#I got tired of it somewhere in the middle of drawing but HERE!

[honeyhotteoks]

this night together - chapter thirteen (j.yh + s.mg)

chapter thirteen: all the words you never said

chapter summary: someone's at the door, and everything changes.

warnings: this chapter is still a bit of a pain train, but don't worry we're coming out of that en route to happier times. in the mean time..... warnings for descriptions of violence, injury, and blood. mc has a panic attack / ptsd flashbacks, open descriptions about her trauma, fear, nightmares, etc.

notes: i'm still working on the next chapter, but hopefully that one won't take too long!

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader

genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 8.8k

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You wake the next day to an insistent knocking sound, a fist pounding against the front door of their apartment. Yunho nearly falls out of bed at the noise, shaking his head hard to banish the cobwebs, but Mingi is on his feet in seconds. 

“What’s going on?” You murmur, rubbing a hand over your face and stretching your tired limbs. 

“I got it,” Mingi shakes his head at you, “just stay with Yunho,” 

A chill runs over your arms, and with no blankets to drag up over you, you push yourself off the bed and grab for Mingi’s hoodie, pulling it over your head quickly and relaxing into its warmth. 

“Coming!” Mingi calls gruffly towards the door, and the knocking stops immediately. 

You glance at Yunho and he shrugs, but his eyes quickly flick to the door, able to see all the way down the hall from this vantage point and he waits. 

You listen as Mingi turns over the deadbolt and unlocks the chain, swinging the door open, “Oh,” he says, “hyung,” 

“Is y/n here?” Seonghwa’s voice sounds a little strained, like he ran up three flights of stairs. 

Yunho looks like he’s about to say something, but you smooth your hair back behind your ears and head down the hall for the door. 

“Yeah, she’s,” Mingi says, but you move around his side and Seonghwa’s eyes shift to you. 

“There you are,” Seonghwa sighs, looking instantly relieved. 

“Was I supposed to be somewhere?” Your eyebrows draw together, mind still a little fuzzy with sleep. 

Mingi takes a step away, and Seonghwa pushes across the threshold, “You haven’t been answering your phone at all, and when you didn’t show up this morning to practice… I just got worried,” 

“Oh, Hwa,” You soften, “I’m fine,” 

He hesitates, eyes flicking over you, and then he pulls you into his arms, sighing heavily, “Sorry, of course you are,” 

You tuck your face into his warm chest, squeezing him tight, “I’m good, I haven’t looked at my phone though, I was a little out of it last night,” 

“Did you just get up?” He pulls back and looks you over. 

“Mhm,” 

“It’s one o’clock,” He says softly, “you can see why I was worried,” 

“It’s one?” You’re shocked at the time, that you were able to sleep for almost twelve hours and so were they, despite your brief and terrifying wake up in the middle.  

Seonghwa smiles, “Yeah, but it’s fine, as long as you’re okay,” 

There are so many pieces to what happened yesterday you still don’t have answers to, and you’re not sure if now is the right time, but with Seonghwa in front of you things finally feel better. He’s been there for you so much recently that it feels like seeing him now is the clear missing piece to you finally releasing the last bit of tension from last night. 

A beat stretches between you and you nod. 

Yunho clears his throat softly from next to you both, “I’ll put some coffee on,” 

You almost forgot they were right by your side, and as Yunho makes his way to the kitchen, Mingi exhales with another rough noise. 

“Hey,” Seonghwa finally properly greets him, looking away from your face, “sorry, how are you holding up?” 

“Just woke up,” Mingi shrugs, “not sure yet,” 

Seonghwa’s eyes flick to you briefly as he registers that you’ve all just gotten up for the day. 

“Mingi,” Yunho calls from the kitchen, “can you help me with something?” 

“With what?” Mingi doesn’t draw his eyes away from either of you. 

“Coffee,” Yunho replies. 

Mingi’s brow furrows and he doesn’t move but turns his head towards the kitchen, “What help do you need with the coffee?” 

“Just come here,” Yunho sounds frustrated and you cover your mouth to keep from laughing. 

“Fine,” Mingi grumbles, throwing one last look back at Seonghwa before heading towards the kitchen. 

With the room clear, you look back to Seonghwa, “Are you okay?” 

“Am I?” He looks confused.

  “I don’t really know what happened yesterday,” You explain, “I barely saw you after everything, but Yunho said you and San took care of things, and I saw blood,” 

“Mm,” He nods, but doesn’t offer anything else. 

“What does that mean?” You press him. 

His eyes flick away and he shrugs, “It means San and I took care of it until the cops came.” 

“Hwa,” You shake your head. 

“Look,” He bites his lip and runs a hand through his dark hair, “can we sit down for a minute? I need to talk to you,” 

“Is everything okay?” 

“I’m not sure,” He admits, “let’s just… can we sit?” 

“Yeah,” You step back, gesturing for him to come further into the apartment and he takes a seat on one side of the sectional, gingerly on the edge with his hands clasped in front of him. Your eyes zero in on the bandages immediately. 

“Seonghwa!” You reach for him immediately, taking his hands in yours.

“Oh,” He takes his hands back and flexes them, “I’m fine, see?” 

“What happened?” Your voice raises a little, and Mingi appears in the doorway of the kitchen, one eyebrow raised. 

“This is what I wanted to talk to you about,” He sighs. 

“Your hands?” 

“Yeah,” Seonghwa pulls them further away from you and shakes his head, “I talked to the police last night and there’s something you need to know,” 

“The police?” You straighten up. 

“Mhm,” Seonghwa’s hand rubs over the back of his damaged knuckles, “they interviewed all of us, I think,” 

“I talked to them at the hospital,” You nod. 

“Were they alright with you?” Seonghwa asks, eyes flicking to yours. 

“Mostly,” You nod, “some of their questions were a little,” you search for the right word. 

“Pointed?” Seonghwa fills in. 

“Exactly,” You cross your arms unconsciously, remembering the way the detective talked to you, “they kept wanting to know about my cycle,” 

“They asked you that?” Seonghwa’s voice spikes a little. 

You nod, “I think it was pretty clear what they were trying to ask considering he said he was rutting,” 

Seonghwa’s jaw tightens as he exhales, “I’m so sorry,” 

“It’s alright,” You know it isn’t, but there isn’t anything to be done, “they took my blood, they’ll see I’m not even in pre-heat, it was nothing like that,” 

“We know that,” Seonghwa reaches across to brush his hand over yours, “you know that right?” 

“Of course I do,” 

“And even if you had been,” His hand flexes around yours, tightening and relaxing. 

“I know,” You assure him again, communicating as much as you can with a look. 

“Okay,” He sighs, “okay, good.” 

He pulls his hand back, and suddenly his face looks familiar. His expression so like that day before the tour in the faraway cafe. He’s working himself up to telling you something, and you can see that he’s scared. 

“Seonghwa, what is it?” You push a little, “You can tell me anything,” 

He presses his lips together before he says, “Right, so the police,” 

Mingi and Yunho choose this moment to file back into the room, both carrying two coffees each and Mingi sets yours down in front of you made up just how you like it before Yunho offers Seonghwa a cup. He accepts it, but lets it sit on the coffee table untouched while they get settled on the opposite side of the couch. 

“Just tell me,” You nod, bracing yourself a little. 

Seonghwa looks down, eyes on the floor while he gathers himself and his thoughts and then finally says, “I might have hurt your case,” 

“My case?” The words don’t quite make sense. 

“Going after him like I did,” He says simply, eyes still downcast. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You shift closer to him on the couch, reaching out but not quite touching him, “what happened?” 

“You didn���t tell her?” Seonghwa looks up but past you, straight at Yunho. 

“What?” You look between them, nothing making sense at all. 

“You weren’t here,” Yunho insists, “she was upset last night, I was going to tell her this morning.” 

“Can you both stop talking around me and just say it?” Your voice takes a higher pitch, “I’m not a child.” 

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa shakes his head, reaching for you and taking your hands folded in his own, “let me start over,” 

“Please,” 

“Minseok,” He says, the name a little uncomfortable in his mouth, “We got him into the hall and when I realized what happened, what he almost did to you,” he flexes his hand again and shakes his head, “I lost it a little,” 

“Hwa,” You murmur. 

“The police said because he had already been detained and it was no longer in defense or de-escalation it could hurt your ability to have him fully charged,” Seonghwa says in a breath, rubbing a hand over his eyes, “it’ll be possible for him to press his own charges if he wants, and I have reason to believe he’s getting those charges filed today,” 

“That’s insane,” You straighten up, “You were just helping me,” 

“No,” Seonghwa finally meets your eyes, “they were helping. I was… kicking the shit out of an defenseless man,” 

You open your mouth to say something but Mingi cuts in easily, “That’s not what I saw.” 

“What?” Seonghwa’s head snaps to the side. 

Mingi shrugs, “If you hurt your case then so did I, we all probably did, but if he knows what’s good for him he’ll take the firing on the chin and move on without dragging this to court.” 

“You fired him?” Your eyebrows raise. 

Yunho’s brows furrow, “Of course he’s fired, he’s not getting within a mile of you ever again,” 

Relief floods you and you nod, shifting your eyes back to Seonghwa, “How do you know he’s filing?” 

“Woo went to school with someone who works at the hospital in the emergency unit,” Seonghwa explains, “he called this morning just to find out Minseok’s discharge status so we knew when he’d be out,” 

That’s a thought that hasn’t occurred to you yet, and you take a steadying breath. 

“He’s going to be in for a little while,” Seonghwa assures you, “a week or two at least, but he did tell us that there were police there interviewing him. His family was also present, and it seems as though they have money and more to say,” 

“Entitled little prick,” Mingi curses. 

Seonghwa’s lip quirks up in a brief smile, but then he nods, “There’s not a scratch on any of us except him,” he points out, “it doesn’t look good,” 

You shift closer, “What did you do to him?” 

“I don’t,” He shakes his head, eyes softening, “I just lost it, San pulled me off him,” 

“Seonghwa,” You murmur. 

“He’s got broken ribs,” Seonghwa swallows hard, “and I think I broke his jaw,” 

“Jesus,” You breathe. 

“I wish I had,” Yunho says calmly, “he deserved it.” 

“Not if he can get away with what he did,” Seonghwa returns his hands to yours, “I’m so sorry,” 

“Hwa,” You shake your head, moving even closer on the sofa until you’re side to side, knees touching, “you have nothing to apologize for. I’m so grateful you were there,” 

His eyes go a little watery, and he cups your cheek, “When I think about the fact that I almost left early,” 

“When have you ever left early?” You give him a soft smile. 

“Seriously,” He shakes his head and leans closer, “I keep thinking about what would have happened if you were there alone, I keep seeing it,” 

“Stop, Hwa, please,” You squeeze his hand, “I’m okay, you were all still there,” 

“Yeah,” He breathes, but you can hear the tenor of lingering fear in his voice. He leans forward, pressing his lips to your forehead and exhaling over your skin. 

You let your eyes slip closed, and for a brief moment you forget about the other two men in the room with you, watching over the moment of intimacy with their breath caught in their chests. 

Seonghwa leans back a moment later, eyes clear now, and finally looks you over. He pushes your hair to the side and makes a face at the sight of your swollen, bruised gland, “What’s this?” 

“Nothing,” You shake your head, telling him clearly with your eyes not to pry. 

“Don’t tell me that’s nothing,” He says softly. 

“I promise,” You squeeze his hand, “I’m okay,” 

He swallows and then nods once before jerking his head towards Mingi and Yunho, “Did they take care of you okay?” 

“Yes, Seonghwa,” You sigh. 

You look to them, expecting to see some kind of comedic expression, or bristling annoyance at Seonghwa’s insistent checking, but that’s not what you see at all. Yunho looks like all the air has been let out of him, his eyes soft and unfocused. Mingi’s doing his best to seem relaxed and casual, but you know him well enough to know that he’s anything but, his tightly clenched hands telling you everything. 

“Hmm,” Seonghwa’s soft hum draws your eyes back to his, “and is there anything you need?” 

“I don’t know,” You confess, “is it silly to say I’m still tired?” 

“No,” Seonghwa brushes his hand over your hair again, tucking your hair back to where it was a moment ago, “nothing you wanted would be silly right now.” 

“Is everyone else alright?” You murmur. 

“They are,” He squeezes your hand, “you just focus on you.” 

You manage a nod, and you want to look back to Yunho and Mingi and see why they’re so silent, but Seonghwa continues. 

“You don’t have to be okay,” Seonghwa says softly, “but are you?” 

You know what he’s asking with his eyes, if being here with them is too much, if you’re able to get what you need in the midst of all the emotional circles you had been dealing with before the studio last night. You love him for it, but you nod, “I am, honestly,” 

“Then if you’re okay,” Seonghwa smiles a little, “I’ll leave you be,”

“I’m okay,” You glance back to Yunho and Mingi, and their eyes are holding on to anything but you and Seonghwa. 

“I just needed to see you and make sure, and to talk to you about things,” Seonghwa explains, pushing himself up to stand, “I don’t know what will happen, but I’ll do whatever I can to make sure it doesn’t affect you,” 

You stand with him and shake your head again, “Whatever happens with Minseok, we’ll deal with it together. Don’t put that on yourself, please,” 

He nods, and then you pull him into a hug, a quick squeeze before he steps away. 

“That’s it?” Mingi’s voice is incredulous as he stands up, “You’re leaving her?” 

You turn, fully confused by the sudden bubbling anger in Mingi, “What?” 

“I mean,” Seonghwa looks just as confused, “it seems like you’ve got things covered?” 

“Covered?” Mingi’s voice tightens. 

“Mingi,” Yunho tugs at his friend’s arm, “sit down,” 

“You’re seriously going?” Mingi repeats. 

The tension in the room is bizarre, the comforting moment you had with your friend completely undercut and you keep looking to Yunho for clarity but he just won’t look you in the eye, his eyes are set on Mingi. 

“I’m seriously confused,” Seonghwa looks between you and them, “y/n?” 

Your mouth is open, nothing really making sense for how quick to anger Mingi is in this moment, especially now, and all you can do is look to Mingi for answers, but you find little in his fierce gaze. 

“I’m just saying,” Mingi’s jaw sets hard, “if something like this happened to my girlfriend I wouldn’t be so quick for the door,” 

“My what?” Seonghwa glances down at you. 

The words don’t make sense, “I have no idea,” you manage, “what are you talking about?” 

“What are you talking about?” Mingi takes a half step back, eyes flicking between you. 

There’s a long beat of silence, and finally, finally, someone speaks. 

“You’re not together,” Yunho says, not a question but a realization. 

Pins slot into place, every little moment over the past few months coming into perfect clarity. You answer him anyways, “No, we’re not,” 

“Were you?” He clarifies. 

“Not like that,” You shake your head. 

“Oh,” Mingi’s hands relax, talking a half step backwards as the realization hits him. 

“You thought we were dating?” Seonghwa finally says, gesturing between the two of you. 

“Well,” Mingi clears his throat, “yeah,” 

“We’re not,” You confirm again and Yunho grins. Your stomach flips. 

“I really thought…” Yunho trails off, shaking his head. 

“Why would I have come home with you last night if he and I are together?” You trail off. 

“Yesterday was insane,” Mingi reasons, “I would have taken you anywhere you wanted to go if it made you feel better, I wasn’t questioning it,” 

“Oh,” You soften at that.

“But I guess I was wrong,” Mingi looks a little sheepish when he looks at Seonghwa. 

“Yeah,” Seonghwa squeezes your hand and then drops it, “y/n is… great, wonderful even, but it was never like that. I’m in love with someone else.” 

Your heart twists, knowing exactly what he means. 

“Fuck,” Mingi rubs the back of his neck, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to act like such an ass,” 

“No, no,” Seonghwa waves him off, “I get it,” 

“But,” Yunho looks up, and his eyes on yours freezes you to the spot, “I thought you said you had something to tell us?”

“And you thought it was that I’m dating Seonghwa?” 

“I thought you were trying to let us down easy,” He blurts out.

“No, that wasn’t…” You can’t fight the smile off your face now, “that’s not it at all,” 

His lips part, realization filling his features, “God, we’re idiots,” 

“Kind of,” 

“I should have just asked you on tour,” Mingi all but blushes and it’s quite possibly the first time you’ve ever seen him be so embarrassed.  

The moment is so absurd, so tangibly comical after last night and you can’t help but laugh again, “You thought I was that excited to see you after three months just to tell you that I’m dating one of your best friends?” 

“When you say it like that,” Yunho trails off. 

“Wow,” You clap a hand over your lips, “Woo is going to have a field day,” 

Seonghwa snorts softly, but stays quiet. 

“So if you’re not together, and weren’t together,” Mingi starts, lights going off in his brain as he rewrites all the things he thought he knew, his eyes find yours and hold steady. 

Butterflies start in your stomach, you feel it in the air like something’s about to shift under your feet and you should be bracing yourself. This is not the moment you imagined, not in the slightest, but there’s something steady about the way he’s looking at you and you want to reach out and grab onto it. 

Seonghwa softly clears his throat and takes a step towards the door, “I should go,” he says, “you look like you need some space,” 

You do, but you spin quick and catch his hand as he turns, “Wait, Hwa,” 

He pauses, glancing up over your shoulder at them before looking down to you again. 

“I have to thank you before you go,” You squeeze his hand, “I’m… I don’t know what else to say, but I,”

“Come here,” Seonghwa tucks you into his chest, hugging you close, “I’d do it again in a minute,” 

“I know,” 

“We may not be dating,” He says, and you can practically see the smile on his mouth, “but you’re one of my best friends and I’d do anything for you, okay?” 

“Okay,” You squeeze him tighter. 

He sighs, letting you go and pressing a quick, chaste kiss to your cheek, “Call me if you need me, okay?” 

“I will,” You nod. 

“And text Wooyoung back,” He says, almost an afterthought, “he was flipping out this morning,” 

“Tell him I’m fine,” You say, “I’ll message him later,” 

“I’m here for anything,” He reiterates, “and I’ll let everyone know you’re doing alright,” 

“Thank you, Seonghwa, really,” 

He nods, “I’ll let myself out,” he says quietly, and then he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him. 

You don’t quite know what’s about to happen when you turn around but the butterflies in your stomach triple. Silence stretches between the three of you, and you know that the conversation you wanted carefully planned is happening now whether you’re emotionally prepared for it or not, no matter what happened yesterday. 

You turn back to them and the words slip out as you process everything out loud, “I don’t understand why you wouldn’t just ask me,”  

“You asked us not to,” Yunho says quietly, “and after what happened before…” 

“Yun,” You start, looking between them, but he presses forwards. 

“We didn’t listen to you then,” Yunho says, “I wasn’t going to fuck this up again,” 

Mingi’s quiet, his eyes downcast as he thinks, and your stomach turns into anxious knots. 

“Maybe this isn’t the time,” You murmur, and you’re about to say more but Mingi cuts you off. 

“No, please,” Mingi’s head snaps up, “not this time, this time we need to talk.” 

“Okay,” You breathe. 

“I should have said it in the letter,” Mingi clears his throat and finally holds your gaze for longer than a second, “maybe that would have made this easier, but, I’ll say it now.”

“Mingi,” 

“I love you,” He says, letting the words live in the space between you for just a moment before he continues, “I’ve loved you for a long time. You can tell me no, you can go if you want to, but we’ve spent so long not saying anything to each other, so I have to say this.” 

“You love me,” Your stomach flutters, heart pounding in your chest. 

“Yes,” Mingi nods, no hesitation or wavering, matter of fact, one of the things you’ve always loved about him. 

The air feels a little thinner in the room, like the altitude has changed, and you swallow thickly. You need to get your emotions under control, but Yunho’s stayed so quiet you don’t know what to think. When you glance at him, your chest aches. He’s watching you carefully, and you can see the nervous energy in him, the way his hands fidget and clench. 

“Yunho,” You manage. 

“You know how I feel,” He says, “by now… I know you know,” 

“No,” You can’t accept it and you shake your head, “tell me for real.”

Yunho drags a hand over his face and back through his hair, and then finally he meets your eyes again, “I’m,” his voice wavers slightly, “sweetheart, I’m still so in love with you.” 

“Still?” You hitch on the word. 

“It’s been a long time for me too,” He nods.

  You take in their words, stepping back, pacing a little as you process. You don’t really know where you’re going, you just need to move, to take some of the pressure of their eyes off, and you take deep breaths as you do. You can feel their tension, their fear that you’ll bolt again but strangely this time you don’t need to run. You just need a minute. 

“And yesterday,” You slow to a stop from your position behind their couch, “this isn’t some… reaction to what Minseok did, it’s not,” 

“When I wrote you that letter,” Mingi interrupts your anxieties, “we hadn’t seen each other in weeks. I could have told you I loved you then, this has nothing to do with him. This has to do with us, the three of us.” 

Your mind flicks back to your confession to Wooyoung months ago, the way he held you as you cried buckets of tears over them. The sickening realization that your heat with them did mean something, and you had been fighting your own heart ever since. You want to love them now so badly it tugs at your insides, flooding your eyes again with tears. 

“Don’t cry,” Yunho’s on his feet the minute he sees your eyes clouding over, “the last thing we want to do is make you cry after everything,” 

“It’s fine,” You manage, hastily wiping tears away before they have chance to really wet your cheeks, “it’s just been a very long two days,” 

“We’ll talk about this later,” Yunho reaches for you, “come here,” 

You take a step back from him and shake your head, swallowing back your emotions and trying to figure out how in the world you’re going to articulate this. 

He stops dead, and you watch Mingi’s face fall. 

“Our dinner,” You start off, “I had a lot I wanted to say to you both, and after yesterday, I don’t know my head is all twisted up, I’m not going to do this right,” 

“Maybe you’re right, we don’t have to do this now,” Mingi shakes his head, and you realize now that he thinks you’re rejecting them, once and for all. 

“Mingi, stop,” You cut him off, “I need you to let me get this out,” 

He stays silent. 

“We’ve been dealing with this for so long,” You start, “there’s been a lot of things said, and I guess unsaid too,” 

Yunho nods but keeps any thoughts to himself while you parse through your words. 

“I tried for a really long time to move on,” You manage, “and so much has happened but yesterday was,” you shake your head, trying to keep the strain out of your voice and get this out, “you know what it was. But you were both there for me and you took care of me, and I don’t have the words to thank you for something like that.”

“You don’t,” Yunho starts but you shake your head and hold out a hand to stop his words. 

You take a deep breath, and then you take the leap, “I was going to apologize to you. This thing between us… I broke it too. I was angry that night at the studio, and I wish I could take so much of it back. I was hurt, but I said things that I’m so, so sorry for.”

“I was planning on telling you that first,” You continue, “and then I was planning on telling you that while you were gone, I thought about you everyday. I thought about us and what you mean to me, about what I wanted, and I need to tell you first that I lied. That weekend, my heat, it meant more to me than I ever understood. It wasn’t just sex, and I’m sorry I said it, I’m sorry for so much,” 

“y/n,” Yunho says softly, but you shake your head. 

“I’m,” The words bubble up and lodge right in your throat. It should be easy, you love them. They said it first, it should roll right off your tongue, but it just doesn’t. You take a tight, hard swallow and try again, “I don’t, what I’m trying to say is that,” 

“Hey, hey,” Mingi’s close the minute he sees you floundering, cupping your cheeks and hushing your panicked little breaths, “you don’t have to say anything, especially not right now.” 

“But,” Your throat feels raw, “but I don’t want,” 

“Shh, shh,” He shakes his head, smoothing his thumb across your cheekbone, “slow down, go easy,” 

It all feels like it’s opening inside you, the tense knot from yesterday, your feelings for them wrapped up inside it, the way your omega keeps clinging to them as yours. The way you almost lost them. Tears spill over your cheeks again and you choke out a weak cry, “I’m sorry,” 

Mingi shifts forwards, scooping you up in his arms to cradle you against his chest just like yesterday, “You have nothing to be sorry for, nothing at all.” 

“I want to tell you,” You confess into his shoulder, “I have to tell you,” 

“Baby, please,” Mingi soothes, “just take a deep breath,”

“Mingi,” Yunho murmurs low, having moved closer to the two of you, “let’s sit, come here,” 

You keep your head pressed against his skin, your body feeling ragged and exhausted, memories from yesterday flooding up and the scent of your alphas making you dizzy, and you think if you cry any more it might make you sick but you just don’t know how to stop. 

Mingi moves with you, settling down onto the couch and you can hear Yunho shifting around the room, but you don’t know what he’s doing until a familiar soft blanket wraps around your body. 

“Breathe, baby,” Mingi prompts you again, “we’re right here.” 

“Yunho?” You blink hard as you lift your head from Mingi’s neck, reaching to search for him. 

“Right here,” Yunho is tucked close to you and Mingi, and he takes your hand in his, drawing your eyes to his, “I’m right here with you,” 

“I’m sorry,” You stammer, tears finally subsiding just enough, “I d-don’t know what’s wrong,” 

It feels so familiar, this moment, like the overloading torrent of emotion that came after your broken heat so many months ago, only this time the sick pit in your stomach is worse. The stakes feel so much higher, and the echo of hands on your hips and teeth at your throat keep flickering through your mind. 

“I think you’re having a panic attack,” Yunho squeezes your hand, sliding closer still and brushing his hand over the back of your head, “but it will pass, and we’re not going anywhere,” 

“But I need to explain,” Your throat feels like it’s closing. 

“You don’t,” Mingi eases you back from his chest so that you’re perched on his lap, and he guides your face up to his so he can meet your eyes, “right now you just need to breathe,” 

He’s right, the hysteria working its way through your system will only grow unless you start to get your arms around it. You grip Yunho’s hand tighter and start to try and regulate your breath, letting your eyes slip closed as you focus, the little shuddering starts melting into deeper and steadier inhales and exhales the longer you work at it. 

You start to focus on things you can feel in your mind, things you know are real. Mingi’s warm body under yours, the cool metal of Yunho’s ring against your finger, a weighty hand on your right hip, the distant sound of a voice in the apartment next door. You’re home, you’re safe. 

When your eyes open they’re not looking at you but looking at each other, worried little creases in their brows as they communicate silently with their eyes. 

“Hey,” Your voice is small when you first speak, weak from exhaustion. 

“Hey,” Yunho smiles when he sees your eyes open, squeezing your hand again. 

“Feeling a little better?” Mingi murmurs, hand stroking your back. 

You shrug and wet your lips, “Not really,” 

“Then I think we should talk about this another time,” Mingi maintains, “do you want to try and get some more sleep, or,”

You shake your head and press a palm to the center of his chest, “No, I need to say this,” 

“It can wait,” 

“Not for me,” You insist, “I’ll just keep thinking about it,” 

“Alright,” Yunho smooths your hair over your shoulder and keeps a steady palm against your back. 

With a deep breath you steady your mind, get your words right, and then finally try again. “I don’t want the first time I tell you I love you to be mixed up in everything that happened yesterday. Everything feels so confusing and overwhelming because of what happened, but I don’t,” Your fingers knot tighter in Mingi’s shirt, “I can’t lose you again, so I just need you to know what I wanted to tell you on Saturday,” 

Yunho’s hand stills on your back, and Mingi’s eyes flick down. 

Nerves flood you, terrify you to your core, and you flounder again, “I know I should be able to get it together and to say it like you deserve, but I just need a little time, I don’t want to be thinking about him or feeling him when I think about us.” 

Yunho shifts forwards, his lips connecting with your forehead softly as he holds you to him, and he lets the warmth of his skin linger on yours. A sharp, wet noise draws your eyes back up and disconnects you and you realize Mingi’s crying, tears tracking down his cheeks and his eyes shining. 

“Mingi,” You reach for him, disconnecting Yunho as you cup Mingi’s cheeks, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just need a little time,”

He shakes his head, bringing his hands up to hold yours, “It’s not that, I swear to god, it’s not that.” 

“Then,” 

“I could fucking kill him, I really could,” The edge in his voice sends a chill up your back, and you watch as he swallows hard and takes a deep breath to get his own tears under control. 

“Hey, come on,” You try again, “I’m fine, look at me,” 

“You’re not fine,” Yunho shakes his head, “you just said so,” 

Mingi nods, his eyes opening. 

“But I don’t want you to be upset,” You smooth the tears away from Mingi’s cheeks. 

“I’m not upset because of you,” Mingi turns his face, pressing a kiss to your palm, “I’m upset because someone almost took you from us,” 

The air in the room feels thin at the truth of it, and Yunho looks down at his words, his hand tightening on your hip. 

Mingi curls his hands around yours and draws them away from his cheeks, entwining your fingers and resting your combined hands on his chest, “He almost took you from yourself,” he says softly, “that’s why I’m upset.”

“He didn’t,” You soothe him, “I’m right here,” 

“You don’t have to make us feel better right now,” Yunho shakes his head, finally looking up, “You should feel whatever you want, and if you need time, we can give that to you.”  

Mingi nods, “He’s right, I’m angry, but that’s not for you to fix.” 

“We don’t need anything right now,” Yunho murmurs, his hand stroking up and down the length of your back slowly, “just tell us if we’re not doing something you need,” 

“That’s not fair,” You smile softly, “you went through something too,” 

Mingi hums, disconnecting your hands so he can rub any evidence of his tears away before he sighs, “Remember when I told you it was our job to provide for you?” 

You remember how those words made you feel then, so safe in a moment of such confusion and emotion. Your shoulders drop, muscles relaxing as you try this time to listen to him, and you nod at his words. 

“It’s our job always,” His hands return to yours, “and right now you have to trust us to hear you and do better by you,” 

“But I made mistakes too,” You start to interject but he shakes his head. 

“Babe,” He sighs, “none of it matters, not anymore.” 

You were supposed to do this differently, to tell them your story and how you felt, and get all the things they didn’t know on the table, you were supposed to let them make an informed choice, but your voice just won’t come the way you need it to, “I just don’t want to lose you,”  

“You won’t,” Yunho says firmly, “why do you think that’s going to happen?” 

“There’s more to tell you,” You confess, “and last time I should have been honest, but I wasn’t and look where that got us,” 

“I don’t think there’s anything you could tell me now that would make me not love you,” Yunho says, smoothing his thumb over your cheekbone, “and we’re being honest now, that’s enough for me.” 

“How do you know that?” You scrub away tears that threaten to fall.

  “Because I missed you everyday,” He says simply, “and because I didn’t feel home again until I saw you at the party, and yesterday when I thought you were hurt I couldn’t breathe. I’m not going anywhere this time, all I want is us. All three of us.” 

“Me too,” Mingi clears his throat to get rid of the resurgence of emotion, “it feels right when it’s us, I’m not willing to lose that.” 

Your shoulders drop, all the tension you’ve been carrying for months falling away. They love you, they want you, even still. You collapse against them, pulling them both tight to you and resting on their touching shoulders. “Are you sure you can wait?” You whisper into Mingi’s sleeve. 

“Yes,” Yunho reiterates, “of course we can,” 

You nod against them, letting their arms fold around you and keep you tucked close. 

Mingi strokes your hair, his wide palm cradling the back of your head when he asks, “Does it bother you if we say it? If we tell you how we feel? Or should we give you some time?” 

“You can always tell me,” You can’t go backwards now, “I’m done not telling each other things,” 

Mingi presses his lips to your head, “Then I really fucking love you,” he murmurs soft in your ear, “and I don’t know what we’re doing, but as long as we’re together we’re going to be okay.”

Tears well in your eyes, the truth of is words cocooning around you, “I believe you,” 

The day takes time to pass, and short of Mingi fixing you something to eat for dinner, you all spend it cuddled close on the couch together. Movies play on the television, fingers card softly through your hair, and no one talks anymore about what happened or what it all means. 

Your original plan on Saturday would have been so much easier than this, you wouldn’t feel flayed open and raw and terrified to close your eyes or step into a room where you can’t see them in your eyeline, but you won’t lie and say you aren’t still grateful to be here and in their arms. You’re so sick of taking the hard road to get to them, but maybe together it can be different. 

Later, at night and in bed again, you sink into that feeling of gratitude. You missed this, the feeling of them next to you, the weight of their hands and the warmth of their chests. Any fear or hesitation you might have felt about your future with these two alphas is dissipating with every passing minute. They made mistakes and so did you, but when things got hard, really and truly hard, they’ve been everything. 

From your position curled against Mingi, you stretch and press a warm kiss to his neck, taking a comforting inhale of his rich scent, letting it work through your body and keep you warm. He sighs pleasantly at the feeling, and you wriggle up in their combined hold until you can find Mingi’s lips. 

He’s hesitant at first, letting you set the pace this time. His mouth is comfortingly familiar and you ease into each other, sharing a quiet breath and nuzzling his nose between gentle close lipped kisses. He sighs against you, his hand tightening on your side, and you flash back in your mind to the last kiss with him in the studio room. 

Flickers of the studio make your pulse quicken and your palms clammy, and you break your lips away from Mingi for a second of fresh air and to stop the sudden nerves sparking up the back of your brain. 

Twisting in their arms you turn to face Yunho, keeping Mingi still close at your back while you find Yunho’s cheek and tug him down to your mouth. He makes a soft, surprised noise, and you realize that you’ve never kissed him outside of your heat before. He’s so warm, so instantly responsive to your touch and you pull him a little closer still, letting your legs tangle together under the sheet. 

“Baby,” He whispers, fingers running over your hip and down your thigh. 

Your lips part, his tongue catching on yours as it dips into your mouth, deepening the kiss and your heart picks up again. You shift your hand, fingers catching under the edge of his t-shirt, just a little more skin on precious skin. Mingi’s hand drops from your hip to your stomach as he edges closer behind you, his wide palm stretching across the expanse of your belly. You shiver, a breathy sound from your lips you can’t catch. 

Yunho hums softly, pleasantly, kissing along your jaw the way he knows you love. 

You let your eyes slip closed, the sensation of them filling every space around you. 

Yunho kisses to the hollow of your ear and then travels lower, shifting to press his lips over the smooth column of your throat, but you feel the tense knot form again in the pit of your stomach. You feel hands on your hips where they shouldn’t be, you see a snapshot of your face in the practice room mirror, the ghost of a tug of your hair. 

At the first soft touch of Yunho’s tongue against your tender gland you jerk back and shake your head, eyes fluttering open, “I can’t, I’m sorry I can’t,” 

He pulls away immediately, hands off you as you press back into Mingi’s chest, “That’s okay,” 

Mingi wraps his arms around you to soothe you, “Your heart’s racing,” he murmurs, “babe, you’re safe, you’re with us,” 

“I know,” You nod, taking a deep steadying breath. 

Yunho cups your cheek, “I didn’t mean to scare you,” 

“It’s not you,” You assure him, “I just think I need some time before we do anything again,” 

He nods, “Anything you want,” 

“I just,” You try to explain, “for a second I thought I was back in the studio,” 

“You’re not,” Mingi reminds you, “and you don’t ever even have to go back in that room if you don’t want to,” 

“That’s not very practical,” You smile, kissing his forearm where his arm crosses over your chest as your racing pulse starts to slow. 

“I’m being serious,” He says. 

“I know you are,” You nod, “but I’m alright, I just think I need a few days away.” 

“That’s a good idea,” Yunho eases closer now that he can sense your heightened spike of panic is calming, “I’ll join you.” 

“Same,” Mingi rests his head on yours. 

“You don’t have to skip work for me,” 

“Honestly,” Yunho says, “it would make me feel better to stay with you, I’d be useless at the studio right now,” 

Mingi nods in quiet agreement. 

“Can I be honest?” You murmur in the dark. 

“Always,” Yunho nods. 

You find Yunho’s hand to hold and confess a little more to them, “I want you to stay, I feel like you’re both the only thing keeping me present right now, I keep worrying that I’ll slip back there,”

Mingi shifts behind you so he can properly see your face in the deep blue light, “Into headspace?” 

You nod, the echo of it in your mind, “It was so awful,” 

“I don’t think that can happen,” Mingi shakes his head, “you can’t just fall into it without someone putting you there.” 

You remember the distinct way you felt pulled under, the sudden tug downwards and the way you felt so insulated and trapped inside your own mind. You swallow hard and meet his eyes, “I’ve heard of it happening, omegas getting stuck, I don’t want to feel that ever again, I can’t feel that ever again,” 

“Hey, hey,” Yunho presses his hand over your heart and strokes your gland softly with the pad of his thumb, “that’s not going to happen,”

“He’s right,” Mingi kisses your forehead softly, “stories like that are rare, those omegas went through years of abuse and that’s awful, but it’s not you. No one is ever, ever, getting the chance to do that to you again.” 

“No one,” Yunho reiterates, still soothing your sore gland, “not us, not anyone.” 

“I just,” You sigh, “I keep feeling it when I close my eyes,” 

Yunho reaches out and brushes back your hair, his fingers smoothing against your temple, “Is that what your nightmare was about?” 

You nod. 

“You were there again?” He clarifies. 

“Yeah,” 

“What was it like?” Mingi murmurs his question, keeping it soft. Not a demand or a need, but an opening. Yunho’s eyes flick away from yours to his, but he waits to see if you’ll answer. 

Your mouth feels a little dry and you wet your lips as you think about how to describe it. You let their hands tether you as your eyes slip closed, “You know that feeling when your ears are full of water? The way everything sounds like you’re hearing it through a wall?” 

“Mhm,” Mingi murmurs. 

“It’s like that,” You explain, “like I was at the bottom of a lake or a pool and I knew something was happening around me, but I couldn’t tell what.”

“Do you remember anything?” Yunho asks. 

You shake your head, “Yes and no,” but you can see it in your minds eye, “I remember you both looked so scared and I remember wanting to ask you what was wrong, but I couldn’t,” 

They’re quiet now, only the thready sounds of their breath and yours as they listen. 

“He told me not to move,” You explain, “and to keep my mouth shut,” 

Mingi’s hand finds yours in the dark. 

“He said, ‘don’t move an inch’,” You feel Minseok’s words against your throat, the final push that sent you over the edge, “and I couldn’t, even when you were there and not him,” 

His thumb brushes over the back of your hand. 

“I remember you telling me to come up,” You continue, “I’ve never heard you sound like that before,” 

“You’ll never hear me sound like that again,” He says, his voice tight, “I just didn’t know what else to do,” 

“It worked,” You let your eyes open again, “that’s all that matters.” 

“Maybe,” He murmurs, and even though he doesn’t say more you can tell that he’s still a little shaken about using his own alpha tone on you at that moment. 

Yunho shifts in the covers, “Jagiya,” he says, “I think you should talk to someone about this,” 

“I’ll be alright,” You shake your head, “it’s just fresh and I need more sleep,” 

“Just think about it,” he says, “you can always talk to us, always, but we’re not professionals,” 

He’s not wrong, but the idea of opening up more than you already have makes something twist a little in your gut. You nod anyways, “I’ll think about it,” 

They stay quiet for a little while, and you take a minute to come back to your senses completely after letting the idea and the feeling of headspace occupy your mind for even just a few minutes. When you do, you realize that while Mingi is still cuddled up to your back, there’s at least a foot of space between you and Yunho, despite the way his long arms afford him the ability to still stroke your hair from this angle. 

“Come back over here,” You say suddenly, tugging on his t-shirt. 

“You sure?” He checks as he eases across the mattress. 

“Mhm,” You nod, letting his arms settle around you too. 

Confessions bubble up in your chest, the sudden need to keep being honest flooding you. 

In the dark, things are always easier. 

“I need to tell you something,” You murmur into Yunho’s shoulder. 

“Anything,” Mingi says quickly, his body still behind yours. 

You say it as plainly as you can, “My last heat was more complicated than I told you before,” 

“Okay,” Yunho murmurs, his voice a little hesitant as he waits for you to say more. 

“I called Seonghwa, but he was with Wooyoung at the time,” You explain, “and Woo has a whole little heat sanctuary at his apartment, so I spent my heat there with them,” 

“Is that what you’ve been so scared to tell us?” Mingi murmurs, his breath tickling your cheek. 

“San came to find his friends because they weren’t answering their phones,” You just have to get it all out, “but he stayed, I asked him to stay too.” 

“Oh,” Yunho trails off for a moment and Mingi’s steady breath stops. 

You brace yourself for the worst of it, your eyes closing tight, but then Yunho says, “San and Seonghwa usually spend Wooyoung’s heats together, right?” 

“Yeah,” Your eyes open again in the darkness. 

“And they took care of you okay?” He asks. 

“They did,” 

“And you…” Yunho struggles to find the right words, “you wanted everything? They didn’t push you or,”

“No,” You assure him, “it was all my choice,”

“Okay,” 

“You’re not angry?” You expected more of a fight, especially after how betrayed they looked after Seonghwa. 

Mingi sighs and you feel his head shake against yours, “You’re here with us now,” he says, “and you said it back then, we weren’t dating, no one cheated,”

“Oh,” Your tight fists unfurl. 

“y/n,” Mingi cups your hip and shifts behind you, “I think I already know the answer, but I’ve been wrong about what’s been going on for months, so can I ask you something?” 

“Anything,” You repeat his words back to him. 

“Was it just heat? Or do you want them too?” 

“Just heat,” You assure him immediately, finding his hand and interlocking  your fingers, “I promise you, it was just heat.” 

“Okay,” He nods. 

“Honestly,” You add quietly, “I don’t think I let myself understand what being with you both had meant until I experienced something different. I’ve never felt the way I felt with you both, before or after,” 

Mingi nods again, and Yunho’s lips connect gently with your forehead. 

“I understand if this is too much,” You start to say, but Yunho pulls back with a sharp intake of breath. 

“No, y/n,” he cups your cheek, “it was hard to see things clearly in the moment that day, we were worried about you and I’ll admit I was jealous too, but you didn’t do anything wrong and we handled it more than poorly,” 

“You’re friends with them,” You point out softly, still waiting for the moment they let your words sink in.  

“So are you,” Mingi says easily.  

Yunho runs his hand along your arm, “If you wanted to be with someone else, would you be here?” 

“No,” You answer immediately. 

“That’s enough for me,” 

“Me too,” Mingi adds, “I just want to move forward,”  

“Exactly,” Yunho finds your clasped hands in the dark and holds them both. 

“Hearing you say you and Hwa aren’t together,” Mingi presses a kiss to your bare shoulder, “I’ve never been so happy to be wrong about something, this changes nothing, babe,” 

Your body unknots in their hands, “Okay,” 

“Is that everything you wanted to tell us?” Yunho squeezes you softly. 

“That’s everything,”

The room feels lighter with nothing between you.  

“Well,” Yunho shifts closer and presses another kiss to your forehead, “I love you,” 

Mingi’s nuzzles another kiss  to your shoulder, “I love you too,” 

Relief spreads through your body, and you tug them closer until you’re sandwiched perfectly between them once again. The weight sitting on your chest is suddenly gone. 

There’s nothing more to say tonight, nothing more to do, but held between them with your legs all tangled together under the sheet you feel safe. You’re tired, exhausted even, but for a little while you can’t close your eyes. You listen to the way their breath evens out as they drop into sleep, gentle, rhythmic sighs as their bodies relax into yours. You listen to the city outside, the hum of the forced air unit, the distant click of a door shutting in the adjacent apartment. You focus on all the things you can feel, all the things you can hear. They way you’re here, present in your body. 

Yunho shifts, rolling away just enough that you dip forwards with him and you end up against his chest. His heart thumps low and slow against your cheek. Mingi makes a soft sound at being disturbed, his body attaching back onto you like a magnet as he reaches over and hitches up his leg, cuddling you both. 

You didn’t know it was possible to miss a person this much, let alone two. 

Your throat tightens up, a feeling deep in your chest and you press your eyes closed. You whisper soft against their skin, practicing the words on your lips, “I love you,”

In the dark, you make them this little promise. 

#this night together fic #tnt fic #honeyhotteoks fic #honeyhotteoks updates #yungi ff #yungi fic #yungi smut #ateez ff #ateez series #ateez fic #yunho series #yunho ff #yunho fic #yunho x reader #mingi fic #mingi ff #mingi series #mingi x reader #honeyhotteoks fics

[augustjustice]

Sharing Smokes Outside the Snow Ball

AO3 Link

It's the Winter of 1999, and Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are standing outside the Hawkins Middle School Snow Ball, sharing a smoke.

Eddie can't believe he's back here, the whole thing feeling nearly as surreal as that nightmare, wayward Spring Break over ten years ago. He'd barely made it out of that hell hole alive, Steve himself practically having to hold Eddie together as they made their way from Forest Hill to Hawkins Memorial Hospital.

Spring had turned into summer, sweltering and oppressive as Eddie slowly, painfully healed.

There had been bright spots, though. Watching Lucas and Erica squabble during the one-shot campaign he had cooked up just for the party that June. Evenings out beside the Harrington's temperature controlled pool, beer bottle sweating in his hand as he traded a joint back and forth between Argyle and Jonathan, the sound of Robin's cackle loud and bright as she managed to hipcheck Steve into the pool. Steve's own blinding smile--a longtime feature of Eddie's secret high school fantasies--being turned on him the first time he made it from the front doors of the physical therapy clinic to the passenger side of his BMW, without needing any help at all.

But then summer had ended, and Eddie, finally back together again like a character out of a children's nursery rhyme, had packed up his van and headed straight to Chicago, not looking back.

Sure, there'd been post cards sent, phone calls to Dustin and the other Hellfire brats, promises to see everyone soon. Promises that Eddie couldn't keep, even if he wanted to.

Not when he didn't dare set foot in Hawkins, not ever again.

Then, over a decade into his second life as a struggling guitarist by night, record shop employee by day, his cousin Brooke had landed on his doorstep, looking too tired and too young all at once, a bruise around her eye. Behind her, her eleven year old son was studying the apartment hall's tiling.

"I left him." Eddie didn't need an explanation for that one. Her good-for-nothing husband, Nash. "Jake won't be any trouble, he just...needs a place to stay, while I get back on my feet. Somewhere his daddy can't find him. Just for a little while."

Eddie thought of his Mama. And then he called Wayne.

"Shit, Uncle Wayne, I--don't know what to do."

"Come on home now, boy," Wayne said, easy as anything, like Eddie had left only yesterday. "Come on back home."

So Eddie had.

That had been six months ago. And now he was standing in the aforementioned middle school parking lot with Steve 'the Hair' Harrington, while their kids--and wasn't that just a fucking head trip and a half--danced the night away.

"I keep half expecting Click to round the corner screaming my name," Eddie admits as he gives Steve a light. "Remember junior year, I sold to you in the alley behind the gym? Old bat nearly got me that time."

"Remember? I literally had to shove that joint down the front of my shorts, dude," Steve admits, which draws a snort out of Eddie to match his own chuckle. "Most of the guys on the basketball team couldn't move half as fast as you did that day. You practically vanished into the woods before she even made it to the stadium. Totally shoulda gone out for the track team, Eds."

Eddie clutches his chest, as though he's been shot. "Don't speak such blasphemy to me, Harrington."

"Yeah, well, you can quit worrying. Pretty sure she finally retired," Steve tells him, taking a long drag before he's passing the cigarette back to Eddie, even that brief touch enough to send sparks of electricity up Eddie's arm. Then he shoots Eddie that charming, infamous Harrington smile, boyish and cocky, the one that says he's used to getting exactly what he wants. "Even if she's not, I'm head of the PTA. If Higgins tries anything, I'll just threaten not to bring cupcakes to the next bake sale."

"Harrington, my hero," Eddie fakes a swoon, collapsing for a brief second against Steve's shoulder, an excuse to get close.

The theatrics get no rise out of Steve beyond an amused smirk. Even after all these years, he's still used to Eddie's antics, it seems.

"You know, it was total déjà vu," he nods to the middle school gymnasium, all decked out in blue and white, "dropping Sam off here."

Though he's actually gotten to know the Harrington offspring in person since he's been back, Eddie had received the rundown from Dustin and the others on Steve's journey to dadhood in their scattered calls over the years.

The December after Eddie had left, Steve had met a girl, taken her out on a few dates, and accidentally gotten her pregnant.

With Samantha, a name Dustin had proudly persuaded Steve into as the little girl's godfather. Every bit as adorable, now that Eddie had seen her, as the gushing picture the party had painted for him, all big blue eyes and wavy chestnut hair just like her father's.

Steve had gotten down on one knee long before she was born, determined to tie the knot and do right by her mother nearly as soon as he'd heard the news.

The pair had been divorced not even two years later.

"I don't think they were ever really in love," Dustin had informed Eddie one sunny afternoon impromptu of nothing, as always blunt in his honesty. "But you know what Steve is like. He's a hopeless romantic."

Eddie didn't, not exactly. But he's gotten enough glimpses, both back in '86 and much more recently, that he's starting to put the picture together.

Steve draws Eddie out of that particular reverie with another bright laugh. And then he's recounting the memory of Dustin's hair, done up in the infamous Harrington 'do, as Steve pulled up in front of the '84 Snow Ball playing chaperone in his trusty Beemer, long since traded in for the much more affordable sedan he's driving now.

"I demand photographic evidence, Harrington," Eddie insists, smile crooked, that distracting dimple appearing in his right cheek, "you can't conjure up an image like that and then not fork over the goods."

"Hey, man, talk to Dustin. Mrs. Henderson took like...a million pictures that night," Steve laughs.

But he's already mentally going through the album tucked away on a bookcase back at home, positive he's got his own photo to show for it. It'll make for a nice excuse to invite Eddie over for dinner one night.

The subject turns then to their own checkered experiences with school dances.

"Class of '85, baby! That's when they made your 'King Steve' title official," Eddie crows, teasing as he taps Steve once on the nose.

Steve goes a bit cross-eyed, following the movement of his finger.

"Yeah, well, talk about a total let-down of a night. I didn't even bring a date," Steve admits, tone blasé. The truth is, his entire senior year had been something of a disappointed trudge towards graduation, a walk he had taken mostly alone. There had been bright spots--the little band of miscreants he'd fallen into babysitting, for one--but they had all been far outside the walls of Hawkins High. "I'm guessing you weren't around for that? Not really your scene, especially with the Munson Doctrine's strict rules about 'forced conforming.'"

He puts Eddie's words in deliberate air quotes, his turn to give him a teasing smile.

"You're wrong about that one, big boy. I saw them, adorning your glorious locks with the crown." That mischievous smile is back. "We're not that old, dude, don't tell me you already forgot the whole 'prom streaking' incident?"

Eddie shoots him a loaded, deliberate look.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute." Shaking his head with a laugh, Steve waves his arms in front of him, like he's calling a time out. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me. That was you?"

"The one and only. What can I say, Jeff and Gareth dared me. Besides, by that point," Eddie shrugs casually, "I already knew I didn't have a shot at graduating anyway, so. Thought I'd close out the year with a bang."

"You've seriously never considered doing anything halfway in your life, have you, Munson?" Steve asks, giving Eddie's shoulder an almost exasperated nudge, smile fond in spite of himself.

"Absolutely not, Stevie boy. Life's too short. Where's the fun in playing it safe?"

Eddie swings into Steve's space, then, dark eyes sparkling. Goading and flirtatious. Just like when they were teenagers, thrown together in the worst of circumstances but making the best of it, before time and pain and trauma put all that distance between them.

And if Steve's eyes drop down to Eddie's lips as they share air, slow enough it can't be anything but deliberate, and their fingers brush just a tad too intimately the next time they trade the cigarette back and forth...well. They've got a lot of lost time--and shared smokes in school parking lots--to make up for.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #my stuff #my things #i watched the end of season 2 for the umpteenth time this evening #remembered i always wanted a steddie scene parallel to the jopper smoking scene outside the snow ball #and then wrote this in a fevered haze over the past two hours #so apologies for any mistakes and messiness

[hunterwritings]

𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 | 𝐥𝐢𝐧 𝐤𝐮𝐞𝐢 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐨

request: "Hello, can you write headcannons on the reader taking the Lin Kuei trio to the movies as a date?" warnings: none | notes: maybe a bit ooc? also was very tired while writing this so maybe some writing mistakes

→ 𝐁𝐢-𝐡𝐚𝐧

Bi-han is most certainly not a movie guy.

I believe he would lean towards more 'traditional' dates, like going out to dinner or late night walks.

Being the grandmaster of the Lin Kuei, he wouldn't have a whole lot of time for dates. He might also think they are a waste of time most of the time, he thinks there are better ways to show his love for you. But the few times he will initiate dates, he wants it to be somewhere remote, where it is only the two of you. Bi-han has a hard time showing his emotions, and an even harder time saying them, so he prefers to be alone with you to fully express his love.

When you give the idea of going to the movies with him, he is initially against it. He doesn't have a whole lot of movies or films that he is fond of, mostly because he thinks that it is useless fiction.

You are finally able to convince him tag along with you, convincing him that the movie you are going to see would have many fight scenes and said that the two of you could critique them together. You knew that was something you could draw him in with.

You planned a day you knew there wouldn't be many people in the theater so Bi-han wouldn't feel the need to be anxious or tense. You got decent seats in the middle of the theater.

He kept his rough hand over your own the entire time, squeezing it tightly. It was almost a security blanket for him, knowing that you were here and weren't leaving.

He paid close attention to the movie, actually getting quite interested, looking down at you a couple times with your head leaning on his chest.

Once you leave, Bi-han would be talking about the movie on the walk home, criticizing how the characters acted and none of the fight scenes would actually play out that way. Even though he was critiquing it, you knew he actually payed attention and wanted to express his thoughts with you.

→ 𝐊𝐮𝐚𝐢 𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐠

Kuai Liang thinks that movies are such a fun experience

He loves watching action-comedies with you. He also just loves the idea of being comfy and relaxing with you. Anything that involved him and you just being able to enjoy each other's presence was something he absolutely fawned over.

You told him you had this idea to go see a new adventure style comedy movie and he was filled with excitement. He will stand at the concession stand for a while until he knew that the two of you had everything you needed before watching the movie.

Always on time, usually even early so he can get snacks before the movie starts. He wants to make sure everything is perfect for you so that you can relax and be the most comfortable. Kuai Liang is always going to go out of his way to do the absolute best for you, no matter what it is. You are a god/goddess to him and he would worship you any chance he gets.

Gets really into the movie and the plot line. If you really enjoyed the movie as he did, you two will talk for hours on different parts you enjoyed and how you hope there will be another one.

On your walk home, he will tightly hold your hand while thanking you multiple times for being able to bring him along to the movies and saying how he will never get tired of going out with you. Kuai Liang will pour his heart out to you over and over again until he is drowning you in kisses from the top of your head to your collarbone.

→ 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬

This man adores movies with you.

To be fair, Tomas adores doing almost anything with you. Any sort of outing with just the two of you makes him so happy, as if he couldn't ask for anything else.

Will watch any type of movie with you: comedy, romance, action, horror, etc.

would 100% watch Johnny Cage movies

Once you asked him to go the movies with you, his face lit up and he immediately accepted.

Will plan the entire day around you going to the movies. He will plan a lunch/dinner to go out with you before going to the movies and then would buy a handful of sweets for both you and himself from the movies concession stand. Once the movie would start, Tomas would be leaning down to your ear to comment on anything interesting he'd see in the movie or something he would laugh at with you.

Would have his arm slung around you, either around your shoulders or draped across your waist so that he could hold onto you while he looked up at the movie screen. He'd be smiling and smirking at you every couple of minutes and leaning in to press a kiss to the top of your head.

Wants to go see every new movie with you and will buy tickets early to secure seats for new and upcoming movies.

#— hunterwritings #hunterwritings #mortal kombat #mk1 #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat 1 x reader #lin kuei #lin kuei x reader #bihan #bihan mk1 #bihan x reader #kuai liang #kuai liang mk1 #kuai liang x reader #tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas vrbada mk1 #subzero x reader #scorpion x reader #smoke x reader

[spaceofentropy]

Thank you, @ihni , for the baton! Without further ado, here's my contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race!

It's a little fic (that I'll post on ao3 later, when I'm awake and cosplaying as a functioning human) and that is very cleverly (not really) titled...

A Pirate's Life For Me

Billy's always known he wasn't lucky in life and this, right here, is the culmination of it all.

Not even two months at sea, working his ass off for a meager pay in the hopes of earning enough to exstinguish the debts his father and Chrissy's father put on their shoulders before dying, and his ship gets captured by pirates.

Worse: captured by the Dread Pirate Roberts, who has a reputation as a great swordman and a ruthless bastard who doesn't leave survivors.

Billy did his best in the fight, but he's just a farm boy turned deck swabber, his swordmanship goes very little further than "the handle goes into your hand, the pointy part goes inside the enemy". So now he's kneeling, hands raised, on the deck of the Panthaira, along with the rest of the surviving crew and passengers.

Well, with all the survivors except Captain Loman, who's huddled against the main mast. The Dread Pirate Roberts is crouched in front of the captain and talking to him in a low voice while the captain clearly draws his last breaths, shirt painted a vivid red with the blood gushing from the puncture wounds in his chest. Loman was a petty tyrant, so Billy is not exactly bawling his eyes out at the prospect of the captain being gone soon. It's just the principle of the thing that counts. The Panthaira has been captured, and, to put it mildly, Billy is fucked.

There are too many pirates keeping them under threat of more stabbing, and also no damn place to go even if he were able to escape the ship. They're in the middle of the ocean, nothing but water in every direction for hundred if not thousands of miles.

So Billy stays where he is.

And looks either at the back of the Dread Pirate Roberts or at the slow rising and falling of Loman's chest.

He waits and hates how his arms are getting heavier and heavier by the second. Soon, he'll be dead and, back home, Chrissy will have to mourn her best friend too, not just her parents.

Captain Loman's chest at last goes still and Roberts extends a careful, gloved hand to close the man's unseeing eyes, before turning towards his prisoners in one swift, elegant movement.

Robert's dressed all in black and wearing a mask, just like the stories say. He has long brown hair tied in a low pony tail, and dark eyes that sweep the crew and passengers of the Panthaira like he can weigh the wort of each of them with just one look.

Billy lets his hands fall down, tired of this charade. If he's gonna die anyway, what good comes from obeying? Might as well die with some feeling left in his arms.

Someone shouts at Billy to raise his hands again and he just ignores him. Roberts is walking their way, his steps slow and his attention pointedly fixed on cleaning blood off the blade of his sword.

Somewhere behind Billy, a woman starts weeping. One of the crew members pleads for his life. Another offers all the money he's got to be spared.

Bunch of cowards.

Roberts stops in front of Billy, ignores everyone else.

"You're not pleading," he says in such a voice and cold tone that the people around them fall silent, too scared of what's happening.

"I don't plead."

"Aren't you scared, boy?"

"To death."

Roberts grins. It makes the moles on his cheek dance.

"Should I bestow on you the sweet mercy of death, then, or not?"

Billy licks his lips and grins back.

"You should let me live, sir."

"And why should I make an exception?"

That's the true problem. Both Billy and Roberts know it, judging by the predatory look in his eyes.

Why, indeed.

"True love?" Billy tries.

Roberts laughs.

"She must be an exceptional lay, to make you believe someone will let you live only so that you'll be able to bed her again!"

"Wouldn't know, I've never wanted to fuck my best friend. Is there truest, purest love than the one that's never been tainted by lust or carnal needs?"

The Dread Pirate Roberts laughs even more and then shakes his head.

"Unbelievable," he says in a stage whisper. "What's your name, boy?"

"Billy."

"Well, Billy, I find myself in sudden need of a personal attendant." Roberts pauses for a beat, cocks his head to the side. Predatory is now an understatement for the look in those dark eyes. "Do a good job and one day you'll be able to return home to your best friend. Do a bad job, and your friend will never see you again. Are you interested in the position?"

Billy grits his teeth and never lets his gaze waver from Roberts.

The decision is so simple he doesn't even need to think about it. He nods and Roberts smiles.

Billy doesn't know what's in his future, but he'll do all he can to survive whatever Roberts throws his way and then return home. His best friend is waiting for him.

And with this, my installment of the race is done and it's time to head over to @liverditty in an hour for his contribution! I can't wait to see what he created for this beautiful event! In the mean time, thank you for reading, fair tumblr users, and thanks for organizing this, @harringrove-relay-race ! ❤️

#harringrove relay race #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #my fanfic #soon on ao3 too #princess bride au

[praetorqueenreyna]

Summary:

soare cu dinți - “sun with teeth.” A day that is invitingly sunny and bright, but deceptively cold. What if in ACOTAR when Nesta set out to rescue Feyre, she succeeded in getting through the Wall?

So excited to be able to reveal my fic for the @acotargiftexchange! I was Secret Santa for @sadiebluewin, who requested a Neris fic. I hope you enjoy it, I had so much fun writing this!!

You can find this fic on AO3 here, or continue reading below.

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

Nesta hated the faerie lands. She hated the trees that whispered a mocking prayer over her head, wishing for her to stumble and fall. She hated the unfamiliar animal noises that rang through the darkness. She hated how one moment she seemed to be in a warm spring day, and the next a bitter winter’s night. Her days traveling through the faerie realm blurred together until she had no idea how long it had been since she had left the mercenary at the wall and entered this hellscape alone. Throughout that time, she never allowed herself to be afraid. Instead, she was angry. She rode on her fury like a wild stallion, doggedly moving through the forest that tangled in her hair and pulled at her clothing. Feyre was somewhere here, in this horrible place, and she was going to find her.

A snarl rang out, closer than the other animal sounds. Nesta froze, scanning the trees around her. She now appeared to be in a deciduous forest in the middle of autumn, her vision obscured by trees covered in leaves the color of flames. The growl came again, closer this time, from her left. That was all the warning she got before a monster leapt out of the trees and tackled her.

She didn’t scream as she fought and writhed against the beast. It was too close and too fast for her to get a good look of it, she only observed it in flashes. A hint of matted fur here, a patch of scales there. More pressing were the sharp yellow teeth that snapped in the air, itching to rip her throat out. Nesta put out an arm to push the thing away, only for those teeth to sink into her flesh. Now she did scream as drops of her own blood began to rain on her face. She instinctively pulled, howling in pain when the monster tightened its jaws on her forearm. Her free arm uselessly beat against its side, but she might as well not have bothered. This was the end. She was going to die.

Suddenly, the beast collapsed. Its grip on her slackened and it sank onto her, a dead weight. It flopped to the side and freed her, allowing her to view her savior. Her first thought was that he was not human. He was too pale, too graceful, too cruelly beautiful to be anything other than one of the High Fae. His bright red hair blended in with the fall colors in the background, as if he had simply stepped directly out of one of the tree trunks. He wasn’t looking at her, instead preoccupied with drawing a sword from the flank of the monster and wiping the thick green blood away with his sleeve.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in a conversational tone, still giving all his attention to the sword. As if he were too good to even glance her way. Despite him saving her life, everything about him pissed Nesta off.

“None of your business.” She pushed herself to her feet with her good arm. The sudden change in position made her lightheaded, and she wondered how much more blood she could lose before she passed out.

“Considering you’re on my land and I just saved your life, it very much is my business.” He finally was looking at her, scanning her with cold eyes that seemed to find her wanting.

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” She made to take a step forward, only to be stopped by a hand on her shoulder. She resisted, and the pressure increased, pinning her in place. Refusing to show any deference, she huffed in annoyance. “My sister was taken by a beast. I crossed the wall to find her.”

“You came here alone?”

“Yes.” Nesta was tired, and she needed to tend to her arm. She hadn’t looked at it yet, but it throbbed painfully every time her heart beat. “Can I go now?”

The faerie hummed, but didn’t answer. He glanced over her, noticing her injury for the first time. “I can fix that for you.”

“No.” Nesta was no idiot. The faerie would offer to heal her, in exchange for her body, or her soul. She’d be trapped in his clutches for all of eternity, and she’d never find her sister.

“You’ll die if I don’t.” His tone indicated he didn’t care one way or the other. “Then I’ll have to find a way to hide your body. It’ll be a whole thing if the High Lord discovers a live human in this court. Far easier to fix you up and have you walk out.”

She didn’t want to go with him, but she was running out of options. She had clutched her injured arm against her chest, and already the front of her dress was soaked in blood. “Fine. Just promise that I’ll be allowed to leave alive. Soon, not in one hundred years.” Everyone knew that the fae couldn’t lie.

His mouth twitched into what could be considered the beginning of a grin. “I promise.”

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

The faerie led her to a surprisingly small cottage that reminded Nesta of the one they had only recently been able to leave. The interior was minimalist, barely furnished for a single person. From what Nesta knew, the High Fae were greedy materialistic assholes. She was expecting some kind of luxurious castle, adorned with the riches this fae had stolen. Uneasy, she wondered what else she had taken as fact about the fae was also untrue.

“Sit down, human,” the male ordered.

Nesta bristled. “Don’t talk to me like that. My name is Nesta.” He acted like he hadn’t heard, gesturing to a chair with a dismissive wave of his hand. Nesta chose to remain standing. With a long-suffering sigh, he approached her and reached for her arm. She jerked away in alarm. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to heal you.”

“No. No magic. Get me some first aid supplies. I’ll do it myself.” Nesta didn’t trust the faerie as far as she could throw him, and she certainly didn’t want him laying his hands on her.

“Fine.” He brushed past her to sit at the dining room table. In front of him was a bottle of liquor and an empty glass that hadn’t been on the table a moment ago. There was also a roll of white bandages, a towel, and a bowl of faintly steaming water. The male dropped down into a chair and poured himself a generous helping of the amber liquid. With him thus occupied, Nesta approached the table warily. With one eye on the faerie, she rolled up her sleeve to assess her wound. It wasn’t as bad as she had thought, once she used the towel soaked in hot water to dab away the blood. The beast’s teeth had left ragged holes in her flesh, but the bone wasn’t broken and she could still move her hand. As she wrapped the bandages tightly around her arm, she asked the question that was burning on her tongue.

“Who are you?”

“I am Eris Vanserra. My father is the High Lord of the Autumn Court.”

Oh fuck. Not only had she been found by a powerful High Fae, but he was the son of a High Lord? Nesta was in a lot more danger than she had thought. Keeping her voice neutral, she asked, “Is that where we are? Autumn?”

“Yes. There are seven Courts in Prythian: Autumn, Spring, Summer, Winter, Dawn, Day, and Night.” He spoke slowly, as if he were speaking to a child. Nesta was offended, even though she knew nothing of the faerie realm.

“When I crossed the Wall, the forest…changed. Sometimes it was night, then day. Spring, then winter. How could that be if I was only crossing one Court?”

Eris shrugged. “Prythian is hostile to humans. It’s very possible the forest was messing with you, bouncing you between different Courts.” He took a thoughtful drink. “That would explain how you ended up here though. We’re hundreds of miles from the Wall.”

Nesta wanted to scream. If this damned realm was capable of transporting her anywhere, how could she ever find Feyre?

For a few hours, they talked, Nesta having resolved to find out as much as possible about this land and her new host. When she asked why he was staying in such meager lodgings if he was some kind of prince, he had shrugged and said that most of his family was away, and he was the only one who was able to occasionally come back. When pressed for details, he stopped answering her questions. He also wouldn’t give her a good answer when she bluntly asked why he hadn’t killed her yet.

“I’m bored. You’re the most interesting thing that has happened in a year.”

Her next question was interrupted by a huge yawn. It felt like she hadn’t slept in days. Eris dismissed himself and disappeared through a doorway that presumably led to a bedroom. At some point, he had magically replaced the couch in the living room with a small bed. Nesta didn’t like the metallic scent of magic that clung in the air, but she was too tired to put up a fight. She sank onto the bed and fell asleep immediately.

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

She stabbed him that night. Nightmares filled with gnashing teeth and Feyre’s screams had her sitting bolt upright, pale and sweating. She dug through her cloak to find the iron dagger she had bought from the mercenary, clenching it in a clammy fist. Suitably armed, she crept into Eris’s bedroom, swathed in the cold light of the moon. Asleep, his harsh features had softened. Before she could look too closely and lose her nerve, she drove the dagger into his thigh. Like a striking viper, his hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist. His eyes were open, and he looked annoyed. Nesta struggled, fully expecting him to rip her in half. Instead, he pulled out the knife and dropped it on the floor. Then he swung his bare feet out from the bed and frogmarched her out of his room, barely limping.

“Iron doesn’t do much to us, sweetheart. Next time, try ashwood.” With a slight shove, he released her and closed the bedroom door in her face. There was a dramatic click when the lock slid into place. At a loss for how to proceed, Nesta returned to her bed.

In the morning, Nesta began to walk. She struck out in a straight path through the forest, keeping track of her progress by carving an “X” on the trees every few yards with the iron dagger that had been cleaned and left on the dining room table. Eris accompanied her as an irritating shadow. She would have insisted on going by herself, but she was terrified that setting out on her own would mean that she’d be transported somewhere else, miles away. With the fae at her side, the land seemed to cooperate; she stayed within a grove of oak and maple, a crisp chill note in the air.

In the evening, she returned to the cabin. Eris had mentioned that most of the forest’s creatures were nocturnal, leaving her to make the decision for herself. While she loathed her companion and yearned to make more headway through the realm, she was a realist. There was no way she could fend off another one of those monsters by herself, especially not with her injured arm that throbbed painfully every time she moved it.

They settled into a routine. Each morning, Nesta would awaken and begin shuffling around the kitchen. A few minutes later, Eris would emerge from his room, fully dressed. It didn’t occur to Nesta until a few weeks in that Eris likely woke up before her, but waited in his bedroom until he was sure that she was awake as well. Nesta had no idea where the food in the kitchen came from, but it was always fully stocked: fresh fruit and vegetables, pastries still warm from the oven, ice cold decanters of water and juice.

Sometimes, when they stepped outside, Eris would give a piercing whistle. A chorus of howls answered him, and a fleet of gray shapes streaked through the trees towards them. The first time it happened, Nesta had been sure that Eris had grown tired of her and had summoned a demon to kill her. Instead, the shapes had flashed past her to Eris, coalescing into a flock of a dozen baying hounds. They wound between his legs and jumped up to lick his face. He was a lot less intimidating covered in dog slobber and trying to fend them off with an amused grin. They were being taken care of somewhere else, apparently, but were always ready to come when Eris called.

At first, Nesta refused to even acknowledge Eris during their exploration. She was focused on her mission of finding Feyre, constantly scanning the treeline and searching for signs that her sister had come through here. It was lonely. Nesta had never truly been alone. Through everything, there had always been Feyre and Elain. She began to ask Eris questions about Prythian, safe questions that she could pass off as a way to learn more about the land to aid her in her quest. When he answered those, she began asking questions about himself. She learned that he had six younger brothers. That even though he was the eldest, he wasn’t necessarily going to become the next High Lord. That she was the first human he had met since the war. That he had already been over 100 years old when the war started.

Eventually she began talking about herself. About her mother, her father, and Elain. And Feyre. She told Eris about the years in the cabin, and everything Feyre had done for them, culminating in her sacrificing herself to a fae beast. The riches and return to status that had followed was because of Feyre, Nesta was sure of it. Even from her prison in Prythian, she made sure her family was taken care of. Despite how they had treated her.

“Why were you such a bitch to her then?” Eris asked, holding aside a tree branch for Nesta to duck under it.

Nesta had long stopped being insulted by Eris’s blunt language. She found it refreshing. By now she had learned that the fae could lie, but Eris rarely did. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I think…I think I was trying to drive her away.” She paused, bracing herself on his arm to take a large step across a creek. “She would have been better off on her own. Without us. I wanted her to leave and force our father to step up and take care of us.” A sigh. “It was stupid. Father was broken, and Feyre would never have left him.” It had been so easy to blame everybody else when they were in the grip of poverty. Now, Nesta only wished that she had done more. Maybe things would have turned out differently.

Eris didn’t look disgusted with her. Instead, he spoke slowly, considering. “My youngest brother was always the best of all of us. I hated him for it, sometimes. That we had all been through the same things, and he was still good.” He gave Nesta a wry smile. “He did leave us, though. He’s better off now.”

“Where did he go?” Nesta asked, but Eris turned away from her and wouldn’t answer.

That evening, like every evening, he told her to sit down so he could examine her wounds. Every other time Nesta had refused. Now, she sat at the table and held her arm out on the bare wooden surface. If he was shocked, he didn’t show it. He unwrapped the bandages, exposing the gouges that the monster’s teeth had left behind. It hurt like hell, but Nesta bit the inside of her cheek to keep from whimpering. She was ready to yank her arm away if he tried to use magic. He didn’t even try; just wiped down the wounds and rewrapped them. His hands were warm, almost too hot to be comforting. She told herself it was that searing heat that made her feel his touch for hours afterwards.

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

Months passed. Nesta didn’t realize how fond she had grown of Eris until he started leaving the cabin for a few days at a time. He wouldn’t tell her where he was going, but she assumed it had to do with his role as the High Lord’s son. The first time he left, she was overwhelmed by an aching loneliness that took her breath away. She missed eating breakfast with him, and their trips through the forest looking for Feyre. She missed his stupid smirk and making fun of him for needing to use magic for everything. His smokehounds had learned to come when she called them, but even their company wasn’t enough to ease the pang of her solitude. Though she would die before ever admitting it, she began sleeping in his bed when he was gone, curled around one of his pillows with the youngest of the hounds pressed against her back.

She had never felt this way about a man. Not even Tomas, when she had been prepared to marry him. Reminding herself that Eris was not a man, and that he likely viewed her the same way he viewed his dogs, didn’t help. It didn’t matter anyway. As soon as she found Feyre, she was getting them both out of here.

The search for her sister had continued every day. After one of his trips away, Eris had returned with two horses, increasing their search radius by miles. Even now Nesta didn’t know what exactly she was searching for. Especially since it was possible that the forest had dumped Feyre and her captor at the other end of the continent, far beyond where Nesta could travel in a single day. Her arm was getting better, but she could still barely move it. If she tried to go off on her own, she’d surely be killed. The next step of her plan was working up the courage to ask Eris to accompany her.

For now, they explored Autumn. Nesta could almost forget her mission and the danger that she was in, riding horseback next to Eris, chatting as they trotted through the woods. A glint of silver through the trees caught her attention, and she made a beeline to its source. It was a gorgeous pond, still and smooth, filling a crater in the bare rock. Eris dismounted and knelt next to the water’s edge to examine it.

“It’s a hot spring,” he exclaimed after sticking his hand in the water. “I never knew this was here.”

Nesta followed his lead and dipped her hand in the pond. It was comfortably warm, like bathwater. She hadn’t known such a thing even existed. “What makes it hot?”

“Volcanic activity under the surface, usually.”

To Nesta’s alarm, Eris began undressing, pulling off his boots and socks. “What are you doing?”

He gave her a look like she was an idiot. “Going swimming.”

“Is it safe?” Nesta was too proud to admit she didn’t know what volcanic activity was, but if it had the power to heat the pond she didn’t want to find out what else it could do.

“Probably.” He stopped as he began unlacing his tunic. “Are you coming?”

“I can’t swim.” Nesta could feel herself turning red at the admission. “You go on, though.”

“Oh.” Eris thought for a moment, then changed tactics and began rolling up the legs of his pants. “We can just wade in the shallows, then.”

“No, you don’t have to—”

“I’ll hold onto you the whole time, you won’t fall in. I promise.”

Faeries could lie, but Eris didn’t. Not allowing her mind to wander, Nesta took off her own shoes and stockings. She gathered her skirts up in her good hand so they bunched up around her thighs. Eris took her by the elbow and guided her into the water. It felt wonderful, soothing and warm, the smooth bare rock heaven on her bare feet. Tiny fish whizzed by them in the crystal clear water. Eris was right next to her now, one hand on her arm and one on her waist. His scent, which at first had been overpowering and threatening, now comforted her.

“Aren’t you brave?” he murmured, right in her ear. Nesta slipped, flailing inelegantly as she tried to catch her balance. Eris moved to catch her and managed to keep them both upright. She had dropped her skirts and was now waist-deep in the pond. In his effort to save her, Eris was now clutching her tightly against him. They were both soaking wet from her splashing. Instead of being annoyed, he chuckled. “Clumsy, too.”

“I am human,” she retorted. Instead of mocking her, Eris regarded her closely. One of his hands came up to brush a few damp strands of hair away from her face. Her breathing stuttered, her heart beating so rapidly she could feel it in her fingertips.

“Yes you are.” The back of his knuckles skimmed across her cheek, her jaw, her neck. “I never knew humans could be so…” he trailed off, and then instead of finishing his sentence, he kissed her.

Nesta had been kissed before. Just never like this. Eris kissed her like he had been fasting and she was a decadent meal he could finally indulge in. In that moment, Nesta forgot everything: her wounded arm, Feyre, the fact that she was in a land that was actively trying to kill her. Eris pulled back too soon. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” With a forwardness she had never possessed, she wrapped her hands around the back of his neck and pulled his mouth back to hers.

At some point, they had to leave the hot spring. Eris used his magic to dry them both off, so they could comfortably lay down in the grass. Nesta found herself half on top of Eris, lazily kissing, her injured arm folded between them.

“Will you finally let me heal this?” he asked, lightly touching the arm in question.

“No,” Nesta answered against his throat.

“Stubborn woman.” Eris hooked his fingers under her chin to bring her lips up to where he wanted them.

During a break for them to catch their breath, Nesta sighed. “I’m never going to find Feyre, am I?”

“Probably not. We’ll keep looking though.”

“I just wish that stupid beast had said where it was going.”

Eris sat upright. “It talked to you?”

Nesta sat up as well. “Yes. It said that since she had killed a faerie, it would take her and keep her in Prythian forever. A life for a life.” Reliving the moment that that horrible monster had burst into their home and taken her baby sister was too painful, and she had never told Eris the full story of what had happened.

“And what did the beast look like?” Eris was staring into her eyes intently, with a much different energy than he had had a moment ago.

“Like a mountain lion mixed with a wolf. With elk antlers.”

Eris cursed and rose to his feet. “I’m such a fucking idiot.” He pulled Nesta up as well. “I know where your sister is.”

The air left Nesta’s lungs. “Take me to her.”

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #neris #nesta/eris #nesta archeron/eris vanserra #nesta archeron #eris vanserra #fanfic #my fic #acotar gift exchange #I HOPE U ENJOY GIFTEE #I LOVE FAIRY/HUMAN ROMANCE

[blue-jisungs]

old people activities

a/n. back to normal posting!! the ask game was fun but a bit tiring ㅠㅠ so here’s a small thing i’ve had on my mind for a while :D i finally wrote something for my joonie🫶

it all started with a newspaper.

after a sleepover you had with the maknae line, you walked to the kitchen just to see that namjoon was sneaking around and trying to eat something.

you decided to make a breakfast for you and the boys and eat before they wake up since you were hungry.

in the middle of your meal, namjoon handed you a newspaper he was reading and pointed at the headline about them with a gummy smile.

“who still reads newspapers?” you suddenly heard tae’s grumpy voice.

“good morning to you too, taehyung” a scoff left your mouth and then you pressed a quick kiss onto the corner of joon’s lips that said i’m proud of you.

“ew”

“hey man, just shut up and eat” joon laughed and put the plate full of food in front of still sleepy taehyung.

then it was a book.

“are you seriously reading right now? both of you?” the voice on the other side of the phone was a bit muffled and there were a lot of shuffling sounds as well. probably because hobi was running up the stairs.

“well not anymore” you groaned, closing your book. namjoon didn’t though. his arm that was wrapped around you still continued to draw circles on your skin.

“i’ll be there in two minutes. and if i see both of you with noses in your books i swear i’ll consider signing you to a book club” he laughed.

“bold of you to assume that we don’t already have one” you scoffed, sending joon a wide grin. he looked up at you and winked.

“wait, have? you have your own book club?” hobi asked, clearly confused “don’t tell me it’s only you two in there”

“yup!” you hummed and bookmarked joon’s book in case hoseok was about to burst into the room and yeet the book somewhere.

you didn’t know if that counted but then it was your sleep schedule.

“come on! if you’re bored just say so!” jin whined and tugged your t-shirt. you laughed, shaking your head.

“no it’s not that. you know i love spending time with you. and i literally can’t be bored with you” you sent him a soft smile and looked at the rest of the boys “but…”

namjoon tried his best to hide his yawn but it was so obliviously loud that he couldn’t even do it.

“you’re turning into old people, seriously. it’s barely 8pm” yoongi crossed his arms and namjoon just shrugged.

“let’s face it, we’re getting old. and we’re really tired. lately we started going to bed earlier and it’s surprisingly good? we’ve got more energy in the morning and the day feels longer…” your boyfriend tried to explain it but jin waved his hand.

“aich, you’re just like my grandparents. just go to sleep” he scoffed, still taken aback by your words.

the incident that made you think about it more was the dinner.

"y/n you didn’t miss click?” jungkook asked, tilting his head.

“no” you frowned, placing the bowl of rice down “i meant 1pm”

“dinner at 1pm? ah you’re really turning old…” jimin giggled and you just exchanged surprised looks with namjoon.

maybe they’re right…?

“hey, what starts with d, has fourteen letters and f in it?” you asked, tapping your chin with your pen. namjoon took the crossword out of your hands with his free hand - since the other one was caressing your hair.

“difference?” you heard hobi’s voice.

“too short” you and namjoon replied at the same time. jin walked into the room and let out a dramatic sigh.

“really? crosswords now? i swear we’ll send you to nursing home!” he whined and you shook your head as the others laughed.

“defenestration!” you grinned and took the pencil to fill the gaps.

“what? now you know archaic words no one uses anymore? ah guys…” jin sighed.

“i’ll perform it on you if you don’t shut up” you grinned and namjoon just scoffed, taking the crossword from you.

even if you started behaving like old people, you didn’t mind. because if that’s how growing old with namjoon will look like, you won’t complain.

[ masterlist <3 ]

taglist. @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinhobi

#bts namjoon #namjoon fluff #namjoon #bts fluff #bts soft hours #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts x you #bts fic #bts x reader #bts x y/n #kim namjoon

[captainofthedauntless]

More Rise!Nardo thoughts.

Just thinking about how he'd abuse the fuck out of his portal abilities with you. Always offering to be your "ride" when you need to go somewhere, using it as an excuse to see you for just a minute when you're busy. The classic you're upset? oh lol i just Happened To Pop By A Shop, Here, Your Favorite Snacks.

He'd show up in a heartbeat to help you move furniture, or to help you cook, or to help you speed clean because your aunt's in town all of a sudden and you cannot let her know you live like this.

You don't think anything of it, really. Because it's effortless for him. It's like getting up from the couch for how much energy it takes him.

But it gets to be a habit.

It's a pattern.

You text him after a long day, once, and you say something about being tired and not wanting to cook, and then he's in your kitchen with a crackle of blue energy and a bag of take out and a hoodie he pulls off less than five minutes later, passing it to you with an easy shrug and a nonchalant smile. Lot warmer in here than the lair, he says breezily, as though it isn't your favorite of his hoodies. As though it was an accident.

He does that a lot, you realize. Act as though calculation is coincidence.

And then you can't stop realizing it.

It's not just the portals.

It's everywhere.

He's everywhere.

He's spending enough time at your place that he just leaves his stuff there when he gets a mission call, and you end up with a stack of books and comics that you definitely didn't pick up yourself, and instead of mentioning it you just replace his horrifying whatever-he-can-find bookmarks (you find one of your bracelets there, once) with actual ones. People keep giving them to you as freebies- might as well put them to use.

Somehow he knows when you've got big appointments scheduled, and he just casually shows up the night before and complains about how you do your chores and insists on showing you how it's done, and then you blink and he's put away every dish in your kitchen, all while playfully critiquing your organization. And, like magic, you're free to sit down and relax, because evidently your sweeping technique is also tragic, no, no, give me that, you're- you're banished, that's abysmal, and feet off the ground- don't care, it needs swept, go on.

Crazy how his movie night picks are some of your favorites. Great minds think alike, eh?

And then 'huh, Leo's pretty helpful' becomes 'oh, Leo's given me impossible standards' when you wake up in the middle of the night and can't seem to catch your breath from a nightmare. You fumble for your phone and type what's supposed to say are you up? and comes out as ate yii yo? and then your phone is ringing.

He greets you with a you alright? that you think should probably be harsher than it is considering the hour, and when you manage to get the word dream out of your face he follows up with want some company?

And you must say yes, because the next thing you know is a crackle of blue energy (which should look dangerous, should feel dangerous, but looks like a playful wave and feels like home) and nearly six feet of mutant turtle dropping onto your bed, landing with a playful bounce that shakes a little of the dream-scented-sludge from your mind.

Sorry, he says, playful and grinning as he folds his arms behind his head and watches you like he can read your mind, traffic was a nightmare.

And you shake your head, because what the fuck, but you're laughing despite yourself and some of the scrutiny melts from his eyes.

Thought I'd-

Don't say drop by.

I would never, he says, but he doesn't elaborate on what he was going to say, and you draw your own conclusions. Anywhoozles, what's the vibe? Movie? Snack? Field trip to the top of the Great Wall?

And somehow he means it.

He's in your room at four in the morning, still in his pajamas, mask down around his neck, all warm and soft and sleep-shaped, and offering you the world like it was a piece of gum.

And you just stare at him, wondering if you're still dreaming.

#leonardo #x reader #leonardo x reader #leonardo & reader #*writing #2018 #imagines #headcanons #aged up as always- going for college-age here

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

Yennefer saying 1, Yenskier

Here's some post-season 2 Yennskier with background Geraskefer.

"Could you hold me? Please."

Yennefer knows that casting the spell will probably kill her. All of Tissaia’s dire warnings about what happens when a mage burns themselves out ring in her head. She barely survived Sodden Hill and she know she shouldn’t risk that kind of loss of control again, especially not so soon after regaining her powers.

But soldiers found her, Geralt, Jaskier, and Ciri in the little farmhouse where they’ve been hiding for weeks now. Geralt is injured, his movements clumsy as he holds off three soldiers. She doesn’t know where Ciri is. The princess is hopefully hiding somewhere, but she’s probably about to do something reckless and dangerous. She can hear Jaskier shouting, taunting their attackers as he tries to draw them away from Geralt.

Yennefer turns and finds the bard backed up against the wall, holding a ladle like it’s a bludgeon and making anatomically improbable suggestions about the mother of the soldier approaching him with a sword. The soldier raises his blade and Yennefer knows there’s no time for her to hesitate. She may not survive, but she needs to make sure that Geralt, Jaskier, and Ciri get out of this alive.

For the second time in less than a year, Yennefer throws out her hands and lets her chaos run wild.

***

Yennefer wakes in the middle of the woods, her mouth tasting of ash and blood and her entire body aching. Her head is cushioned on a scratchy woolen cloak that reeks of horse and there’s a blanket thrown over her. A few feet away, a campfire crackles merrily and on the other side of the fire, Jaskier strums his lute. There’s a furrow in his brow and his tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth in concentration.

She takes a moment to observe him before she croaks, “Geralt? Ciri?”

Jaskier’s head jerks up, pure relief flashing across his face. “They’re off catching dinner.”

“Hurt?”

“No, love.” He puts down his lute and rounds the fire to sit next to her. “Geralt caught a sword to his side, but you know witcher healing. He bled a lot, took a couple of potions, and then started acting like nothing ever happened. Ciri doesn’t have a scratch on her.”

“You?”

“I’m perfectly fine.” He brushes a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Thanks to you.”

“Idiot. Shouldn’t taunt people with swords.”

“I’ve spent over two decades taunting a man with a sword. It’s worked out pretty well for me so far.”

“Idiot,” she says again, too tired to hide the fondness in her voice. 

“You scared the shit out of us, Yenn,” Jaskier says. “You slept for two days. We didn’t think you were going to wake up.”

“They were going to kill you and Geralt and take Ciri.” Yennefer closes her eyes, trying to block out the memories. “Are the soldiers dead?”

“All of them. And the house is burned to the ground. With all my favorite clothes inside, I may add.”

“Pity you were able to save your lute.”

“Yes, I got luck—hey!”

Yennefer smirks, eyes still closed.

She feels him let out a long sigh. “You nearly got yourself killed.”

“You nearly got stabbed for insulting a soldier’s mother.”

“Well, I had to do something to piss them off enough that they wouldn’t go after Geralt.”

Yennefer grits her teeth. “Don’t do it again.”

“I won’t if you won’t.”

“You impossible fucking bard.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead. “You impossible fucking witch.”

She hates this fucking man. She would tell him that at length, but moving her mouth is starting to feel like too much effort. She’s exhausted and acutely aware that the hard, cold ground she’s lying on is much less comfortable than the bed she’s been sharing with Jaskier and Geralt for weeks now. She’s gotten used to not having to sleep on the ground.

Jaskier sighs. “Anything I can do for you, Yenn?”

Yennefer hesitates, then asks, “Could you hold me? Please?” A few months ago, she wouldn’t have dreamed of asking for such a thing. It still feels odd to show that kind of vulnerability. But she’s cold, hurting, and all too aware of how close she came to never being held by Jaskier again.

“Of course.” The blanket lifts off her for a moment as Jaskier slides under it, curling against her side and tucking the blanket around both of them. Eyes still closed, Yennefer lifts her head off the cloak to settle it against Jaskier’s shoulder, a far finer pillow. His arms wrap around her, warm, secure, and achingly familiar. Yennefer settles against him, soothed by the feeling of him against her. The ground is still hard and her body still aches fiercely, but it’s a little more bearable with him holding her.

“Do me a favor,” he says softly. “Don’t almost die on me again.”

Yennefer knows she can’t promise that. None of them can, not when they’re on the run with the most wanted princess on the Continent. She can’t imagine how the four of them will all manage to get out of this alive. But Jaskier doesn’t need to hear that and she’s not above lying to her bard when necessary.

“I won’t,” she says. “So long as you don’t taunt any more men with swords. Except for Geralt. He would miss it.”

“No more taunting men with swords.” She knows he’s lying, just like she’s sure he knows she’s lying. But right now, curled up together on the ground, holding each other, they can both pretend that they believe it.

***

Hurt/Comfort Dialogue Prompts

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome

#the witcher #yennskier #jaskier x yennefer #prompt fills #ghost's writing

[buckttommy]

not the worst day

not my usual but ! here it is !!! in all fairness, i DID start this fic sometime after tim and lucy's first date and sometime before grey found out but, like, what is time. so yeah ! enjoy !!!

1.9k | Rated T | No Archive Warnings Apply | link

Summary:

"Tim Bradford got shot in the chest today." Luna’s slow draw of breath is almost as damning as a startled gasp. Her hand tightens around his shoulder. "Is he—" "He's alive. Still in critical condition but the doctors are hopeful he'll make it." "So why the drink?" "Lucy," is all he says. It's enough. OR; Tim & Lucy's relationship is a secret until it's not.

Wade Grey is not a drinking man. He indulges from time to time in whatever's on hand—a bottle of jack from the living room shelf, a cold beer after a long day—but liquor’s never been his vice. On the days when humanity's sins threaten to cling to the bottom of his shoes and follow him home like an oil spill, he usually stops at a bar a couple miles from his house, orders a single cranberry vodka, and tries not to let his soul decay somewhere between there and his front door.

But tonight...

Tonight, he is a drinking man.

He stares into the fireplace, watching the undulating flicker until it paints starbursts of color over his vision as he throws back another shot. Presses the rim of the glass to his bottom lip and breathes. It's been a long day—the kind of long day that starts off slow and average and explodes into frenzy somewhere during the middle; the kind of day that doesn’t stop descending into chaos until someone, somewhere decides enough is enough and puts a stop to the bedlam as quickly as they started it, and he’s tired. Dog-tired in a way that makes him feel heavy and sick and old, but when Luna enters the room, something sleepy in his chest slowly yawns awake.

Ah, his bones sigh, there she is.

He sinks down deep into the brown sugar sweet of her love, followed closely by the steel gray wall of concern that she always tries to hide, and lets himself soak in her presence like a man dying of thirst. She’s quiet as she approaches, and even quieter when she sits down on the arm of the chair. Her small hand comes to rest on his shoulder, her fingertips ghosting the curve of his collarbone. Twenty-plus years and she still feels like home.

"Wade,” she says softly, “Come to bed.” 

In a minute, is what he means to say. The words are already on his tongue, crowded up behind his teeth, but what he says instead is,

"Tim Bradford got shot in the chest today."

continue reading on ao3

#new fic wheeeeee !!!!! #jack.txt #tv: the rookie #chenford #tim bradford #lucy chen #tim x lucy #otp: some things matter more #my fic #au where i published this before season 5 ended lol ah well ce la vie

[roach-works]

I saw your mention of T.Kingfisher in the 2022 book post, and I've been eyeing a few of their books to read, is there one you'd recommend? I'm also psyched to hear you enjoyed the third Scholomance book, I'm listening to book 2 right now and loving the series so far. I'd honestly love to hear any book recommendations you'd be willing to share!

I would suggest starting with Swordheart! it's a lovely fantasy road trip romance, between two older heroes, one of whom is an ancient war spirit bound to eternal servitude of whoever draws his sword. and the other who is a fat thirty-something spinster on the run from her extremely horrible aunt. i reread it yearly!

The Paladin series are also great, and scratch the discworld itch for funny, clever fantasy that also gets real dark real fast but never loses its heart. GREAT romances, several m/f and one m/m, great sex scenes, great action scenes, great monsters. if you're at all iffy about m/f romances, go study how kingfisher does it.

IF YOU LIKE HORROR (i don't and i liked these!) the three horror novels out so far have somewhat different vibes. none of them have romance in them, which is actually really nice! they all have pretty kickass explorations of friendship and family.

the twisted ones is a methodical and very tired woman trying to survive a somewhat non-haunted house in the middle of a very fucking haunted woods; unfortunately my personal choice of home decor is 'animal skulls, interesting sticks, and wasp nests' so finding out that the creepy monsters are fucked up bone and wasp poppets just made me really jealous.

the hollow places was much scarier to me and made me cry a few times. it goes hard on the tragedy of horror, the helplessness innocent people feel in the face of a sort of cosmic injustice. somewhere besides this reality is a place that got taken over by very, very bad invasive species, and there's not much anyone can do but try to get back home. but at the same time, the love of home is what gives people the heart and the strength to get there. just a great fucking story! the fucked up schoolbus continues to haunt me.

what moves the dead is very effective body horror, and also very fun gender shenanigans. i do not like fungal infections as much as i like bones and wasps. the protagonist is also male gendered by deliberate choice: in his homeland, only men can be soldiers, so women can declare themselves male and join the army. it's a retelling of the fall of the house of usher, but unlike poe's version, this one slaps ass. excellent plot, very twisty, very gruesome, very tragic. i liked all of it and even the ending, though it did leave me sad.

THE THIRD SCHOLOMANCE BOOK PUNCHED ME IN THE NUTS OF MY HEART and if i was to go on about it we'd be here all day. i adore novik's work with nearly religious devotion and one day i hope she will sign my thigh.

#ursula vernon #t kingfisher #naomi novik #my favorite thing about naomi novik is #the literal day after the second scholomance book came out #she dropped like fifty thousand words of harry potter / high king fusion #like. she was already tearing jk rowling a new asshole #and then apparently decided that what rowling needed #was to be swiss fucking cheesed

[dantakeyoman]

𝐉𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐘 | 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐧𝐞

♡ 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

♡ * 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈, 𝒔𝒆𝒙𝒚, 𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒍𝒆, 𝒛𝒐𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒆-𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑱𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏. 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒔. *

♡ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐳𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐦 (𝐳𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬), 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐨𝐟 𝐳𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬), 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐬, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.

♡ * 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒚: 𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒌 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒍 *

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

"Knowin' them, it's a trap," Tal scoffed, lowering his binoculars and handing them to Columbus, "Wait here. Drive down if I signal. Princess comes with me."

You shot him a sharp glare, but nodded, grabbing your AK off the hood and cocking it.

After driving for a couple more days, you came across the old Cadillac stranded in the middle of the road.

The hood was up, and it looked abandoned, as if the girls were never there.

Oh, but they were there, somewhere.

You could feel it in your gut.

"You're not gonna shoot them, are you?" Columbus asked, nervous.

"Not unless they shoot at me," you assured with a smirk, starting down the hill with Tally, "Oh, I hope they shoot at me."

As the two of you approached the car, you shot out the tires, just to be safe.

"Not the tires!" Tal cursed you under his breath.

"You don't want them to escape, do you?!" You hissed back.

"My fuckin' Caddy!" He grumbled, seething.

"We got a car twice as good as it up on the hill. Stop whining and check the backseat," you rolled your eyes, crouching to check under the vehicle.

He muttered some more curses at you but complied, quickly checking the backseat and seeing no one there.

You got up and walked over to the open hood, where it looked like the engine was smoking.

Tearing off a piece of cloth from the shirt that was hanging on the hood, you used it to touch some parts of the engine, checking it out.

"Got some residue on the engine block. S'what's causing all the smoke," you stated, Tal walking over to join you.

"You some car nut?" He asked.

"Was a mechanic before the world went to shit," you corrected, "Best damn job in the world."

"Grease monkey?" He cocked a brow with a smile.

"Damn right," you smirked up at him, before turning around to face your other car.

You used your fingers to whistle loudly, Columbus getting the message and driving the Hummer up.

"Looks like they hoofed it. Probably headed west," Tal walked over, hopping in the passenger, "Drive slow. And keep your eyes peeled."

You took the backseat, immediately noticing the little girl from before in the back.

"I'm gettin' real sick of your shit," you rolled your eyes, drawing your gun and pointing it at her head.

But she was quick, and trained hers on Tally's neck before you could blink.

The man let out an exasperated sigh, hanging his head.

"I'm really sorry. She was like a crouching tiger," Columbus apologized.

Tal seethed, "You got taken hostage by a twelve-year old?"

"This is why I call you a doofus, Doofus," you sighed.

"Girls mature faster than boys. She's way ahead of where I was at that age," he defended.

"Twelve's the new twenty. Gun, please," she ordered, holding out her hand.

"You know I'm a squeeze and a smile away from makin' you past tense, right?" You cocked a brow, taking off the safety with a click.

"You wouldn't," she scoffed.

"Neither would you," you scoffed back.

The two of you quickly aimed for the sunroof, letting out a shot before returning to position.

"Don't kill me with my own gun!" Tallahassee shouted.

You paid him no mind.

"I like you," you smirked at the girl, impressed.

She let out a small smile at the compliment, before catching herself and going back to normal, "Honk the horn."

"What?" Columbus asked.

"Honk it!"

"Honk the damn horn, Doofus," you groaned.

He quickly honked it, and the other girl stepped out from behind a hay bale, gun drawn.

"Oh, it's your sister...with my gun," he sighed, sticking his hand out the roof and waving, "Hello."

'I'm gonna shoot him before the day's over.'

"Bummer," she sarcastically winced as she came up on the driver's side, gun aimed at Columbus, "Now step away from the vehicle."

"Not if you would like to see your sister's brains on display," you denied, the woman checking the back and seeing that you most definitely had a gun trained on her sister.

Again.

"I take Weirdo's seat, he sits shotgun, and Country goes in the back with you," she offered, turning to you.

You turned to Tally, who looked back at you with a nod.

So you nodded to her, and Columbus got out the car, everyone switching around their seating arrangements.

But you forgot how big this man was, and you were now squished in the back between the twelve-year old adult and the annoyingly charming cowboy.

'Fuck me.'

As soon as Wichita sat down, she turned and pulled a handgun on you.

You quickly switched your target from Little Rock to her, and Tal trained his gun on her as well.

"For fuck's sake, enough! We're being chased by ravenous freaks! Do we not have enough problems?" Columbus exclaimed, turning around to face you all, "Oh, they stole my Hummer. We have trust issues. They piss me off. Get over it! We can't just fucking drive down the road playing I Spy or some shit for hours like five normal-ass Americans?"

He caught his breath, turning back around in his seat.

"Fuck me."

"Whoa," you nodded, shocked.

That's the loudest you'd ever heard him raise his voice.

"I know," he sighed.

"Let me be the mature one here," Tal stated, slowly lowering his gun.

The rest of you carefully followed, and Wichita finally pulled off.

Everyone stayed in wary silence for a long while, until Columbus decided to spark up some conversation.

"So...where are you guys headed?" He asked.

"Pacific Playland," Little Rock answered.

"The amusement park?" Tal cocked a brow.

"Wait, outside LA?" Columbus turned around to face her.

"Yeah, we went there as kids," she smiled.

"That place totally blows," Tal chuckled.

Everyone turned to him with a scolding look, but he shrugged it off, turning to the little girl with a condescending smirk.

"My mind. It's so fun. Just perfect entertainment for the whole family."

"That's country for I'm a fuckin' dementia patient and should be admitted," you pinched the bridge of your nose.

"You act like you're such a spring chicken," he scoffed with a smirk, knowing the comment would get on your nerves.

"Thirty gives me spring chicken status, asshole," you spat, shooting him a sharp glare.

He smiled.

You were pretty when you were mad.

"I went there as a kid, too," Columbus quickly interrupted, not wanting the two of you to embarrass him in from of Wichita, "In fact, this probably counts as off-season."

"Well, did you guys hear? There are no zombies there," Little Rock smiled.

"Yeah, we heard," Tal nodded, turning to her with an air of annoyance, "Uh, y'know what, I may not shoot you, but you have still royally pissed me off, and I'm not going to play with you at Pacific Playland."

The girl looked slightly hurt, and you rolled your eyes, sitting back in your seat with a sigh.

"Don't worry, he grows on you," Columbus assured, turning to Wichita.

"Really?" She sarcastically asked.

"No, he gets worse," you corrected.

"Okay, how about we play the Quiet Game? Yeah? Starting now," she shut down.

And everyone stayed quiet...until Columbus spoke up again.

"Oh, um, I've actually been meaning to ask you. Did you hear anything about Columbus, Ohio?" He asked.

"You never played the Quiet Game?" She asked.

"Sorry," he apologized.

"No? Well, they're playing it in Columbus," she stated, coldly, "It's a total ghost town. It's burned to the ground."

That was fucked.

You cleared your throat, tapping her shoulder with your gun.

She turned to you, and you nodded towards the doofus, who looked on the brink of tears.

"You're Columbus..." she finally got, "I'm sorry. I didn't realize."

He didn't answer for once, and instead opted for the window, taking a deep breath.

She paused for a moment, trying to come up with the right words.

"We'll get you a ride. That way you can take it if you wanna go see for yourself, or find somewhere new," she offered.

He turned to her and gave a thankful nod, the two of them sharing eye contact while you and Tal gave each other knowing looks, wiggling your eyebrows.

'Doofus might get some tail after all.'

𝒛 𝒐 𝒎 𝒃 𝒊 𝒆 𝒍 𝒂 𝒏 𝒅

"Who wants to go first?" Tal asked as the five of you stepped foot on the porch of this Native-American themed rest stop.

Everyone was feeling a little cooped up in the car, so you all decided now would be as good a time as any to stretch your legs.

But living in the apocalypse meant being constantly aware of your surroundings.

And someone had to check things out first.

"Dibs," you smirked, stepping forward.

"After you, Princess," he taunted with a pretend bow.

You rolled your eyes, kicking up a rock from the ground and catching it, tossing it at the small bell hanging from the doorway.

With a loud growl, a zombie suddenly came sprinting out from the back, running straight for you.

Noticing a mallet with tribal paint sitting patiently in a barrel, you grabbed it, smashing the monster right in the face.

It fell over and you were quick to wail on it, not letting up until it's head was completely caved in.

And even then you made sure it was done with a head shot.

Tally let out a long whistle, and you turned back to the group with a proud smile.

You were met with varying different expressions.

Columbus was embarrassed, Wichita and Little Rock were concerned, and Tal was beaming with pride, and a little bit of something else.

"What?" You asked, confused.

"This is why you're my favorite," he chuckled, giving you a firm pat on the shoulder and stepping over the dead body, walking in.

But in all honesty, that rougher than normal pat was the only thing keeping him from tossing you over his shoulder and finding somewhere private.

Since day one, you were a thorn in his side.

A pain in his ass.

You were loud, and opinionated as fuck, and ragged on him any chance you got.

You were cut-throat, and cold, and irritable, and concerning levels of violent.

But you were also funny, and confident to boot, and oh, so fucking sexy it drove him insane.

You were impossibly gorgeous, even while being in the middle of a zombie apocalypse.

Your hair, your skin, your curves, your smile, your hot Jersey accent.

In fact, you looked so good that he'd thought you were at least in your early twenties when he first met you.

Not that he discriminated by age, but such a beautiful and capable woman like yourself deserved find someone else better than him, someone younger than him, someone more your speed.

So until that day came, and he could finally start getting over you, he would press his feelings deep, deep, deep down, until he could no longer notice they were there.

You entered the store with a smile, making a beeline for the snack aisle.

"C'mon, you little bastard. Where are you?" You muttered to yourself with a smile, searching for a fridge.

After speed-walking to the end of the aisle, you found yourself staring at a wall of glass fridges, filled with water and sodas galore.

"There is a god," you beamed, starting to scour for that signature red label and delicious brown tint.

"Why do you wanna find this Coke so bad?" Little Rock asked, walking over to stand next to you.

"'Cause it reminds me of the time before the world went to shit," you answered bluntly, not taking your eyes off the wall.

She nodded, staying quiet as you continued to look.

"Gotcha," you smirked, opening one fridge and grabbing a can, the satisfying crack of it opening scratching a very nice part of your brain.

As you took a rough swig, the little girl looked like she wanted to ask another question.

"Back at the other store, when I pretend to get bit, you got really mad," she started.

You cocked a brow, "Yeah.....and?"

"Was it because something like that happened to you?" She asked, looking up at you with a flicker of guilt.

You sighed, noticing that you'd now have to choose your words carefully.

"Yeah," you nodded, sliding down the glass to take a seat on the floor, "Yeah, it happened to me."

She slowly sat down next to you, pulling her knees up to her chest.

"Do you think...you could tell me about it?" She turned to you, sincerely.

You nodded, deciding now was as good as ever to get three months of angst off your chest.

"The day everything went to hell, I went into my brother's car shop, like I would any other day," you started, looking down at your drink, "Everything was normal 'til around noon, and my brother left for lunch. I had asked him to pick me up a Coke while I hung back to finish up a detail that was running long. But even when I finished he still wasn't back yet..."

You quickly gathered yourself, already feeling your voice about to crack.

And you were not about to start bawling in front of this twelve-year old.

You took a deep breath, "I was washin' my hands, when I started to hear some commotion comin' from outside. And like usual, I paid it no mind. Newark wasn't the greatest city to begin with."

She nodded for you to go on, fully invested.

"But it started to get louder and louder, and it wasn't the usual sounds of scuffles and punches. It was screaming. Bloody-murder type screaming. And loud, monster-like grunting," you continued, staring down at the ground as the sound echoed in your ears.

"I knew better than to go outside and check it out, so I went for the window, picking up an ax off the wall, just in case," your heart beat roughly in your chest, as if you were reliving it right that moment.

"When I looked outside, all I could see was chaos. Neighbors were eatin' neighbors, cars were crashin', and those that were still normal were running around in a huge panic, gettin' taken out left and right."

You shook your head at the next part, taking a swig of your drink.

"And me, bein' dumb and terrified, dropped my weapon, making a loud clang," you let out a painful chuckle, turning to the little girl, "And guess who found their way home?"

Her eyes went wide, and she clutched her knees tighter, already knowing the answer.

"Yup," you nodded, "My brother came running in through the back door, all glassy-eyed and covered in blood."

Little Rock let you take a moment before you started up again, not saying a word.

She felt that if she'd made anything over the peep, it would shatter the surprisingly strong hold you had on your emotions at the moment.

"He ran straight for me, growling and hissing like a fuckin' animal, and I picked up the ax, using the dull side to knock him in the stomach. And he fell over, hitting his head against the pavement. But he was still alive, slightly moving," you continued, taking another swig.

"Finally able to get a good look at him.......I knew he was gone. Chunks of his skin was missing, his shirt was stained red from whatever poor bastard he'd attacked on the way.....and the constant smile I had never seen him without.....was gone."

You stared out at the aisle in front of you, an empty expression on your face.

"I knew it wasn't him anymore.......and I didn't want him to hurt anyone else......so I did what needed to be done," you stated, "His head went rollin' and I booked it for my apartment, bashing whatever came within three feet of me."

You let out an awkward chuckle, "I was lucky I had a wannabe redneck for a dad. I scooped up all the guns I could carry and stole a truck, then got out the city as fast as I could."

Tally, Columbus, and Wichita all shared sorry looks, the three of them having listened to the story right from the beginning.

No wonder you freaked out so much before.

What you went through was fucked, even on Zombieland standards.

Little Rock looked down at her feet, ashamed, almost as if she wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

"I'm so sorry," she apologized, barely above a whisper.

You quickly shook yourself out of it, going back to your normal, Jersey self and flashing her a smile.

"Don't apologize. You were doin' what you had to in order to survive," you assured, standing up and ruffling her hair, "Besides, I didn't tell you the story to make you feel bad, I told you to give clarity. Now we're square."

She looked up at you with a small smile, and you smirked, taking a final swig of your Coke before tossing it somewhere.

Suddenly, you heard something shatter, and Tally howled excitedly.

"Yeah. Come on, break another one," he egged.

You and Little Rock turned to each other with a confused look, before walking over to see what was happening.

Wichita joined you two to watch Columbus push over another vase, an awkward smile on his face.

"Nice," Tally nodded.

Wichita pushed over a cup of drumsticks, and you and Little Rock picked up a snow globe, smashing it on the ground.

Delightful chaos ensued, and after ten minutes of non-stop destruction, the five of you had completely destroyed the store.

Standing at the entrance to admire your work, you suddenly caught a whiff of something.

It was flowery.

Quickly sniffing the air, you found it was coming from Tallahassee.

"Tex..."

"Yes, Princess."

"Why the hell do you smell like petunias?"

He snapped his head over to Columbus, glaring at him so hard that he'd probably burn holes if such a thing was possible.

"I think I'm at fault for that," the boy admitted awkwardly, slowly inching away from the man.

You snickered, resting your arm on Tal's shoulder.

"Keep messin' with him, Doofus, and he'll strike a fault with your head."

𝒛 𝒐 𝒎 𝒃 𝒊 𝒆 𝒍 𝒂 𝒏 𝒅

#tallahassee #tallahassee x reader #zombieland #zombieland x reader

[heretolurkandnothingmore]

WIP Wednesday

It's going so slowly, but it's going! "It" being my obikin fic. (See previous posts here). (See illustrations for this idea here). I finally got myself to work on the wedding scene. Except they don't know the alien tradition they're participating in is, strictly speaking, a marriage. So, this is an out-of-body mind meld experience done purely for tactical advantage*. Enjoy! (Also, is this excerpt too long? It's for science. I'm trying to figure out how much of a scene to post next time.) *a blatant lie

"A… link, you say?"

They sat in front of the Mystic, a middle aged Danaan woman with golden scales and deep dark eyes. At her side, a tiny droid shadowed her speech in unsteady Basic. Her acolyte, a pale-scaled and long-feathered teenager, stared at the Jedi and radiated a mixture of fear and fascination in the Force. The Mystic's aura was radiant. She was obviously powerful.

"It would be like an echo- sorry, a connection device of yours." the old Danaan said.

Anakin barely suppressed a snort. "Except this one would work in your karking caverns," he thought.

"Many of the Danaan share such bonds and speak even when separated. One could be the brink of the Abyss and another in its depths and they'd still hear each other's thoughts."

"Seems… Deep. For a connection." Obi-Wan said. Anakin caught a brief ripple of worry from him from the surface of their bond.

"The joining is perfectly reversible, if that's what you wish to do once your mission is done with." The Mystic continued. "It's a simple ritual it just needs some paint so I can draw- Mithra, what?" The acolyte whispered. "Sigils. That's the word."

"Paint." Obi-Wan scratched his beard. "We'd have to check it for toxicity. If that's allowed."

"Be my guest. It's just minerals."

Mithra bolted somewhere in an unsteady wobbling run and returned with a pot of paint. She waved at the Jedi to go ahead and followed the Mystic's measured steps as the older Danaan left to prepare the necessary tools.

Obi-Wan dipped the very tip of his pinky finger into the thick slurry. The two men waited, cloth at the ready to wipe away the paint if it were to start behaving strangely, but it didn't.

"Just some minerals indeed."

"Then nothing is stopping us from doing the ritual." Anakin said, voice thick with relief and still-lingering tension.

Tunics removed and (in Obi-Wan's case) neatly folded, they sat side by side on the dark flat rock. Obi-Wan breathed steadily, probably already in light meditation. Anakin looked at his pale freckled shoulders and shivered.

"Cold, padawan?"

"A little, and not anymore." Anakin said. It wasn't just cold or just longing that made goosebumps race up his arms, though. It was apprehension. It was fear.

Their connection, grown from the training bond they were never truly willing to sever, had always been a comfort to Anakin. A tether to hold onto in the storms that so often ripped through his mind. But he'd learned to control that connection, to shield his master from the worst of it. It was, in its own way, distant - the two of them always orbiting each other.

This, the "Soul Link" or whatever the Danaans called it, would be different. It would set them on a collision course - not the familiar act of their Force signatures brushing against each other, edge to edge, but a melding. Anakin may have envied the Danaans before, when the Mystic mentioned the tradition of joining, two being like one. Now, the prospect of laying out everything before Obi-Wan filled him with trepidation. He wanted his master's acceptance, his approval, longed to reach deep and feel the intensity that laid beneath the surface of Obi-Wan's tranquil, self-possessed exterior. Yet Anakin knew he'd never get his wish. Baring the core of his soul would only show his glaring weakness, his un-jedi-like passion, his fear. How could Obi-Wan accept him if Anakin couldn't even accept himself? What if, like the Jedi Knight himself at times, Obi-Wan got tired of the noise and the pain and the intensity of Anakin's every waking moment?

Still, it seemed that clinging to foolish hope was his specialty.

The Mystic finally came up to him. The deep blue shimmer of her robes was calming and mesmerizing like the waters of an underground lake. Behind her toddled an acolyte with two pots of paint - slate and cyan. Even further behind, Anakin saw the comical figure of the little translator droid.

"We begin", the Mystic intoned. Her deep voice followed by the droid's tinny echo in Basic. "Your arm, please."

Anakin let her hold his flesh arm as she traced some unknown figure into it. The contrast between rough scales and soft pads of her four fingers was strange. The paint was cold and wet on his skin, and the angle didn't quite let him see what picture the curving lines were making. The air hummed with power.

"It should dry quickly." The Mystic said, apparently satisfied.

"Will the connection cut out if I lose this arm, too?"

"The connection is internal," she gestured at her heart. "It's not just in the mark."

Anakin looked over his newly painted arm, still not touching the paint for fear of smudging it. On it, in a labyrinth of blue lines, there was a circle with complex overcrossing figures. They silhouettes looked familiar even when the cyan speckled around them curved into strange shapes of dots and wings. In fact, they looked like…

"Our lightsabers?" Obi-Wan asked. His mark was finished, too and contorted uncomfortably to look at his shoulder.

"The shapes most familiar to you. Now, you have to say the words and touch upon each other's marks to open-" she said something that made the translator droid let out an unhappy squeak and a small fountain of sparks. "Gates to the mind."

Anakin was about to remark on the powers she must have used to scan their memories for those "shapes most familiar", but before he could speak the Mystic continued.

"Mithra, smack that machine, please, I need it to stop changing my words. The Shining Ones need to repeat what I say in normal language."

"No need for violence," Anakin interjected, "I can just turn him off."

The matter of the droid resolved, the two Jedi settled across from each other, arms outstretched. Anakin silently wished he could have a better excuse to touch his master's bare shoulders.

"Repeat after me," the Mystic said, and the everything blurred. If someone asked Anakin to describe what the ritual was afterwards he wouldn't be able to put it to words. Except maybe this: there was nothing else in the world but the two of them. Not even the sensations tethering him to his body held. All he saw and felt were the shining, sharp points of connection between them, his palm to Obi-Wan's shoulder, Obi-Wan's fingers on Anakin's inner forearm. He distantly heard his own voice saying something. The unfamiliar syllables were heavy on his tongue.

Then he felt it - the tentative, warm touch of his master's Force signature against his own, like light slowly spilling out from the horizon at sunrise. It felt- indescribable. Like safety. Like coming home.

"Go on," he heard a smile in his master's voice. "We have to do this properly."

Anakin slowly let himself open up. The gale of the Cosmic Force rushed through him almost immediately. It brought with it the same background noise of the universe that always battered on his shields and made meditating into a battle. His restless rolling tornado of a mind was spinning out of control again, and Anakin felt vaguely nauseous, as if he was in freefall. He clenched his jaw and himself fall, calling out in his mind for Obi-Wan to catch him.

Suddenly, Anakin was enveloped in the sort of calm he long since forgot how to feel. It was like being a child again, hiding from a desert storm on Tatooine behind the solid whitewashed walls of their home. It was like knowing his mother was waiting for him, ready to erase his worries with a kind word, like finding rest and comfort encircled in her arms. Was this how Obi-Wan felt all the time? This… Serenity?

"Not quite." Came the dry response. "You make sure of that."

Anakin released a brief sense of embarrassed indignation into the blurred space between them.

Maybe this was enough for the ritual, but he couldn't help but reach deeper. That's what he wanted, always: to hold on and never have to let go. The always-aching, possessive part of him called out in horror and despair - and something called back.

With Anakin's every breath, it pulsed. It was the darkness at the bottom of the well. A pulsing threat, a beckoning voice, long-denied but still dangerous. It was his own fear, and someone else's, too. Anakin reached in, one breath and then another passing with him stretching out his energy and trying to pull light and warmth into the void before him. It seemed to work, and Anakin felt as if he were touching hot embers of a fire he'd stoked in an empty fireplace. Soon, the heat turned all-consuming, like a star going supernova, like sunlight on the surface of the Sun. It melted away the last of what separated the two Force signatures. He wasn't sure where the separation between them began anymore. Any distinction seemed meaningless. He was but a part of them. They inhaled.

They were basking in the sunshine of the bond. Thoughts flittered past like clouds on the horizon, impossibly distant. Their heartbeat was distant thunder.

It was not to last, a part of them started pulling away. The rest, him, held on, despite the pain and ecstasy of being united and separated, all at once.

"Anakin." came a breath through their link.

Warmed, then singed, then almost seared by the flame, \he\ held on greedily, trying to plunge deeper. Was someone calling him?

"Anakin!" a voice called out. The world abruptly shifted into place, like a ship coming out of hyperspace.

Anakin remembered he had ears, and fingers that clenched white-knuckled into someone's firm shoulder. Obi-Wan's shoulder. Oh. He let go and winced at the blooming reddened impressions left behind on the skin.

"Oh. Sorry, Master, I-"

Obi-Wan waved him off. The older Jedi looked as dazed as Anakin felt. He cleared his throat.

"I think we did it."

"You did." the Mystic sighed. "Very well."

The two men didn't turn to look at her, still to shaken by the experience of the bond.

"Back to the land of the living?" Anakin huffed. The guilt weighed heavy on him. Was he too much?

"You're looking a little pale for 'living'." Obi-Wan deadpanned.

"Did you two know you're speaking with your thoughts?" the Mystic intoned, amused. Her voice rung in the air as if it really did just break a long silence.

They looked at each other.

"We are?"

"You will figure out the difference between tongue and mind soon. Now, go. You haven't much time to get used to the Link."

They went to grab their robes, arms colliding awkwardly. Anakin picked up a sash, realized it wasn't his and saw Obi-Wan staring, confused, at the bundle of dark cloth in his hands. They exchanged grins and swapped items.

"Thank you, Mystic." Obi-Wan called out, once they were outfitted.

She just nodded and turned away to yell after the acolyte, who'd long since toddled away somewhere with the paint.

"Mithra, where did you put that damn ceremonial cloth again?"

The two Jedi walked the corridors of the Danaan temple together, disconcerted, the lines between them still blurry. Anakin basked in the calm warmth of Obi-Wan's Force signature still not quite separated from his. What did they just stumble into? If the link was so strong, what would severing it do to them? It seemed Obi-Wan shared some of his thoughts.

"Seems almost a pity for us to break it after the mission."

"Right. I thought you'd say it's too big of an attachment to have."

"I would." Obi-Wan sighed. "It is."

#hertie's purple prose #obikin #my wips #current wip

[mcl4r3n]

dando + 2? 👀

“Why are you mad?” “I’m not mad, I just think you can choose better people to kiss.”

This got way longer than I intended so I'm putting this under the cut!

List of prompts here :3

---

Daniel doesn't get Lando sometimes. Given, it's tough to adjust to new teammates. But it's been six months of being partnered up with Lando and Daniel still keeps feeling like all he does is take missteps around him.

He thought that they were getting somewhere, honestly. He's done his best. Is it jarring to not be instant friends with Lando? Yeah, fuck, he can admit that to himself.

But he thought that doing things like trying to invite him out for dinner, just—fucking, finding common ground considering that Daniel doesn't give a flying rat's ass about golf or gaming, would maybe help some.

It's bad enough that he can't get to grips with the car, and that his race engineer can barely remember his fucking name most days. he needs someone in his corner, and for some reason, his brain has decided to latch on to the one person who seems most adamant about not wanting to be his friend.

The thing is that this dinner, where he's taken Lando to one of his favorite little spots in Monaco to celebrate Lando's podium, was going along pretty nicely up until just a minute ago.

He decided early on that maybe coming out to Lando would help put him in his good graces—to show that he trusts him, to show something there was more to Daniel than just joking around and racing, maybe.

So he tells Lando a few little anecdotes about his attempts at dating since Lando asked, and he's in the middle of talking about this one guy who, well, hasn't been that great, really, but he's nice enough, even if he sometimes gives Daniel shit for his very busy schedule.

(The NDA Blake had to draw up for him had to be airtight. It was a whole thing.)

But now Lando's got this pinched expression on his face, and Daniel kind of breaks.

"Okay, Norris Lando, what gives?" Daniel finally asks.

It feels like he's about to fall apart, like every little hurt he's squirreled away inside the box in his head marked "do not open" is about to explode.

"Are you—like, is all of this making you uncomfortable? Why are you mad?” Daniel asks. He feels a little helpless, which is never a feeling he enjoys.

Lando's expression shifts, his eyebrows shooting up.

"What?"

Daniel puts his beer down, sighs, rests his forehead on his hand. he's so tired, all of a sudden. It's been a shit season, a shit year, and all he wanted to do was be Lando's fucking friend.

"You're—you're looking at me like—mate, I don't even know. You asked me about my dating life and so I decided to share it with you and now you're looking at me like I pissed in your drink, so what fucking gives? Why are you mad at me?"

Lando's face colours, and then he looks away. Daniel watches him, watches the way his breathing changes, the way the blush creeps high onto his cheeks.

“I’m not mad," Lando says quietly. He fiddles with the straw in his iced tea, already so diluted all the ice has gone. "I just think you can choose better people to kiss.”

"Oh yeah, why, are you offering?" Daniels asks before he can stop himself. He's kind of had it with Lando. Had it with the attitude and the cold shoulders and the fucking—whatever this is.

Lando looks at him sharply, then, before he frowns, and then looks away again.

"I—" he starts. He swallows. He takes a shuddering breath.

Daniel's heart hammers an entire drumbeat against his ribcage. He's not quite sure what's happening here, but his body's decided that it's high time to panic.

"Just forget about it," Lando says. "Please, can we just forget about it—"

"No, what—mate, I don't know what the fuck is going on right now, and I don't understand what you have against me, just fucking talk to me, it's all I've wanted you to do all year," Daniel finally says.

He exhales. He can't believe that this is all boiling over now.

They were supposed to be celebrating Lando's P3. Daniel swallowed his pride to take him out, instead of staying at home to mope around over his P12 finish.

And finally, Lando looks at him again and his eyes are pleading.

"I'm—I'm sorry, DR," he says quietly. "I'm sorry I've been a cunt."

Daniel lets out a little tch between his teeth. He's not exactly sure what else there is to say, after that.

"It's—you don't know how hard it is to be in your shadow, and to like you so much," Lando says. Which. What?

What the fuck?

"Like me? Coulda fooled me there, mate."

Lando's picked up the paper that his straw was sheathed in earlier and now he's twisting it over and over in his fingers like a nervous tick.

"I like you more than you can even imagine, Danny," Lando replies, his eyes downcast. "I've been trying to—fix it. Stop it. So I've just. . . sort of swung in the opposite direction to try to—" he shrugs, and Daniel's entire body feels like it's about to dissolve into ash. "To get over you. But hearing you just fucking—settling like that when—when there are so many other people who could treat you well. It just."

Lando swallows audibly, and finally looks up.

"I'd never give you shit for your busy schedule," he continues. "But then again, we'd have the same one so, it wouldn't be an issue. Y'know. In a hypothetical situation where you did actually see me as more than just—" Lando waves his hand around aimlessly in the air. "Whatever. A kid. Your teammate."

Daniel feels completely unmoored, but also like fucking laughing at the ridiculousness of this entire conversation.

"You—you're telling me you like me? Like, like that? You've spent most of this year being prickly and mean and now you're telling me you like me, and you also want me to stop seeing you like a kid?"

Lando looks so caught out at that, so shocked by it, that Daniel knows he needs to fix this before he screws up even worse.

He reaches out and takes Lando's wrist in his hands, feels the hummingbird pulse there, ten kilometers a minute. Warm, of course, just like how Daniel feels right now.

"Hey, hey," Daniel says. "Can we maybe start with friends first, and see where that takes us?"

His heart feels like a hummingbird too, now.

Lando gives him a small, hesitant smile. "You don't hate me?"

Daniel feels every tense muscle leave him.

"Of course not," Daniel replies, relief and hope blooming inside his chest now. "Couldn't even if I tried, and boy, did I try. Actually I think you were better at that than I was, by the looks of it."

Lando kicks him under the table, but Daniel barely feels it. He just grins instead, and true enough, Lando smiles back.

#man what is this #what did i do here #IM SORRY KAY #kay tag #dando #dr3 #ln4 #moss fic #f1 drabbles #my fic

[wickedlittleoz]

If you're taking requests, I had a Shimadacest concept. Post-recall Genji is considering trying to reconnect with Hanzo. Soldier 76 finds out and encourages Genji to find him. This assumes Jack and Gabriel were in love, and Jack thinks that even if it's dangerous, some people are too important to leave behind. He also almost got killed by his man, after all. Genji finds Hanzo and they kiss and etc. Also, since I'm bad with sad endings, maybe it could imply that Jack and Gabe get back together.

hi anon, thank you for reaching out! and what a lovely idea!! you surprised me by including r76 in this request because i've never really written it, but i do love them and their dynamic

i hope you enjoy this one and please feel free to send more anytime! <3

-

It’s just before sunrise.

Genji’s steps are feather-light in the residual darkness. If he closes his eyes, the rocky Gibraltar coast could be Hanamura, and he’s dancing along the palace walls to reach the main house after a night out with his friends.

When he lands in the temple, breathless, cold and giddy, he knows who’ll be waiting for him. Stern, disappointed, but glad to see him back home and alive.

It’s… Soldier 76?

Genji blinks out of his reverie. This isn’t what he expected.

To be fair, he didn’t quite expect to find Hanzo here, either. That was just his mind playing tricks on him, which it has done for days now; he’s having trouble adjusting to life under Overwatch again and his thoughts keep him awake at night with memories of times before.

But Jack frowns, probably just as surprised to see him here in the middle of the night, so Genji waves awkwardly. Too late to turn around and act like he was never here.

“Morning,” he pipes, standing a respectful couple steps away from the other man.

“Genji,” Jack nods towards him once before turning his face back to the sea.

It’s very obvious that he wants to be left alone with his thoughts, which is what Genji had been hoping for as well. So, quietly he takes one, two steps back, until Jack looks at him again and says, “Something keeping you up?”

Genji admires Jack for a number of things, the good he’s done, all that he represents. But this open invitation is unexpected and, frankly, a little out of character for the very strict, cold and stoic soldier. Maybe all that talk from Angela about not bottling up feelings is finally getting across to him.

So he smiles at the man and nods, approaches him once more and sits beside him, drawing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. “Yes,” Genji admits easily. “I never thought I’d be back here… Haven’t gotten used to the idea, yet.”

“Me too, kid,” Jack breathes out, something heavy in his voice.

A gentle silence falls over the two figures as the sun begins its climb somewhere behind them, painting the clouds in hues of purples and blues. Genji sighs and his eyes slide shut, and once again he’s in Hanamura, watching the sunrise from the window in Hanzo’s bedroom. They were up all night, but Genji isn’t tired; he feels elated with love and joy, and all the good things Hanzo fills his spirits with.

Beside him Hanzo heaves a long breath and says, in Jack’s voice, “Are you sure that’s everything?”

Genji blinks himself back to Gibraltar again. Jack is avoiding his eyes, pointedly, and there’s some hesitance in his tone, like he isn’t sure he’s allowed that question. Which, of course he is; they are, all of them, friends here.

“No.” Genji smiles and somewhere an owl hoots the arrival of morning. “I miss him,” he says simply, because it is simple.

Something of a grimace tugs the corner of Jack’s mouth before he hides his face and the smallest of voices reaches Genji from over his shoulder, “Yeah, kid… Me too.”

It’s an odd thing to hear. Of course back in the days of Blackwatch, before the fall and the hurt, everyone knew Jack and Gabriel were together. But they were always very discreet about it; not a single soul could claim to have ever witnessed any PDA from the two. To this day they don’t talk about Reyes in Morrison’s presence. Ever. It’s like the man never existed.

Yet Genji knows it’s Gabe they’re talking about here. What he doesn’t know is why he’s being trusted with so much confidentiality. But he’s not complaining. They’re building somewhat of a bridge here and he’s proud of his friend for opening up.

It’s a long while before they exchange any more words. The sun bleeds over the coast and fills the sky with oranges and pinks, and sits tall and proud above them. Genji soaks in the warmth like a cat, eyes shut and nose itching slightly with the change in temperature.

People are waking up and he hears little noises of daily routine here and there, now. Jack rises to his feet, dusts off his pants, and offers Genji a hand. His expression is impassive when they stand face to face.

“Maybe,” he starts, eyes lost somewhere behind Genji’s shoulder. “Some people are too important to be left behind. Somewhere out there your brother is alive.”

He slaps Genji’s back twice and heads towards the bedrooms. When Genji finally manages to speak, he isn’t sure Jack even hears his response of, “So is Gabe.”

The conversation lingers in Genji’s thoughts for days, especially Jack’s words about not leaving behind people we love. At this point it’s been ten years since he and Hanzo parted ways. He’s been through Blackwatch, he’s been to Nepal, and now he’s back to Overwatch. He’s learned about the world and himself, and so much has changed.

The one thing that hasn’t is how much he loves and misses Hanzo.

So it’s the tenth anniversary of his ‘death’ and Genji travels to Hanamura, finds his brother, tells him the truth. Offers a hand and the tools with which to fix their relationship.

And it doesn’t go well.

The funny part is that the castle had been exactly as he remembered, as if no time at all had passed. Hanzo and Genji, on the other hand, were far from the same.

“Give him some time,” Zenyatta says on the flight back to Gibraltar. “You’ve taken the first and hardest step. When he’s ready, he’ll take his own.”

But even though it’s taken him a decade to come to terms with how much he feels incomplete without Hanzo at his side (not the body that he lost or the good life taken from his hands, nor the family or the clan; Hanzo is the missing piece), the days that follow their reunion seem to take forever.

Until once again it’s night and he’s tip-toeing around the base, a blanket of stars above his head while the new moon shies away from sight, and he feels it. An energy shift. Someone powerful somewhere near, someone whose aura somewhat resembles Genji’s own, and he’s drawn to it.

His eyes fill with tears before Hanzo even steps up to him. For a whole minute they stand, staring at each other, the beauty of the star-lit coast entirely lost to the shine of familiar eyes. Genji leaps at him and Hanzo holds his weight, arms tight around his waist, and when their lips meet once more it’s heaven and hell and the universe rearranging until it clicks, until everything is back where it belongs, and finally life makes sense again.

“You broke in?” He asks, though his face is buried in the curve of Hanzo’s neck, so he only feels the nod of response. Hanzo’s skin smells of sweat and incense and that musk that is only his, and that makes Genji’s heart swell with nostalgia and affection.

“You could’ve told me you were coming,” he says, pulling back with a smile. His fingers dance over Hanzo’s face, like he can’t get enough of touching him and heaven knows if he doesn’t keep his hands on Hanzo he might disappear again. 

“You surprised me the other night,” Hanzo’s voice rumbles like an earthquake against Genji’s chest, and he’d missed it so much. “I wanted to return the favor.”

The kiss is soft and sweet, unhurried, and Genji already knows the answer to the question he sheepishly asks next, if only to hear it, if only because he needs the confirmation,

“Stay with me?” Tiny voice; he feels even tinier in Hanzo’s arms.

“For as long as you’ll have me,” and he’s not lying, Genji can tell, he always could, he knows Hanzo better than he knows himself, probably, he–

“–Love you,” he sobs against Hanzo’s lips. “I’m sorry it took me so long–”

“Don’t be,” Hanzo coos gently, breath warm like the sun over Genji’s face. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

“Don’t be,” Genji mimics and both crack into wet smiles.

The night is young, yet. Genji feels even younger, brasher, sneaking Hanzo into his bedroom, giggling like a schoolgirl once the door is shut and locked behind them. And when morning rises, he’s at the window once more, Hanzo awake on the bed, watching him with eyes full of love and wonder, and he might finally leave Hanamura in the past, where it belongs, because now they’re making new memories in a new home.

It’s Hanzo’s first simulation practice since joining Overwatch. Genji decided it was enough pressure without his presence in the field, and let Winston, Cassidy and Ana guide him through it. He’s standing in the control room, proudly watching as his brother dives through waves of holographic omnics, taking them down with ease.

The door hisses open and someone steps up to him. He recognizes the weight of combat boots before Jack comes into his peripheral vision. They haven’t spoken privately since that morning by the rocks though Genji feels like he owes Jack some thank-yous. Days have just not been long enough now that Hanzo is here and there’s so much catching up to do.

“He’s good,” Jack says as a way of starting a conversation. “I’m not surprised.”

Genji nods as a proud smile takes over his face, “We were trained to be the best.”

He remembers long, sweltering days with Asa and numerous other trainers, and how dedicated Hanzo always was.

“Jack, listen,” Genji turns to him after a moment of silence.

But the man raises a dismissive hand towards him and softens into what could be considered a smile – though it’s rare enough coming from him.

“No, Shimada,” he says as that hand lowers onto Genji’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

Genji doesn’t know what to make of that. But before he can ask, Jack’s phone begins to ring and when he pulls it out of his pocket, Genji’s almost sure that the picture that comes up with the call is none other than Gabriel Reyes himself. But Jack quickly turns the screen away from him.

“Keep up the good work, soldier,” he says to Genji before stepping out of the room to take the call.

He’s left staring at the door until a familiar roar breaks the bubble of his shock and surprise. He glances back at the screen as Hanzo’s dragons burn through a horde of enemies.

A smile creeps up on him. Maybe Hanzo and him aren’t the same anymore, and Jack and Gabe aren’t either, but that’s the beauty of love, he thinks. It can adapt and forgive, and it never fully goes away.

#asks #anon #my fics #shimadacest #genzo #hangen #genhan #r76 #reaper76 #i'm sorry if jack sounds too ooc here i've never written anything with him before #but gosh if this request didn't just make my sunday afternoon an absolute delight

[skyberia]

some "behind the scenes" stuff from this comic (read as: wips and assorted thoughts)

SOME BACKSTORY: i was halfheartedly playing through strikers after finishing p5r. the fact that akechi's not even mentioned in that whole game made me sad. the fact that akechi stops being mentioned basically the moment he dies in p5 vanilla makes me sad. i had thoughts. so i decided to make a comic about it

i wrote down the entirety of the script for this while in a complete haze listening to third eye by florence + the machine on repeat for an hour straight. that song has nothing to do with anything the comic is about. or with either of the characters involved. i can't explain my thought process there.

(the 'official' title of the comic is "a ghost amongst the living (consequences of a cognitive death.)" as a sort of tribute to that song, even though it has, again, nothing to do with what the comic is about)

THE SCRIPT: the numbers correlate to text bubbles on my thumbnails (see next). i also put it on discord so i could more easily see it/edit from either my phone or computer, which i don't think is the MOST efficient or professional way to go about doing this, but

you may notice this is a little bit different from the text on the final product. this is because. i changed some things while typing it out for the final thing. i don't know what else to tell you.

i did reach a point where i had read these same words over and over so much that i started questioning if anything i wrote made sense and if i even knew how to speak english correctly. i'd like to thank my friends for reassuring me that some of my wording was ok, and also google because every time i asked "is that even a thing people say" i would just plug it on there to try to figure it out (because i was too embarrassed to ask anyone to read over it)

THE THUMBNAILS: just a rough idea of panelling and where to put text bubbles and such. this took fucking forever. comics are hard. nobody ever tells you this (<- something i said about like 10 times to the same people while making this)

THE SKETCHES: basically grabbing the thumbnails and making them into an actual thing i can draw onto. also getting all the text laid out-- i don't think that's entirely necessary at this point but i was just excited to see it all laid out and being able to read it

(shoutout to my friend sophie for making the font i used for this/use for all my longer comics. she's an icon and a legend and has really nice handwriting)

you may notice that page 9 is completely different from the thumbnails. this is because i was tired by the time i got to that part in planning and i paid for it. brainstorming & reworking that page took me an entire day. comics are HARD. I AM TELLING YOU THIS

page 6 also changed by the time i got around to lining it because i decided that it sucked and i hated it. reworking that into something more acceptable also took me about half a day. i'm happy with how it turned out though, and glad that i no longer have the issue of having a flop ass page in the middle of this

THE PROCESS: was actually quite straightforward after that, just doing the lines and the like. but i wanted to share how i did the backgrounds. i grabbed a bunch of in-game screenshots i took for reference and just plugged them through csp's "artistic > lines only" filter and just traced over that

i love you art shortcuts that make my life & ability to make yaoi comics easier

(if you're curious too here's all the screenshots i took & was keeping on the side for reference)

ETC: some miscellaneous thoughts, because if you've made it all the way through this then you probably don't have anything better to do anyway:

all in all this took two weeks. script was written on the 11th, thumbnails were done on the 14th, sketches were done on the 17th, lining on the 24th, aaand colouring took me just one day. comics are HARD and TAKE TIME. NOBODY TELLS YOU THIS!!!!!

i actually started getting wrist pain somewhere along the 2nd day of lining/3rd page. that step of the process probably took longer than it otherwise would because i had to keep taking breaks 2 ensure i wouldn't break my hand completely -_-

my sanity throughout the lining process was only ensured by listening to a frankly stupid amount of jpop. thank you wednesday campanella and mrs. green apple

i think my favourite page is page 3. i like how the panels get crooked when akechi puts the detective prince persona on, i like how akira deadpans (in a straightened panel) to cut him off. also in order to get the hand right in the first panel i did the hair twirling motion myself and ended up hitting myself in the eye with my own hair. it was worth it though

IN CONCLUSION: i think they went a bit too hard with the yaoi fanservice in persona 5 royal

#misc #this is so long lmfao sorry i'm proud of what i made & i have a lot 2 say #i hope at least someone finds it interesting. if not. well this was entirely self indulgent so it's no biggie

[iwanncry]

I Just Want To Go Home ( Madness Combat x Child! Reader) P.t 2

(( AGAIN THIS IS COMPLETELY PLATONIC, I WILL NEVER EVER INCLUDE P3D0 SHIT IN HERE))

((the reader is gender-neutral so all folks can enjoy!))

((TW: madness combat and abandonment))

______________________________________________________________

You wake up somewhere you don't exactly recognize, you feel weak and still very tired.

Rubbing your eyes, you notice you're not in the alleyway, you must've passed out due to fear.

"Wait..where even am I..??"

You Panic but not loud enough to draw attention to yourself. In the middle of freaking out, a giant man comes around the corner. and needless to say, you froze just upon seeing him.

" Ah, goodie you're awake!" he said, sounding way friendlier than you expected. It caught you off guard..just a bit.

"w-who...what..-" before you could ask the man who or what he is, the Giant interrupts you and kneels down to get a good look at you and your bandages

" Little one, you can call me Skinner, and don't you worry you're in great hands!"

you get to take in Skinner's details since the lighting wasn't great and his height.

you mentally shudder and you decide it's best not to piss him off.

after Skinner gave you a thumbs up he left the room, you could hear him talking to someone but you try to listen and at least try to identify the voice the mammoth is talking to but you give up and lay back down.

" how long am I going to be here for..? "

you try to dig into your memories trying to find out how you even got separated from both your parents in the first place, but strangely you can't.

you quickly feel yourself getting overwhelmed, the last thing you remember before getting separated from them was your mother driving the car she had managed to steal, and both of your parents were talking about something to do with you, but you were too tired to eavesdrop, sleep overtook you and you saw nothing but darkness. the next thing you know, you opened your eyes they were gone and you were laying on the side of the road...

wait...

did they throw you on the side of the road and drive off?!

you couldn't belive it, did they leave you out there to die?

You covered your mouth as soon as you felt tears sting your eyes and sobbed your hands. trying your best not o be too loud, you just couldn't help it, it hurt so bad.

multiple footsteps approach the area you currently laying in, you quickly wipe the tears from your eyes. you try your best to mask your pain behind some sort of poker face, hopefully, you can blame the red eyes for tiredness.

You see two men and one GIANT skinner come through the wide entrance.

"ah..your awake." a man with a mask said, he had a pretty deep and raspy voice. He also had a pretty cool mohawk, it had streaks of white hairs which confused you a bit because this man didn't look like he was over the age of 50 but it's probably due to stress.

His mask had red lenses and the mask had a weird angry look and you could see bandages wrapped over his mouth.

he wore a grey shirt with a black coat on top and black pants and shoes.

you looked at the other man that came with him you noticed the other one was Sanford due to his name on his dog tag hanging around his neck.

you look up at skinner and as soon as you made eye contact with him he quickly gave you a smile and a little wave. (well you..think it was a smile since his eyes were squinting)

the masked man revealed that his 'name' was 2Bdammned and asked you a bunch of personal questions regarding your race, ethnicity, date of birth, and where you were born.

all of these questions made you a tad bit uncomfy but you told him anyways.

after 2B left you to turn to Sanford and tilted your head at him, he seemed to get the memo and sat right next to you.

"hey chucklehead, how are you feeling?"

"awful, but I'm hanging on" you respond

Sanford nods and puts his hand on your head.

"Your strong y'know that, right? It's not every day I see a kid your age still kicking in Nevada."

he gets up from the seat and you take time to take in his words, it almost made you start crying again.

"take care kiddo, get some sleep we'll talk about your situation tomorrow"

you nod and get comfortable and drifted off to a nice slumber with a visible smile on your face.

______________________________________________________________

OH MY GOD NEW FATHER FIGURE???/hj

I'm so sorry this took so long to come out I was so busy with school and my mental health hasn't been the best, but I felt way too guilty to not post this and just leave it in drafts.

I do apologize if there are spelling errors '_'

I hope you enjoyed part 2 ^^

#madness combat #fanfic #madness combat x reader #platonic #child!reader #imagines #prompts #holy shit i love this