “Hi, Minjoo.”

She doesn’t say anything in response. Apparently, her nails are more interesting than acknowledging your presence. What’s worse is that Jeongguk doesn’t even bat an eyelid at her behaviour.

“Happy birthday!” You try instead, gaze flickering back to Jeongguk. But your heart drops when you find him sending you the same air of disinterestedness emitting from Minjoo. “I haven’t even seen you today! How are you?”

“I’m fine, just busy.” You hate how monotone his response is. “How are you?” That simple question is enough. Something to show you that he still cares. You hang onto it like a fish caught on bait.

“Exhausted, dude. I have so much to tell you. Where are we going for dinner? The stories I have have to be told over food.” Birthday dinner was part of your tradition. Exchange gifts on the hill, share anecdotes over food, spend way too much at the arcade before moving to linger at the park until sundown and then crash at each other’s house (at yours on your birthday and at Jeongguk’s on his). It wasn’t extravagant or wild. It was simple. Like your relationship. Nothing complicated. Just the two of you together, enjoying each other’s company.

The silence that spans between the two of you indicates that, for the first time, in the sixteen years you’d know Jeongguk, that something was complicated.

He scratches the nape of his head first, bottom lip caught between his lip as he thinks of a way to navigate through the problem that you’re still unaware of. If it’s Minjoo’s presence, you can work through that, an assurance already drifting from your lips. You don’t know why she hates you. But if she’s the girl that Jeongguk loves, you’ll tolerate it. He’s your best friend, after all, the person you cherish the most. You’ll just have to learn to find the things that Jeongguk loves about her with your own eyes. You’ll get there eventually. You know you will. Because you don’t know what your life would without Jeongguk. 

But then he glances back at Minjoo, who’s staring at him impatiently, rapping her long nails against the metal handle of her bike and you sense that something is off. Very off.

“Are we not going out?” You softly murmur, intentionally putting emphasis on the ‘we’ as your eyes flicker between their unreadable faces. Their eyes are speaking full-length paragraphs to each other but you don't understand what any of their weighted gazes mean, the look Minjoo is giving Jeongguk practically indecipherable. “Are we going to eat at your mom’s? That’s okay! I haven’t seen your mom in a while.” You stand up without thinking, your sneakers shuffling the fallen copper leaves around, a resounding crunch emitting from your steps. Minjoo stares at you like you’re dirt for doing that. 

“Um…” Jeongguk eyes are apologising when the words aren’t even out of his mouth yet. They’re round, innocent, gaze anywhere but on you. “We already have plans.”

It’s clear, immediately, that that we doesn’t include you.

“Oh.” Your voice is meek even to your own ears, a strange small sound that makes your heart crumble inside of you. “Okay. That’s fine. You can just take your present then.”

He plucks it out of your hands, not even bothering to peer inside, feet already moving to place themselves on the pedals of his bike. Minjoo’s already turning her own bike away, bone straight onyx hair staring back at you, shoulders triumph in a manner that makes the pain gripping your heart spread across your chest, gaze swimming with the torrent of tears that you’re furiously blinking away. 

It’s not fine. It’s not fine at all.

“Jeongguk!” You catch him before he speeds off, Minjoo already flying down the worn pathway. Her silence isn’t missed.

“What?” He spits the word out like you’re a nuisance. It takes everything in you not to punch him right across his pretty face.

“We need to talk.” The words wobble into each other, tone quivering with the tears you swallow.

“Now?” He ruffles his hair again, an exasperated sigh floating from his lips. There’s a sly eye roll that you catch instantly. Your heart lurches sharply in your chest.

“Yes now.” 

“Can’t it wait? Minjoo’s planned something and she’ll get mad at me if I mess it up.” The impatience in his voice is palpable. You really want to punch him in the face. It’s alright for him to suddenly abandon a tradition that both of you treasure, at the drop of a hat all for some even that his annoying girlfriend planned for him? And she’s allowed to get annoyed about him messing the surprise up while you’re meet to just swallow the sudden despondency that sits heavy on your chest? 

“It can’t wait.” You try to be firm, but like the autumn leaves that hang loosely from the branches above, your resolve is weak. It crumbles, when he settles on his bike, huffing loudly, a frown marring his features. And you hear her voice, frill as she screeches his name. She’s a banshee, a bringer of misfortune and pain. Some part of you wants to sew her mouth shut. That part grows bigger when you note how his back straightens and his eyes widen, feet faltering back to the pedals of his bike.

“Later.” Jeongguk dismisses you. “We’ll talk later. I don't want to fight with you right now.”

And then he’s off, swift with his movements, a hurry that indicates trepidation driving his frame further and further away.

You plop back down on the bench, fists clenched with the ire that blazes inside of you. You ball your hands into your lap, blink away the sudden heat you feel in your face and try not to dwindle on the fact that Jeongguk didn’t even thank you for the present. Or look at it. Or even pretend to care. It hurts. More than you expect it too. You wish you could erase it, all of it. Especially Minjoo. How she’s managed to worm her way into Jeongguk’s life and rip him right from your fingertips is lost on you. But it’s becoming clear now, how little Jeongguk values the relationship you have. If he even cared in the slightest, he would have stayed to listen. Faced whatever consequence Minjoo would have waiting for him with valiance. But with how fast he scrambled, it’s evident Jeongguk didn’t think it was worth it. You weren’t worth it. Not anymore. 

[abused-sides]

Looking [Roommates AU]

Trigger warning: This au follows most of the sides in the aftermath of surviving abuse (domestic, parental, etc). In this particular fic it’s only implied, but it’s an instrumental part of the story and if that bothers you, then please not only scroll past this fic, but block my blog as well.

More tws: Homelessness, homeless shelters, sleeping outside, paranoia, house-bound, anxiety/overwhelmed, malnourishment, let me know if i missed anything 

Genre: ??? Virgil escapes and Patton interviews him to move in 

Ships: Endgame romantic intruloceit, romantic prinxiety, queerplatonic royality

Wc: 2541 

A/N: I promise I’m getting to your prompts I love you guys

Virgil laid flat on his back, eyes fixed on the familiar water stain on the ceiling. 

It’d been there since he moved in, three years ago. He hadn’t noticed it right away, instead focused on exploring all the rooms, thrilled about all the space he would have. He wished the house was smaller— Wished they lived in an apartment. He certainly would have more free time. 

There were four spots in the house Virgil hid the money, and he never visited the same one too often. One was tucked inside an empty spray bottle with all of his cleaning stuff, under the kitchen sink. One was slipped between the bedspring and the mattress, on Virgil’s side. He’d never felt a lump or anything, but he was terrified his boyfriend would somehow feel it in his sleep and find the stash. 

Another was hidden in a plant pot under Virgil’s favourite window, buried under the dirt in a plastic bag. The last was tucked into Virgil’s wallet, which he hadn’t touched in three years. No need for a wallet when you don’t leave the house, and your boyfriend pays for everything with his card. 

His boyfriend had been gone for hours. He’d be gone for several more. Virgil wasn’t sure why he hadn’t left yet, why he did his daily chores and then just laid there, hoping the water stain would grow and spread and swallow the entire house. 

He wouldn’t get another chance like this. Not for years, probably. It was the exact opportunity he’d been waiting for. 

So why couldn’t he do it?

He squeezed his eyes shut as they welled with tears. He imagined his boyfriend getting home with his gifts and false compassion, imagined having to spend another several years as his property, with his dull life of cleaning and not much else. 

He pushed himself off the ground and headed for the window that looked out the front yard. He dug under the daisy growing in the pot, spilling dirt all over the immaculate carpet, ripping up its roots and petals, and grabbed the first stash. 

Once he started, he couldn’t stop. He flew through the house to grab all the money and put his backpack together, and then skidded to a stop in front of the door. He swallowed. He was going to throw up. 

He reached blindly for the coatrack, his fingers wrapping around the soft fabric of his boyfriend’s hoodie. He pulled it on and threw the door open. He didn’t think to close it as he stepped out onto the drive, almost disassociating. All he’d felt under his feet for three years was carpet and tile and hardwood. He hopped off the driveway into the grass, and then the sidewalk, and then the road. 

He took in a shuddering breath, pulled his hood up, and ducked his head as he headed for the nearest train station. 

The ticket stole most of his money, but it didn’t matter. As long as he got to the city, he would be fine. He could figure it all out from there. 

He sat alone on the train, wanting desperately to sleep but instead sitting straight up, never resting from his constant patrol. A lady sitting across from him at one point offered to buy him something to eat, but he refused. 

The train stopped in the city’s station close to midnight. Despite him saying he didn’t need any help, the lady guided his shaky self down the steps, and patted his back. 

“Where are you headed?” 

Virgil swallowed. “Um…”

“Do you… Have family in the city?”

He shook his head. He didn’t know where his parents were. 

“Here, let me see your arm.” 

Virgil was hesitant, but carefully rolled his sleeve up. The cool tip of her Sharpie scribbled over his pale skin for a moment, and when she finished, she’d mapped out the directions to a few homeless shelters. 

“They should be able to help you if you don’t have anyone else,” she said. “They can feed you, too. You should eat.”

Virgil’s face turned red. “Okay. Uh, thank- Thank you. Thanks.”

She smiled and squeezed his shoulder, and then she was on her way. 

Virgil spent the next few weeks hopping around homeless shelters. Most of them only allowed a few days’ stay at a time, and he was forced out after breakfast early in the morning. Occasionally, he had to find alternative places to sleep, resorting to behind closed stores, alleyways, fire escapes— Anything he could find and be relatively certain he wouldn’t be caught. 

Most days spent in the city were unproductive. He was overwhelmed, not sure what he wanted, what choices he even had. The stark difference of the empty house he spent three days in, the loudest sounds being traffic outside or his music, to plunging himself deep in the middle of something that was constantly alive, constantly busy, was… 

Overwhelming. 

He was at a cafe, his current favourite place in the city because they let him stay as long as he wanted and gave him free water, when he saw the ad. 

THREE ROOMMATES (MALE) LOOKING FOR FOURTH 

The three of us are currently struggling to make rent, and we have a spare bedroom. Rent would be approximately $575/month. Two of us work from home, and they’re very loud. One of them only works from home part-time. 

Attached was a phone number to call for an interview. 

Virgil asked the girl behind the counter to borrow her phone, and dialled the number with shaking hands. 

“Hello?” 

“H-Hi.” Virgil cleared his throat as his voice broke. “Um, I saw your ad?” 

“Oh! Awesome! When are you free for an interview?”

“Any time, but…” He swallowed. “I’m… I’m just a little, uh, short. I only have about $490 left. But- But if I just had a place to stay, I could-”

“Hey!” The boy sounded concerned. “Hey, hey, calm down. We can still do the interview! Everyone here is struggling, we get it. Besides, you’re our third applicant, and the other two are… Not favourable. So if you nail the interview, and we don’t get too many more applicants, I’ll try to convince my roommates. Where have you been staying?”

Virgil hesitated. “Kind of, um, all over the place. The- The shelters, mostly.” 

“Hmm,” he hummed gravely. “Okay, are you free in an hour? I’m home, so if you want to bang out the interview today, we can!” 

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Really? Uh- Yeah. Yeah, I can get there. Um, what’s the address?” 

When he arrived at the apartment complex, he wanted to throw up and go back to the shelter. Images of Patton laughing at him, or harassing him, or attacking him were the mildest thoughts to run through his head. 

But this was his best option. 

He knew that. 

He had to go inside. 

He took in a shuddering breath. He had to go inside. 

He walked inside. 

Virgil was afraid of elevators, so he took the stairs, only half procrastinating. Patton and his roommates lived on the fourth floor. By the time he arrived, his thighs burned and he was a little out of breath. He looked down at himself and cringed— He was so skinny, mostly just bones, and pale. He looked like he crawled out of a cave. He wore his boyfriend’s now dirty hoodie and jeans that hadn’t been washed in a week. 

How the fuck was he supposed to land this interview? 

He forced himself to push forward, though, and when he knocked, he barely heard it. The door flew open and Virgil barely managed not to jump back. The boy on the other side had golden-brown skin and big, round green eyes. His dark hair fell in messy curls over his forehead. His apron, covered in flour and cocoa powder, followed the swell of his round belly. 

“Hi!” He stuck his hand out. “Virgil? I’m Patton!” 

Virgil shook his hand with a loose grip and stepped inside when gestured. Patton pointed out the table while he hung up his apron, and Virgil nervously lowered himself into one of the old, chipped wooden chairs. Patton came to sit across from him with a warm smile and a sheet of paper. 

“Okay, so I just have a few questions!” He said cheerily. “Don’t let yourself get too nervous, this is hardly formal, I promise.” 

Virgil nodded. 

“Okay! First question: How long would you be staying?”

Virgil blinked. “Uh… I’m not- I’m not really sure. As long as possible, I guess. Until I get back on my feet and some time after that, if you all are still here.” 

Patton scribbled his answer down. “What do you like to do in your free time?” 

Virgil spent an embarrassing amount of time thinking about that question. Did cleaning count as free time? No, that was basically his job. Better refer to it as such. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and stumbled out, “Well, uh, I guess- I guess I listen to music a lot. I gardened sometimes with, you know, those tiny plant boxes?” 

He gasped, and for a terrifying second, Virgil thought he’d somehow offended him. But then Patton pointed to the right, into the living room. Along the sill of the huge window were several of the exact planter boxes Virgil’s boyfriend bought for him. 

“That’s awesome!” Patton gushed. “You’d be able to help us take care of them! They die a lot. We’re planting a lot of strawberries right now, are you any good with them?”

Virgil nodded. “Y-Yeah, I grew tons of strawberries.” 

Patton grinned ear to ear and furiously scribbled some things down. Virgil relaxed a little. “How clean are you? Are you good at cleaning up after yourself?”

Virgil was nodding before he finished speaking. “Yeah, I’m really clean. I spent a lot of time cleaning before I left, so it’s, uh, pretty much habit not to leave a mess around.”

“How would you feel about a chore chart?” Patton pointed to the fridge behind Virgil. Stuck on the front was a large sheet of paper split into three columns, with the headings PATTON, LOGAN, and ROMAN. “Logan made it, and he’s pretty strict about everyone sticking to it. It basically just splits our weekly house chores down the middle, with small accommodations depending on what job everyone has. On paper, I have the least amount of chores because I work the most hours, but a lot of those are cleaning, anyway.” 

Virgil shifted nervously. Would they let him off by saying looking for a job counted towards those hours? Otherwise… He’d be doing a lot of cleaning. What if I trick myself into thinking leaving was a waste of time? 

“I can do that.” He was surprised at how confident he sounded. 

“Great! How often do you cook? No one’s required to cook a certain amount a week or anything- You don’t have to cook at all, if you don’t want to or can’t -but we eat a lot of family dinners so it’s evened itself out so far naturally.” 

“Yeah- No, I can cook. I have a few recipes pretty nailed down so, uh, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Virgil’s body was alive with adrenaline. Was he doing well? He thought he was doing well. Patton looked happier and happier with each answer, so he had to be doing well, right? 

“Along the same line, how do you feel about sharing?” Patton bit his lip. “We understand that everyone has their boundaries, but we’re all pretty close. If you moved in, someone might dip into your groceries by accident, and borrow something without asking. We’d never go into your room without asking, but, well… Yeah, we have boundary issues.” He giggled nervously. 

Tightness expanded in Virgil’s chest. “That’s fine,” he managed. 

Patton frowned. “It’s okay if you’re not. If you’re the right fit for us, we’ll just have to be more careful. You’d just have to forgive a few slip-ups while we adjust.” 

Virgil nodded and forced his voice to steady. “It’s fine. I promise.” He’d just keep everything important in his room- It’s not like he had more than a backpack’s worth right then, anyway. 

Patton nodded slowly and wrote down his answer. “Okay… Um, what’s your sleep schedule like? Roman and Logan both get up pretty early. Logan’s really quiet, but Roman’s really… Not, so if you’re a light sleeper and you sleep in like a normal person, his singing might get on your nerves.”

“I’m fine with that. I, uh, my sleep schedule’s kind of all over the place, so I don’t think it matters?”

“Okay! How has it been lately?”

“Well, uh, the shelters kick us out pretty early, so my sleep schedule probably coincides with Roman’s.” 

Patton nodded. “Do you have any pets, or plans to get any?” Virgil shook his head, and Patton made a noise of disappointment. “How often do you get drunk?”

Surprised, Virgil admitted, “I’ve never gotten drunk.” 

“Oh!” Patton blushed and laughed. “Do you plan on changing that any time soon? Was it a rule, or?” 

“It wasn’t a rule, I just… I don’t know, there was never too much alcohol around. I don’t plan on getting into the stuff, no.” 

Patton nodded and mumbled, “Good.” He straightened up. “Are you still friends with your old roommates?” 

Virgil folded his hands in his lap, squeezing tight. “No?” He stammered, “Is, uh, is that bad?”

He shook his head. “No, not necessarily! How many roommates have you had?”

“Well, there were my parents, and then my boyfriend.” 

“That’s completely understandable,” Patton promised. 

Virgil tipped his head to the side in confusion. Even the part about his parents? He didn’t assume Virgil was some ungrateful, heartless monster? 

“And, um, I’m sorry about this-” Patton looked at him guiltily, “-but I do have to ask… How would you be paying the rent? Would you be able to put down a deposit?”

Shit. Fucking hell, this was going bad fast. “I’m not really sure yet? I- I know that’s bad, I just- Uh, well, I have been looking, I promise. I’ll get the first job I can. I promise.”

Patton held his hand up with a frown. “Hey, it’s okay. I know, you’re in a rough spot right now. It’s okay. You said you’d be a little on the first month?”

Virgil swallowed and nodded. “I can give it to you now, though.”

Patton laughed nervously. “Uh, no, that’s okay. Please hold onto that. If we accept you as a roommate, we’ll take it then, okay? Don’t let someone pre-emptively take your money.” 

Virgil blushed. “Okay.”

Patton wrote something down, then looked up and asked, “Is there anything else I should know?” 

He thought for a moment. He was sure there was something he should tell them, something they were obligated to know before they agreed to live with him. Plenty of ideas ran through his head in his boyfriend’s voice, but for whatever reason, he didn’t think those were appropriate to voice. 

“No,” he settled on. “Not that I can think of.” 

“Okay.” Patton smiled and set the paper down. “We’ll get back to you as soon as possible.” 

Reblogs > Asks > Likes 

Also, for anybody who isn’t aware, I have a ko-fi where I’ll write you 300 words with your prompt for one coffee 

[willowistic22]

RedFinch sickfic 🥺?

The redfinch requests are fueling my serotonin you guys don’t even understand!!!! a very fluffy fic in my opinion and i quite like it. A few curse words but nothing too serious yknow. Anyways, i hope whoever’s reading this enjoys! 

Requests are still opened by the way! I have three more I got to write but I’d be happy taking more, though with a hectic school schedule it will take some time! 

He wraps himself in a big knitted blanket and lie in bed with minimal movements. A tissue box placed on the floor next to his bed with crumpled up tissues scattered around the floor along with it. Bedroom lights dimmed to accommodate his half-consciousness, not exactly sleepy but can’t stay awake either. 

Albert has his eyes fully closed but his mind on full swing. He’d much rather sleep through his discomfort, but the stuffy nose and headache makes it hard. His breathing is loud with so much liquid blocking his nostrils which makes it hard for Albert to breathe, another reason why it’s difficult for him to sleep. 

Though, he longs for sleep to envelop him. He was rustling under his blanket all night. Getting the flu isn’t an end of the world thing, though he knows it can get serious if it’s not treated right after getting millions of lectures from his mom, but Albert still think of it as a huge inconvenience. Sure, he got the chance to ditch his classes, but he’d much enjoy it if the reason behind it was something other than calling in sick. 

Al groans, furiously opening his eyes and rolling from his side to lie on his back. He stares at the ceiling, placing both hands on his stomach above the blanket. 

He really should be doing something. So far, he’s woken up early as per usual to get to his campus, thinking his flu was cured after taking some medicine before bed. As it turned out, it didn’t, so he had called in sick and barely moved out of his covers. He was able to drag himself to shower, which only took about two hours of convincing himself then he props himself back on his bed with clean clothes. 

Albert wants to ask one of his classmates what he missed from today’s lecture, but the energy to even reach to his phone is non existence. And its literally placed just across his tiny bedroom on the desk. Al could use some food since he hasn’t eaten anything today, but he has no appetite. There doesn’t seem to be any source of entertainment that would do good for him either so he’s left in his boredom. 

He exhales out of his mouth full of desperation, defeating the pointless weight on his eyelids. Al’s brain is desperately screaming at him to get out of bed and walk to the kitchen. Albert’s stomach would be very thankful to be given a slice of bread and some water. He just needs to muster up the energy to push through his exhaustion first.

“YO ALBO!” 

His bedroom door swung violently from a kick, the sound hitting the wall caused him to jump. As if the pain Albert’s head is feeling isn’t enough. 

Al’s head half sits up to see who decided to bother him with a sniffle, causing even more pain to his head. The light coming from the other room seems so bright, he can only see two silhouettes of people standing in the doorway. 

“How’re you feelin’ there?” A voice, he recognize to be his roommate Race, asked. Of course it’s Race who busts down his door. Why did he thought it’d be anyone else? 

“Like shit!” Al answered with a nasally voice and another sniffle following his words. 

“Well, you sure look like one!” Race replied, approaching Al on the bed. He turns back towards the doorway, gazing back at the other figure he’s with, “Your boyfriend’s here to take care of you. So don’t worry about me busting down your door again like that” 

Race walks away with a bounce to his steps, leaving Albert and his visitor to have the room all to themselves. 

Albert flops his head back to the pillow with a groan and a sniffle, propping his arm on top of his eyes to block out the bright light. With the little strength he has left in him, he voices out a nasally greet, “Hi, Finch” 

The distant light coming from the doorway slowly fades away till the door can be heard clicking shut. The next thing he notices is the side of his mattress slowly dipping from the extra weight on the edge. 

“Hi, Al” Finch greets back gently, pulling down his arm away from his eyes. Albert can now clearly see the smile on Finch’s face. The sight of the blond picked his spirit up enough to get the grumpy redhead to smile back. 

He puts the back of his hand on top of Albert’s forehead and asks, “How are you feeling? Other than shit” 

Albert chuckles and sniffles out, “My head hurts, I can’t breathe through my nose, and I’m hungry but can’t bring my ass to the kitchen” 

Finch giggles through his smile, retracting his hand and turning to view the rest of Albert’s room. The floor to be exact, “And you should really start throwing your trash away...” 

“Yes, that. I also ditched all my classes of the day, so that’s another problem on my plate” Albert said, slightly unwrapping himself out of his knitted blanket, “And I can’t, for the life of me, sleep but can’t stay awake either because I’m actually sleepy”

He sees his boyfriend reach towards the floor, but can’t clearly see what he’s aiming for. He can hear plastic rustling before Finch sits up straight again, now presenting Albert a bowl-shaped food container, “I made you some cream soup. It’s still warm and it won’t require a lot of chewing” 

Albert smiles at the idea, sniffling his nose out a bit as his hazel eyes twinkle at Finch reaching back down. He could only assume that he’s getting something else. 

“Since you said you lost your appetite, I suspected you aren’t keeping yourself hydrated either so I prepared a water bottle” Putting the water bottle next to the cream soup on the bed. Finch pulls something else up, a small blue container with a bright green lid, “And also some vaporub to save your nose and headache!” 

Albert is beyond thankful to see Finch preparing all of this just for him. He really does not have the energy to do it himself. 

“I’ll get your laptop so we can binge something boring till you fall asleep” Finch ended his note. 

Albert smiles weakly at him, but the adoration was very much present. He hums out, “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Nothing. Which is why you owe me big time for doing this!” Finch joked with a little giggle. It made Al roll his eyes with a chuckle.

Finch helps prop a pillow against the wall. Al’s head painfully pounds as he makes the efforts to sit upright, but any sort of comfort they can spare goes a long way. Finch gives him the bowl of soup with a spoon while he does a bit of cleaning. Albert can’t help but feel guilty for making his boyfriend do this. He’s already doing a lot by making time to visit and preparing a homemade cream soup plus other things to nurse him back to health, and he just got the flu! Finch just shrugs him off, saying that he’s more than happy to help.

After throwing away all the dirty tissues, he gets in bed besides Albert with his laptop in hand. Finch notes the knitted blanket he’s using, “Didn’t know you like knitted blankets”

“My mother made this for me when I had my first stay at a hospital” Albert explained after taking a spoonful of cream soup. He puts down the spoon and sniffles out, “I don’t remember why I had to stay overnight but I remember I was around ten”

Finch smiles at the short story before opening up the laptop and Albert continues eating his soup. Finch doesn’t need to worry about eating, he already had a sandwich before heading over here.

Not even thirty minutes into the movie they’re watching, and Al is already declaring his stomach is full. He ate so little that it looked as if he didn’t even bother touching it.

“Al, you haven’t eaten anything all day!” Finch countered.

“I seriously can’t eat right now. I’m sorry” Albert said. He only apologized because he knows Finch had personally made this for him.

“Please, just take your time finishing it” Finch begged, “I’ll feed you myself if I have to!”

Albert kept arguing that he can’t keep going, so Finch really did feed him. Placing the laptop on Albert’s lap and taking over the spoon to force down one meal down his stomach.

An hour or so through the movie, Albert was able to finish the soup. It wasn’t that his stomach was full, he just didn’t have the strength to finish it on his own. With the help from Finch, he was able to make himself eat something.

Finch helps him apply some vaporub on his chest, sliding his hand under his shirt. Albert lazily placed his head on Finch’s shoulder while he did it, smiling full of contentment. He tries to reach up for a kiss, but Finch pushes him away with a smile. 

“Slow down! We haven’t even held hands yet!” Finch joked, lightly pushing Al back against the wall he’s leaning on, “And there’s no way I’m kissing you while you’re sick” 

Albert laughs with a sniffle following, “We can be sick together!” 

“And leave Race to take care of us? No!” 

So they settle back in the comforts of each other, watching various movies under the warm covers of Alberts knitted blanket. Well, Albert moves his position to lie down completely on the bed and wrap an arm around Finch’s waist as sleep slowly overcomes his senses. Finch stays upright while holding the laptop, but the movie is now long forgotten as he strokes Albert’s hair and watches him drift to sleep. 

He looked terrible when Finch first arrived. To see him now sleeping peacefully by his side, a heavenly feeling wraps Finch’s heart. What a privilege it is to be able to cradle Albert in his arms and help him get better. As he unconsciously tightens his grip around Finch’s waist, he laughs seeing the act unfold.

 BANG! 

The bedroom door slammed opened with a powerful kick, sending both Albert and Finch to jump out of their little serenity. Finch keeps his arms on Albert as the pounding pain in his head appears once again. His eyes squints at the bright light coming from the door. 

“What’s up guys!” Racetrack’s loud voice echoed through Albert’s head, adding even more to the pain. And not to mention to new pain in his ass with his presence. Though, neither of them are entirely surprised. 

“Race... Please go away...” Albert weakly whined, slipping a hand under his pillow as he slowly lies back down. 

“What? Come on! I’m bored!” Race replied, he walks over to the bed in the corner with his signature grin, “The more the merrier, Al!” 

Before he could sit on the bed, Finch took the initiative to stand up and show Race to the door. Slamming it shut and locking it while he’s at it. He returns to his spot on the bed, Albert instantly wrapping his arm around his waist again. 

Finch notices the little pout on his face as he tries to catch more sleep. He laughs and threads his fingers through his hair, “Should’ve locked that door sooner. Sorry” 

“It’s fine” Albert said, barely audible since his face is half buried in his pillow. He opens one eye at Finch and voices out whatever he can without needing to move, “Lie down with me? We can take a little nap” 

Finch chuckles at the offer and proceeds to follow his orders. He gets comfortable under the blanket, facing his boyfriend to wrap his own arms around him. Albert’s head is placed on the crook of his neck, tickling Finch a little  with his hair as he adjust to get comfortable. 

They get comfortable in each others embrace after a few moments of adjusting. Chests rising and falling on their own slow pace. Albert already on his way to dreamland whilst Finch still has the small energy to pet his hair. Though as the seconds passes by, his eyelids begin to get heavier and heavier till sleep finally envelops him.