#we’re gonna pretend I didn’t forget her scars

[donniethesilly]

IT’S BEEN SO LONG. TOO LONG. HERE’S MIRA!!

[rockleeisbaeeee]

Tw: angst ig, could be worst. Srry if there’s spelling mistakes.

——

I remember that summer night, when he promised me he wouldn’t forget me, he’d always love me, he’d wait for me.

Lies.

We kept contact for a week. Then nothing, never heard from him again, until.

“Atsumu miya, rookie athlete is now part of the Black Jackals.”

It had been a year since I returned to Japan when I heard it, my career brought me back here, like I knew it would. Like an idiot I texted him for one last time, that I was back, no response, now I know why, he was too busy focused on new people to even remember my name.

——

All those empty words left me forever scarred.

When I was young I dreamed of my happily ever after, getting married to an amazing husband, having kids and growing old together. That dream shattered the moment I saw him with a new girl is his arms on the tv a week later, he denied the relationship rumors, yet the picture was enough to prove that something did happen, he was fooling around while I grieved my shattered dreams, dreams that he was a part of, dreams he promised would become true, he lied.

——

Every day was a monote nightmare, I see him everywhere, my hate for him grows.

My career was taking slow, but firm steps. I always dreamed of being a journalist. I had started within the sports field, thanks to him, since we were supposed to be together, now it’s too late to focus on another field, I enjoyed watching people play though, their passion always made me feel alive. That was what one of the things I liked about him. Now I avoid writing or watching volleyball at all cost. But I knew one day I would have to, that day has come.

“Y/n the boss asks for you,” one of your coworkers said quickly when passing your desk. You went to your boss’s office, having a bad feeling in your gut. You knocked the door and entered, “you called for me sir?” Your boss was looking through some papers looking a bit stressed, “oh yes, you see we’re quite busy and we have no reporters left, I recommended you to the directors and we decided to let you interview the black jackals before their next game,” you froze, you knew you’d have to eventually see him, but never this directly. He wasn’t asking you so there’s no way you could refuse, the opportunity was too good anyways, you’d have to face your fear and see him, it’s fine, you can act as if you don’t remember, even if that was impossible, you could pretend. “Thanks for the opportunity, I’ll do my best.” You said bowing, he dismissed you so you went back to your desk.

I have to face him, there’s no backing out. Would he remember me? Probably not since last time we talked was five years ago, it was a flimsy love you too text, what a bitch. So far he’s acted like I don’t exist, like everything didn’t exist, so I’ll have to do the same.

I’ve gotten some attention in the sports world for my great work, but I doubt he’s ever read it. But that’s fine, the least he knows about me the better.

——

Two weeks later

You woke up, did your routine and went to work.

“Today is the big day! Aren’t you excited??” Lia, your best friend said when approaching your desk, she didn’t know about the thing you had with atsumu, you didn’t want anyone to find out and pity you, “yeah, it’s a great opportunity,” you said with a forced smile, honestly you weren’t feeling good, you felt like you were gonna vomit, but that feeling didn’t let you eat so you probably weren’t going to, “well, I’ll let you prepare, good luck, I know you’ll do good!!” she left to go back to her desk, her positivity got to you, it can’t be that bad, you’re worrying too much, if you just pretend to not know him it’ll be fine, right?

——

You were know standing in front of the gym, the nerves were eating you alive, but there’s nothing you can do now. Breathe, it’ll be fine, he doesn’t remember you. You think to yourself, but oh how wrong you were.

——

I don’t have motivation for part 2 of my oikawa fic so I came up with this, it will become a short series (maybe 3 parts) if anyone wants to be tagged let me know in the comments. Sorry if this feels weird, I made y/n speak in first person when talking to herself, but in third when describing the environment, I hope it’s not confusing 😓

I promise I’ll finish part 2 of the oikawa fic this week and get started with the next part of this one 🙏

[thora-jane]

Wine Drunk pt iv (Matt Murdock x Femme Reader Angst)

(a/n) A promise is a promise! The second story posted today! I have a little bit better of an idea as to where this is going than I did when I posted the last chapter. Nevertheless, I hope you all enjoy this <3

Wordcount: 1093

Warnings: Drinking, Puking, Foggy snorts beer out his nose.

Summary: You go back on what you told Matt and decide to go to Josie's

You sat at Josie's with Foggy and Karen, focusing on the way your forearm would peel back from the smudged counter every time you raised your glass to take a drink.

You weren’t exactly lying to Matt. You really had no intention of going to Josie's with the others that evening. But after telling Karen what had happened, Foggy was unable to hold Karen back from pounding on your door and dragging you to Josie’s by the scruff of your neck.

“This is gonna be hell in the morning,” you whispered before finishing off your drink.

“Y’know sitting alone in your apartment crying would hurt more,” Karen insisted, pounding her palm on the counter before declaring with a smile, “I’m going to get you another beer and make you forget him.”

You only sighed, pretending to chuckle as Foggy punched you on the shoulder, “C’mon, (y/n), you’re a bad beyatch! You can’t be sad about some man.”

Smirking, you swirled the non-existent contents in your glass, “He’s also our best friend, Foggy.”

“Did I stutter? I said fuck ‘em! We can unpack complications later. But for now? We drink away our sorrows and pretend we’re all still at the height of our youth again,” He reached out and took a bottle from Karen, who had returned with another round of beers. Shit-eating grin plastered to his face, he raised his bottle above his head and made a toast, “To (y/n), the baddest bitch in town.”

You raised an eyebrow, barely lifting the cool green glass in your hand off the counter before Foggy forced his drink against yours. As you raised the rim to your lips, your only-semi-drunk state allowed for a few words to slip past, “God I wonder if he remembered that one time we almost hooked up.”

This sent beer rocketing out of Foggy’s nose, and Karen began a coughing fit that took nearly a minute to subdue.

“I’m sorry, what?!” Foggy slammed his glass down on the table, reaching for a forgotten napkin and blowing his nose.

You shrugged, “The night after your L and Z intern interview. Remember how we all went out for drinks? It was dark, and Matt offered to walk me home and-”

“Oh god…” Foggy gagged. Karen only smacked his shoulder before turning back to you, eyes wide.

“I mean, we were both a little tipsy and he asked if he could get a congratulations and I…” You paused, covering your face with your hands at the memory, “was feeling incredibly bold and told him to take one himself,” You peeked at your friends through your fingers, “Then he pulled me in and we kissed.”

“And you just kissed, right? That’s everything. Matt played the good Catholic Boy card and left then and there, right?” Foggy’s lips flattened to a thin line before he planted his fist against his lips and under his nose.

“He has a faint scar just between his left shoulder blade and left shoulder. Shockingly more fit than one would expect and really enjoys when you play with his hair,” The last bit came out of your mouth as more of a mumble. But even without hearing it it was enough to make Foggy lose his mind again. Karen shook him by his shoulders and groaned a `you're fine.’

“Please tell me it ended there.” Foggy pleaded, his face pressed to the counter.

“Elektra showed up the next day and spent the weekend in town, so yes,” You took a swig from your bottle, “But yeah. It didn’t matter anyway since we didn’t really go far. We kissed. We made out. Our jackets came off. His shirt came off. My shirt was about to come off before he pointed out that we may have had a few too many. I told him I was fine with it and he insisted that he not accidentally do anything to me that I’d regret.”

“Ever the gentleman,” Foggy said with a solemn and almost relieved nod.

“Speak of the Devil,” Karen whispered.

“What? Devil? Where?” Foggy’s head shot up from the counter. Your heart froze.

There was no way. He said he wasn’t going out.

But then again you said the same thing.

It didn’t help that she had her arms around him either.

Or that she was waving over at the three of you.

She had to have known. There was no way she didn’t know the way you felt for Matt. If Matt was so close with her he must have been telling her everything. You did your best to finish what you could of your beer, which still wasn’t much, and with barely swallowing the last sip you snatched your jacket from the back of your seat, “We’re leaving. Now.”

Foggy tried to stop you, but Karen followed close behind and grabbed him by the shoulder. She stood tall between you and where you’d have to pass Elektra and Matt, shoving Foggy in front of you so you were as blocked as you could be with only two people, “(y/n) start putting your jacket on and keep your head down,” she whispered, placing her hand on the small of your back as she stood taller than before. Her heels clicked on the grimey counter with every step, and you could see how maybe Matt would like her if Elektra weren’t around. You watched as she grinned from ear to ear and nodded at Elektra as the three of you sped past, you kept your head down and pretended to struggle with your zipper.

Before too long, you all stood in the cool night sky of Hell’s Kitchen. The alcohol coursed through your bloodstream, beer and wine mixing together leaving you extra dizzy. You stumbled to the side of the sidewalk as the world seemed to spin and began emptying out whatever sloshed in your stomach.

You stood there, heaving out, foul acidity burning your throat. A strong hand gently ran from the crown of your head to the base of your neck and shoulders, holding back any amount of your hair that would stay in place. After a minute of retching and agony, a napkin was offered towards your face, and you spat out the residue left on the back of your teeth and wiped your lips.

You expected to see Foggy, maybe even Karen. But instead, as you stood up again, still wobbly on your legs, you were greeted by Matt.

“Here,” he handed you a tissue from his pocket, “I should probably get you home.”

(a/n) And scene! Hopefully, I'll have the next chapter sometime next week. I am having a little bit more fun with this than I thought I would, and I hope YOU"RE all having fun remembering to TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES AND DRINK WATER because I love you and you have so much value on this planet <3

[mrs-march-ahs]

how the evans would act when they have a crush on u ^^

How The Evans Act When They Have A Crush On You & How They React When You Tell Them You Like Them Too

Award for the longest title goes tooooo... me!

JAMES SUCKS BUT I MAKE UP FOR IT BY DOING BOTH KYLE’S AND A DETAILED KIT

Two other requests-

Could I please request how the Evans would react to their best friend (reader) admitting they're in love with them? 

Heyo! I’m not sure how this would go but how would the Evan’s react to a nervous/insecure reader confessing to them?

-I hope this is satisfactory, even though I don’t think it’s what you two wanted<3

Enjoy! :)

--

Tate

-Would always just be interested in you

-Wanting to help you, watch you, talk to you, just constantly be around you

-But he’d also be insecure whether he was annoying you, so occasionally he would make himself invisible and just watch you

-Whatever hobbies you had, he’d love to watch you do them, paint, draw, write, play games

-If you played any instrument he would love to lay on your bed and listen to you, no matter how good or bad you were

-He would leave little sweet messages on the chalkboard and leave little post-it notes for you to find

-They would have fun little facts about birds or other trivial stuff but you would find them cute

-The occasional fact about something romantic, like ‘Every time you kiss somebody, your heart beat increases by 10-15 beats per minute’

-He might go a little far and leave a message like ‘Your dress looked pretty’, which you would find creepy since you didn’t know Tate was a ghost

Kit

-He thought of ways to tell you how he felt but because it seemed like your family was gonna live in the murder house for a while, cause you were all settling in well, he didn’t want to risk losing his friendship with you, since you were the only ghost with whom he really got along

-You walked down to the basement and said his name in a sing song voice, “Tateeeee”, “Come out come out wherever you are!”

-He showed up and you asked him if he wanted to go out on a real date

-He was obviously nervous, because you didn’t know yet that he was a ghost, but when he hesitated and you looked upset, he said yes right away

-You ran up and hugged him and kissed him on the cheek, making him blush and laugh, and whilst you were at school, he got some things ready and got candles and a table cover so make your kitchen look like a restaurant

-He ordered McDonalds delivery and got your chicken nuggets under a serving platter for effect

- “We are dining on, nuggets of the chicken”

-Although you were a little disappointed and wanted to go out on a real date with him, you found his effort cute

-He definitely played footsie with you under the table the whole date

-Definitely walked you to your room

- “Well… this is me…”

- “Just wanted to make sure you got home safe”

-Kissed you

oh my god I got so carried away

-You would first meet Kit when you first come and move to Massachusetts

-One day you want to venture out and get an taxi to go to town, only a few minutes later to realise you don’t have your wallet

-You awkwardly tell the driver that if takes you back home quickly, you can get money and you will pay him right away

-But since Boston men aren’t usually so sweet, he just kicks you out, leaving you to wander the motorway alone late at night, far away from your home and hoping to quickly find somewhere to go

-Eventually you stumble upon a gas station, and as you walk up, a hand appearing on your shoulder makes you automatically turn around and push whoever touched you to the ground

-The man in blue uniform gets up slowly with his hands up defensively, “Hey hey, didn’t mean to startle ya, miss”

-You apologise, feeling stupid for this kind of encounter, but he doesn’t seem to mind as much as you’d think

- “It’s always nice to see a woman able to protect herself”, he smiles

-He offers to drive you home, and you thank him dearly, explaining to him that you don’t have a car yet, having only just moved here

-He offers to take you to buy one, knowing an awful lot about cars, and to convince you further, tells you that any man working in a car salon will try to sell a single lady a piece of junk for a high price

-You agree, thinking that the offer is sweet, and he takes you to buy yourself a car, to make the date even more fun, Kit tells you to pretend you’re an old married couple

- “Miss Walka over here needs a car, good Sir”

-At some point while looking at cars, Kit holds your hand and you don’t even notice

-He negotiates a good deal with the salesman, and you get a car together

- “Your husband just got you an awfully good deal, Madam, he’s a man who deserves a good meal and a cold beer if I’ve ever seen one”, the salesman laughs, signing the last of the papers before handing Kit the keys to your car. “Oh, he’ll get more than that”, you say to tease Kit, before smiling at him sweetly. Kit blinks at you, before turning back to the salesman and shaking his hand. As the two of you walk away, Kit looks at you in disbelief, the thought of your dirty words clearly plastered in his mind. “Did ya mean what you said back there?”. He says, as he opens the car door for you. “Whatever do you mean?”, you act stupid. “I was just pretending to be your wife, Mr Walka”

-When he has a crush on you, he gives you sooo many compliments

-Little dirty innuendos

-Would definitely call you and talk to you late night on the phone until one of you fell asleep (house phone if they had them)

-He’s the kind of person to tell you that he got a visit from a cute dog earlier at the gas station and it made him think of you

 Kyle

-Every time you go to get gas from Kit, he gives you only a little amount, so you have a reason to keep coming back

-One time when you go get gas from him, you forget your wallet again, and he teases you about it

-He lets you off and pays for your gas

- “I owe you, Mr Walka”

- “How about a date?”

-You smile at how confident he is, and nod excitedly, having been waiting for him to ask you for a while now

-Kit winks at you and waves as you drive off, completely melted inside about finally getting his girl

-Even though he’s always confident, he’s still a little shy and awkward around you when he sees you in class

-If all of his friends are in a class messing around, throwing stuff, being loud, and you walk it, he tells everybody to shut up because there’s a lady present

- “Hey careful, make sure you don’t throw it at her”

-It’s not until he sees you at a huge party, that he’s confident enough to go up to you

-Even though he’s more than happy to flirt, he’s just not confident enough to do that last step and ask you out somewhere

-He’ll bring you a drink and  talk and flirt with you, and you’ll definitely get the hint

-He slowly lifts his arm up and stretches it over you, trying to do the classic yawn move, hoping you won’t notice or mind. You look over at him and narrow your eyes in fake suspicion.

- “Didn’t you come here with a movie star? Surely you get handsome men bringing you drinks all the time?”, he says, motioning to the drink in your hand.

“You calling yourself handsome?”, you tease him. Kyle laughs a breathy awkward laugh and nods. “Well yeah”

-When you do ask him for a date, he insists that he take the initiative to plan what you two do

-Clearly wanting to make a good first impression, he’d take you somewhere interesting

-Aquarium, in which he’ll make up clearly fake facts about the fish just to make you laugh

-Bowling, just so he can tease you about how much you suck

-Mini golf, so, even though you know how to play, he can wrap his arms around you and help you put

-And if he does take you to the movies, you aren’t spending a dime

-He’ll also wrap his arm around you not-so subtly

Franken Kyle

“Whatcha doin there, hm?”. Kyle leans into your ear and whispers.

“Just in case you get scared, you can cuddle up to me”

“Kyle we’re watching the Lego movie”

Jimmy

-You’re a witch at the academy, and with Kyle’s very slow progress to getting better, both Zoe and Madison are getting slightly tired of having to constantly take care of him

-But you don’t mind, finding his Frankenstein state cute

-Whenever he stumbles into the kitchen by himself you always help him make food

-If he’s ever struggling with anything, he usually comes to you, knowing you’re the most patient out of them all

-Then, one night, all the teens in the academy go to a party, while you lay in bed

-But when the rain starts to get really heavy and the first thunder growls, Kyle rushes into your room, before slowly knowing and peaking his head out, clearly scared

-You let him come and lay with you, rubbing his back to calm him down

-Although no real words are spoken, it’s from that moment that you decide to take on all responsibilities relating to Kyle, the good and the bad

-He’s admired you from afar for a very long time, ever since the first time you joined the circus

-You were incredibly flexible, and always showing off to everyone and practicing on stage

-He would always come and watch you practice, cheering you on more than anybody else

-You called Jimmy ‘my cheerleader’

-It made him blush every time

-Amazon Eve always told him to just ask you for dinner, but the only thing that stopped him was the thought that you wouldn’t want to go out and be seen with a freak like him, especially since your body looked so normal that you didn’t have to hide anything

-Eve and Paul reminded Jimmy that it’s him who’s always the most confident in going out into the real world, and he mustn’t be scared

-When they all plan to go to a diner together, as a protest to being shunned from society, you find his leadership charming and happily go with them

-Even though you all get kicked out, you calm Jimmy down and take care of him when his dad beats him up

James

-You wipe the scars on his face and tell him how brave you think he is

- Trying to gain confidence, you take a deep breath before making the move. “Maybe the two of us should go to that diner”. Jimmy looks up at you, as if he expects you to keep talking. When the nerves hit you all at once, you begin rambling. “You know cause if the two of us go and they’re okay with that then maybe we can start going with the others one by one, and then you know we’ll ease our way back into society and stuff”. You laugh a breathy laugh, but Jimmy says nothing. With every silent second passing, your heart begins to break. But luckily for you, Jimmy speaks up. “Wait, are you asking me out? Like… on a date? To the diner?”. “What if I were?”, you quietly reply. He smiles wide and pulls you closer to him, “I’d love that”.

-James is definitely the least subtle

-Constantly giving you compliments, kisses and gifts

-Opening every door for you and listening very carefully to everything you say

-He doesn’t want you to even think about another man, so he overwhelms you with every way he can show you he likes you

-I can imagine him organising a big ball or event at the hotel just so the two of you can dress up and go together

-He is also the most confident out of them all, although he is a softie around you, he has no trouble asking you anything he wants to you

-He’ll kiss your hand a lot and you’ll eventually get the hint

Kai

- “I would be most delighted if we were to make our relationship more official, and vow fully loyalty to one another”

-You agree and he is over the moon

-Once the two of you are in a relationship, the compliments, kisses and gifts don’t stop

-He will give you your space without him, but when the two of you are in the same room together, he treats your precious time together as if it’s sacred

-He will approximately 43 seconds into your relationship begin planning how he’s gonna kill you

-You can tell Kai likes you when he’s harsher on you than he is on other members of the cult

-He’ll be pissed at you for being a distraction for him

-He’ll definitely tell you when he’s impressed with you, when you murdered somebody or helped him plan something

-Even though he definitely would not want it

-If you proved to be smarter than him in any aspect, he’d be furious

-You’d be sat on his sofa while he’s talking to you about having to kill Sally because she’s getting in the way of him winning city council

- “Samuels looked at where she lives, and it has no back doors, no nothing, it’ll be impossible to get in her house without smashing windows and causing attention”

“Why don’t you get Ally to go to her first? If Meadow convinces her to go to Sally to talk about the cult, then the front door will be open”. Kai looks at you with angry eyebrows. “We’ll sit in the car and wait for a few seconds, she’ll let Ally in, won’t lock the door straight after her, and then let them talk for a minute before we just walk right in”

-His ego won’t let him take suggestions from somebody below him, so even though he wants to be proud of you for being smart, he’s mad

-He’ll sit for hooours trying to think of any other solution he physically can think of, to not go with what you suggested

-Around the cult, he’d treat you like everybody else though

- “Y/N’s idea was brilliant, Ally just walked in and they walked straight to sit down, she didn’t lock the door”

-He’d praise you to encourage you to think of ideas, which he would later be mad that you have

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

-You’d find out how he felt about you during pinky power

-After being suspicious that he may have feelings for you for a while, you realised this is the only way to truly find out how he feels without him trying to manipulate you

-He’d ask you about something deep, and you’d latch on after he finishes a sentence to ask him your question

- “I have a question for you”

“Go ahead”

“How do you feel about me?”

Kai stays silent and continues to look you in the eye, taken aback by the question but not wanting to show it.

“When you’re with me, how do you feel?”

“I think you have real potential, you’re strong-”

“I’m not asking the Divine Ruler, I’m asking Kai, Kai Anderson”

He takes a deep breath before unintentionally breaking eye contact for a few seconds to think. You wait anxiously for the answer, and with every second passing you know what it will be.

“You’re special”, he starts, looking you in the eye again. “You’re valuable to the group, and to me. And I think you’d be a great… mother”. The last catches you off guard, not expecting Kai to be a family man or to think about this with you.

“You… you want me to… have your children?”

“I think our children would be indestructible, strong, powerful, decisive. They would be the seed of the better future”. Although it was a little forward for somebody you’ve never even kissed, you were beyond flattered, knowing how specific Kai is with traits in people.

“Let’s make a baby”, Kai says.

“Whoa whoa”, you laugh and unlink your pinky with his. “We’re not even dating, Kai”

“Why date if children is the ultimate purpose?”

“Then don’t look at is as dating… look at it… as getting to know the mother of your future children”

-Kai would love this and you’d soon end up dating

-And have like 6 kids

@milly-louise  @amourtentiaa  @kitwalker02  @tatestripedsweater  @therenlover  @maria-akira         @tatesimper  @thxc0untessesgl0ve  @mossybank  @ahsxual  @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess  @mrs-march-ahs-biggest-fan  @kitwalkerangel  @kitisagoldenretrieverboy @darlingkitt  @blackbat2020@elaineygrace @kaiandersonskoolaid  @undeadcortez @whiiiiplaaaaash

As usual, if you wanted to be added or taken away, dm me or comment!! I won’t mind! <3

[theright-sideofme]

Feeling. J. Wooyoung

Wooyoung x fem!reader College au!, Soulmate au! WC: 4.9k Summary: You were one of the few who actually had a soulmate, shame you though the whole idea of love was artificial. Warnings: mentions of panic attack, language,

*12 years ago*

“Y/n got her soulmate mark!” Yeosang, your best friend shouted to the rest of the class a few seconds after the heart shaped scar bloomed on your skin; a moment you would never forget. The whole class ran over to you, shoving one another to see the mark that had just appeared on your skin. You were the first kid in your class to get a soulmate mark, so to say everyone was excited was an understatement.

“A heart? What’s a heart mean?” asked Mingi, another boy in your class. “Love” Yeosang said in a ‘duh’ tone that made you giggle. “Actually, it means Y/n will be able to feel what her soulmate feels, and they’ll be able to feel what she feels.” Your teacher explained, earning a chorus of ‘oh’s’ from you and your classmates. After everyone got a look at your mark your teacher was quick to get everyone back in their seats to resume class. You looked down at your wrist, a smile coming to your face as your heart swelled, “I have a soulmate” you whispered happily to yourself.

*Present*

You let out a sigh as you quickly cover up your soulmate mark with multiple bracelets, not wanting to look at it any longer. The day you found out you were one of the few who had a soulmate, you couldn’t have been more happy, but as you grew up, you realized your soulmate mark came with the watching eyes of everyone who saw it.

Soulmates were a bit of a rare occurrence, so when people saw anyone with a soulmate mark it grabbed their attention. Whether people were jealous or just curious about the phenomenon, everyone you had ever met only care about the stupid mark on your wrist. The only people who didn’t care were your best friends, Yeosang and Mingi. They both had marks of their own, but unlike you, they didn’t mind the prying eyes, the only thing they cared about was finding their soulmate.

“You can’t hide it forever you know,” Yeosang teased as he walked into you room, not even bothering to knock. “I can try” you huffed back in response. “What happens when you meet your soulmate, are you still gonna hide it” “probably” “dude seriously?”

Normally, when people find their soulmate, they proudly put themselves on display: showing off their mark, being overly affectionate in public, and over all just sucking up any attention they could get. It was disgusting.

“Yeah, seriously,” you stated. “I wouldn’t like that if I was your soulmate, I’d wanna show off our bond.” Yeosang stated, making you roll your eyes. Before you could respond with some witty comeback, a sudden wave of sadness hit you like a truck. Tears welled up in your eyes for god knows what reason and you felt like you had a lump the size of a baseball in your throat, it was awful. “What- whoah, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you upset- no no no don’t cry” Yeosang said frantically as he tried to calm you down. You tried to explain that it wasn’t him, but the only thing that left your mouth was a sob.

“Heyy- What the hell did you do” Mingi said as he walked into your apartment, quickly rushing to your side and pulling you into his arms. “I didn’t do anything-” “of course you did something, it’s you” “Hey-” “shut up, please” you managed to say through sobs.

As much as you hated your soulmate bond, you hated that your soulmate was feeling like this even more. It made you wonder what happened and if they were okay, if someone was with them to help them.

After about five minutes of you sobbing, you finally calmed down enough to explain what happened. “Ah your soulmate bond! I thought you really were upset with me” “good” you sniffled, “maybe this will teach you to stay out of my business” “hmm” Yeosang pretended to be deep in thought before tackling you, “nah I’m good.” “Group hug!” Mingi shouted before pulling both you and Yeosang into his arms.

For the rest of the day you had this lingering sadness and the lump in your throat never went away. You never really gave much thought to your soulmate before, but today you just couldn’t stop your mind from wandering. There was this urge to find them and hold them and reassure them that everything would be okay. You tried pushing those thoughts away, you didn’t even want a soulmate, so why were you so concerned? You tried to convince yourself it was just because you were a nice person, but there was a deeper reason and you could feel it, no matter how hard you tried to deny it.

You now sat at one of your favorite cafes with Mingi and Yeosang. You had went there to study, but no one was studying. Mingi was trying to balance a spoon on his nose, Yeosang was making sure Mingi would fail at that task, and you were recording all of it. Soft giggles left your mouth as Yeosang pushed Mingi for the third time, making the spoon fall to the ground. “Dude, come on-” Mingi pouted, shoving Yeosang back. “-I almost had it!” “Yeah I know, that’s the point” Mingi picked up the spoon from the ground and threw it a Yeosang, hitting him right in the forehead. You let out a loud laugh, all but snorting at the look on Yeosang’s face. The two bickered like two little kids for a while, giving you a front row seat to another one of their entertaining arguments. You were so distracted by your two best friends that you didn’t even realize the lump in your throat was gone.

--

Wooyoung lied in bed, a small smile on his face as he felt the urge to laugh. His soulmate was happy. He had been hurting all day, and he could only imagine what that did to his soulmate, so feeling them feel so care free- it made him happy. All Wooyoung ever wanted for his soulmate was for them to be happy, and he couldn’t stand when he would feel you hurt. He found it funny how quickly you would get annoyed or frustrated, he honestly just couldn’t wait to meet you.

After a while of just enjoying feeling okay, he looked over and saw it was actually getting pretty late and he had an 8am class tomorrow. He had already skipped class today, he couldn’t skip tomorrow too. So he quickly got ready for bed, slowly falling asleep with a warm feeling in his chest and a smile on his face.

“Feeling better” San asked as he plopped his stuff down next to Wooyoung. They had both shown up to class early, which was weird for the two who were normally the last ones into their classes. “Yeah, I’ll be good man” “that’s good, because we’re parting tonight.” San excitedly as he took his seat next to Wooyoung. Wooyoung had been down for the past few days and yesterday was the tipping point, San just wanted him to go out and let loose.

Wooyoung let a chuckle slip past his lips as he shook his head. “I don’t feel like going to another frat party-” “well it’s not a frat party because we’re throwing the party- just come on man” San whined as he all but begged his friend. “I’ll think about it.” Wooyoung sighed. He pulled out his laptop and textbook, getting ready for class when he heard the door get busted open. Everyone turned to the door to see two guys scrambling to stand up, and a girl, trying to get away from the two as quick as possible.

“You started it- hey, don’t run away from us!” The taller of the two shouted at the girl as she rushed to get a seat. She pretended like she didn’t hear them and sat two rows in front of San and Wooyoung. The two boys were quick to sit next to her, the shorter boy wrapping his arm around the girl as the taller one sat on her lap. “You two are so embarrassing- get off.” The girl whined as she tried to pry herself away from the two.

Wooyoung watched in amusement, they were definitely going to make this new semester interesting. He seem couldn’t pull his attention away from the trio, more specifically, the girl. She was beautiful, her smile was enchanting and her laughter made his heart swell, she was the type of girl people wrote songs about.

San noticed his friends staring and smiled. Wooyoung had always been faithful to a soulmate he had never met. He never had other relationships and he never gave into crushes he deemed “small” and “silly” all because he had a soulmate. Now here he was, ogling over a girl he didn’t know.

“Why don’t you go talk to her” San suggested, making Wooyoung snap out of his gaze. “Huh, why?” “because you think she’s cute” “I have a soulmate” “and you're not gonna know how to treat them if you’ve never been in a relationship” “then I learn with them” “what makes you think your soulmate's never dated anyone before?” Wooyoung had never considered that, but why would his soulmate date someone else if they knew they would end up with him- their soulmate. Wooyoung shook his head, trying to get rid of the jealous feeling that rose in his chest. He had no right to be jealous; he tried to reason to himself, but he couldn’t help it.

San saw him overthinking and sighed, “look, you’re just gonna have a nice friendly conversation with her, you’ll be fine.” Wooyoung thought for a moment, and San was right, he was just going to talk to her, nothing else. “Fine.”

--

After class you, Mingi, and Yeosang gathered your things and got ready to leave. “Be honest, the professor was totally checking me out, right?” You froze, giving Mingi an incredulous look before remembering, “It’s Mingi.” So with a small giggle you nodded, deciding to entertain his delusions. “Yeah Min, She was totally checking you” “I sense sarcasm; I will ignore.” Both you and Yeosang laughed as you continued to pack up, shaking your head at you crazy friend.

“Uh hey” the three of you snapped your heads up and saw two rather attractive guys standing in front of you. One had pink hair and cat like eyes that would probably be scary if he wasn't smiling. The other guy- he was breathtaking. He had jet black hair and the most enchanting eyes- whoa. “Um, hi” you replied, silently wondering if your heart speeding up was you or your soulmate.

“We’re throwing a party tonight and you guys seem… fun, so we were wondering if you wanted to come?” The one with black hair asked as he shot you a smile. Okay so the heart thing was definitely you, got it. You took a deep breath and looked back at your friends, who were already looking at you with puppy dog eyes. They knew you didn’t like parties, but they loved parties, and loved to make new friends. Mingi even grabbed onto your hand like a toddler and pouted out his lip. Letting out a sigh, you turned back to the two boys and nodded, “we’ll be there-” “yes!” The two boys behind you cheered, making you try to hold in a laugh, “um, I can give you my number and you could text me the address?” “yeah, sounds good.” The two of you quickly exchanged numbers and then the five of your exited the class before parting ways.

“They were cute” Mingi sighs as he looks dreamily into the distance. “Yeah, and one of them was totally checking out Y/n” “Ha, I beg your pardon?” Yeosang smirks as he pulls you in closer. “Come on Y/n, don’t tell me you're blind? The dude you gave your number to was totally checking you out” “well it doesn’t matter” you say simply, trying to ignore the feeling of heat rising to your cheeks. Was he really checking you out?

“You know, for someone who rejects the idea of her soulmate so much, you’ve been awfully loyal to them.” Yeosang points out, “huh?” “You’ve never been in a relationship, you never entertained anyone who had romantic feelings for you, hell you even stepped on Nicks foot when he asked you out” “yeah but Nick was a dick” Mingi interjected.

Okay, so maybe it was true you’ve never tried to pursue a romantic relationship with anyone, but you didn’t think that had anything to do with your soulmate. You had rejected the idea of love a long time ago. Nowadays, a relationship was another accessory everyone wanted to show off, and you didn’t want to feel like a human handbag. People who found their soulmates often just assumed they would work out just because they were soulmates, they didn’t try to make the whole process of falling in love special, they just flaunted their soulmate marks and relationships. You didn’t want to end up like that, ever.

--

The party had been going on for about an hour in Wooyoung, San, Jongho, and Yunho’s shared apartment and was now filled with people, most of which Wooyoung didn’t even know. Sure, Wooyoung was a social butterfly and had probably talked to almost everyone there, but that didn’t mean he knew them or even their names. Wooyoung lets out a sigh, leaning up against the wall as he sips his drink quietly. The only person Wooyoung actually wanted to see right now was you, but you were nowhere to be found.

“Hey, this is your party, right?” Some girl asks as she comes up to Wooyoung. “My roommates party, but yeah sure” “well it’s really great” she said cheerily as she looks up at him with a bright smile. Wooyoung nods, truly uninterested in what the girl had to say. “Mhm, it’s super” the girl giggles, leaning closer to Wooyoung who doesn’t even spare her a glance. “You seem to be the only one not having fun.” She says with a pout, and Wooyoung is about ready to just start ignoring her, but then he sees you walk in the room with your friends. He felt relief and excitement wash over him when his eyes landed on you “Excuse me.” Was all Wooyoung said to the girl as he quickly made his way over to you.

“You made it” Wooyoung cheers as he approaches the three of you. You smile and nod, looking around the crowded apartment for a brief moment, how do so many people fit in this small ass place, you wonder. Yeosang places a hand on your shoulder before telling you he’s gonna go get you guys some drinks and you nod. Wooyoung directs him to the kitchen and he ends up taking Mingi with him, leaving you and Wooyoung alone, well as alone as you can be in a crowded room.

“I didn’t think you’d come” “I thought about it, trust me” you only half joked, parties really weren’t your thing. “Well I’m glad you did, my night just got a whole lot better” he said as he gave you a sweet smile. You could’ve swore your heart skipped a beat, your eyes widening slightly at his comment. Wow this boy was smooth. “I’m sure your night was just fine without me” you teased as you tried to play off your mini panic. “Sure, it was fine, but now it’s better.” You just started at him, trying to push your butterflies deep, deep down. What the heck was up with this guy and why were you so affected by him?

Wooyoung smiled at your reaction, trying to push his own butterflies to the side, but he really couldn’t, not when you were staring at him all cutely. He had to fight back the urge to pinch your cheeks, crossing his arms to help him out a bit. He was just as confused as you were, he had never felt so… interested by anyone like this before, it made his heart pound in his chest.

You quickly averted your gaze to try and stop the heat spreading to your cheeks, and that’s when you noticed your two friends had abandoned you for some guys from your psychology class, Hongjoong and Seonghwa you think their names are. “Well that’s rude” “you mumbled under your breath, and Wooyoung heard you, following your gaze before laughing. “Come on, let’s get you a drink,” he said. He placed his hand on the small of your back and you quickly jumped away, feeling like you had been shocked.

The two of you stared at each other. Did he feel it too? Wooyoung, out of curiosity, looked down at your wrist, only to see it covered with a copious amount of bracelets. You too, looked at his wrist and you felt the urge to vomit when you saw the same little heart scar that you had stared at every day since you were nine on his wrist. It had to be a coincidence, right? It didn’t matter, you suddenly felt hot, like someone had set you on fire and your breathing became uneven and heavy, you had to get out of there. Quickly turning on your heels, you rushed out of the apartment, rushing down the stairs to get as far away as you could.

Wooyoung was hot on your heels though, following behind you as soon as you left. “Y/n, Y/n slow down” Wooyoung called after you. The look on your face before you ran out had him so worried. Your eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape as your breathing started to pick up, he just wanted to know you were okay.

After running for a while, the thoughts in your head running rampant, you became light headed. You could barely stand up straight anymore, scraping both your palms and knees as you fell to the sidewalk. Wooyoung felt his heart drop when you fell and rushed to your side as quickly as he could. “Hey Y/n, you okay, just breath. In and out like this, can you do that?” “N-no- I- too much” “Y/n, hey Y/n look at me.” Wooyoung cupped your face, forcing you to look at him as he helped you calm down.

He knew then that you were his soulmate, because he could feel all of it, the light headedness, the heart racing, the fear that had built up in the pit of his stomach, he knew. So once you were calm and in his arms, he let out a shaky sigh, holding you a bit tighter as he looked down at you. He had dreamed about meeting his soulmate for so long, never did he imagine that his soulmate would get a panic attack upon finding out. All he wanted was for you to feel safe and happy around him, not scared and vulnerable.

The two of you sat there in silence on the side of the sidewalk for about 30 minutes, he still held you in his arms and you allowed him, feeling an odd sense of comfort from his hold. The two of you would get strange looks from passerbyers but you didn’t care, not right now.

“Thank you” were the first words out of your mouth as you pulled away to look at him. Wooyoung just nodded, keeping his hand on your back, rubbing it gently as if to reassure you. “I should go home” you said quietly as you stood up, “let me walk you” “you don’t-” “I’m not letting you walk alone at night.” His voice was gentle, but his tone also told you there was no room for argument, he was going to make sure you got home safe.

The entire walk was silent, Wooyoung was trying to figure out what to say to you. How was he meant to start a conversation with his soulmate who seemed so freaked out about having a soulmate? Wooyoung wanted to let out a loud groan of frustration and fall to the floor like a toddler throwing a fit, but he didn’t. Instead he turned to look over at you, letting a small sigh fall from his lips. “Can I ask you something?” Wooyoung finally speaks, making you stop to look at him. You nod, having a feeling you knew what he was going to ask. “Why are you so afraid” “I’m not” he gave you an unamused look before holding up his wrist. “I can feel what you feel, remember?” Damn this stupid fucking bond, you mentally cursed. You know he deserved an answer, he was your soulmate and was equally affected by whatever was going on in your life as you were, but you didn’t know him, you didn’t feel comfortable opening up to him, not yet. “Will you be mad if I tell you I can’t tell you” “can’t or won’t” “won’t” you answered truthfully. Wooyoung let out a soft sigh before shaking his head, “I won’t be mad, if you're not comfortable I’m not going to push you-” There was a beat of silence as he ran his hand through his hair as he tried to calm down his frustration. “Will you tell me eventually?” “I don’t know… I hope so” you answer truthfully. That seems to be enough for Wooyoung as he nods and takes your hand in his, motioning for you to lead the way.

--

It had been two days since the party and you hadn’t seen Wooyoung since, and for some reason, it was killing you. You felt like a total sellout, just a week ago you were perfectly content with never meeting your soulmate, barely giving the idea a thought, but now? Now you felt like you needed to see him. You had heard about this from other people with the soulmate mark, they say that once you meet your soulmate, all you want is to be around them, you thought that was utter bull shit, until now.

Yeosang and Mingi still didn’t know, and you weren’t about to tell them. You knew that once you did they would tell you how much of an idiot you were being. All you had to do was talk to him, get to know him and then maybe explain why you think soulmates are overrated, but you were scared that you would break around him, and give into the system you despised.

“It’s been two days, you need to get out of bed” Yeosang stated as he yanked your covers off you. “What even happened, why are you so moppy” Mingi asked as he helped Yeosang get you to stand. “Nothing” you mumbled, allowing them to push you into the bathroom so you could brush your teeth and get ready for class. “Come on Y/n, we’re not dumb, we know what’s going on.” You turned to Yeosang with wide eyes, he knew? How? “You’ve done nothing but stare at your soulmate mark for the past two day. So…” “so what” you replied, quickly turning back around to rinse out your mouth. “Who is it bitch” Mingi shouted as he turned you around to look at him. “No one, stop being weird” you tried to dismiss them and walk out but Yeosang blocked the door, staring straight into your eyes. “Who is it” “Who is it” they asked one after another, over and over again until they were basically chanting it in your ear. “Stop it! It’s Wooyoung, god it’s Wooyoung you freaks!” You shouted, quickly pushing past them to go back into your room.

“Wooyoung! The guy who invited us to that party?” Mingi exclaims with wide eyes. “Why didn’t you tell us” “because I knew you guys were going to freak out” “obviously! You found your soulmate that’s huge!” You just shook your head, he didn’t get it, after all these years he still didn’t understand. “Yeosang, I don’t want a soulmate” “no you don’t want an artificial, showy love” “wha-” “Y/n, for as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been nothing but closed off and reserved when it comes to the idea of soulmate, but I see you when you see couples, real couples walk down the street, or when you watch those cheesy rom coms or dramas. You want to be loved” Yeosang all but shouts at you. He loves you and he wants nothing but the best for you, but sometimes you could be so stubborn. “You’re afraid of your soulmate using you and your relationship for attention” “I- shut up” you pout, you hate how he knows you so well, it’s sickening.

Yeosang chuckles and takes a seat next to you on your bed, “so, it looks like you have two options, keep pretending that love is gross and disgusting and is the root of all evil, or you can share your concerns to Wooyoung and hope he understands” “what if he doesn’t?” Your voice is so small you ask the question, because you were terrified he wouldn’t, that the person you were meant to be with for the rest of your life would ignore your worries and brush them and you off. “Then me and Mingi will go have a little talk with him and you’ll never have to see him again” Mingi nods rapidly, showing you that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you, neither of them would. “You guys suck, you know that'' you tease, allowing Yeosang to pull you into a hug. He hums in response, pulling you closer to ease your anxiety.

--

You stood in front of Wooyoung’s apartment, eyes trained on the door as you worked up the courage to knock. Which was proving to be a lot harder than you thought. You bring your hand up to the door, fist ready to knock, but you don’t you just stand there- until the door opens. You pull your hand back and step back quickly, you weren’t expecting anyone to open the door. San smiles at you, “you can go in, his room is the last door on the right” “thank you” you mumbled, quietly slipping in as San leaves, probably to attend one of his classes.

Knocking on Wooyoung’s door is a lot easier than knocking on the front door. “Go away” sounds tired and it hurts to think you caused that. “I can’t do that Wooyoung” you respond. In no time at all he’s standing in front of you with wide eyes. His hair is a bit messy and his shirt is on backwards, but he still managed to look so god damn good. Pushing that thought aside, you give him a weak smile, and he returns it, stepping out and closing his door. “I would say let’s talk in my rooms but it’s a bit of a mess right now” you giggle, nodding as you follow him to the living room.

“I’m sorry” is the first thing out of your mouth, “for what?” He seems genuinely confused. Wooyoung didn’t think you did anything wrong, he knew you needed space, it was just giving you that space was harder than he thought. “Y/n you have nothing to be sorry for” he reassures, gently rubbing your knee.You look at him and suddenly your fears of him not understanding melt away, in the short time you knew him, he’s probably the most understanding man you had ever met. He was sweet and kind and caring, how could you think he wouldn’t understand.

So you tell him everything, from how you feel that soulmate love feels fake, artificial, that no one tries, to your fear that he might use you as a way to get attention from others. And He listens, he listens to it all, never once interrupting you, encouraging you to take your time when you struggle to get the words out. He even wiped your tears when you started crying, hell he even started crying himself.

“Y/n-” He speaks up after you finish. He takes your hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze, “-I know my words won’t be enough to reassure you, so I’ll show you” he smiles. When you give him a confused look he smiles even harder, “I will show you that love isn’t superficial and I’ll show you that I will never use you, because I would never want to hurt you Y/n.” He speaks with so much sincerity that it overwhelms you, causing tears to effortlessly fall from your eyes. “All I have ever wanted was for my soulmate to be happy, and if I can make you happy, I will” Your body reacts before your brain can and you're immediately on him, hugging him so tightly as you let your happy tears flow freely. You don’t say anything, and neither does he, but you don’t have to, because both of you know that everything will be alright, as long as you’re together.

“Awww!” Wooyoung doesn’t let go of you as the two of you turn to see the owner of the voice. “Yun, you have terrible timing dude” Wooyoung grumbles to his roommate Yunho. “I’m sorry but that was just so sweet-” “get out” Wooyoung whined as he pulled you closer, making you laugh. Yunho mocks Wooyoung before giving you a joking bow, “it was nice to meet you Y/n” he says as he playfully winks. Wooyoung chases his friend out of the room before returning back to you. “Movie?” He questions and you nod, smiling up at him, “a movie sounds nice.”

[adhduck]

Oh Well, I Guess We’re Gonna Pretend

AO3

(Major spoilers for rqg 207)

Wilde is at a party with all his loved ones, and everything in his life is finally falling into place.

He’s also unconscious on the floor of the world’s last safehouse, and something is coming for him.

--

“Come on, Oscar, dance with us.”

Wilde blinks, realizes Hamid is standing in front of him with his hand outstretched; probably a symbolic gesture, considering he’d be hard-pressed to pull someone double his height.

Smiling, Wilde sets his half-empty champagne flute on the table. “Of course. Care to join, Zolf?”

Zolf, who’s slouching in the next seat with his long, worn coat tucked around him in a fabulous display of I am not a party person, scoffs fondly. “Absolutely not. ‘Sides, it’s yer party, Wilde, not mine.”

“It’s our party,” Wilde says with mock offense, putting a hand on his chest. “Didn’t you hear my toast?”

“Half of it, maybe.”

Wilde rolls his eyes, but relents and squeezes Zolf’s shoulder; presses down a smile when Zolf catches his hand for a second and pats it. “I’ll get you to have fun one day, Zolf, mark my words.” He’s rewarded with a gruff little mumble, and then Hamid tugs on his coattail to pull him away.

[Cel is still reeling from the shock of electricity when they see it. It’s large, with a body that could be humanoid if not for the oversized head, how its body seems not to take up space but distort it. If not for the six-foot swords it has instead of arms.

Instinct kicking in, Cel pulls two bombs from their pockets and throws them in rapid succession. Even with their hands trembling a little – they always do, the first few moments of combat – Cel know each one is perfectly weighted and near perfectly aimed.

The creature doesn’t even flinch.

It only takes a moment to process what that means – limited bombs, a 5% chance of hitting at best, almost a third of their own health taken in one hit – before Cel abandons the idea of attacking and reaches instead for Hamid. He’s desperately light, clothes singed and hissing; as Cel pulls him to their chest, he curls instinctively into the touch.

“Hang on, little buddy,” they whisper, trying fiercely to sound sure. “You just keep dreaming for now; I’ll keep you safe.”

They just need to get him through the door.]

There are a few people dancing, but the clear stars are Azu and Kiko—partly due to Azu’s shimmering, lightly glowing pink gown, but mostly because of the dance itself. It’s a bright, lively partner dance Wilde hasn’t seen before, where they pull in and out of each other’s embrace with twirls and dips and lots of laughter. It looks equally exhausting and exhilarating.

Azu notices him mid-spin and brightens immediately, waving him over. “Kiko, you mind if I show Wilde the ropes?”

Kiko grins and gracefully steps back, half-bowing in the process. “Yeah, sure. Long as I can watch.”

So Azu works Wilde through the steps, out of sync with the music at first to get them right, then faster as he gains confidence, and soon they, too, are spinning and laughing. “You,” Wilde says when they pause to catch their breath, adjusting the frill around his neck, “are an excellent dance partner, Azu.”

Azu preens a little. “Oh, thank you! Though I doubt I’ve got much competition, knowing Zolf.”

Chuckling, Wilde glances at the man in question to find him looking back, chin in hand and a fond smile tugging at his mouth—for a moment, at least, before he darts his eyes away with flushing cheeks. Wilde’s heart sings.

[Azu looks sharply between her friends – half of them unconscious, all of them wounded – and the advancing creature. It seems completely unconcerned by the weapons being pulled as it wades into the fray, dodging a heavy swing from Zolf without even acknowledging him. The swords protruding from its shoulders are almost as long as she is tall.

We can’t win this, Azu realizes. Not while it’s this strong. Pressing a hand to her chest, where her pendant rests safely beneath the armor, she calls to her goddess with words of love and protection and rage. The divine energy builds in her chest, bringing the dull glow of her armor to a bright shine; she throws her hand outwards, flinging the energy with it in all directions, and there—at last, the creature hesitates. It stops as suddenly as if caught in a rockslide, making a noise halfway between a groan of pain and the grinding of stuck gears, and Azu starts to feel hopeful.

Then, it raises its blade.]

Azu catches the movement and smiles conspiratorially. “You know, there are gardens out back that are much quieter than in here.”

”Ah, but you forget,” Wilde replies, putting on his best performer voice. “That just guarantees Sasha will be there, hidden amongst the foliage, waiting to strike.”

Giggling a little, Azu says, “The worst you’ll get from her is some rumors about you and Zolf that are actually true.”

Wilde gasps in (mostly) faux horror. “Don’t even say that.”

Azu laughs for real now, a full and surprised thing, and pushes his shoulder lightly. “Go spend time with him, the party will survive without you a while.” Wilde pouts a little at that, and she tips her head toward Hamid; he’s dancing with complete abandon a few feet away, wings half-unfurled and arms raised high in the air as he spins. Already, a few people have been pulled into his orbit, letting their awkward shuffling loosen into something more inelegant, more natural. “We’ve got it covered. Now go, before you start having deadlines again.”

“To be fair, we have an entire holiday between now and then,” Wilde argues—a bit superfluously, considering he’s already moving away.

Zolf greets Wilde’s approach by sitting up in his chair, eyebrows furrowed and hands raised defensively. “If you try to get me to dance, Wilde, I swear to gods—”

“Already learned my lesson with that one, darling.” Zolf’s ears go a little pink, and Wilde is powerless against the urge to lean into it. “Of course, there are plenty of dances we haven’t tried together—”

“Oh, sod off,” Zolf says, kicking Wilde lightly in the shin; his ears are red, though, so he’s already lost the fight.

[Augusta makes no noise as she’s stabbed through the heart; dead before the pain had a chance to wake her. It’s a mercy, perhaps, but one Cel refuses to let happen to anyone else.

The creature shifts, pulling back its bloodied weapon with Hamid as the clear target, and Cel lunges towards the door, clutching Hamid fiercely against them—and is stopped cold as the creature pierces right through Hamid’s chest.

Like Augusta, Hamid doesn’t cry out when he’s stabbed. He doesn’t move, either; not even when the blade is yanked back out with just force it nearly tugs him from Cel’s arms. Panting, they gather him back against their chest, whatever miniscule safety that might entail, and feel for a pulse. It’s there, thank gods, but only just. He might only have seconds left, and there’s nothing they can do.

At the corner of Hamid’s mouth, Cel can see a smile – the kind he might give during the opening toast of a party, now just the shadow of some wonderful dream – and they do not cry, because what fucking good would that do?]

Just to seal the deal, Wilde drops to his knees in front of Zolf’s chair, bringing them almost eye to eye, and flashes his shiniest grin as he teases, “Don’t worry, I know you love it.” He allows a few seconds for Zolf to huff and pointedly not answer, feeling his chest radiate with warmth, then adds, “Anyway, want to get out of here?”

Zolf’s eyebrows raise, then quickly furrow. “What’re you- that was an awful transition line, ya know. Unless you’re tryna seduce me or somethin’, in which case, why.”

“I’m always trying to seduce you, Zolf, it just never works,” Wilde replies easily. “That’s why I enjoy it so much. And anyway, that’s not what I was asking about. There’s apparently a garden out back, and I thought you might want to take a walk with me.”

“Ain’t you got allergies?”

“It’ll be quiet out there. Poetic.”

Zolf considers for a second, looking Wilde over with a slowly forming smile he’s definitely not conscious of, and for a moment there’s nothing else Wilde wants more than this: kneeling in front of the man he loves, basking in his quiet attention, knowing there’s exciting work ahead and time enough to rest before it comes.

[Zolf spins around, ready to level another attack – he hasn’t hit the thing yet, but maybe if he aims a little lower, forces it to turn for him instead – when he sees the blade sliding out of Hamid’s chest. No. Absolutely not. Without checking it’s clear, he rushes forward, dropping the glaive to his side and redirecting that power into the tips of his fingers. He licks his thumb, presses it firmly to Hamid’s forehead, and, with a low note of please humming in the back of his chest, mutters words of hope and determination into the staticky air.

The wound heals almost immediately, closing like a budding flower in reverse to leave a raised, slightly jagged line of scar tissue; the only proof of how close Hamid was to death. His wings flutter, trying to unfurl in the confines of Cel’s arms, and for a moment, he stirs. Zolf and Cel both breathe out in relief, but by the time he opens his eyes, the poison overcomes him again, and he curls back into Cel’s chest with a contented sound, asleep and completely unaware of the danger around him.

Not exactly what I had in mind, Zolf thinks, but there’s no sharpness to it. The poison in the air was strong enough to knock out people twice Hamid’s size, so he can’t imagine how strong it must be on him. And besides: this might not be a fight where all of them – any of them – get out alive. Can he really blame Hamid for wanting to dream instead?]

“All right, Wilde,” Zolf says at last. “Let’s go for a walk.”

The gardens aren’t particularly large, but they use the space well—bright flowers lining the walkway, bushes and trees bunched together to create the illusion of depth and privacy. Beneath the largest tree, there’s a clear spot where the light filters through like sparkles and the roots breach the soil in just the right way to make a sort of alcove.

It’s exactly the sort of place Wilde would’ve yearned to write poetry in as a teenager, so of course he tugs Zolf over to sit down.

“Thought this was a walk,” Zolf says, eyebrows raised, but makes no argument when Wilde lays down with his head in Zolf’s  lap. His fingers quickly find their way into Wilde’s hair, untangling it little by little, and Wilde can’t stop himself from pushing into the touch with a little hum. Thankfully, Zolf just chuckles, scratching lightly at Wilde’s scalp for a moment before continuing.

There’s silence for a few moments, and Wilde idly searches for a pun he can use to fill it; it’s difficult to focus, though, when Zolf is gathering his hair into sections for a braid, those careful fingers brushing occasionally against his temple, his neck, his jaw.

Finally, what Wilde settles for is: “I hope we’re actually allowed out here. I’d hate to go home early because Grizzop took a swing at me again.”

Zolf snorts. “Don’t tempt me. I’ve always wished I had seen that in person.”

“Some partner you are,” Wilde grumbles, trying not to melt when Zolf tucks a few shorter strands of hair behind his ear. “S’posed to defend me, not join the enemy.”

[Zolf does a rapid once-over of Cel to make sure they’re not injured as well. They’re panting and wide-eyed and definitely only not in shock because there’s not time for it, but seem physically all right, which is about as much as he can hope for right now.

He glances to the door of the lab, where Ada and Skraak also seem to be managing okay—and, importantly, where there’s clean air and a door between them and the monster. Grabbing Cel’s arm, Zolf injects as much authority in his voice as he can and orders, “Get in there, close the door, be safe.”

Without waiting for a reply, he sets his glaive on fire and turns back to the fight. They might not all make it out of here – always a risk, in this line of work – but he’ll still do his damndest to make sure at least some of them do.]

There’s no response, save for a suppressed smile and the continuous back-and-forth motion of Zolf’s steady hands. Wilde basks in it for a moment, getting to lay quietly in the grass without even his allergies interrupting them. It brings to mind when he was a child, rolling down muddy hills with his sister and seeing how long the world tiled after they reached the bottom, dazed and laughing.

“She would have loved this party,” he says, brushing a hand through the barely damp grass at his hip. “Isola, I mean.”

“You could’ve brought her, you know,” Zolf replies. “I could’ve- I dunno, watched her, or somethin’. Not like I was doing much anyway.”

Wilde laughs. “She would be terrified of you.”

[Moving has already proven dangerous, so Cel shifts Hamid in their arms and throws him through the door; once he’s safely inside, they swallow their alchemical allocation and pull a previously untouched potion from their jacket. Dragon’s breath—the one they’d been so excited to get after seeing a glimpse of Hamid’s power; the one they’d chattered back and forth about days or maybe months ago, excited to see when Cel might try it out.

“Not leaving you,” Cel says firmly to Zolf’s back, and chugs the potion. Lightning crackles in their body once again, except this time, it feels powerful instead of painful. This time, Cel is going to be helpful instead of helpless. Whatever it takes.]

Zolf snorts. “Oh, so that’s why I haven’t met her yet.”

“Yes, I’m just absolutely terrified you’ll smite her with all your holy rage,” Wilde deadpans, twisting obediently when Zolf taps the side of his head. “Or gods forbid, convert her to hope.”

“Oi,” Zolf says, tugging lightly on Wilde’s hair. “That hope has saved your arse twenty times by now.”

[Azu catches sight of Hamid breathing and nearly crumples with relief. He’s not dead, she didn’t kill him, she might not have to lose someone else—but there’s not time for that, not yet. They have to destroy this thing first, before it hurts anyone else.

She swings her axe as hard as she can, a scream building in her throat as it moans through the air, and – miraculously – it connects. There’s a satisfying thunk, a sharp note of pain; but as she goes to hit it again, it seems not just to dodge, but actively unform and reform around her axe. Learning. Adapting.

In the second it takes for Azu to regain her footing, the monster sinks one of its blades into Sumutnyerl’s chest. The air seems to freeze for a moment, but the strike is lower than it intended, in the stomach rather than the heart, so maybe it isn’t fatal, but Azu doesn’t know. She just doesn’t know.]

Humming noncommittally, Wilde turns his head to look at Zolf, and when he sees the concentration in Zolf’s summer sky eyes, he’s pierced all over again with the force of how much he loves this man—and how much he, in return, is loved. Gods, Zolf is smiling the way he only ever does for a Campbell, and he’s braiding Wilde’s hair as if it’s the most important work his hands have been tasked with, and he looks so utterly, brilliantly happy that Wilde can hardly stand it.

“You alive in there?” Zolf says, tapping him lightly on the cheek.

[There is only one person left unharmed, the horror of the situation made almost a farce by Wilde’s oversized neck ruff and glittering cape. Almost, but not quite, because when the creature turns – body shifting in and out of focus, sword-like arms dripping with the blood of every other being in this corridor – it turns for him.]

Wilde smiles, catching Zolf’s hand before he can pull away. “Yeah,” he murmurs, stupidly fond with it, and rests his lips against Zolf’s knuckles. Zolf’s breath hitches, staring with undisguised awe and quickly reddening cheeks, and Wilde can’t even look at him, he’s so happy. He ducks his head, pushing it against their joined hands; feels Zolf’s warm callouses all the way into his bones. “Thanks to you.”

[There is only one person left.]

“Wilde,” Zolf breathes; a prayer, a promise. Lips press clumsily to his hair, brush his temple as they soak in each other’s presence. “You saved me, too, ya know. So- so many times. I need you, yeah? And I- it- gods, I’m horrible at this, but I just, you’re

[Zolf sees it, this time, when Wilde dies. Sees the sword pierce his chest – right in the heart, a perfect shot – and yank back out with almost careless indifference before the creature turns and does the same thing to Sumutnyerl.

Even dead, Wilde manages to look artistic. His ridiculous cape is flung out beneath him, one arm draped above his head, the barest trace of a smile at the corner of his mouth. He’d been this way after the crash, too, impaled almost a foot off the ground with his limbs dangling and chin flung up to the sky; the perfect semblance of a martyr being raised into heaven. Had he been unconscious then, too? Zolf thinks. Or did he feel the spike go all the way through his chest before he succumbed from the pain?

Doesn’t matter. Zolf had time to mourn when he saved Wilde then; he doesn’t have time now.

Skraak and Ada both attack, but Zolf doesn’t know if the hits land, refuses to process anything that isn’t Wilde and the mere seconds left before he’s gone for good. He throws himself forward, landing hard on his knees beside Wilde’s head, and starts to pray. The magic builds like strong drink in his throat, and he clumsily wipes the blood from Wilde’s mouth as the spell reaches its peak—and is nearly knocked over as the monster deals a crushing blow to his temple.

His vision goes briefly white, blood already dripping down his cheek and jaw, and the magic begins to fizzle away, but he refuses, he refuses. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Zolf presses a hand firmly to the desecration of Wilde’s chest, cradles his cheek with the other. He’s still warm with hope, and Zolf channels that into his prayer, pressing their foreheads together in a way that might’ve been painful, had Wilde been awake to feel it.

Please, he begs the power inside him; begs anyone who’ll listen. Please. Let this be enough to bring him back to me.

The magic bubbles inside Zolf once more, sparkling and bright and warm, and there’s no way to know, really, if it’s enough. It doesn’t matter, of course, because he doesn’t need to know. Because when he presses his mouth to Wilde’s, stroking his cheek and breathing every last ounce of that vital energy into his body, Zolf has hope.

And there, where Zolf’s fingers curl tenderly against Wilde’s neck, new and weak but steady all the same—a pulse.]

 The first thing Wilde registers is breath on his face, warmth in his throat—then pain, all over his body but especially in his chest, gods, what happened? He opens his eyes, hoping to regain his bearings; Zolf is there, face mere inches away from his own, which is a nice start.

Realizing he’s awake, Zolf pulls away, fingertips brushing against Wilde’s cheek as he goes. His other hand is pressed firmly to Wilde’s chest, and there’s blood running freely from a wound at his temple. He looks about to cry.

If Wilde didn’t feel unmoored before, he certainly does now. “Zolf- wh- what-”

In lieu of an answer, Zolf pulls Wilde to his feet. There are flashes of movement to the side, none of which Wilde is capable of processing yet; Zolf grabs his arm, which is easier. He looks resolved, in that urgent way he used to get just before leaving on solo missions; Wilde has just enough time to be scared about that before Zolf pulls him close and says, “Get the others out and be safe.”

Wilde opens his mouth in question, but Zolf’s already shoving him away. He stumbles backwards a few steps, more out of shock than actual force, before losing his balance and landing hard on his elbows just inside the lab. His neck snaps back a little, making his vision swim, but he blinks hard to clear it and now, now, he sees it all. The creature. The dead. The ones left standing.

For just a moment, Wilde catches sight of Zolf’s face before he turns away. His eyes nearly glow, lips parted around gritted teeth, and there is rage in his features like Wilde has never seen before. Then he raises his burning glaive, this idiotic man that Wilde loves so unbearably much, and growls, “Right. It’s yer turn now.”

[so-very-small]

angsty thing for the Unrequited Lovers G/T AU. there are feels, and a lot of them! i might continue this and give them a happy ending at some point tbh, but for now have this mess of feelings

She's perched on his desk, and he's a breath away from her. Heli gently pinches the bandage between two fingertips, his golden eyes scrutinizing the wound on Essa's leg.

It's never quite comfortable having him directly in her space like this, even with how things are now. She figured she'd have gotten used to living with someone twelve times her height, but the pounding in her heart suggests otherwise.

(She trusts him, of course she does, but it's like having a black hole before her.)

(And she feels half ready to just dive in, and half like she should still be running as fast as she could.)

Heli fingers deftly shift, one lifting up her minuscule leg so his pinched fingers can wrap the bandage tight about it. Essa's breath catches in her throat. She's never going to get used to this, so she shuts her eyes and tries to just focus on her breath.

And his breath, washing over her gently, as he leans in a bit more to secure the bandage off.

“There we go,” he whispers. Essa opens her eyes, and finds that Heli didn't move back once finishing his task. He grins at her, his words taking on a teasing lilt. “Were you nervous there?”

(Yes, obviously. You have a mountain fix your burnt leg, and you try not to be nervous, she thinks.)

Essa forces a smile onto her features, and shoves at one of his fingertips.

“Only nervous that you'll mess up my leg even worse,” she says, matching his tone, “Last thing I need is to lose the thing and be stuck with you.”

Heli sits up straight, his height rising a bit as an indignant look crosses his features. Essa feels even smaller from her spot on the table, but doesn't let her casual demeanor slip.

(It isn't exactly hard to keep, though.)

(She's nervous, she'll always be nervous, she figures, but something about Heli just makes her feel... okay.)

“Well,” he says, and he reaches a finger down to poke her chest lightly. It's a little incredible how much control he uses, it doesn't send her off balance, just bumps her the barest amount. “You're already stuck with me. Looks like I win.”

Before she can make a rebuttal, he descends both hands and gently lifts her. Her back thuds against the curve of his fingers, and she finds herself relaxing into his warm skin.

As always, he locks a thumb over her waist, just secure enough so she doesn't jostle about while he moves. Essa brings up a hand to brace herself on the fingertip, feeling the ridges of his thumbprint and focusing on that instead of the sudden rush from him standing to his feet.

Heli draws his hands closer to his chest, and even from the few inches of distance Essa can hear his heartbeat. His breathing is soft, the faintest hint of his shampoo reaches her nose, and she can feel his eyes glancing down at her every couple of seconds.

In the beginning it made her self conscious, being so wrapped up in him, him being large enough he was essentially her world. The pointed attention he'd give her every time they moved, the precision and care he used, it was overwhelming.

(It still is, if Essa's honest.)

(Just, overwhelming good.)

Heli sits down on his bed, turning to deposit Essa carefully on his pillow. She had a bed set up on his nightstand in the beginning, but one late night conversation had led to the realization that if one could sleep on a giant pillow, why wouldn't you? Heli doesn't move much in his sleep anyway, and there's the cold, and also the fact that Essa is delightful at making excuses to herself to be near him.

She grabs her blanket, one of Heli's old shirts, and fixes it over herself. Heli readies for bed next to her, tugging his muscle shirt off and grabbing his comforter.

“Your leg shouldn't take much more time before it's healed,” Heli says. He lays back, his head at the very edge of his pillow so his face is right next to hers. “Gonna have a wicked scar though.”

“I don't mind,” Essa says. She turns onto her side to face him better. “Plus being healed up mean less fussing from you.”

Heli quirks up an eyebrow, turning his head to face her.

“Oh?” he says. He inches his head a little closer, golden eyes almost having to cross to look at her. “You think that?”

“Oh yeah,” Essa says. She watches his features carefully, noting all the little thing she wouldn't see if they were the same size. The slightest quirk of of a grin on his lips, the gears turning in his head. A teasing lilt takes to her words, and she tries to keep the smile off her lips as well. “After this we'll have no reason to talk, obviously. We'll become strangers, and you and your face can stay over on your side of the bed.”

Heli pushes a bit closer.

“Excuse me, ma'am,” he says. He nudges her with the tip of his nose. “I believe it's all my side of the bed.”

He gets closer. One hand comes up behind her to press her into his nose, and a laugh ripples out of Essa's chest, her pretending to put up a fight as he holds her tighter.

“Like I said, you're stuck with me,” Heli says. She can't see it, but she can hear the smile in his voice.

(Essa was terrified of him in the beginning, and she never once thought she'd essentially be cuddling his face.)

(He smells like vanilla and the woods, and she could feel his voice rumble under her skin, his gentle hand holding her close.)

(He feels like everything, and in that moment, there was nowhere else Essa could possibly imagine wanting to be.)

Essa shuts her eyes, and presses her forehead against the bridge of his nose. She's practically spooning it, and he lets out a comfortable hum as he shuts his eyes.

It's warm, and he's surrounding her. Any trace of stress in her small frame seems to evaporate as his fingers shift tighter around her, she relaxes into him, and he lets out a tired sigh.

Essa's safe. She's comfortable, she's content, she loves him, she's happy.

(She loves him.)

She's thrown onto her back as Heli's hand jerks from her, scrambling to stabilize herself on the wobbly surface of the pillow. He moves back, eyes looking down at her like he's never seen her before, and Essa stares up at him.

“What?” he asks.

(He sounds like how he used to, when he was a stranger, not when he held her every night.)

It takes a second, and a hot flush coats Essa's cheeks. She feels her whole body grow warm, and stammers, she never meant to say it out loud.

“You don't mean that,” Heli says.

His voice sounds definitive.

Essa sits up, a crease forming between her brows.

“Don't mean it?”

“You can't.”

A frown crosses her lips.

“Heli... we've been sharing a bed every night. You don't leave me alone, or go anywhere without me. It's been like this for months.”

(A thread in her heart feels like it's unraveling.)

(This can't be happening, this can't be happening, this can't be happening.)

Heli sits up straight, and the distance to his face from the pillow is even larger than it was from the desk. He brings a hand up to drag it through his red hair, golden eyes darting about the room before landing on her.

“Essa, doll, you got the wrong idea,” he says. He sounds... delicate. Like he's trying to break her heart in a careful way. “You're... you're great and all, but this isn't... we're not-”

(The tug in her chest turns into a snap.)

Her fists ball up in her blanket, and she blinks away any hot tears that threaten to surface.

“So all of this meant nothing to you?”

Her voice is loud in the quiet room.

Heli looks at her, but it's not how he used to. His eyes are soft, but they're cold. A look of something flashes across his face – pity if she had to guess, and she bites down on her lip to keep herself grounded.

“Nothing like that.”

(Whatever's left inside of Essa crumbles.)

She bites her lip harder, only stopping when the tang of iron makes her realize she's drawn blood. Her knuckles are white, fingernails pressing into her palms, and Heli won't stop staring down at her.

“I'm sorry,” he says, softly.

Essa stands, her legs wobbly on the pillow. She turns from him – and only then does she let her tears fall – and she feels stupid at how she has to hold her arms to find balance on the pillow. She walks slowly, ignoring the stiffness in her burned leg.

A hand slams in front of her, knocking her off balance. She lets out a soft hiss of pain as she collapses.

“Essa, wait,” Heli says. He fully blocks her path, all Essa has before her is a palm taller than she is. “Look, let's just forget it and go to bed-”

“Leave me the fuck alone, Heli.”

Her voice is deathly low, and she doesn't even bother turning to look at him.

A second passes.

Heli, saying nothing, draws his hand back.

Essa takes a moment to collect herself, draws a sleeve over her eyes. Eventually she pulls herself together, takes in a breath, and rises to her feet.

Essa leaves.

(Her heart stays behind.)

[mersuperwholocked-lowlife]

Can’t Forgive or Forget

Word Count: 2,030

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Mary Winchester, OC Characters, Reader

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader

Warnings: angst, possibly small fluff? tw: trauma, nightmares

A/N: ---

Masterlist     Link to Part One

You could hear loud banging on the hotel door as you whimpered softly, wrapping your arms around yourself as you backed away from the door.

It was pitch black outside, as well as inside the room. Tears were streaming down your face as you tried to control your breathing.

“Open the fucking door!” you could hear John’s voice yelling at you as you cried softly.

Your heart was racing as you put your hands on your head, curling up into a ball as you tried to keep John’s voice out of your head.

“This isn’t real, this isn't real,” you cried softly, trying to calm yourself as you scrunched your eyes tightly.

“This isn't real,” you heard the door being pushed open as you let out a small cry.

---

“(Y/N)?! (Y/N)!” you jumped up in your bed, Dean had his hands on your shoulder, shaking you.

“What?” you gasped, sitting up.

“You were crying in your sleep,” your face dropped slightly as you sniffled softly.

“Why did you let me fall asleep?” you said.

“Because you haven't slept in weeks,” he replied.

You wrapped your arms around yourself before clearing your throat, getting off the bed.

“Is Sam back yet?” you asked.

“(Y/N),” Dean started.

“I wonder what’s taking him so long,” you walked to the door, looking out the window as Dean called your name once again.

“We need to talk about this,” he crossed his arms.

“There's nothing to talk about,” you shrugged.

After John passed away all feelings and memories came to haunt you every day and every night. You tried your best to stay awake for as long as you could, and it began to affect you quickly. It was harder to focus on hunts. Your aim was definitely messed up, you even had trouble staying still.

Sam and Dean always tried to talk to you, or help you, but you couldn't bring yourself to say it. They didn't deserve the burden of knowing what was going in your head, and know about all your worries and pain. You only saw yourself as broken, only a shell of what you used to be, and it was all your fault.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed, with a mix of worry, anger on his face as he looked at you.

“I’m gonna go for a run,” you said.

“It’s 10 PM,” he replied.

You shrugged, walking towards the bathroom to go change, while you could feel the disappointment radiating off of Dean.

“Keep your phone on,” he said.

You nodded softly, closing the door behind you.

---

“(Y/N)! Open the door, come on!” you could hear Dean yelling from the other side as you held back your cries, wrapping your arms around your head.

Depending on the point of view, you were getting better, or you were getting worse. The nightmares were worse, all the fear and pain had intensified, but your dad’s actions and abuse towards you came to light. 

Everything was going to be okay, or so you kept telling yourself. Then, Sam died. Dean beat you to save him, selling his soul. Fighting the yellow-eyed demon was especially hard, the three of you beaten and broken as you tried to make yourself strong. 

Then your father reappeared like a ghost. You instantly tensed up, out of fear. Your bones were aching, as well as the rest of your body, before you held in your cries, reaching for the colt and putting a final end to the demon.

“(Y/N), I know it was hard, but-” he went quiet again before you heard him sigh.

“If you don't open the door in ten seconds, (Y/N/N), I’m gonna have to pick the lock. Save us both the trouble, please,” his voice was softer than before as you let out a breath, slowly walking to the door.

It’s not Dad, Dad’s dead

You opened the door for Dean, as he rushed to wrap his arms around you, while you buried your face into his arms, crying softly.

---

“You’ve been having these nightmares since Dad died?” Dean sat down in front of you, while you looked down at your hands, watching them shaking.

“N-No, they… They started after we went t-to the roadhouse… Ellen was just praising Dad for e-everything he did a-and…” you stopped speaking, trying to hold in your cries as Dean lifted your face slightly, wiping your tears.

“W-Why did he hate me so much?” you cried softly.

“I don’t know why he treated you like that, (Y/N/N), but he can’t do it again. He won’t ever hurt you again,” Dean put his arm around your shoulder, sitting next to you as he pulled you in.

“I’m sorry I keep messing up our hunts,” you whispered softly.

“Well, lucky for you, we decided we’re gonna take a small break,” you lifted your head slightly to look at Dean.

“Why?” you asked.

“Well, Sammy and I think we deserve a break. What do you think?” he asked.

You nodded softly as he kissed your forehead.

“It’s my last year, so of course I’d want to spend some time with my pain-in-the-ass younger siblings,” he teased as you smacked his arm.

“Why did you have to sell your soul?” you scoffed.

“I needed to save Sam,” he replied.

“You didn't have to kill yourself to do it,” you muttered.

“You'll understand one day,” he said.

After sitting with Dean for some time, you heard his phone go off, receiving a text from Sam.

“He wants to get drinks. Are you up for it?” he asked.

You shook your head before sitting up.

“I think I’m gonna try to sleep,” you said.

“...Okay. We’ll be back soon. Bobby’s downstairs,” he said.

You nodded, pushing yourself under the covers before Dean kissed your forehead once more, receiving a soft smile from you before he left your room.

---

“None of us should be calm, Dean! You’re wanted! I’m supposed to be dead, and Sam is on stage drinking kale smoothies!” you yelled at Dean as the four of you left the bunker, walking into town.

As the years passed, you began recovering from the trauma and scars that John left you, relying on Sam and Dean greatly. You were better now, everything was okay. You felt better than you’d felt in your entire life, and in the middle of all this craziness, you found yourself pregnant a year ago.

Sam and Dean were more than excited to become uncles and were ready to make having a kid around work for all three of you.

“Okay, calm down,” Dean said.

“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down, Dean!” you held your child, caressing her back as you paced in front of Sam and Dean.

“Look, we get it. It’s scary, but… what can we do about it?” Sam tried to calm you as you shook your head.

“Dean can break the pearl,” you walked towards Dean as he held up his arms defensively, stepping away from you.

“Okay, I know you hate this, but we can’t. Not yet. For Mom’s sake,” Dean defended.

“Dean, Mom’s in love with the idea of Dad. She doesn't know how much he changed after she died,” you corrected.

“Well, then are you gonna tell her?” Sam crossed his arms, raising his eyebrow.

“Sam shut the hell up,” you clenched your jaw.

“I don't love this either, and if Mom wasn’t here… but she is here. We’re going to pretend, just for the night,” Sam replied.

You closed your eyes tightly, shaking your head.

Sam walked next to you, before taking Nicole out of your arms.

“Sam, what are you-” you started.

“I saw some cute baby shoes that I want to get with her,” he began walking away from you and Dean as you scoffed.

“Sam, she isn't even a year old yet. She doesn't know how to walk!” you replied, annoyed.

“It’s never too early, I’ll see you guys later,” he continued walking away as you sighed, running your fingers through your hair.

“I know this is hard, okay?” you began walking away from Dean as he followed you.

“Mom deserves the truth, but we’re not gonna tell her now. Not while she’s there with Dad. You don’t think she deserves to be happy? Be with him again?” Dean asked you.

“Dean…” you whined.

“Come on, (Y/N),” you could see the look in Dean’s face.

He said Mary wants this, but you knew he did too. There was a time before Mary died where John didn't hurt you, and you were a picture-perfect family. Only Dean remembered. After everything that happened within the past few years, you wanted him to be happy, he deserved it.

You sighed, nodding your head.

“Thank you,” he let out a breath of relief.

“But that man is going nowhere near my baby,” you warned as he nodded.

The two of you continued to make your way to the shops, getting the groceries.

---

You kept to yourself for most of the night, feeling your heart racing as you bounced your leg. The night was filled with laughter and joy. Sam and Dean were happy, John was happy, Mary was happy and you were still scared, as you had been for the whole night.

You found your excuse to leave, saying it was time for Nicole to go to bed. You waved a quick goodbye, picking her up as you went to your room, letting out a sigh. You made it through the night.

You heard footsteps approaching you, while you looked up, seeing John making his way to the bedroom door,

standing there as he led against the doorframe.

“It’s difficult, seeing you all grown up like this,” he started.

You kept your back to him, cradling Nicole in your arms as you closed your eyes, taking deep breaths.

He wouldn't hurt you, not now.

“Yeah,” you said softly.

You could feel his eyes on you as you laid Nicole down in her cradle.

“You know, you haven't said much tonight,” he started.

“Sam and Dean told me everything about them, but you… you haven't talked to me. How did life treat you after I died?” he asked.

You clenched your jaw, hiding your emotions as you turned to face him.

“Terribly,” you said.

You could see the look of shock on his face as you sighed.

“I-I had nightmares, I was in pain all the time,” you shook your head.

“I didn't-” he started.

“Nightmares that you caused,” you dug your nails into your palm, seeing his face soften.

“What do you mean?” he frowned.

“Are you… Do you not remember all the bruises you gave me? A-All the wounds, all the scars? Do you not remember abusing me?” you tried to hide your anger as you took a step closer to him.

“Oh, come one. I never abused you, (Y/N),” he started.

“You won’t even admit it to yourself. Well, sorry I’ve been distant, and sorry I haven't talked to you all night, but I can't find it in my heart to forget what you did, and I most certainly can’t forgive it. I hate you, so, so much.”

“You know I never meant to hurt you-”

“I don't want to hear it. The only reason I didn't tell Mom what happened, is because Sam and Dean told me not to. They want to protect your image in her head,” you spat.

You could see a pained expression on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he replied.

You didn't reply, instead, you looked away, keeping your gaze off of him while you could feel hot tears rushing to your eyes. You watched as he walked away, closing the door behind him as you collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in your pillows as you cried softly.

All memories and all the pain came rushing back, hurting you more and more than you could ever think it would. You remembered your bruises, you remembered your scars, you remembered the feeling of hating yourself constantly, all because of him.

But now it was over, and now he was gone.

[karlnapity]

i declare war on my body.

chapter 1: it’s sad to know that we are not alone in this.

(tws: nongraphic self-harm)

punz is the first to come back after the egg is destroyed.

it makes sense; after all, he’s the least connected, the least influenced. he only ever existed on the outskirts of the faction, still the most in control of himself of everyone.

it only takes a few days for him to recover, the red receding bit after bit from his eyes. he spends most of those days sleeping, only waking every few hours to stare at the wall. he tells sam his head feels buzzy, like his thoughts are all out of order, and all sam can do is rub his shoulder and encourage him to go back to sleep.

it’s on the fourth or fifth day he starts to regain any sort of energy, tells puffy a little about what it was like to be under the egg’s influence. he’s allergic to any sort of vulnerability, but no one can deny the way his hands shake, and puffy holds them with her own.

the last of the red bleeds through his tears.

>

it takes around two weeks for ant to make any sort of semblance of consciousness. he blinks his cat pupils open on the final day, stares sam in the face, and starts to cry. his eyes are still purple-tinted, but sam can’t care less as he envelopes his friend in a hug. ant is mumbling something that sounds like ‘i’m sorry' over and over and over again, and sam shushes him, runs a hand along the fur on his head in a calming gesture from when they were kids.

they stay there for a long time. whenever sam tries to pull away, ant hooks his claws in sam’s armor and doesn’t let him leave.

sam doesn’t say anything about it, just obliges.

>

it’s a hard and long process, apologizing. punz and ponk speak in quiet, mumbling voices, and no one dares interrupt them. ant begins with puffy, sitting next to her on the beds they set up, and he recounts the story to her.

“i wish i could tell you more,” he says. “but i don’t remember all that much.”

it’s a complete lie, and he has a feeling she knows, but thankfully she doesn’t pry. she just stands, takes his hand, and pulls him to his feet.

his legs are still a bit shaky, but she supports him as she leads them outside.

the vines are gone, and he can’t help but let out a small cry of relief. she grins at him as she leads him to hannah’s house.

the colors are still gone from her house, but as they settle outside he admires the roses that have started to push through the grass once again.

it’s such a wonder to be in control of himself once again. he opens and closes his hands a few times, still relishing in the feeling.

(he’s not sure of the timeline, of how long he wasn’t himself, but he can’t bring himself to ask.)

he looks at puffy, who’s watching him with a complicated expression. he reaches out a paw, and she takes it.

“i missed you,” she murmurs.

he’s been doing a lot of crying in the few short days he’s been awake, but he never seems to run out of tears.

“i missed you too.”

“we were so worried about what would happen to you after it was destroyed. it had such a strong hold on you…”

“i know, i know, but i’m here now, right? everyone’s gonna be ok.”

(it’s a lie. he’s still coasting on adrenaline, on pure unfiltered relief right now, but he knows it can’t last long. he knows they’ll realize they don’t forgive him, and he knows they’ll realize that it was his fault. because it was. he can’t let himself relax for long.)

she doesn’t make eye contact, and he can see her face pinch a bit at that. he feels a bit of a pit growing in his stomach. he almost doesn’t want to ask.

“what is it?”

she purses her lips. “we’re not sure, on bad.”

his stomach drops.

>

he demands to see bad immediately. it’s a long process, on such tired legs, to get down to the area below. they let him and punz recover on the surface, but puffy said they wanted bad as far from any of the egg’s possible influence as the final vines were being destroyed.

he’s sequestered in a room deep below, and as puffy leads ant down the hallway his anxiety grows.

as much as he wants to see his friend, part of him doesn’t.

a lot of him doesn’t. he stills. he can’t bring his legs to move any more. puffy walks a few more strides before she notices he isn’t behind her, and she doubles back.

she notices his expression immediately. “what’s wrong?”

he struggles to get the words out. he’s been struggling with that a lot, lately. he opens and closes his mouth a few times before he can get it out. it’s still surprising to be able to do so.

“i don’t know if i want to see him.” it’s a painful admission, and part of him fears puffy will immediately call him an asshole. hell, he doesn’t fucking want to see his best friend, one of the people he cares most about, his friend who’s comatose. that’s a bit of a dick move.

but she doesn’t. she rests a hand on his shoulder, and he pulls her into a hug as he hiccups. she rubs his back. they sink to the ground, and puffy holds him close.

“why don’t you want to see him?” there’s no judgment in her voice, not like he feared, and something about it unlocks his words.

“i just… part of it… i don’t want to see the effects, because that’ll make it so much more real.” he bites his lip. “and... we... we did such shitty things together- and i don’t want to remember them- i don’t want to remember how we treated each other- and-”

he can’t breathe. she rubs on his back, murmuring reassurances, and little by little the anxiety in his chest dissipates enough for him to think. he pulls back, a bit, gets a clear look at her face. she gives him a small smile, and he returns it.

“you don’t have to, if you don’t want to. we all get it.” she shifts closer, so they’re sitting side by side on the hallway floor. “it’s a hard thing. you deserve to feel comfortable, first of all. you deserve to put yourself and your recovery first.”

he tugs his knees to his chin. he doesn’t deserve to be first, not after what he did to everyone. puffy’s just being nice. they- his victims- they deserve to be first.

(but does bad count as a victim? he can remember, faintly, being horrible to bad. they fought all the time, he knows that, and not just with words.

the egg pit them against each other, had them fight for everything. he remembers more than he cares to.)

old wounds sting, even after they’ve long since healed. he puts a hand on a faint scar on his arm.

bad doesn’t count as a victim. he shivers.

“ant?” puffy asks gently.

“i don’t want to see him,” he murmurs, as horrible as it feels. puffy nods, pulls him into a brief hug, and tells him to go back upstairs, that she’ll be right behind.

he crawls into bed, and he sleeps for a long, long time.

>

“how’s he doing?” puffy asks as she enters the room. sam looks up from the bedside, setting his book on his lap.

“no change,” he says. puffy purses her lips, takes a look.

bad’s been sleeping fitfully ever since the egg was destroyed. he was the first to go down, collapsing the moment the final vine was severed. sam speculates the egg was siphoning the most energy from him, considering he was the leader of their cause.

he looks terrible. he’s hardly been able to sleep consistently for over half an hour, still gasping and wrenching in what seems to be pain, and they can’t figure out how to fix it.

he still has vines curled around his arm and face. they can’t find where it’s coming from, and every time they trim it back it returns within hours.

a few days ago they came in to find it seemingly ripped out. he was bleeding, badly, but when they returned with medical supplies it had already grown back.

(they decided to keep a constant watch, after that.)

she touches a hand to his forehead. none of them are exactly sure what temperature demons are supposed to be, but all the same he seems far too cold. she strokes his cheek, pulls away and adjusts the blankets. it’s a bit tough, with his height, but they make do.

he’s so pale. his skin looks almost gray where it used to be vibrant, and the red accents still haven’t turned from white.

(he looks dead. every time she comes to see him she can’t help but reach for his pulse. can’t help but check.)

she leans back, sighs. “ant didn’t want to see him.”

sam frowns. “punz and ponk didn’t, either.”

“he didn’t say much on it,” she continues, sitting beside him. “but he seemed almost… scared, i’d say. he said they didn’t treat each other too well.”

“it’s not surprising, is it? it must have been torture, it’s not surprising to learn it had them be awful to each other. if they were too close they’d find a way to fight back, and it couldn’t have that.”

she nods, putting her head in her hands. sam rubs her shoulder. she leans into his side, lets herself break just a little.

(only a little.)

“i just wish he’d wake up.”

“i know,” he says quietly. “i miss him. we’ve just got to hope it’s soon.”

>

punz starts out the day with the express need to forget what the fuck happened.

he can’t bear the way they look at him. puffy and sam’s pity makes him sick, and ant’s trying desperately to avoid him at all costs, and ponk still has a hard time looking him in the eye.

it hurts. he wants things to go back to the way they were, but he doesn’t because that was dream. he’s not sure what he wants.

he deserves a fucking break.

he’s not supposed to leave, yet, not without someone to accompany him, but he doesn’t care. the constant care is suffocating, and he just wants to pretend he’s back to normal for five fucking seconds.

so he grabs a bag, a couple loaves of bread, and

his head still hasn’t cleared, and his body is still utterly shot from being stretched to its limits for months, so he can’t run too far, but he doesn’t care.

(the pain is good, means he’s atoning, and when his lungs burn this hard he can’t even focus on memories.)

he coughs, stumbles, and finds himself on the ground. he rolls over, lays flat on his back, and stares at the sky. he wants to scream.

can he not have five seconds?

his brain feels fuzzy again. it’s been hard, lately, to think much of anything beyond a need to escape a mysterious, nonexistent enemy that’s probably just inside his own mind, but he can’t relax, can’t let himself go, can’t concentrate on anything because of sheer fear.

(puffy says it’s hypervigilance, a trauma response, but that doesn’t make sense, because wasn’t he doing the traumatizing?)

none of it makes any fucking sense. he just wants to curl up on the hill he’s found himself on, stay there forever. it’s so hard. he just wants to stay here forever.

he curls onto his side, closes his eyes. everything’s fuzzy.

“punz?”

he jolts, almost screams, but it’s ponk. he can relax around ponk. ponk’s safe. he settles back onto the ground. “you awake, buddy?”

he waves a hand, and ponk grabs it. he feels the other sit beside him.

“you’re not supposed to run, it’s not safe.”

punz grunts, rolls back onto his back. he has to put extra care into making words, now. it’s so much more tiring. he considers just not responding. he does. “yeah.”

ponk sighs. “ok. can you stand?”

it’s a long process to get back to the base.

>

bad wakes up slowly.

the first time, sam barely notices it. he rolls over, raises a hand to rub on his face, which isn’t too uncommon. the keen of pain that follows is still business as usual, much as it makes sam’s heart ache.

then, all of a sudden, he gasps. his hands fly up to pull at the vine on his face. his eyes are still closed, but he’s crying, sobbing, even, and he grasps with what seems to be his full strength. sam stands, trying to figure out what to do, when the vines fly off with a sickening noise that makes sam want to be sick.

they fall to the ground, and he raises a netherite boot to crush them. it makes a horrible squelch, and sam knows he’ll have to burn the boots later to get the stain off, but it doesn’t matter.

what matters is the blinking, too-dim, barely open eyes in front of him.

sam pulls him into a tight hug. bad makes a sort of growl in the back of his throat that makes sam’s hair stand up on end.

bad doesn’t usually speak in his native tongue, anymore, and sam has no idea what he says, but he doesn’t care.

his friend is alive.

>

everything hurts so much. every single nerve in his body feels like it’s on fire, feels like he’s burning up from the inside.

someone- sam, it’s sam, it’s sam it’s samit’ssam- is petting his hair, running his fingers through the knots and working them out gently. he’s saying something, but the rushing in bad’s ears is too much to be able to understand anything at all.

he’s so tired. he wants to fall asleep, wants to sleep forever, but the pain is so much that he can’t do more than collapse against sam, let the other man carry his weight. he wants to bring his arms up to return the hug (it’s the least he can do) but he can’t.

he lets out a whine. everything is too much. the world is too bright, his own breathing is too ragged to his ears, even sam’s touch hurts. sam just continues murmuring words bad doesn’t understand and running his fingers through his hair.

the door opens, or at least he thinks it does. he’s not sure. his weight is passed from sam to another and he cries out. he doesn’t want sam to leave him, but this new person talks in a voice that calms him. he feels a warm washcloth on his face and it’s the only thing that doesn’t burn. the person takes his hands and warms them between their own, and the pain eases just a little.

he relaxes, slowly.

there’s still whispering in his ears and he tries so hard to tune it out.

(it hurts.)

he curls in on himself when it grows too loud.

it gets louder. he doesn’t stay awake for long.

[saedii-gilwraeth-simp]

A while back it was mentioned that Saedii may have had a friend that was killed by Caerson, well can we please have some of that friend and Saedii moments.

Sorry I’m answering so late, I have not had a free sec in the last couple of days

~~

“Oh please, Aidraa, I know he’s your Be’shmai, but the Paladin is so boring looking. He doesn’t even have battle scars,” Saedii said and Aidraa laughed.

“Don’t be so much of a Warbreed Saedii. Sariel is so cute and his eyes-“

“His eyes are brown. Entirely boring,” Saedii says and Aidraa leans over to punch her shoulder. Saedii is strong but Aidraa still hits a spot that makes her hiss. If Aidraa wasn’t her best friend, Saeddi would beat her up for it.

“One day you’re gonna get pulled to someone and you’ll understand exactly how I feel. And I will make sure to tease you just as much for it,” Aidraa declares and Saedii rolls her eyes.

“Yes and he’ll have scars and eyes that are not brown, because I have taste,” Saedii says, tilting her nose up. Aidraa growls a little before she’s lunging over the sleeping bags and punching Saedii. The pair go tumbling down together, laughing hysterically.

~

“What do you think it will be like... when we join the Unbroken?” Saedii asks and Aidraa considers the question without looking away from the light shining between the boughs of the lias tree they were relaxing under.

“Saedii, I- I don’t know if I want to join the Unbroken,” she confesses, quietly. Saedii sits up and turns to her.

“What do you mean?”

“I think I deserve better things than dying in a war that we’ll never win because the rest of the galaxy will obliterate us first,” Saedii scoffed.

“We’re Warbreed, Aidraa, we dance the dance of blood and if we die, it will be an honourable death,” Aidraa sat up then.

“Your father is very deep in your head Saedii. I know you’re smart enough that you could win a war without demolishing the Unbroken, so why do you follow him to your death?” Aidraa said and Saedii wants to yell at her and pummel her into the ground in equal measures. Instead, she takes a breath. Granting mercy was a weakness, but Aidraa was her best friend.

“Why the sudden change in you? I could have sworn we wanted the same things not too long ago, Aidraa,” she asks. Aidraa swallows thickly and sits up, curling her knees into her chest.

“Sariel and I were talking about starting a family. I realised I wanted better for my children than the Unbroken could give us. I don’t want them to grow up knowing only war. I want them to know peace and joy too,” Aidraa explains and Saedii blinking slowly is the only sign that she’s having trouble processing the words.

Finally, she sighs and sits next to Aidraa, wrapping her arms around her and hugging her tight.

“I won’t pretend to understand, but you’re my best friend and I’ll support your decisions,” she says and Aidraa takes her hand and squeezes it.

~

Lias trees always had happy memories for Saedii, so she sat under one now. Her children were running around the field (admittedly it was closer to Lae dragging Kal behind her) under her watchful eye, but neither seemed to have caught on to their mother’s current melancholy.

Saedii considered the date displayed on her watch. Today had been 15 years since she lost Aidraa. After she had closed off her openness to other people, she had tried to forget the date, but she had decided lately that mourning her friend was better than never thinking of her again.

Figuring her kids were safe enough, she lies back in the grass, reminded of a day so long ago - her last real time spent with Aidraa.

“You were right, you know? I don’t say it often so you know that I fucked up if I’m admitting it, but you were right. About it all,” she pauses, pushing down the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to have all of this, Aidraa. You deserved it, probably more than I ever will,” she admits.

“Mummy, who are you talking to?” Lae’s voice cuts through the air as she lays down next to her mother. Kal lays on top of Saedii’s chest and she runs her hand through his mop of blonde hair. She pulls Lae closer and kisses her on the forehead.

“I’m just talking to an old friend, someone I loved dearly,” she says, smiling softly as wind rushed past them, sounding a lot like Aidraa’s laugh.

~~ Anyway justice for Aidraa, fuck Caerson

[paperpocalypse]

crackers and jam.

50 Cliché Tropes and Prompts: 41. Overhearing they have feelings for you.

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 1,703 words

Warnings: Swearing

Some time back, not long after he got stranded in the post-apocalyptic world and perhaps a year and a half before running into you, Five’s only companion was Delores.

It had been a meeting of chance (as everything is) in the middle of a destroyed department store. She had been looking at him. And maybe that’s why he was so drawn in – that stare; it was a lifeless stare, yeah, but it was not by any means a dead stare like the ones he had met too many times before. No life had been lost to create that stare. She was smiling, too.

Five had lifted her carefully out of the chunks of concrete, greeting her because there was no one else. For the first few weeks, he just placed her at the corner of her store and visited every once in a while, then took to occasionally toting her around the City when he needed to talk. He liked to pretend that she answered back – sometimes. After a few months, he named her Delores.

Then he met you.

Unlike Delores, you were human. Breathing. Alive, somehow. And you had thoughts and feelings that weren’t always connected to his and – and it was weird. It was home.

You didn’t question his friendship with Delores. Five had seen the half-burned stuffed frog in your wagon, so you wouldn’t have had anything to hold over him anyway. He knew that you knew that he still went to the department store in the middle of the night. And, shit, deep down Five also knew that Delores was, in the end, just a hunk of plastic with eyes. But after a year and a half of having nobody else, she had become something of a comfort. And a confidant. Burdening you with his issues was not an option, so when things became a little shittier than usual, he would slip out from underneath his blanket, make sure you weren’t having a nightmare, and head downtown to voice his thoughts aloud.

Over time, though, he learned that you were willing to listen. You listened, and you were always kind about it even if you didn’t always understand. His nightly visits decreased. And it was okay for a while.

But then Five began to struggle with a new issue – one that was a little different than the usual mess of stress and anxiety – and one night, he finds himself looking down at Delores again because talking to you about it is definitely off the table.

Unfortunately, Delores’s kindness is different from yours.

Well, here we are. Again.

“I’m just here to think,” he snaps, combing a grubby hand through his tangled mess of hair. The lantern beside him glows weakly as he plops down onto a slab of concrete. “Mind your business.”

Your business is everyone’s business here, Five. And to put my own two cents in, I think that you’re scared of your own feelings.

Blood travels to Five’s cheeks, unwarranted, as he narrows his eyes at Delores. “For the last time, that’s not what this is about. It’s – Jesus Christ, I’m gonna get over it. This isn’t a life-or-death issue.”

Then why have you been ranting about it like it is?

“I’m not.”

Ha! Rich.

He grits his teeth. She stares back at him, unperturbed. Bastard.

You know, maybe you’ll feel better if you say it out loud. Air it out. Test to see if it’s real.

“I’m not doing that.”

Do it.

No.

Say it.

No.

For god’s sake, Number Five, take a goddamn look at yourself –

“Fine!” Five hisses, though it feels more like an explosion. He throws his hands up. “I like [Y/n], alright? We’re the last people on this goddamn planet and I like them, and I shouldn’t care this much but I do. Happy?”

Delores pauses. Five looks away.

Very.

Ugh.

Did it feel real?

He clicks his tongue, crossing his arms, and doesn’t answer. The smile on Delores’s face seems a little smug, and it makes him want to hurl. He shouldn’t have said it out loud. Relieve some of the pressure and everything starts to boil over …

Breathing in deeply, Five forces his shoulders to relax. He bids a soft goodbye to Delores, then heads back to camp.

—

A week later, Five’s visit comes back to bite him in the worst way possible.

You’ve been having a hard time starting the fire for tonight, so he finishes splitting the evening rations to help you out with the bow drill. As he does so, you watch in silence, both of you waiting patiently for the smoke and dust.

“Do you think we have enough wood?” you eventually ask.  

“It’s enough,” he murmurs, only half paying attention. After a while, a few chalky wisps of smoke begin to rise from the charring wood. He leans in to blow the ember carefully once it forms, then puts it into the tinder and coaxes out a flame. “Get the kindling?”

You oblige, and within a few minutes, a healthy fire starts to dance atop the wood, scorching his face and fingers with heat. Five stares intently at the oranges and yellows for a moment, lips pressed together, intrigued in a tired sort of way. Warmth. Then he backs off and grabs a portion of crumbled up crackers, handing it to you.

You spread the cloth over your knees. “Now all we need is some jam.”

“What kind?”

A soft hum escapes your throat. You contemplate unhurriedly, dabbing up some stray crumbs with a finger. “Blackberry,” you reply after a few moments. “Or strawberry. The kind that’s sort of chunky.”

It’s been a long time since he’s tasted either of those things. The simple thought of whole crackers spread with fresh jam, sweet and dark and sticky, is a luxury in and of itself. Five tries not to think about it too much, munching on his third fragment of stale cracker. It makes his mouth dry. “Hm,” he says, picking up the canteen for a few drops of water.

The fire pops. A few sparks fly out into the air and die just as quickly. You finish your supper and wipe your mouth, stretching your legs out in front of you as you sigh.

Five tilts his head at you. “What?”

“What?” you parrot back, though he sees the way your fingers fidget.

“You have something to say.”

Your facial expression shifts just the smallest bit. “How can you tell?”

(Simple – because he knows you. He knows your ticks; knows how you tick. He knows your smiles and all the subtle ways that your voice rises and falls. He’s memorized you because he fears forgetting, and it’s a problem.)

“Kind of hard not to,” Five replies.

“Oh.” You chew the inside of your cheek, still seeming unsure. “Well, um … I just wanted to talk to you about something. And please don’t be mad.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Um. A couple nights ago, I had a bad dream.”

“I know.”

“Not the one you woke me up from. A different one,” you mutter. “The night after we found the pillows.”

“Oh,” Five says.

“Yeah.” You look down at your hands. They’re dusty and rough, littered with small scars from climbing and falling and holding. “I … um, that night, I woke up and you weren’t there. And I sort of panicked, and went looking –”

The blood drains from Five’s face.

“I went looking for you, and I found you. Talking to her.” You glance at him for a split second. “About me.”

Oh, fuck.

Five stares at you as you fiddle with the scrap of cloth on your lap. You know. You weren’t supposed to know. You weren’t supposed to ever know, and now you do.

“Five?” Your voice is curious and small.

His voice is raspy. “How much did you hear?”

“Almost everything.” You grab the cuff of his coat sleeve as he attempts to stand up. “I’m sorry for eavesdropping. I really didn’t mean to, but –”

“It’s not your fault. Look, I don’t want to talk about it,” he replies tersely. “We need more firewood, anyway.”

“We have enough,” you say, though you relinquish your hold when he tugs a little harder away from you. You sound hurt. “Five, it’s okay to feel like that.”

“It’s not. It makes things more complicated.”

“How?” Standing up, your brow furrows. “I like you too, Five. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

His chest tightens. “That just makes it worse.”

“I like you,” you repeat. Your hand moves down to take his gently. “A lot. And it’s okay.”

(Did it feel real?)

Five meets your gaze solidly despite not quite wishing to, a familiar sense of guilt washing over him when you squeeze his hand.

Sometimes, he wishes he hadn’t met you. Then he would’ve gotten what he deserved for his recklessness – nothing – with nothing to concern himself with other than equations and survival and time. That, he’s fairly sure, would have been easier to manage. He hadn’t been taught to care for someone else. Not like this, at least.

But you. You. Five swallows the lump in his throat.

“I might have to leave you behind,” he murmurs, more hoarsely than he’d like to admit. The words burn like ice on the roof of his mouth. “One day.”

You don’t reply for a few seconds.

Then, for some inexplicable reason, you step a little closer. “But not tonight," you say. "Right?”

For shit’s sake, you’re so optimistic. Five chuckles dryly, hand still engulfed in yours, blinking away the vague stinging in his eyes. “Of course not.”

“Then I forgive you. If you feel like you need it.” With a mild exhale, you smile at him. Your eyes are glossy. “So can we sit back down? I like doing that.”

He quietly agrees.

So you bring him back down to sit before the fire, closer to him than before. No more words are left to be said. A heavy silence settles in their place, neither good nor bad, and almost comfortable. For the first time in a long time, Five tries not to think.

You lean against his shoulder. He welcomes it.

[arrowflier]

Small Talk

Seeing all the personal question and answer things on my dash has inspired this little speedwrite of Ian and Mickey trying to do normal date small talk after they get out of prison.

“The fuck do you mean, you wanna get to know me?” Mickey scoffs when Ian brings it up, pausing in his task of throwing clothes haphazardly into their shared dresser.  “You’ve been fuckin’ me since we were kids, I just lived out of your damn pocket in prison for almost a year, what the hell do you think you don’t know yet?”

Ian just rolls his eyes and leans against the doorjamb, having expected Mickey to say something along those lines.  But Debbie had been talking about her dates a lot, lately, and it had gotten him thinking.  She kept spouting off facts about her new girlfriend like everyone should care, and the details had been getting progressively more intimate.  Not sexy intimate--he could do without knowing some of the things she shared, but that wasn’t what he meant.  No, it was all personal intimate, like her favorite color, or her favorite song, or how she got the little scar on her arm from a dog bite when she was younger.

Mickey was probably right; they knew just about everything important about each other by now.  But Ian wanted to know the less important things, too.

“Come on, Mick,” he resorts to pleading.  “Just one regular date, like a normal couple.”

“We’re not a normal couple,” Mickey retorts without even turning around to face him, and Ian sighs.

“Really, Mickey?” he asks forlornly.  He might be playing it up just a bit, but Mickey doesn’t need to know that.

“What?” Mickey sounds surprised, and finally glances back over his shoulder.  “We’ve never been normal, man.  That really botherin’ you right now?”

Ian shrugs, folding his arms.  He doesn’t meet Mickey’s eyes.  “I guess not,” he says lowly, letting his lips tug into a small pout.  “Was just thinking it would be nice, you know.”  He shrugs again.  “Get out a little.  Talk to you.”

“We talk all the time, jesus,” Mickey practically whines, and Ian knows he won when the dresser drawer is slammed closed a second later.  “Fuckin fine, then, let’s go.”

He wasn’t expecting that, though, and his arms drop uselessly to his side as Mickey pushed past him through the doorway.

“Wait, right now?” he tries to confirm, and Mickey waves dismissively over his shoulder as he makes it to the top of the stairs.

“You waitin’ for an invitation?” Mickey asks.  “Now or never, man.”  He trots down the stairs, calling back up to Ian, “I ain’t holdin’ your fuckin’ hand though!”

Huh.  Ian thinks.  That actually went better than expected.  Grabbing his jacket from the foot of their bed, he hurries to follow.

---

They find a restaurant without a waitlist, and are led to a quiet booth toward the back by a host that smiles at Ian entirely too much.  Ian ignores the man’s attempts to chat, and tries not to smile too hard when Mickey pointedly holds his hand out over the table.

He takes it immediately, smoothing his thumb over tattooed knuckles, and doesn’t hear anything else their host says.

The man leaves quickly, but Mickey doesn’t reclaim his hand.  “What’re you lookin’ at?” he asks Ian gruffly, and Ian tried to temper the elation he knows must show on his face.

“Nothing,” he says simply.  Then, “You,” he adds.

Mickey snorts, looks away before settling his gaze on their clasped hands. “That’s fucking gay, man,” he says, and Ian just raises an eyebrow until Mickey gives in and laughs lightly.

A waiter comes by with their drinks--Mickey must have ordered when Ian wasn’t paying attention, because there’s a coffee in front of him he hadn’t even known he wanted--and after Mickey takes a swig of his own cheap beer, he finally pulls his hand out of Ian’s hold.

“Alright,” he says casually.  “What do you wanna know?”  He sounds at ease, but gives himself away by peeling at the condensation-wet label of his bottled beer with his freed hand.

“What’s your favorite color?” Ian asks, and Mickey looks startled, then exasperated.

“Really, firecrotch?” he askes wryly.  Ian just grins at him, blowing on his coffee.  Mickey rolls his eyes.  “Black,” he answers.

“Bullshit,” Ian claims immediately.

“The fuck, man?” Mickey laughs.  “Why you askin’ stupid questions if you don’t wanna hear my answers?”

“I just want real answers, Mick,” Ian tells him.  “And there is no way in hell that your favorite color is black.”

“Fine,” Mickey huffs.  “Red.  You happy now?”

Ian is.

“And not for the reason you’re thinkin’, Gallagher, so don’t even go there,” Mickey adds, pointing a finger at him.  “Red like blood, alright?  Not red like your damn alien hair.”  He gestures at the offending feature before letting his hand drop to the table, where it fiddles with his wrapped napkin.

“Do aliens even have hair?” Ian wonders aloud, and Mickey glares at him.

“That one of your dumb questions?” he asks.

They’re interrupted before Ian can answer by their waiter, and Ian randomly points to something on the menu rather than admit he hadn’t even looked yet.  Mickey glances down to see what he’s ordering, and raises his eyebrows.

“Nah,” he tells the waiter.  “Ignore that.  He’ll have the same as me.”

Ian shrugs.  He didn’t know what he had picked anyway, and Mickey wasn’t going to steer him wrong on food.  Not when it determined what Ian would be feeling up to later that night.

“Next question, Gallagher,” Mickey prompts when their alone again.  

“What’s your favorite song?” Ian asks.

“Enter Sandman,” Mickey tries, then relents when Ian just looks at him expectantly.  “Livin’ on a prayer, jeez, gonna let me keep any of my street cred tonight?”

“What cred?” Ian asks with a shit-eating grin.  “You snitched on cartel to shack up with your boyfriend, Mickey.  I hate to break it to you, but your credibility is already ruined.”

“Shut up, fucker,” Mickey says, but he’s grinning now too.

“Alright, just one more,” Ian says.  “One more and then we’ll just eat, I promise.”

Mickey nods.  “Shoot.”

“How did you get that scar on your leg?” Ian asks.

Mickey looks confused.  “Uh,” he starts, “you mean the one from when your pedophile boyfriend shot me?”

Ian leans over the table, hisses “Keep your voice down, Mickey, what the fuck?” when he sees a woman at the next booth over look at them, startled.

“And no,” he adds at a normal volume, leaning back again.  “The one above that.”

Mickey just raises his brows.  “You mean the one where you’re geriatric viagroid boyfriend dug a bullet out of my ass?”

Ian groans when the woman’s friend looks over at them too.  “Mickey, shut up,” he begs, looking around to see if they had garnered any more attention.  “You’re gonna get us kicked out.”

“Oh, not that one then, okay,” Mickey says, pretending to think.  “Well there’s the one where I sat on the shiv when you left it out on the bed...”

“Oh my god, Mickey.”  Ian puts his head in his hands.

“Not that when either?  Huh.”  Ian peeks through his fingers to see Mickey grinning, tongue in the corner of his mouth.  

“Think you might have to show me which one you mean then.”  He waggles his eyebrows in that way that shouldn’t be as sexy as it is, and Ian forgets that he’s in the middle of being embarrassed.

Their waiter shows up then, and starts to put down their plates.

“Actually,” Ian says before he can get anything onto the table.  “Can we get that to go?”  He doesn’t take his eyes off Mickey.  “I just remembered something we have to do.”

Mickey’s grin widens as the flustered waiter backs away with a promise of coming back with boxes.  “We gonna play show and tell, then?” he asks.

“Got a better way to learn about each other?” Ian responds.  “And if you thought I was picky about your answers before,” he adds as he pushes out his chair, “it’s about to get a lot worse.”

Their waiter barely catches them with their food and the bill before they can get out the door.

[thisissirius]

👀👀👀 "don't be scared, I'm right here" pls dear siri

take you over anybody else [ao3 link] eddie/buck, minor injuries, hurt/comfort

for my darling @capseycartwright :)

The truck is tense. 

Eddie’s not looking at him, face turned to the window, and he’s got a hand on his knee. Buck’s used to sitting close to him, easier to touch, jostle, and generally mess around. Now, he’s on the other side of the cab and Buck’s never been so aware of the distance. 

“Eddie,” he says, desperate to make things right. 

“I don’t want to talk about it here,” Eddie says, tone clipped, and Buck can see the look Hen and Chimney share. 

Ignoring them, he sighs, knows he should let it rest, but he doesn’t want them to go into a burning building with this hanging over them. “If you would just let me explain—”

“What’s to explain?” Eddie snaps. “You don’t think I’m making the correct choices in my life or in Christopher’s life. You apparently think I should mourn Shannon forever. I’m not allowed to get hurt, so you don’t want me making my own choices.” When he stares at Buck, Buck feels it cut deep, stealing his breath. “Did I forget anything?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Buck snaps back, because if Eddie will just listen—

Eddie snorts, turns away and what the fuck, Buck’s trying to fix this. 

“Look at me,” Buck says. 

“Both of you, quiet,” Bobby says, his voice cutting through the cab. Eddie ducks his head, embarrassed, and Buck looks out of the window, skin crawling. He hates when he and Eddie fight, when they’re not a unit. It makes everything else feel wrong. 

They jump out of the truck as it arrives, Bobby immediately taking charge. “Buckley, Diaz, you take the basement.”

Eddie looks irritated, but his face smooths out and Buck takes his cue; they’ve worked together and been pissed off. They can do this. Eddie stares up at the sky, as if bracing himself, and when he looks at Buck there’s an expression on his face that Buck doesn’t understand. “Let’s go.”

Buck follows, willing to sink into the headspace of firefighter. He calls out, does the sweeps with Eddie. There’s a groaning from above and Buck looks up, doesn’t like how bent and warped the wood is. “Eddie,” he says. “We should move quickly.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and Buck tries not to let on that he’s surprised. “You’re right. Let’s get out of here.”

This time it’s Buck leading the way, and he heads back towards the stairs. There’s a lot of clutter in the basement and Buck makes a mental note to tell the inhabitants to clean up and make access easier. He says as much to Eddie. “—don’t know why people don’t wanna navigate the place they keep their laundry shit,” he mutters. 

There’s a snort from behind him—amused or pissed off, Buck can’t tell—and then a creak. 

“Shit,” Eddie says. Then, “Buck!”

Something creaks above, a noise that makes Buck panic, and then nothing.        

_____________

Buck snaps awake abruptly, and immediately wishes he hadn't. Pain shoots through his stomach, down his side and he groans. 

"Easy," someone says to his left. 

Eddie, Buck thinks. There's a dull pain in the back of Buck's head and he opens his eyes slowly, immediately scared when he can't see anything. "Eddie," he says, voice shaking. "I can't see." 

"It's dark," Eddie replies, and Buck can see movement, an arm in his periphery. "We're trapped." 

"Fuck." Buck can feel weight on his stomach, along his left side, underneath his body. "We fell?" 

Eddie snorts, a noise filled with pain and Buck tries to find his face in the darkness. "More like something fell on us." 

Okay. This is fine. Buck's eyes adjust to the darkness and he can see rubble and wood crashed around them, and through it, Eddie's face. There's dirt on one cheek, except Buck doesn't think it's dirt. "You're hurt?" 

Eddie doesn't say anything for a moment, which is all the answer Buck needs. Then, quietly, "so are you." 

Frowning, Buck says, "what?" He's fairly sure he'd know if he was injured. "I'm fine," he continues, running his hands over his chest, down to his stomach and yeah, everything's not okay.

"Hey," Eddie's voice snaps through Buck's awareness. "Listen to me, Buck, breathe for me, okay?" 

Hyperventilating, Buck thinks. Embarrassing. 

"Don't be scared," Eddie says, his voice thick. "I'm right here, Buck, okay? I'm right here." 

Eddie's here. 

Buck's okay as long as Eddie's here. 

Breathing finally evening out, Buck wraps his fingers around the pole currently stuck in his side and stomach and swallows down the urge to throw up. It doesn't hurt, which should probably worry him, but he turns his head, looks at Eddie. "We're getting out of this?" 

"We are," Eddie says, with a certainty that surprises Buck. Eddie doesn't lie to him.

Which means, back in the truck—

“I’m sorry,” Buck says immediately, because he needs Eddie to know. 

Eddie grunts, like he’s trying to move, and when Buck looks, he can see rocks and rubble tumbling away from Eddie. “For what?”

Buck swallows, thinks of their argument in the truck, Bobby’s voice cutting across them, telling them to stow it and work it out later. “You can make your own choices.”

"it doesn't matter,” Eddie says immediately. There’s another shift of rocks, this time on the other side of Eddie. Buck frowns, realises Eddie’s trying to protect him from falling rocks and can’t stop the words spilling out of his mouth. 

“I didn’t mean to, I just wanted you to know.”

“Buck,” Eddie says, sounding wrecked. “It doesn't matter. Whatever happened before, i just wanna make sure you're alright."

The words sound good, so Buck drifts on them. He concentrates on breathing, on not passing out because he doesn’t think Eddie’ll be happy if he does. There’s a scuffing noise and then oh. “Hi, Eddie.”

Eddie’s got blood on one side of his face, a gash over his eye and nose, but he’s got his hands on Buck’s face. “I’m here.”

It’s a lot; Eddie’s fingers are soft, the worry on his face too much and Buck finds himself sobbing, clinging to Eddie. His side throbs, every small movement a wrench on his stomach. 

“I’m here,” Eddie says again, a hand in Buck’s hair, his eyes running over Buck. 

“I do know why I said those things,” Buck whispers, needs to get the words out. His vision is starting to grey and he doesn’t want to leave Eddie alone. “I wanted to hurt you. I wanted you to hurt like me.” 

Eddie looks surprised, brows drawn together. His lips part, as if he’s going to say something, and then he shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he says, pressing his lips to Buck’s forehead. “We can talk about it if you want, but we don’t need to. I know you, Buck. I know you’re hurting. I just wish you’d found an easier way to tell me.” 

“I’m sorry,” Buck sobs. 

“I know, Buck, I know.” Eddie’s hand is soft in his hair and Buck drifts. There’s a sharp sting on his scalp. “Stay with me, alright? Talk to me.”

Buck opens his mouth, closes it. When he speaks, the words aren’t ones he wants to fall between them. “I want you to love me like you love her."

There’s silence. Well, there’s silence between then. Buck can hear yells and noises, indistinct from above and around them; their crew, coming to get them. He blinks slowly, hand reaching for Eddie. Eddie takes it blindly, but he immediately focuses on Buck. 

“There’s not even a contest,” he says, and he sounds hoarse, scared. 

Buck doesn’t know what to do. “Eddie—”

“I don’t love her,” Eddie says, fast, as if he’s scared he’s not going to be able to. Buck wants to tell him it’s alright, he understands, but Eddie drops a glove, gets his warm, long fingers on Buck’s face. He holds his chin, taps lightly with his forefinger and Buck struggles to focus. “Buck, I don’t love her. We’ve been on dates but I know—I don’t know why I’m saying this, I should just—I love you, Buck, you hear me?”

“It’s okay,” Buck says. He wants to reassure Eddie that it’s okay, that Buck’s okay with it, when the words register. “What.”

Eddie’s smile is soft, tinged with fear and sadness, but he leans down, kissing Buck softly. “I love you, so you stay awake for me, yeah? I wanna talk to you later.”

Buck doesn’t know what to say. He thinks he’s crying, can feel Eddie’s fingers move to his cheek, brushing them away. “I don’t feel so good.”

“i know,” Eddie says, and he leans in, touches their foreheads together. “I’m here, alright? I’m not going anywhere.”

Nodding, Buck lets his lips linger against Eddie’s and tries to hang on. 

— — — — — —

This time, Buck comes back to consciousness slowly. 

There’s a dull ache in his side and stomach this time, something warm weighing him down. Opening one eye slowly, Buck keeps it half-lidded, stunned by the light. He’s in hospital, which doesn’t surprise him. Neither does Eddie, half asleep on top of Buck. 

Buck smiles, lifts a hand to Eddie’s head. “Hi.”

Eddie snaps up, blinking away sleep and immediately lets out a breath. His smile is slow but bright. “You gotta stop ending up here.”

“I said we should leave,” Buck protests. Not my fault your heavy ass takes forever to move—”

Eddie slaps a hand over his mouth, gentle, and raises an eyebrow. “Don’t pretend you hate my ass.”

Licking at Eddie’s palm, Buck laughs when Eddie makes a disgusting face, pulling back and wiping his hand on the bedsheets. Buck stares at him, at the still-fresh gash across his eye. “Is it gonna scar?”

Frowning, Eddie pauses, then touches a self-conscious hand to his face. “It was deep,” he admits. “They’re not sure.”

Probably, then. Buck touches a hand to Eddie’s face, thumb hovering above the scar. “You’ll still look hot.”

Eddie licks at his bottom lip, heat in his eyes. “Yeah?”

“You always have,” Buck admits quietly. 

It doesn’t take much prompting for Eddie to lean in, kiss Buck softly. His fingers are on Buck’s jaw, sliding down to his pulse point. “I’m sorry.”

Buck shakes his head. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“I thought you needed time,” Eddie admits. “I wasn’t leading Ana on but—Bobby said I should move on,” he explains quietly, eyes dropping to the bedsheets. “You weren’t, everything had happened with your parents and I wasn’t sure you’d ever be ready for me.”

“Eddie,” Buck says quietly, a hand in Eddie’s hair. “Look at me?”

Slowly, Eddie lifts his gaze, and Buck knows there’s a lot they need to talk about, a lot they need to go through, but right now, he just wants to be. 

“I’m ready.”

— — — — — — — —

“Is Chris home?” Buck asks. He’s leaning against Eddie, Eddie’s arm around his waist as they walk up the drive. 

Eddie nods, grabbing the keys from his pocket. He helps Buck up the step and his hand slips down to Buck’s waist as he opens the door. “Yeah. I knew you’d wanna see him.”

Buck doesn’t think he can love Eddie more. The words are right on the tip of his tongue, it would be so easy if they slipped out. 

“Bucky!”

Christopher is careful when he hugs Buck, and Eddie drifts away, probably to get things settled. “Are you okay?”

“I’m getting there,” Buck says gently. He kisses the top of Chris’ head and then Eddie’s back, arm at the base of Buck’s spine. 

“Come on,” Eddie says. He’s careful of the padding on Buck’s hip, his stomach, where the lingering wounds are protected. Eddie takes him to the bedroom and Buck’s breath hitches when he sees the pillows stacked up, the comfortable place Eddie’s carved for him in the bed. 

“Eddie,” he says, hates how easily he’s been crying lately. 

Eddie laughs gently, but it’s not cruel. He wipes at Buck’s face, kisses him. “Come on, in the bed.”

They manage to get him situated in the middle of the bed, Eddie on his left side, Chris on the right. Eddie’s got a small TV in the room, courtesy of Buck trying to make Eddie’s bedroom look lived in, and he turns it on, giving Buck a look. 

“Disney?” Buck asks Chris. 

Chris nods, and they argue good-naturedly over the movie until they settle on one. Eddie’s got snacks and drinks, and when they’re all settled, he moves closer, helping Buck lean against him. Buck wants more; he slides and moves, wincing the few times he pulls on his stomach, but groans when he finds the perfect position, tucked under Eddie’s chin. 

It’s easy to relax; Chris keeps up a steady stream of chatter, pressed up against Buck’s right side. Eddie’s warm around him, arm over his shoulders, lips against his head, fingers rubbing down Buck’s spine. Buck drifts in a doze, comfortable and warm, the sounds sending him further into sleep. 

— — — — — —

Chris kisses Buck’s shoulder and climbs out of bed, trying to be careful, and looks at Eddie. “Will you say goodnight?" 

Eddie nods. "Go get ready for bed, I'll be in soon."

Chris makes his way out of the bedroom. Eddie smiles, running a hand through Buck's hair, down the nape of his neck. "Buck?" 

Buck barely twitches. He's dead to the world, hand curled in Eddie's shirt, breathing even against Eddie's collarbone. Gently, Eddie tries to extricate himself from Buck, but as he gets Buck situated on the pillow, he groans, eyes opening slowly. "Eddie?" 

"Just saying goodnight to Chris," Eddie tells him. He kisses him gently, thumb rubbing over his cheek. "I'll be right back." 

Buck looks upset and Eddie's heart breaks. Frowning, Buck reaches for him. "Where you going?" 

"To Chris," Eddie says again, tries to make Buck understand. "It's bedtime." 

Abruptly Buck's face changes and he blinks, stares to the other side of the bed. "I fell asleep?" 

"Yeah," Eddie says, then rests a hand on Buck's shoulder when he tries to move. "Stay put. Chris says you can hug him extra hard in the morning." 

Buck still looks petulant but he nods, finally lets Eddie go. "Come back?" 

"Soon," Eddie promises.

— — — — — — —

Buck feels cold when Eddie leaves the room, but he shifts onto his right side, groaning as he stretches out. He still aches, can feel pain starting to creep into his awareness and he knows he needs to take some meds. 

Move. He needs to move. Roll out of bed maybe, he can say goodnight to Chris and—

There’s a hand back in his hair, Eddie’s lips against the skin beneath his ear, his jaw. “Sit up for me?”

“M’kay,” Buck says, still half-asleep, but lets Eddie help him sit up. There’s a glass of water and some painkillers in Eddie’s hands and Buck lets out a sob. “You’re amazing.”

Eddie laughs gently, waits for Buck to take the meds and finish half the water. He rests it on the dresser and it takes Buck a moment to realise Eddie’s changed for bed. 

“I fell asleep?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “You need to shower?”

“Brush my teeth,” Buck says with a groan, grateful when Eddie helps him up. He thinks he might get used to it, leaning against Eddie, hearing Eddie’s soft murmurs. 

It’s not until they’re climbing into bed, Buck finding a position that’s comfortable, and Eddie wraps around him, Buck’s ear to Eddie’s chest. 

“I love you,” Buck says quietly, rubbing a hand over Eddie’s chest. 

There’s a smile in Eddie’s voice as he whispers, “I love you too.”

Buck drifts off to sleep, safe in the circle of Eddie’s arms. 

[babylonhockey]

ANGST/SAD PROMPT LIST

“why don’t you just go?”

“no, it’s not like that.”

“Don’t touch her/him.”

“I don’t even remember why were fighting.”

“if you cared about me, you wouldn’t do this.”

“I’d hurt anyone who ever left a scar on you.”

“it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“what’s the point?”

“fuck you.”

“Everything ends up being about you somehow.”

“I missed something didn’t I?”

“you should’ve said that yesterday.”

“don’t lie to me.”

“quit yelling at me!”

“Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.”

“i swear, if you say another word, i’ll leave.”

“change in mind or change in heart?”

“I love you, please don’t go.”

“I can’t do this on my own.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you.”

“You’re always on my mind.”

“don’t start Y/N. you know why i can’t. my father he’ll-“

“it’s over, it’s done, just leave it be.”

“I fell in love with you, not them.”

“You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?”

“You need sleep.”

“Why aren’t you with her/him?”

“If I’m a monster, what are you?”

“You’re scaring me”

“This isn’t you.”

“You’ve hurt me enough already.”

“I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”

“I won’t forgive you for this.”

“There was never an ‘us.’”

“I never loved you.”

“Y/N! Open the door!”

“I can’t pretend anymore.”

“How could you ask me that?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”

“Excuse me?”

“why do you keep bringing it up?”

“we can’t go back in time, so stop trying to reverse what you said.”

“you say you’ll stop, but then you keep doing it!”

“maybe in another world.”

“I could never forget you.”

“All I wanted was for you to be happy.”

“You don’t get to say anything to me!”

Move out of my way before I make you.”

“That isn’t an option.”

“You aren’t going anywhere.”

“Just breathe, okay?”

“Do that again and you’ll regret it.”

“You’re not alone.”

“We’re meant for each other.”

“You’re worth it.”

“I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

“Forget it.”

“That’s in the past.”

“why are you like this?”

“Sometimes I really don’t like you”

“stop making empty promises!”

“what about us?”

“It’s not that easy.”

“I’ve had enough.”

“Let’s go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“don’t say that.”

“i’m done. we’re done.”

’“I can’t do anything right.”

“Why are you lying to me?”

“Forget it, you’re a fucking asshole.”

“Don’t you ever do that again!”

“Please don’t lie to me again, I can’t take it.”

“How can you still look so attractive while crying.”

“Do you even still love me?”

“You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“Nobody’s seen you in days.”

“Why are you awake?”

“I’m worried about you.”

“Can you shut up for once in your life?”

“Holding everything in doesn’t help, you know.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Sorry, this is just really different from our constant arguing.”

“Then why are there bruises all over your face?”

“If you don’t hug me right now I think I might fall apart.”“

Leave! Me! Alone!”

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

“Please don’t cry. I can’t stand to see you cry”

“Stay with me”

“Walk out that door and we’re through”

“Well. Yell, scream, say something. Anything”

“I can’t breathe”

“Control your anger or you’ll have me to worry about.”

“I hate how much I love you”

“there’s no way I’m gonna let you wear that in public”

“Why are you so jealous?”

“Where do you think you’re going”

“Just leave me alone”

“I need some time”

“Despite what you think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself”

“were just…friends.”

‘friends dont do this type of shit!’

“You can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen, cause guess what? It did!”

“Just please be my best friend right now, not the guy I just confessed my love to.”

“Stop pretending you’re okay, cause I know you’re not.”

“Just talk to me”

“Take my bed tonight. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Get away from me!”

“I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me”

“Choose me”

[redwinterroses]

Bdoubleo100: ep1, s8

And we’re back at it again at Krispy Kreme -- finally diving in to Bdub’s first episode. I’ve been saving this one -- partly because it’s so long (seriously Bdubs an HOUR? please keep doing this lol) and partly because Bdubs is my favorite feral hermit and I wanted to give him my full attention. 

So without further ado -- spoilers below!

Hold up did Bdubs change his intro music?

“Hi, it’s me -- the cozy fuzzy mossy time king.”

“we sang kumbaya...” *insert mass battle scene*

the death on this server is hilarious and that should be a bad thing but it’s not

Gem just launching herself into the fray i love her

XD The way Scar comes around the corner and is immediately like Oh mistakes were made and they were made by me back away slow

Confirmed: none of the established hermits know ANYTHING about 1.17 except for xisuma but he’s a cryptid he doesn’t count

i love that prox-chat = “shout at them until we’re within range and they finally hear us” XD

I can’t wait to see how Tango’s, Keralis’, and Bdubs’ bases look and who takes over the area first XD

it’s so precious that these guys are SO experienced with the mega, late-game side of MC that they end up derping so hard with early-game survival. Elder Gods pretending to be mortals -- I love them.

Tango: “I love caving with builders -- they choose shears over armor.”

Keralis 100% knows what UHC is

“Put me in the cage, I’m ready.”

“Use your shears!” “Oh that’s shearly a good idea.” “...I hated that, I hated that joke.”

Bdubs: *sees axolotl* *instant panic*

“I’m gonna name him idiot.” Axolotls are the new jungle cats for bdubs

team TBK has one (1) brain cell and they left it in a chest at spawn. 

Bdubs’ dictionary: “bargain” = “steal under threat of violence”

“GEMINIIIII”

I’m like 99% sure that Gem took all her stuff out of that chest and put it in her inventory when she heard team TBK coming. XD Her POV cuts right before that but it seems like a wise move all things considered

Gem seriously sounds EXACTLY like a patient adult dealing with hyperactive children and I just adore her

“Does that hurt every time?” *proceeds to bounce up and down on a spike repeatedly stabbing himself in the feet*

can't wait to see Gem constantly call in the diamonds from episode one like Danny Kaye's character in White Christmas constantly pulling the "I saved your life" bit

these guys are 100% like the doofy trio of villains from a 90s Disney show. Tango is the brains, Bdubs is the muscle, and Keralis is the dumb one they all pick on XD

“BEHOLD THE COBBLE OF SHAME”

only Bdubs would immediately decorate his early-game cow farm with a severed head and redstone bloodsplotches

“Nice piece of meat there”

“I control the time around here”

yoooo I didn’t know you could place deepslate sideways

in chat -- Cub: “Buzz buzz.” Scar: “That is a lie.” wat

wtf Bdubs singing almost sounds like the Patient Is The Night guy from Over the Garden Wall

“I’m so happy-- my dog is attacking my arm.”

“Watch, I’ll end up living out here later-- no. Please no.” *s5 flashbacks intensify*

Bdubs: *gives Gem jungle plants for Aesthetic Needs* “...do you want some TNT as well?” #chaosgremlins

Are you going to hold that clock all season, Bdubs??

yes please I need Bdubs and Gem collabs

“I am the sleep king.” “Are you?” “YES!???!” *punches Scar off a cliff*

“Don’t call me Oscar!!”

Imagine if Scar had had access to moss during the Mycelium War

Mumbo in chat: “praise boatem”

builders helping builders I love them

“Is that an insult??” *Scar snickering*

Scar I’m getting reputation points vibes with your wax-on-wax-off services *squints*

“This is an interesting idea for a starter base... And may I NOT recommend it.”

BDUBS THIS IS BEAUTIFUL???? like I’m not surprised but at the same time I’m amazed

“I’ve lost my mind! Aha!”

“...don’t tell Etho about that. He doesn’t like... hollow.”

“Gotta get [wolves] for my daughter Ari” I forget sometimes that the Hermits with kids probably also make their content with their kids in mind and that’s just the most delightful thing

excellent gandalf impression

Oh I feel so good after watching that, Bdubs is hands down one of my favorite hermits, I just love him so much. Excellent vibes, hilarious jokes, sudden rage -- all my favorite things. 

I am now exactly halfway through the first day episodes. This was a bigger task than I anticipated but I’m going to complete it! And then I probably won’t “liveblog” any more episodes this season lol. It just takes so long literally probably twice as long as just watching the dang episodes.

[binniesthighs]

hello stranger | reader x changbin |

a/n: this chapter is one that is very special to me and really echoes a lot of the same feelings that I’ve experienced through the years. writing this chapter felt really healing for me, as I hope maybe it can to you who might’ve felt the same. Because of this, please read the warnings below and read what you feel comfortable with! Remember that no matter who you are, or what you’ve gone through you absolutely deserve love!! 

Part 5 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x seo changbin, female reader x han jisung 

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, smut, angst 

Tags: (of this part) college au, rapper!changbin, rapper!jisung, establishedfwb!jisung, artist!reader, skz side characters, bestfriend!chan, bestfriend!felix, explicit language, HARD angst to FLUFFY fluff, mentions of alcohol, fingering (f receiving), squirting,  dry humping, nipple play, protected sex, fluffy sex, cockwarming

CWs: implications of jealousy and possession (past), non-con pressure, fist fighting, quite a bit of blood, bruises, and other wounds, mentions of a scar, mentions of past toxic relationship, mentions of nausea, mentions of low self worth and self deprecating habits 

Word count: 8.7k (grab a blanket, your plushie, some fuzzy socks...also I promise no other chapter will be this long LOL) 

Chapters 

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6

-Two years ago, and some change- 

Tonight was different. It could have been for a number of reasons. Maybe it was the way that he held onto your hand tighter than he usually did. You swayed your body next to his like you thought that you should have been doing. If you hadn’t you would have looked out of place. He hated when you looked out of place. The skimpy dress you had worn that night was just for him. You thought that he would like the way that the straps barely clung to your shoulders and the way that it was snug against your curves. 

He was watchful. Silent. You had known him to be a generally loud and gregarious person. He had many friends. Many of his friends you really did like; but, there were others that you had liked less...the friends with wandering and judging eyes. 

“Why her?” They would ask. 

“You could do better.” They would whisper in his ear when they thought that you couldn’t hear. 

“Isn’t she...boring?” 

“Not boring when I’ve got her alone.” 

The club was full of people; a suffocating amount. Bodies thrashed up against eachother in all their sweating heat. Shiny polyester and the tulle ruffles of shirts scratched against your skin in passing. Under the line of sight, no one could see where hands might reach or creep in the dark corners of that room. With the music blasting, no one could hearo f the sinful desires whispered from ear to ear. 

“Don’t you want to get outta here?” He had craned down to give you his message. 

“W-why don’t we just dance? I like this song.” 

“But we’ve been here for so long.” His hand gripped tight on your arm. “Really. Let’s get out of here.” 

“But--” 

“Let’s bounce. I don’t wanna be here any more. Let’s go have fun somewhere else.” 

Fear rose in your throat. His tone had changed to the one that you had been trying to keep at bay for weeks.

“Baby, I’m having fun!” You tugged back at your arm which he hadn’t released. Your brain worked quickly, and you did what you thought would’ve been distracting enough. You kissed him. 

Hard and fast you shoved your tongue down his throat in ways that you only would do when it had been the two of you alone. The music was loud. No one could hear the way he forced a moan into your mouth. Your hands wove deeply into his hair that was swathed in that cologne of his that was dizzying. It was saltwater and cinnamon. 

Your body pressed up flat against his chest and, as expected, he threw his arms back around you and kissed back with the same fervency that you tried to drench him in. 

Your words were breathless. “Can we...stay?” 

“Baby, how can you say that when you kissed me like that? God, if I could screw you right here and now...” 

His friends had been watching. Or pretending not to watch. It was no lie that their eyes had been peeping from the corners. 

“Let’s get some more drinks then? Hm? Maybe later we can head back to your--” 

“--NO! I want you now.” His words were violent, and his hands starved in his feverish way, yet still, he sucked his devilish smile into your neck. “Baby, please.” 

Just a few more drinks. That was all that it would take. Just a few more drinks and he would be a stumbling mess. He would forget his name and you and then he wouldn’t be able to take you anywhere. You loathed yourself for feeling that way, but it was the only solution you could think of. 

“Let’s go out back. No one walks down that alley, you know so.” 

A nervous laugh slipped off of your lips. “I-I know, but--it’s so cold outside, it’s snowing an-and it won’t be comfortable--” 

“--I don’t need comfortable, I just need you.” 

Lazily, his eyes met with one of his friendsand he flicked his finger to beckon him over. “You. Come with us. We’re gonna need someone to watch the door.” 

His friend scoffed and shoved his glass into the hands of a stranger. “Fine. What are you gonna pay me back with?” 

“I dunno, I’ll think of that later.” 

Your arm wiggled, a slight attempt to free yourself of his grasp. “Babe, babe, come on. I-it’s risky, an-and--” 

“--And what?!” 

“I-I don’t...I don’t...” 

“Babe I thought you liked it when we did risky stuff? Remember last week? The bathroom? You liked that didn’t you?” 

“That-that was different.” 

Above your heads the speakers boomed with a bass drop that you could feel vibrate in your chest. Strobe lights of dozens of different colors blinded your vision. Your head panged with a pain that must’ve been the alcohol, but with each passing second, you felt more and more lightheaded. Air just barely escaped from your lungs and your lungs felt like dead weight. 

His voice had been muffled. Your feet started taking steps that didn’t feel like they were their own. He used his body mass to part the sea of bodies, drawing you farther and farther away from it all. The two men chuckled as you neared the back of the building where the haze from the stage seemed to accumulate. 

“Stand right at this door and don’t let anyone get out from it. Don’t leave until we come back in.” 

His friend rolled his eyes, then took out his showy looking pen to take a long drag. He blew it into the other man’s face. “Have fun you two.” 

The cold winter air stung at your dry lungs. You realized then that you had forgotten your coat inside. Under your feet, flaky and white snow had mixed in potholes which had filled with iridescent oil. Together, the only thing that you could think of in that moment was how the two colors and mixed. In no way where they similar: one, black and slick, the other soft and pure. They made no sense. 

“Ohhhh...Baby.”

His breath was hot and it steamed in the air like some kind of deadly and wispy poison. His hands were big. Much bigger than yours, and they seemed to wrap you all up in them. They were magnets to your hips which fell into them with ease. He must’ve been cold too you figured: goosebumps formed on his arms where the falling snow fell on them. 

“You’re all mine. No one else’s. Don’t you ever forget that. Tell me. Who’s baby are you?” 

“Y-yours.” Your voice trembled. 

“That’s right.” 

His freezing hands swept up both sides of your face and you prayed that he couldn’t feel the tears stream from your eyes to his fingers. All at once, you felt nauseous, you felt sick, shame, rage, embarrassment and fear. With the adrenaline pumping in your ears, you did something even you didn’t expect. 

“S-stop.” 

His mouth continued lapping over yours, even your words which you repeated, 

“Stop!” 

“Baby, we’re just getting started!” Frigid fingers crept up your shirt to your bare skin. 

“I SAID STOP!” 

You had bitten his lip, and the metallic taste of his blood dripped onto your lip. 

“You bitch!” He stumbled, then wiped the blood to his finger. 

Hot tears fell freely, and your body shook: perhaps it was the cold, or your fright, but it shook every part of you. 

“What the fuck?!” He rose his hand in the air, “Who the fuck to you think--”

“--HEY!” 

A voice echoed down the alley and bounced off the brick walls. He was a black outline, but it was undoubtedly him who had shouted. He was still, but all at once he started running, sprinting towards you and you cowered to the snow. 

“Don’t you fucking--” 

The other man ran right up to the both of you. He was shorter, but crashed into the other taller man with a fist raised. He nearly had to jump a little, but he had knocked him square in the face with a horrible fleshy sounding thud. 

He finished his sentence, “-Don’t you fucking touch her!” 

The shorter man rubbed at his knuckles which had bloodied quickly. Your boyfriend had slipped on the ice a few steps back, falling to the ground clumsily and wetting it from the blood dripping from his mouth and nose. He laughed incredulously. 

“You pack quite a punch for a little guy don’t you? Well, you picked the wrong fight--” 

He rose to his feet with fists raised, then took a swing at the other man. He was agile, and ducked with ease, then twisted around the taller’s body to punch into his ribs. Still he didn’t miss each punch, and your boyfriend landed hits to his face as well. The stranger fell to the ground this time, groaning out and splashing into the cotton snow. While he was down, the taller man kicked into his sides. 

“How do you like that? Huh??? You have no FUCKING RIGHT. This is between me and my girlfriend, so, fuck. off.” 

The stranger spat blood to the white snow. “A-actually, I did have a right.” 

“What was that??” He kicked harder. 

“You-you were going to hit her? Weren’t you? Who the hell hits their girlfriend?” 

In one motion, the shorter man was back up on his feet, stumbling, but still swinging. He was weaker, but still punched into the taller man’s sides relentlessly. The two men sparred, and you felt frozen. It was as if you weren’t even breathing. 

Stop. Stop. Stop. Your thoughts rang, but your voice couldn’t muster it. 

“You’re the fucking--” Punch. “--Scum--” Punch. “--Of the--” Punch. “--Earth.” 

Your boyfriend’s eyes had become bloodshot red. In a mix of furious arms, he had scraped his wristwatch against the other man who cried out with a horrible sounding whimper, and then a flash of red started to flow down his arm. 

Your dress had soaked through with the freezing cold water and you had nearly buried your eyes into your arms. Never had you felt so small, so helpless. 

“HEY! What’s going on down here?” 

A flash of blue and red lights lit up the pitch black alley. 

“What’s going on??” 

The policeman’s voice buzzed over the loudspeaker on his car. 

The shorter man was a crumple on the ground and he hissed out with pain from his teeth. His arm quivered with pain from the gash that had been pressed into it. By contrast, the peaceful snow fell lightly onto his body and got tangled into his curled, dark hair. Your boyfriend; you hadn’t even seen him turn to sprint down the opposite side of the alley. 

Regardless, the stranger still managed, “Ar-are you okay? Did he hurt you?” 

Your dry and tear-stained cheeks crinkled. “N-no. He didn’t.” 

“T-that’s good. Listen, I-I need to go. I can’t afford for them to take me. Ask them to help you and take you home. 

The clink of the policeman’s keys on his hip jingled as he neared. 

“I’m sorry I have to run.” He stumbled to his feet. For a few seconds, you could see his eyes under the flickering yellow streetlight. They weren’t brown or black, but some kind of dark stormy grey. 

He went running down the alley, as fast as he could manage with a limp to his leg and his dripping arm creating a trail behind him. 

As he ran, he left behind him a scent, foreign in the winter air. You couldn’t name it exactly, but you had guessed at least for then, it might’ve been something like rosemary and cedarwood. 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

2am, and you felt euphoric. Like a fucking cloud. Even though it was typical, there really were no other words that could describe it. 

Felix and Chan bumped their hips against yours while they danced in the rhythm of the song that the DJ had played. Both of their bright smiles were utterly adorable, and the three of you doubled over in your laughter at each other’s terribly awkward dance moves. Chan made his best attempt at the robot, and Felix busted out some of his favorite internet dances. You rose your hand to the side of your face as if to say I don’t know them. Felix’s tiny hands interlaced into yours and you danced with him too while Chan mimed throwing dollar bills into the air. 

“How much longer?” You yelled over the music until it scratched your throat. 

“I don’t know! I didn’t get a chance to look at the line up!” Chan’s body bumped up against others in the crowd while he tried to check is phone. “It’s fine! I’m sure he should be coming on soon!” 

You couldn’t remember the last time  that you had been to a show that wasn’t to see Jisung. It was strange thinking about all of the things you used to worry about when you had gone to see him in the past: was your outfit sexy enough, had you remembered to put on your lip gloss...you’d even worry over stupid shit like if you had missed any spot on your legs while shaving. 

None of those worries filled you now. The clothes that you had put on in your haste made little sense, and were a bit warm in the room where sweat practically dripped from the walls. You had even left your apartment in such a hurry--you had been working on a new piece from a spark of inspiration during midday.

“He said that he was going near the end I think!!” You informed your friends. 

Chan did a little excited dance. You didn’t know if he was more thrilled over the fact that he was there or how you had promised to introduce him to Changbin after the show. 

The lights shifted, turning from pink to blue, and the music faded too. Your beating heart slowed as the atmosphere changed and Felix clawed back onto your arm. 

“Oh my God!!! I think that it’s gonna be him!!!” Chan nearly leapt into the air. 

It was frightening how familiar it all felt; you felt as if you had been transported right to that first night, the night that you had met him and the night that he had entranced you up on that stage. Everything in the room darkened, and the smoke slithered onto the stage. Everyone had quieted with their focus narrowing on the empty expanse that had been set up all for him. 

To the side of the stage, the announcer chuckled into the mic, “Ladies and Gents, as you know him...SPEAR B!” 

Music erupted like a crack of lighting over the speakers and was so sudden that nearly everyone in the crowd jumped out of their skin. The spotlights flooded the stage in a blinding white light, and before your eyes could process it, he had thrown himself to centerstage with some kind of magic or trick of the eye. It was so confusing, all you could do was stand in shock. 

Rapid fire lyrics flew off his tongue with lightspeed, and he carried himself around the stage with as much regality as a king. His hooded eyes held nothing but concentration at each of his words, and he threw his arms around with emphasis so you could hang onto every single syllable. He shone under the lights where he had adorned himself in his favorite array of silver and crystal jewelry: his trademark chain around his neck blinked like diamonds. Every curve of the muscles on his thick arms and thighs tensed and the vein on the side of his neck flared as he spoke. With a bite to his lip and an indulgent smile, he owned very single part of his own world. 

He was fucking mesmerizing. 

Felix and Chan were wildly flapping their bodies around and thrashing their heads along with every other body in the crowd, but you had stood still. It was unbelievable that you had been close to him. All your memories of him holding you softly in his arms, planting kisses into every tender inch of your skin seemed so far away, but so close. He couldn’t have been the same person. 

Your heart swelled with a pain. It might’ve been warning, precautionary, or fearful. Or, it might’ve been warm, intoxicated, infatuated. Your own mind couldn’t comprehend it. 

Over the hundreds of eyes in the crowd, somehow, he had found yours, and it was just as that first night had been. He was so massive, so crushing. His confidence was something so addictive and his gaze so thick that you felt as if it  was crushing. Still, there was one thing that was different about it now. 

He knew you. He wasn’t just some stranger. 

He knew your ins and outs, he knew your fears, the way that you would shy away from him or how you would lean into him closer. After that one meeting, you had encompassed everything that he could imagine, as he did for you. 

You had started as strangers, but now you couldn’t even imagine a time when you weren’t. 

He had broken his composure for mere seconds to smile at you. It was a simple: I see you. And you see me. 

It was cliché. Fucking cheesy as hell. God, it was sugary sweet and rotten; a phrase you hadn’t said in a year or more. But, with the dozens of other girls screaming it in that room, bumping with bodies and bass ringing, condensation on the walls and music louder than your own voice, you joined the cacophony.  Even if he couldn’t hear you screamed the words with your whole chest:

“I FUCKING LOVE YOU SEO CHANGBIN!” 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

The music had subsided, and the stage lit to normal as the stagehands switched around the arrangement for the next act. You and your two friends were out of breath and exhausted. Sweat beaded on all of your brows and you felt it dripping down your back as well. The three of you stood laughing out in your euphoria: it as a high like none other. 

“Damn. Why do I really want ice cream right now?” Felix huffed out his laugher and slung Chan under his arm. “Doesn’t that sound like a really good idea?” 

Chan whipped the damp strands of hair from his eyes. “That does sound like a really good idea. But...you think any places will be open?” 

With surprised glances, the three of you burst out hysterically. 

You wiped an exhilarated tear from your eye, “We’d have to go to the store.” 

Somehow, it was the funniest thing that you could have said and Felix and Chan held their sides in their laughter. 

“Do-do you think that Changbin would want to come with us?” Felix helped fix your sweater which had become a bit ajar on your frame. 

“I don’t see why not.” 

Chan did another adorable little dance. “Holy hell. I can ask him about his process!!!.” He scooped you up into a tight hug. “This is so exciting!!!!!” 

“Just don’t...scare him away.” You patted into Chan’s hair with adoration. 

“He should be back out any minute right? He said he would come looking for you?” 

You nodded, feeling your heart start to race at the prospect. You hadn’t felt this giddy about the attention in a while--not at least, attention that had been given to you without a condition. 

Behind your little group, you felt a tug on your wrist, then your cheeks swelled with warmth. 

“Chang--” 

“--Holy fuck! You actually came!!” 

Jisung’s eyes lit up and an inhumanely wide smile spread across his face. 

“...Jisung--” 

“Oh my god, I can’t believe it, you actually came! Shit, I really thought that after we talked the other day that--” 

Chan ripped Jisung’s grip from your wrist. “You better cut that out.” Once as giddy as he was before, his expression had turned deadly serious. 

“What are you doing here?” Felix pushed you slightly behind him. 

“Performing? This is my show too. I’m on in thirty. You’re here to see me too?” 

“Like hell we are.” Chan rolled his eyes. 

Jisung chose to ignore him, bringing his attention back to you. 

“B-baby, thank you so much for coming, and for giving me another chance--” 

“--Another chance? Y/n, what is he talking about?” Felix asked, then both of your friends eyes were on yours. 

A knot formed back up in your throat with your decisions that you had let hang since you had las spoken to Jisung. You thought you had been clear enough to him, and you had told your friends you had thought that you had ended it. 

Chan huffed out an authoritative sigh, “We’re leaving. Come on,” he wrapped an arm around both you and Felix. “Let’s just get out of here.” 

“No! Wait! Y/n don’t leave! Let-let’s talk about this, y-you never let me see you any more, I’ve been missing you...missing you like crazy,” His grip reached out to you once more, pulling your whole arm closer to him with a pain that panged in your shoulder. “--since you’re here...let’s just talk this out okay?” 

The music in the room grew louder once more, and the next act entered the stage with the announcer’s enthusiastic voice. The lights flashed out, and suddenly all of your bodies were bathed in red, pink, and blue light. 

Another memory, from another night, flashed before your eyes. He held onto your arm tighter than he usually did. His incessant eyes pleaded over to yours like he had countless times before. 

“Jisung, stop.” 

“I-I just don’t understand! Let’s not do this here! Can’t we go somewhere private where the two of us can talk? Baby--” 

Another hand grasped at your opposite arm, then it snuck around your waist. 

“--What the hell do you think you’re doing to her?”  

Changbin pulled you into his chest with a force that knocked the wind out of your lungs, then he immediately inspected the arm where the other had grabbed you so tightly. 

“Did he hurt you? Let me see.” 

Chan and Felix’s eyes widened in their shock. 

Jisung pushed himself closer. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing Changbin? Don’t get involved in this, it doesn’t concern you.” 

“Actually, yes, it does.” 

Everything was unfolding before your eyes, and you felt faint. All the secrets, lies, the way that you had entangled yourself in it all, was crushing you like vines with thorns. Your fear bit bile in your throat, and you couldn’t decide if you felt strong enough to run. 

Before you could say anything about it, Changbin pulled you out from the crowd, faster than your wobbling legs could handle. He was furious, you could tell, but he tried his best not to let it seep over to you. Changbin muttered curses under his breath, but pushed forward, past the dancing bodies, past the stage, past the maze of speakers and other sound equipment in the back. 

“Let’s just get out of here okay?” His fingers dug into your waist. 

Behind you, Felix and Chan shoved their way a few paces behind, ultimately getting caught in the web of people moving this way and that. Not far behind them, was Jisung thrashing with all his might to catch up. 

With your heartbeat in your ears, words started spilling out from your mouth: 

“Changbin, I didn’t tell you--I-I still haven’t told you, but you need to know before--” 

Changbin swung the back door to the venue and it slammed behind you with a metallic clang. It was nearly blizzarding outside, but he didn’t seem to care at all. Rather, he pulled you back into his chest to hug you tightly. He was desperate in the way that he hung onto your body; like he was trying to suck the very life from you. 

“Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you? I’m so sorry I couldn’t get there sooner. He’s a fucking dick, I won’t let him touch you again, I promise.” 

Your nose clogged immediately, and your sobs came out choked and full of utter fear. 

I’m going to loose him. I’ll lose him. He’ll hate me. He’ll let go, and never come back. 

“Chang-Changbin...Jisung, he was--” 

“Beautiful, why are you crying? Stop, stop, it’s okay.” He soothed you, wiping the tears from your cheeks that got muddled with snow. He too had snow clinging to his eyelashes and his hair that was also strung with sweat. 

The back door swung open with another startling clank, and Jisung threw himself out of it with Felix and Chan holding him back by the arms. 

“HE DOESN’T EVEN FUCKING KNOW HER!” Jisung screeched, then tore free of both of your friends. 

He lunged himself at Changbin who had seconds to respond. He turned his back to shield you with his body, and Jisung clawed with an animalistic energy. 

“HE DOESN’T FUCKING KNOW HER!” Jisung had been sobbing too, then swung a haphazard fist to Changbin’s back. 

Felix and Chan came rushing to catch you as you fell into their arms, then Changbin swiftly turned to return the hit. 

“Me?? You’re fucking crazy!!” He dodged another hit. “What the hell do you know about her?? Huh? YOU don’t know a thing about her!!” 

Jisung wiped his eyes then threw another lazy punch. “What are you talking about???” 

The two men stood still, both of them turning to turning to look at you with heaving chests. In your friends arms you trembled, and your worst nightmares unfolded right in front of your face. Your body fell to the ground, and the snow seeped into your clothes, just as it did on that night so long ago. 

“Holy shit.” Jisung grabbed both sides of his head in his realization. “She fucking played us. SHE FUCKING PLAYED ME.” 

Changbin cast his eyes away from you, just as he had when he had barely known a thing about you. He wouldn’t give you the pleasure. 

“You were fucking her too, weren’t you?” Jisung laughed out like a madman. “So that’s what she’s been doing this whole time I haven’t seen her. She’s been fucking you and--” 

Changbin’s fist rose, and it came crashing into the side of Jisung’s face so suddenly that you and your friends jumped from how fast he had done it. 

He said nothing, but proceeded to raise his fist again, then sent it right back into the soft of Jisung’s cheek before he had a minute to respond to the first. Jisung whimpered, then spat blood out of his mouth. His tears had returned, but this time, they were infused in his own anger. The two boys steadied their stance, looking into each other’s eyes with lethal rage. Jisung attacked back with a yell that echoed through the alley, and he too landed punches to Changbin’s sides in sharp hooks. Changbin then grabbed the other man’s shirt collar, pulling him close, then knocking him back with red and bloody fists. 

The two boys scuffled and slipped in the snow which had slicked on the ground to make each of their steps clumsy. Jisung sobbed through each of his punches, whereas Changbin held his teeth shut with a grit, merely grunting as he swung more and more. Your own tears blurred your vision, and your chest felt tight; nearly like it was about to burst. Your friends clung to your body just as tight, hushing to you and yelling at the boys to stop, but their voices sounded distant and faint. 

Jisung landed punch to Changbin’s eye which split the skin there on his eyebrow. Changbin returned the favor in the same spot, creating the same effect. With crackled lips they swore at eachother, and you could only make out one phrase from Changbin’s mouth: 

“Don’t you. Fucking. Touch her.” 

The door swung, “Changbin?” 

Minho hugged his coat around himself, only to jump out of his skin at the scene in front of him. He dodged two of Jisung’s swings as he clambered over to his roommate to hold him back. He was nearly two seconds late: with a roar, the two boys landed terrible blows at eachother, knocking them both to the ground. 

“‘Bin--stop, STOP!” Minho wrapped his arms around his friend. 

Just as he did, two other boys exited from the venue: one of them tall with long black hair and the other with hair as white as the snow. 

“Fuck you.” Jisung growled dizzily, and his two friends swooped in to help him back to his feet. They too looked furious, but Jisung waved them off groggily. “Don’t w-waste your fucking time. Y-you--” He pointed directly at Changbin. “D-don’t waste your time...on her. I-I’m such a fucking fool.” 

“Sung, let’s get out of here.” Jisung’s tall friend urged him. “Anyone on that street could’ve called the cops.” 

Minho held Changbin up then looked to you and your startled friends eyes seriously. “We need to leave too.” 

“We need to get him to a hospital.” Felix’s voice cracked. 

“You think that he can afford a bill? N-no. We can’t do that. I’ll explain later...he’ll be fine. He’s done this to himself before. Idiot.” Minho slugged his roommates arm over his shoulder and Chan rushed to grab the other. 

Your legs shook when Felix helped you to your feet. Any second, you thought they would give out. Thick strands of blood and saliva caught on Changbin’s lip. Seeing him like that made you feel even sicker. It was all your fault. 

“M-My place is close-by. We can go there.” You locked eyes with Minho. 

“Okay. We’ll go there.” 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

Your hands trembled violently once you brought your key to your lock. They burned with the cold, and were wet from how you had clawed at the snow. 

“Here, let me.” Felix gently offered. 

Your apartment was an absolute wreck. Tiny as it was, you had managed to make a mess of it all with art supplies, dirty dishes, hundreds of sticky notes with reminders and textbooks. As you entered, you swept everything to the side with your feet. 

“W-what do we do?” Chan’s own fingers had turned pink from the cold where he held Changbin: head slumped and blinking hazily, then shivering furiously--the action thus making him groan out in pain. 

“He-he’s freezing. There’s blood...” You fell from Felix’s arms. “I-I have to help him.” Once more, tears welled in your eyes. “We need to get him warm. Get him in the shower and clean him off.” 

“Okay. Where’s the bathroom?” 

You guided the group of boys down your hall where it became a group effort to remove him of his soaked clothes. Your pants had also been soaked through, but that didn’t even phase you; not when blood stained his mouth. He slumped his body over into four pairs of arms. 

“I can take it from here.” You closed the door behind yourself. 

Just as you did, you caught Chan’s surprised and widened eyes after Minho had leaned back from his ear. “He’s the son of WHO?” 

You shimmied your own clothes off, ignoring your own shivering as you held him up. The act itself was difficult, and you had given up when it came to your undergarments. It didn’t matter much, so you left them on, along with his. All you wanted was to get the blood off of him--you couldn’t bear to see it. 

The warm water on your skin felt unreal: a blanket of warmth to dissolve away the chill that clung to your body. It was as if you were defrosting: melting away the illness, the poison, the doubt and the fear. For a moment, you let yourself think that it was that simple. 

“Y/n” 

At your feet, the water turned from clear to pink. 

“What is it?” You hushed above the sound of the shower, and Changbin rested his forehead on your shoulder. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Why? You shouldn’t be sorry...I’m the one that should be.” 

“N-no.” He coughed, “I feel so sorry.” 

“Changbin--” 

“--Why him? Why him when he would treat y-you like shit? I-I know how he is.” 

“I-I don’t know...” 

It was a funny thing crying in the shower. It was somewhat like you weren’t crying at all with how your tears mixed with the stream. 

He sniffled, “I-I’m not mad at you. I mean...I was, but...I just don’t understand.” 

“Please, be mad at me. Be fucking furious. T-this is all my fault. I shouldn’t have lied. I shouldn’t have kept it a secret--” 

Changbin chuckled, then rose his head, lips bloodied, one eye squinted, with a smile on his face. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“You’re holding me back. I didn’t have to do it this time.” 

At first, you didn’t know what it meant. But then, you realized. You had been clinging on to him for dear life: your arms completely wrapped around him, even now when he was standing on his own. 

“I thought that I gave a damn since it was him--it made me so fucking mad that it was him but...” 

“...What?” 

“Fuck me, but...I love you.” 

 You shook your head vehemently, tears crossing with the warm trickle of water.  “N-no, you don’t.”

He chuckled once more, “I think I’d know if I did or didn’t.” 

“Don’t say that.” Your chest shook. 

“Why?” 

“B-because you don’t mean it. You can’t love me.” 

“Why not?” 

His hands, bruised and pink cupped both sides of your face. 

“Someone like me...You can’t fucking love me.” 

“What? You’re not making any sense. Y/n, I think I’ve fucking loved you since the first night that I met you, and you can’t stop me from loving you. Listen, you don’t even have to love me back for now, but can you at least accept how I feel for you?” 

How was it you had been able to scream it before, but couldn’t find the words now? 

Heated steam filled up your shower, and dripped from the walls. His skin too dipped with drops of that water. You thought to yourself how the blood and the water mixed, the two colors didn’t work together at all. Why was all you could think of colors? 

“Okay?” He asked. 

Your own hands took to his soft cheeks, where you brushed away any streaks of red you could see there. 

You closed your yes after, succumbing to the feeling that the water brought you: melting, fading, dissolving, just like the way that watercolors blended from one to the other on a page. You felt Changbin press his forehead into yours. 

“I-I think that I love you too--but--I’m so scared. So fucking scared.” 

He let out a relieved “oh” then pressed his lips gently into yours. Each kiss after the other was more and more careful. He poured his whole being into your quivering lips. 

“Please don’t be scared. Don’t be scared of me. I swear that I won’t hurt you, I never want to. I mean it. Please don’t run from me.” 

Here you were, worrying that he was the one to run from you. You felt pathetic thinking how patient he had been with you, how much he had put up with, and what he had just done, all for you. 

He kissed more “pleases” into your mouth, then drew you flush against his chest. 

You held onto him tighter. “Do you mean it?” 

He nodded, then craned his neck to fill your mouth with more of his answers, and it did feel like the way that watercolors faded into one another. 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Will he be okay?” 

Felix, Chan, you, and Minho sat on your couch with mugs warming your hands. In the past half hour or so, none of you had said much. 

Minho sighed. “He will be. He just needs to rest now. I’ll take him to the clinic tomorrow, see if anything is wrong. Knowing him...thick skulled asshole...” He scoffed with a smirk, “--He’s fine.” 

“T-that’s good.” Chan took a sip. “He fell asleep?” 

“Right after we got out of the shower. Lucky I stole some of Chan’s joggers back then. I put him in my bed and he was out like a light. Didn’t say that anything else hurt.” 

In unison, the four of you took another anxious sip. 

“He can stay here tonight? If that’s okay with you?” Minho asked. 

“Yeah. That’s fine. I don’t think he wants to move wither.” 

Felix looked about himself awkwardly. “Wellll I think that we should get going then. Y/n, call us if you need anything?” 

“Mmhm.” 

A silence filled the air. 

“Y/n, did you know?” Chan blurted out. 

“Me? Know what?” 

Minho shot the other man a deadly glare, then cleared his throat. “Bin’s dad is some high ranking politian. Someone so high that we’d know his name: that’s how he explained it to me. He left his whole life with them to rap. If he had gotten caught tonight, in the alley or some hospital with his real name, it would’ve been all over the news. He’s been trying his best to be invisible since high school...doesn’t want to tarnish the family reputation or something, even though they practically hate him....I don’t get it. They basically disowned him after he said he wanted to do rapping, not like he minded though. His surname isn’t even Seo.” 

“Do you know what it is? His surname?” 

“He’s never told me and I never asked.” 

Another silence fell over your group. 

“...He never told me.” You watched the steam of your tea. 

“And I didn’t tell you either, alright? This stays between us.” 

Felix mocked a zip over his lips. 

“Guess I’ll have to ask him about him about his artistic process another time then, hm?” Chan cracked his sarcasm with an airy laugh. 

“Guess so.” You tried your best to laugh back. “Thank you for tonight. All of you.” You met each boys eyes and each of them nodded in understanding. 

Felix clapped his friend’s back. “Let’s head out.” 

╚ ——————————————— ╝

One light was left on in your room: the strand of pink string lights that you hung over the wall your bed was against. The rest of your room was cluttered as well with clothes strewn about and your backpack contents scattered all across the floor. From your tiny and aged window, snow had accumulated in the corners, and further, the yellow and red lights of the city sparkled. Just as you were about to pull the plug for the lights, Changbin groaned out groggily. 

“Wait...what are you doing?” 

“Turning off the lights. I’m going to go to sleep too now. I wanna give you some space. I’ll go over on the couch.” 

“No!” He roused himself, “No. Don’t do that. Can you...stay in here?” 

“Sleep with you?” 

“If you want? I wouldn’t mind.” He smirked, ever cocky. Nothing took that from him. “Two bodies are warmer than one.” 

“Bin...” 

His smile really was just a bit too cute. 

“Mm. I like it when you call me that.” He reached out his arm to tempt you in. “Please? Come on.” 

You toyed with his forearm, shaking it a little like you were throwing a tantrum. “Do I have to?” 

“Hey! We just had a fuckin’ moment! I just bore my frickin’ heart for you.” 

“I’m just teasing. I will.” 

Right by his wrist, a puffy scar caught your eye, and you wondered if you had missed cleaning one of his wounds. You turned his arm over, revealing the gnarly scar: a stripe, about 3 inches long running parallel to his arm. 

“What’s this?” You studied it further. 

“Oh. That. Don’t get mad, but, tonight’s fight wasn’t my first. Some fucker with a watch or a bracelet or something tore the shit outta my arm this one time.” He inspected it himself, “It’s my battle scar. I’m kinda proud of it. If I hadn’t stepped in, who knows what he would’ve done to his girlfriend? There’s a special place in hell for guys like him.” 

Stormy grey eyes. 

Rosemary and cedarwood. 

You thought you had cried all the tears that would’ve been possible that night. Blurred memories, the ones that you had tried so desperately to forget came flooding over you. How you hadn’t known...was beyond you. 

“Hey...” Changbin scooched back up to wipe your tears. “Tears again? What’s wrong?” His thumbs wiped them away. “You can tell me?” 

“It-it was you??” 

“Me? Me what?” 

“On that night, in the alley when it was snowing, I-I was alone and he...” 

Changbin’s eyes too blew out, then his own tears gathered in the corners. “Holy shit...that was you too?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh my god.” 

Instinctually, he threw his arms around you, back into his scent that was just as clear as the real first night you had met him. Together, you both turned into babbling, sniffling messes. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” Your voice shook. “I’ve always wanted to thank you. I-I can’t believe--” 

“--Come here.” 

Changbin swept you off your feet and wrapped all of his limbs around your body where he had pulled you into the bed, finally sweeping the covers over top of both your bodies with a kiss to your forehead. 

“You’ve gone though so much. Fuck, I don’t know how you’ve done it.” 

Your own hands snaked around his body. “Bin...”

“We’re kind of impossible aren’t we? All those years ago, and now...” 

“Thank you.” You kissed into his mouth, silencing him something much sweeter than your secrets. 

His body shifted, and he returned with his own kisses, each one slow and careful. He twisted his body to lean slightly over you, wincing at the pain that it caused him. 

“Fuck. That hurt.” He sighed with a tiny pout, “But, I don’t want to stop kissing you.” 

You bit a little smile into his lips. “Don’t push yourself.” 

“What? I can’t help it.” 

This time, you pushed him back to swiftly cast your legs on either side of his hips to straddle him. “This better?” 

He hummed out a happy yes, reaching down to pull your lips into his again. Like it always had been, you could’ve kissed him like this for ages, and time would slip into nothingness: a mere construct undefinable. Outside, the world was still dark and cold, but inside, the heat of your two bodies mingling banished it all away. 

“By the way, I wanted to tell you that I think that your art is beautiful.” Changbin broke momentarily, then pointed to your unframed paintings stuck to the walls with painters tape. “I’ve never seen anything like them. I don’t know why you keep them hidden here. The world should see them.” 

“Trying to get into my pants now? Who told you to say that?” 

From your string lights, his whole being was bathed in a soft pink light. 

“No one. But I mean it...you know, if I wasn’t debilitated, who knows what I would do to you right now.” 

“Woooow, you talk such big game.” 

He shot you a teasing glance. “I’ll fucking do it, fuck my probably broken-or- bruised ribs.”  

“No! Don’t do that.” You chuckled. “Don’t hurt yourself.” With a newfound confidence, you lowered your body to hover your lips over his own. “What if I go easy on you....nice and slow? Didn’t you say once that you liked to take things slow?” 

His eyes darkened as he mimicked your tone. “Anything as long as it’s with you.” After, his hands swept all the way down your back, lightly brushing up the fabric of your sleep-shirt, then to kneed into your ass. “Will you let me love you tonight?” 

“Will you let me love you back?” 

“Yes.” 

You shoved your hips down into his, grinding as purposefully as you could over his half-hard dick and shivering at the sensation over your clit. Both of your bodies trembled at the action. Under the cotton sheets and down comforter, there was nothing that could have felt cozier against the bare skin of your arms, and the way that his fingertips traced scribbles into your back. 

In seconds, he had pulled your shirt off your head, kissing little moans into your mouth once his hands had found your breasts. All the while, you kept your hips moving, reveling in the way that with each thrust of your hips you had felt yourself get wetter. He pulled and tweaked at your nipples which hardened them instantly, and you bowed down to kiss him on all the places where he didn’t know he had needed the attention: on the tip of his nose, in the corners of his mouth, over that scar on his chin, fluttering over his bruised eyelid, overtop the Band-Aid above his eyebrow, giving care to all the little scrapes on his cheeks. 

He had keened his hips upwards, now properly hardened from your friction against him. Even just like this, his length felt heavenly. With a careful prompt, he guided your torso upward, granting his mouth better access of your perky nipples which he took into his mouth greedily. Even greedier hands cascaded down your stomach to your boyshorts where he pulled at the elastic. After, he ghosted his touch over the thin fabric separating him from touching your clit. The sensation nearly sent you topping over, but rather you grabbed at the iron headboard to your bed to steady yourself. Changbin blew his words over your nipples with a cool air. 

“Can I?” 

“Do you even need to ask?” You chuckled out. 

“Of course I do.” He hooked two fingers to help you shake the fabric off your legs. “I always do.” 

First, he pulled you down into his lips; a distraction, then he coaxed his digits into your folds. You hadn’t known how embarrassingly wet you had become, but that was nothing compared to the reality of it. The sounds of your slick coating his fingers was loud enough to make you giggle, and for him to return it. 

“That excited huh?” His index finger rubbed faint circles around your clit. 

“W-what about it?” 

“I just think that its cute.” He removed his hand to show you the way that your arousal strung around his fingers. “‘So wet for me, aren’t you angel?” 

“Mmhm.” Your hips did their own helpless dance over the pads of his fingers once he had brought them back down. “S-shit.” 

A wicked smile spread over his face as he indulged in you more. Back and forth, he traced around your swollen clit, then down to your entrance, barely giving you any contact at all. 

“Remember our first night? Hmm? Remember what I did to you? ...I could do it again...” 

“B-Bin...” You gasped out his name at the thought. 

His tongue slicked over your bottom lip, “Would you like that?” His index and middle finger swept even rougher swipes over your clit which sent you mewling back on his tongue. 

“Yes? Or no? Use your words Beautiful.” 

That intense feeling, that unreal feeling...you would’ve been lying if you had said you hadn’t dreamed of it. 

“...yes. I want you to.” 

“Okay my love. Just relax. Lean on me if you have to, okay?” 

“It won’t hurt you?” 

“No. Not at all.” 

With your quivering thighs, his hand dipped back down and toyed with the heat of your folds and angrily sensitive clit. Your choked moans muffled into the crook of his neck where you had buried your face. Every single touch of his made your body feel as if it was aflame. Relentlessly, he switched from circling to stopping, every once and a while slipping a couple fingers to stretch out your entrance. He wouldn’t grant it to you fully yet, but his curved digits teased at your g-spot for only seconds at a time. 

In his ears, you filled them with “more, more, more’s” and little whimpers of “deeper, deeper, please, deeper.” 

“More? Is that what you want?” 

He winced terribly at the action, but he pushed you off from on top of him till you were flat on your back, screwing his fingers into you deeply. 

“I’ll give you as much as you want.” He kissed the words to your collarbones. 

All at once, his pace was renewed, and his fingers curved up sharply inside of your pussy to simulate your g-spot as roughly and quickly as he could. In his skill he gave your clit attention with his flattened thumb. The overwhelming feeling built in your core and inched closer second by second. Your control over your body slipped past you, and you fell completely into the feeling. 

You came with a uncontrollable shake of your whole body, and a release of pressure that made you into a moaning mess--that of which you didn’t need to be careful of if you had been too loud or not. Freely, you convulsed with that indescribable feeing, and your liquids wetted both your thighs and the fringes of the sheets which Changbin just barely removed from your body. 

“Fuck. Fuck.” 

In his adoration, the man above you proudly chuckled at your body still quivering with aftershocks. 

“Think you can take a little more after that? Take your time angel.” 

Your head spun, but it did so only for a moment. As you came down, Changbin kissed one, two, three, little kisses into your shoulder while he admired the way that your body shook. 

You nodded, laughing at the fact that you really did have no idea what time it was, nor could you even guess. 

“Do you have--” 

“--Dresser. O-over there.” A weak finger of yours pointed to your side table. 

A series of grunts slipped out of him, but he rolled himself over to take a condom from the strand and take care of it himself. He hid is tiny embarrassed smirk once he laid down. 

“Angel, I-I think that you’ll have to--” 

“--I know.” 

Back to your origional position, you aligned your entrance against his length which was still as red and hardened as ever. 

“Nice and slow right?” 

With one hand, you guided his dick into your velvet walls. 

“Oh shit.” Changbin pulled at your lip with is teeth upon the first roll of your hips. “Just like that. Just...like that.” 

It was beautiful, the way that he felt inside you. It had hurt a bit the first time, but now, it was different. The way that he filled you up was perfection: you were perfect for him, and he was for you. 

“D-don’t stop.” He pleaded while he scraped his nails down your back. 

To think, the one who had told you he didn’t say “please” was now at your mercy. It took everything you had not to let it go to your head. 

He angled his hips upward, pushing himself even deeper, and you nearly lost your composure at the feeling. Your core tightened again, and you let yourself grind over him, not stopping once. 

“F-fuck. Bin, ah! Shit--” 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop.” Became his breathless mantra. “Y-you fuck me so good angel.”

Clambering lips came colliding and you rode out your orgasm on his dick fiercely, connecting your mouth with his so he could feel every little bit of the pleasure that he gave you. He did the same, spilling his euphoric “ah ah’s” all over your lips and eventually to your neck where he sucked carelessly upon his own orgasm. You milked every last bit of him from his throbbing erection until he shook and begged you to stop his overstimulation. 

Perhaps because you were tired, or you craved the feeling, but not a bone in your body wanted to move. 

“Can we stay like this...for a while?” 

Changbin kissed his answer back to you. 

“For as long as you like.” 

Yes, the both of you had turned to sweating messes, and the scent of sex hung heavy around the both of you. Of course, it smelled just a little like rosemary and cedarwood. Wrapped up in one another like this, there was no telling where you began and he ended. 

Until the sun peaked at the horizon, he filled you to the brim with his “I love you’s” anywhere that he could manage: into the palms of your hands, into the love bites he had painted onto your chest, onto your ears which he nibbled, and, into your sleepy eyes which had held his for as long as you could, until the allure of sleep drew both of them closed.