#better tag that huh. yeah sorry i put half the post in the tags again GOD i should make an actual Lola Rose post | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

asset35-maya · 3 years

Note

I am sleepy but I gotta make a request before the busy tomorrow so 2 things on my mind! Sleepy and the 'oh my god they were roomates' vine xD with any characters and aus I love everything you write anyways xD Happy timezones and best vibes your way >^<!! 💖💞💕💕

Oh my god, they were roommates…

“The rental market in Detroit is absolute shit! How dare these bloodsuckers charge such high rates for the most under-developed properties! This city’s going to the dogs!”

“Uh-huh.”

“You have to pay your own weight in gold just to live in a shoebox for a year. Nonsense!”

“Uh…”

“Are you even listening to me, Tina!

Tina?

Goddamnit Tina!”

Gavin thumped his fist on her desk, but Tina’s eyes barely flicked up from her phone.

“Oh my god, you sound like my grandpa…”

Gavin turned red and his brain buzzed with a thousand colourful retorts. He was just about to pick one when Tina stopped scrolling and turned her phone screen towards him.

CYBERSCALIA @ NEW JERICHO

The suburban paradise for executive androids and humans alike. Located 25 minutes drive from downtown Detroit, with a full amenities.

Gavin’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. He balked at her.

“You’re joking? How could I possibly…?”

“Get with the times, boomer…”

Tina lazily skimmed her thumb over the screen. The webpage promised plenty of greenery, good infrastructure and modest but spacious rooms. The extremely reasonable price tag was Gavin’s dream come true. He’d spent weeks apartment hunting in the wake of an early lease termination by his cantankerous landlord. Gavin knew he’d never find a better deal.

“Shit, this is so good, T! Why the phck does it have to be in that- that place!”

His friend arched a sceptical eyebrow.

“What place?”

“The Tincan ghetto!”

Tina smacked him on the arm. None too gently.

“It’s subsided public housing located in an android-friendly estate… because they’re the ones that need it most right now. And frankly, you seem to be in just as much need, so you should really get off that high horse.”

“Fine, fine. You’re right. I should seriously consider this place, even if my neighbours are gonna have more in common with my car than me. But damn, it seems a little too good to be true. There’s probably some fine print, hidden costs that’ll come out later.”

“Hmm… let’s see…”

Tina scrolled further and then let out a half-laugh. She held her phone up again.

“Nothing shady about the rates, but there is something you should know…”

At the risk of being called old again, Gavin squinted at the screen and read aloud.

“Bearing in mind the founding principles of New Jericho, all human occupants may only apply for tenancy in co-habitation with at least one android citizen of the United States of- JESUS PHCKING CHRIST! Absolutely not! I am not going to live with a plastic prick!”

Gavin had to get through half a bottle of wine before he could bear to scroll through the rental listings. Unlike other humans who had happily moved into New Jericho with their android friends or partners, he had to find an android who was also looking for a flatmate.

Some listings came from ardent supporters of Markus. These were the androids who wanted to ease the post-revolution transition by reaching out to humans. Some listings were put up by the android equivalent of frat boys. These individuals were clearly looking for someone on the fringes of human society, someone who could show them a good (if not illegal) time.

Other posts came from eccentric androids who craved company but had likely been rejected by their own kind. Gavin felt a strange twisting sensation, almost like pity, when he came across a post written entirely in third person by someone called Ralph.

He had almost given up hope when he came across a simple little listing for a two bedroom apartment in Cyberscalia.

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87: Seeking a neat, self-sufficient co-renter. Human or android, no preference. I spend most of my time working and will be out of your way for the better part of the day. I only ask for silence during my nighttime stasis cycles, timely payment of dues and upkeep of cleanliness.

Gavin sighed in relief.

“Your room is the first door on the left, mine is the second. The bathroom, laundry and kitchenette are shared, as is the living room. I scarcely find use for the latter, so you need not worry about my intruding on any of your social gatherings, or vice versa. As long as you adhere to the terms of the agreement, our paths will not cross much.”

The tall, stiff-necked android dropped a set of keys, both mechanical and digital, into Gavin’s open palm.

“Er thanks.. RK… sorry I forgot your full model number…”

“You may call me Nines. Although, I’d rather you didn’t call me much of anything. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

In a swish of black fabric, the android turned on his heel and disappeared into his room. Two rapid clicks indicated the shutting and locking of his door.

Gavin sighed and looked around the open-plan living room. It was nothing fancy, but it was far beyond any of the other properties he’d viewed in weeks of unsuccessful house-hunting.

He sat down on the simple black couch with a huff and contemplated his situation. He’d ended up where he’d truly never expected to go, but objectively speaking, things were good… barring the high-handed manner of his robot flatmate, but who gave a shit about that.

He pulled out his phone to text Tina his thanks.

“I can’t! I refuse to! It is a violation of my personal ethics and I will simply not take this assignment any further. Good day to you sir!”

Gavin nearly dropped his bowl of cereal one morning when his roommate burst out of his door and rushed into the open balcony.

He hadn’t seen Nines in days, which was perfectly normal. The android came and went at odd hours and made hardly any noise. It was almost like living alone. The only reminder of Nines’ presence was the sight of several dark shirts and trousers regularly hung out to dry on the rack above the washing machine.

Gavin set his bowl down and watched the android tightly grip the bars of the railing and take several unnecessary breaths to calm down. He’d seen deviant colleagues express emotion many times before, but this was the first time he witnessed such a potent mixture of rage and sorrow from a synthetic being.

Out of empathy, but mostly curiosity, Gavin approached cautiously.

“Hey Nines… is everything alright…?”

There was no response for several moments. Then Nines turned around with a grimace and hands held upwards in a placating gesture.

“I apologise for the disturbance. It was hypocritical of me to disrupt the very peace and quiet I demand of you.”

“Uh… no worries…? Are you okay?”

There was a flash of steel blue eyes.

Gavin kicked himself mentally as he realised too late that he’d broached uncharted territory. Their interactions didn’t extend beyond curt nods on the rare occasion they found each other in the same space. It was almost as if Nines engineered the lack of contact, which wouldn’t surprise Gavin at all if it were the case.

“I’m fine. I merely experienced some frustration with my work.”

Perhaps it was boredom, perhaps it was his usual lack of self-preservative instinct… Gavin threw caution to the winds.

“What do you actually do?”

Nines’ expression remained stoic but his LED went through a spectacular series of colours and flashes. His next words were reluctant.

“I’m a private investigator.”

“Oh shit! I’m actually a cop.”

Gavin pointed dumbly at himself and then let his hand drop when he saw absolutely no surprise cross the android’s face.

“I know. That’s why I let you stay with me.”

“For safety?”

“Certainly not for your fashion sense.”

“Wow okay, I didn’t think I’d be much protection for a big scary droid like you.”

Nines hummed dismissively and started to move out of the balcony, body language fully indicating the end of the conversation.

Unable to help himself for some strange reason, Gavin blurted out another ill-advised question.

“What pissed you off so much?”

Nines paused halfway through side-stepping the human. A thrill went through Gavin at the shards of ice he observed for the first time up close in Nines’ irises.

“If I tell you, will you promise to stop asking pointless questions?”

Gavin nodded earnestly, and frankly… rather foolishly.

“I helped a client gather evidence to initiate divorce proceedings on the grounds of infidelity. I provided ample photo and video evidence for his lawyers to work with. Now they want me to keep following the spouse to capture more details that could gear any future settlement in his favour.”

“So what’s your problem?”

“They’re offering me an incredible amount of cash to follow her 24/7. To stake out her workplace, her gym, her parent’s home. They want me to crouch under the window of the bedroom where her children sleep. I can do a lot of things, but not that. It’s deeply insulting that they even asked. That’s why I was so… pissed.”

Nines slipped past and was nearly back to his bedroom when Gavin spoke.

“I respect that.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I know, but for real though, I think ethics are important in our line of work. Not just because of we need morals or a sense of right or wrong blablabla, but because we need… clarity.”

Silence floated through the hallway as Nines paused with a hand on his doorframe.

“Clarity?”

“Yeah, like a sense of direction. We don’t just take cases right-left-centre because they make us money. I mean, we could, and people do… but they never become specialists or experts of any kind. You gotta strategise if you want a career. Ethics helps with that. I think…”

Gavin wasn’t sure what made him say any of that. He was neither one for small talk, nor a man of many words… but something about Nines prompted that unusual level of introspective discourse.

“Sorry that was weird. Never mind.”

“That was actually… very astute.”

Their eyes met and Gavin could’ve sworn he saw the hint of a smile.

“It’s good to see that not all humans are as one-dimensional as I thought.”

The door clicked shut, but there was no locking sound.

Since the morning of Nines’ uncharacteristic outburst, the frequency of their encounters in the common areas of the apartment increased. Wordless nods became hellos, and hellos eventually became full sentences.

Not that he’d admit it, Gavin actually looked forward to enquiring about the android’s day and the cases he was working on. It was utterly fascinating to hear about legal investigations without the constraints of police procedure.

For his part, Nines would share as much as he had the patience to, before disappearing into the confines of his room. Though the time he spent outside steadily increased every day.

Another morning, while Gavin was making his coffee, Nines emerged from his room, still in his pyjamas and looking as livid as he had the time before. Gavin had never seen him in anything but crisply ironed businesswear. Before he could voice any concern, Nines stiffly asked Gavin to keep a lookout for a homicide suspect.

He nodded and immediately reached for his phone to text the sergeant on duty at his station. By midday, there was an arrest.

That evening, when Gavin settled in front of the TV with his usual glass of wine, he heard the familiar sound of Nines’ door opening. The couch dipped beside him.

“Thank you.”

“Just did my job. I should thank you for the tip.”

“Hmm.”

Gavin chanced a glance at his roommate, and found him looking right back.

“What?”

“Nothing… I just had the realisation that much of my work is impotent without the authority and means to take any kind of action.”

The sitcom began to play and Gavin thumbed the remote to reduce the volume.

“Takes all kinds to keep the streets clean. PIs can do things cops can’t. We rely on guys like you for intel all the time, you know.”

“I know.”

No words were exchanged for a while thereafter. Gavin found himself unable to focus on the TV show with all the brooding energy emanating from his right.

“If you feel like being a private eye doesn’t make enough of a difference, then why didn’t you… um… you know…”

“Join law enforcement?”

“Yup.”

“Plenty of my fellow androids have done so. I know for a fact that my predecessor model chose to remain there. You might know him.”

“Connor? Yes. Very annoying.”

“He is, isn’t he?”

“Totally. But why didn’t you join too? You’d be brilliant on the Force.”

“My skillset is certainly well-suited, but I didn’t want to become another puppet of the state.”

Gavin really didn’t know what to say to that. He nodded uncertainly and looked back at the television. He wasn’t sure why Nines was suddenly this social.

“What are you… watching?”

Androids could scan and detect just about anything in the world, so there had to be something else to the question. Gavin, strangely, was happy to oblige.

Nines made an appearance every evening, without fail. He would sit through the TV shows if they were of interest, or he would bring his case material and notes to the coffee table to work in silence beside Gavin.

Sometimes Gavin liked to work on jigsaw puzzles on the dining table. Nines would sit beside him, pretending to read a paperback novel, but actually scanning the puzzle and passing the right pieces over from time to time.

Against all odds, an evening ritual and a tentative friendship developed. It was simple, but it was warm. Comfortable. Like nothing Gavin had ever had before, even with humans.

He awoke one morning with a slight crick in his neck but the feeling of being very well-rested.

His eyes flickered open and fell upon the window. Familiar greenery came into view… but wait… had everything slightly shifted to the left? And was that the New Jericho Capitol building? He couldn’t see that from his room! There was a tree in the way! A tree that was now a few feet away from where it used to be.

Gavin sat up in alarm as he realised that he was not in his own bed. His heart flew into his throat as Nines walked through the open doorway. Shirtless and carrying a mug of blue liquid.

“Oh good, you’re up.”

“Wha-what happened!?”

Nines frowned and sat down on the edge of the bed. He set the mug on the floor and pulled on a plain black t-shirt.

“You passed out on the couch last night. I think you finished a whole bottle waiting up for me? Sorry, I was out working later than expected.”

Gavin looked down and sighed in relief as he found all his clothes still on him.

“I didn’t want you to injure yourself sleeping at an odd angle so I brought you here. Your door was locked.”

“You could’ve easily opened it.”

“Yes, but that would’ve been an invasion of privacy. I reserve that for working hours alone.”

Gavin looked deep into the sparkling blue eyes and as usual found no trace of humour.

“Thanks…”

“Don’t mention it. Now get out. You’re ruining my silk sheets.”

Against his best efforts, Gavin could not keep the thought of being carried to bed and tucked in safely out of his mind. How many years had it been? Since something like that had been even remotely possible for him?

He knew that Nines was just being kind in his own pragmatic little way… but Gavin found that he wouldn’t mind the prospect of waking up in the android’s bed in a wildly different context.

He realised he had it bad when Tina caught him smiling to himself at work one day.

“Why so happy?”

“Oh… nothing. Just remembered something my roommate did… He’s a… funny guy.”

“Huh. Well, look at you getting along so well with androids.”

“Android. Singular. Just him.”

“Wowwww… he sounds special.”

“Who did this?”

“Gavin, the damage is merely superficial-”

“Who phcking did this??!”

He reached forward and gingerly touched Nines’ split cheek. His synth skin was smeared with blue blood and glitching in and out. Nines winced at the contact.

“Shit, sorry. That must hurt like a bitch.”

“Androids do not feel pain.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m merely experiencing a surge in sensory input wherever my chassis is exposed. I’m fine.”

“Shut up and give me your first aid kit or whatever toolbox equivalent you tincans have.”

A shade of embarrassment appeared over the android’s features.

“I… actually don’t have one. I didn’t think I’d ever need it.”

“Didn’t think anyone could kick your ass, huh?”

“No… I didn’t think anyone would ever spot my hiding place.”

“Huh. How’d that happen?”

Nines’ eyes dipped, but as always, he answered the question.

“I was… distracted.”

Something in the air solidified and both of them felt it. Gavin cleared his throat and slapped his knees like an old man about to stand up.

“Right. Let me go check if the neighbours have anything that might help with your face.”

“So who’s this dapper young gent you’ve brought to the party, Gavin?”

“Er… he’s my uh… roommate.”

Captain Fowler nodded and winked.

“That’s what they called it in my day too.”

Nines shifted beside Gavin and cleared his throat.

“He’s a PI. But I think he’s wasting his talent taking pictures of cheating spouses. He’s quite interested in police work. Maybe we could get him to assist on a couple cases now and then?”

Fowler put down his drink and extended a warm hand to Nines.

“Oh thank RA9!”

Nines came running to the cluster of police cars and enveloped him in a giant hug. Gavin laughed as he patted him weakly on the back.

“Watch the ribs, big guy.”

“I was so worried.”

“Why? Your info was good. No chance of error.”

“I meant about you.”

Gavin pulled back and regarded Nines with confusion. The flashing red and blue lights of the cars made it hard to read his LED.

“Why?”

“I can’t believe you have to ask.”

The android pulled him into a bruising kiss. The officers standing nearby broke into wolf-whistles and applause.

“What the-”

“Oh I take full credit for that, sir.”

Fowler glanced at Tina.

“The case, Chen?”

“Oh of course. I solved the whole thing. But I mean that specifically.”

She waved a hand in Gavin and Nines’ direction. The two held each other tightly and seemed unlikely to come up for air anytime soon.

“Like I helped Gav find an affordable place in New Jericho and then he met this handsome investigator droid and they were roommates.”

“Oh my god, they were roommates…”

“Yeah legit.”

\\\

Thanks so much for the request @jude-shotto

This ended up being a lot longer than expected, but I couldn’t help it. Your prompt just took me on a whole journeyyyy <3

#maya bday ask event #reed900 #rk900 #gavin reed #dbh gavin #dbh nines #gavin900 #gavin x nines #gavin x rk900 #dbh fanfic #dbh rk900 #dbh #dbh writing #my writing

115 notes · View notes

imaloserbbyxoxo · 3 years

Text

Dabi as a dad. That's it. That's the post.

please keep in mind i suck at writing so im sorry if this his terrible i'm just trying to make myself feel better

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

It was late at night. Dabi wasn't sure what time it was, but he could only assume it was around two in the morning. He was unbelievably exhausted and worn out. So much work had to be done lately for the league and Shikaraki was running him ragged from all the orders and tasks he was assigned.

So much work had to be done, that he hadn't been able to sleep for the past day and a half. His body was starting to shut down, but he knew he had to keep on until the jobs were completed.

People in the league were the only ones that knew this secret Dabi had. He had a whole other life ever since three years ago. He had become a father. He never knew it would happen, he never even planned it. Honestly? He never really wanted to be a father, but ever since she was born, he was in love. A beautiful baby girl. Who would have ever thought? A son, maybe. But a girl? Whoa. That's a whole knew level.

Dabi and Y/N had been together for 2 years before the birth of their daughter. He really did love Y/N, but for some reason unknown to him, having a little girl made the love go even deeper. He never imagined he could love anyone, much less Y/N. His whole world was steadily changing around him, and he was doing all he could to cope with it.

The one thing hard about everything going on, was he had to be away from home. Away from his girls. Y/N knew he was in the league and everything that was going on in his life. She knew when they got together. She didn't mind it, really. Just as long as Dabi was safe. But she knew he would be. He was a really tough and tedious guy. He was constantly careful, no matter how big or how small the task.

But Dabi couldn't' help but stress about the girls at home by themselves. He had become so protective over them the past few years, and hated that they had to be alone most of the time. Nothing made him more relaxed than hearing their voices and laughs. It melted him, in a good way.

----

After walking down this street Dabi found himself on, he cut down an alley. Once he walked down it a few feet, he leaned his back against the cold, stone wall of a building, and slid down it until he collapsed on the ground. Automatically, his eyes started to feel heavy. He needed to rest so bad. Maybe just a few minutes wouldn't hurt. Leaning his head back against the wall, he slowly started to drift away into sleep.

Time had passed and he hadn't moved. It only felt like a few minutes, but apparently it was about an hour of him napping. He was awoken by a tune on his phone. Normally, he would have ignored it, but this particular tune was set to only Y/N's contact, so he quickly pulled it out of his pocket.

Before answering, he glanced at the time. Four in the morning. What was she doing up? Dabi's heart started to race. He couldn't help but think that something was wrong. He hastily answered.

"Hey, is everything okay?"

"...daddy?"

"Yes, baby? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I had a bad dream."

Dabi hadn't noticed, but his muscles were tense. Once he heard the words 'bad dream', he softened. Everything was okay. He knew it was, because even though it's unfortunate, nightmares were almost a daily occurrence with his daughter. From the trauma of his childhood, Dabi had aquired nightmares and night terrors of his own. Unfortunetly, his daughter picked up that trait. On a positive note, he knew how to deal with them more than Y/N did, so whenever this happened, he was the one to go to. Thank goodness the kid hadn't had any actual night terrors. Yet. Just bad dreams.

Rubbing his eyes to get the sleep out of them, he tiredly smiled and spoke. "You had a bad dream, huh?"

"Yeah. It was about you this time."

Dabi's smile faded. Most of the girl's nightmares where just simple things that kids fear, but the ones about him and Y/N were becoming more and more frequent. It was becoming concerning, but he just had to shrug it off. For her. He was still knew to this whole father thing, but one thing he did know was that you shouldn't' show worry in front of a kid, or they will start to worry. So he did just that. He blew off the worry in his mind for now and just had to focus on the kid.

"About me, huh?"

"Yeah! You had died in it."

"Is that why you're calling? Where you scared?"

"A little."

Y/N shouted from the background. "Don't let her lie! She woke up crying."

Dabi scoffed and smiled. "My poor kiddo..." he thought.

"You? Scared? I thought you weren't scared of anything, just like your daddy."

"I wasn't scawed! I am just like you daddy! Big and strong!"

His heart melted in a mix of good and bad feelings. He hoped she would grow up strong willed like him, but...not how he truly was deep down. All the trauma, all the pent up anger, all the troubles he has caused.

"Be strong like me, but kind like your mother."

"Okay daddy. I will!"

"Okay, baby. Can you hand the phone to mommy, please? I love you. Go back to bed and don't be scared. I'll be home soon, okay?"

"Okay daddy! I wub you!"

Dabi smiled. "Love you too, kiddo. Good night."

"Night daddy."

Shuffling noises were heard on the other end of the line. A different voice came on.

"I'm sorry to bother you while your working, babe. She wanted to talk to you and wouldn't take no as an answer."

"It's alright, doll. I wasn't busy right now anyways."

"Are you doing okay? Staying safe?"

"Yes, of course. You know that."

After a few more minutes of talking, Y/N said her goodbyes. She had to put the girl to sleep now and try to get some rest herself. Dabi said his goodbyes in return, saying I love you, and hung up his phone. He stood up from his resting position, and gathered up the strength to continue his work.

"Alright, back at it I suppose."

He lazily walked out of the alley

and back around the corner. He was met by a familiar face.

His boss, Shigaraki. His silver hair was long, down to the base of his neck, and he was wearing his trademark coat. They all had been working so much lately, that they didn't have the time to take care of themselves. Shigaraki specifically. His scratch marks were getting worse from his scratching due to stress. His hair was getting to long, because he didn't have the time to take care of it. Dabi knew better than to say anything though. Shigaraki had been on edge lately, and probably wouldn't hesitate to take care of Dabi's attitude in his own way.

"What are you doing here, dusty?"

Shigaraki scratched his neck a little, looking up at Dabi. "I followed you to make sure you were doing your tasks. You were the last stop before going back to the base. I've already checked on everyone else."

"Save the best for last, huh?"

"Whatever, patchwork. I couldn't help but over hear your conversation."

Dabi looked at him with tired eyes. "Oh yeah?"

"Do you miss them?"

"Well, duh. Of course I do." He changed his tune to a sarcastic one. "But you have to have these missions done, right?" It might have been the exhaustion talking, but damnit Dabi just wanted to go home. He missed his bed. The way the house smelled like candles because Y/N had an obsession with them. The way his little girl would run to him when he would walk in the door. He missed cuddling both of them in bed, as his daughter would drift to sleep watching tv. He missed it so much, he couldn't put it into words. He wanted to go home more than anything right now. But work had to be done.

As Dabi was in thought, his face contorted into distraught and exhaustion, and Shigaraki noticed. Maybe it was something in the weather this early morning, but he actually got a kind bone in his body.

"Go home, Dabi."

Dabi looked at him in shock. "But I'm not done-"

"I'm not gonna tell you again. Go home. I can tell your getting exhausted, and I don't need you passing out on me. I need you at your full potential. So go home and rest. Take as much time as you need." Shigaraki started to walk away. "I know you'll be back when your done resting so I'm not worried."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Again, I am so sorry if this is bad. Also, I'm sorry for that ending. it's kinda shit, but I'm kinda afraid of writing more because I might ruin it. Anyways.... OTL;

@dabiboy @deviousspleen @toyas-wife

<3 IF YOU WANNA BE TAGGED JUST LET ME KNOW <3

#dabi #dabi x y/n #dabi x reader #dabi as a dad #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #touya todoroki #touya is dabi #dabi is touya #toya todoroki

331 notes · View notes

bluejayblueskies · 3 years

Text

can i be gentle?

Words: 7.1k

Relationships: Jon & Tim, Tim & Martin

Tags: Canon Divergence, Tim Lives, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Post-Unknowing, Injury Recovery

Warnings: suicidal thoughts/ideations, blood, injury, hospitals and hospitalization, survivor's guilt, body horror, minor gore, gun and knife violence, mentions of death, mentions of canon-typical worms, implied child abuse, meat, alcohol, swearing, crying, smoking

Ao3 link in source

Tim aches. It’s full-body, radiating through his arms and back and legs, and he wishes more than anything that he could go to sleep, to chase away the pain for at least a little while. It feels like he’s been hit by a bus.

Or been on the receiving end of several kilos of C4 igniting all at once. But that metaphor’s a bit too on-the-nose, in his opinion.

He should be dead. He should be dead.

(Does he wish he were dead? He hadn’t cared, in those few moments of clarity before he pushed the button on the detonator and the colors solidified into black nothingness, whether or not he would wake up when the smoke cleared. It’s hard to tell. He’d attached so much of himself to revenge, before, when it was easier than feeling everything else bubbling up underneath, and now that it’s been ripped away from him, he doesn’t know what emotion should be filling the gap. Probably relief.

He doesn’t feel relieved.)

The nurse is speaking to him. Her lips are moving, but he can’t hear her. His ears ring and ring and ring, and it sounds like spirling, mocking laughter.

They do some tests. Blast-induced hearing loss, the pamphlet they give him proclaims. Prognosis is good. Most patients recover in 6 weeks. Hearing aids can help with high frequencies.

His ears ring and ring and ring, and he’s alive.

He’s alive.

Jon is not.

“It’s because of him, you know.”

Martin startles badly at Tim’s voice. Tim wonders if it had been too loud; the ringing in his ears is incessant, and every word spoken sounds as if it’s coming from a very, very far distance. He moves a bit further into the room that they’ve placed Jon in, his hands shaking where they grip the wheels of the wheelchair they’d given him. Hard to walk when your leg is shattered. And some ribs as well.

Martin says something, Tim thinks, as he’s turning. His eyes are wide and rimmed with red, and he’s looking at Tim expectantly. Tim sighs, then winces as the motion sends tendrils of pain through his ribcage. “I can’t hear you, Martin. Either speak up—way, way up—or just… move your lips more or something. I don’t care.”

“What?” Martin enunciates, and it’s so ridiculous, Tim wants to cry.

He answers anyway.

“Me. Being here. I’m alive because… because of him.”

It was stupid, thinking he could protect Tim from an entire building collapsing on top of them. But his hand had gripped Tim’s wrist and he’d pulled him to the floor and he’d covered Tim’s body with his own, so when the shock wave had hit, Jon had gotten the worst of it.

Tim refuses to feel guilty about it. He does anyway. Because they’d argued, and Jon had stalked him, and Tim had cultivated his anger and fear into a simmering ember deep in his chest, but at the end of the day, Tim wasn’t supposed to survive.

Jon was.

Tim swallows, hating the bitter taste in his mouth, and says, “Do you… do you think he’s going to wake up?”

Martin says something, too softly for Tim to hear. His mouth twists into something small and pained, and he looks at the floor.

It’s answer enough.

Tim doesn’t ask again.

They arrest Elias a few hours later, after Martin’s collected himself enough to bring his plan to completion. Tim’s only regret is that he isn’t able to see the look on Elias’s face as he’s dragged away.

Knowing Tim’s luck, he’d probably have just looked smug.

The name Peter Lukas crosses Martin’s lips, spelled out in exaggerated motions when he visits Tim again. Tim thinks, absurdly, of the hydra. Cut off one head, two grow back.

Lukas probably won’t be better. Knowing their luck, he’ll be much worse. But Tim thinks of the way Melanie had shaken after she’d come out of Elias’s office, of the haunted look in Martin’s eyes when Tim had asked how his plan went, and can’t find it within himself to care.

They release him from the hospital with a hefty prescription of pain meds, small plastic hearing aids tucked in each ear, and a thick folder of discharge papers. Martin’s there when they do; the bags under his eyes are dark and smudged, and he nods mechanically as the nurses talk to him, outlining Tim’s care regime for the next few weeks. His eyes keep flicking to the side, to the corridor that leads to the long-term care section of the hospital. Wordlessly, Tim reaches over and takes Martin’s hand in his, giving it a single squeeze before holding it tightly.

Martin lets out a breath through his nose and squeezes back.

“Do you want me to, er. To take you back to yours?” Martin asks once they’re out, his voice on the softer side of muffled and overlaid with that constant ringing but audible enough now that he doesn’t have to shout.

Tim feels something almost like embarrassment curling in his stomach. “I, uh. I don’t have a place anymore.” Tim drums his fingers on his thighs, looks at the ground, and says, “I canceled my lease. About a week before we left for Great Yarmouth.”

There’s silence between them—or at least, as close to silence as Tim can get right now. Tim thinks Martin says something, a word or two brushing up against the edges of what the hearing aids allow him to hear, but he can’t grasp any of it. So, Tim looks up at Martin, at the pinched, pained expression on his face, and says, “Don’t pretend like you didn’t know.”

“Know what?” Martin says bitterly. “That you never expected to come back? Yeah, I got that part. I even got why, you know? Doesn’t make it better, though. I didn’t want to lose you, Tim.” Martin pauses, then says, so quietly Tim can barely hear it, “I didn’t want to lose anybody.”

“Yeah,” Tim says. But that’s not how this works. We were never going to all survive. Everything is fucked, and it still is, and it always will be.

“I’m sorry,” he says and finds he means it. Then, to clarify: “For hurting you. And… and for Jon.” He doesn’t elaborate on that point. He doesn’t know what he would say even if he tried. “But I’m not sorry for going, and I’m not sorry for pressing that button. If I would have died, I wouldn’t have been sorry for that either.”

“Right,” Martin says slowly. “But you didn’t. And the Circus is gone now, so do you…?”

“Do I still want to kill myself?”

Martin winces.

“Hey, your question, not mine,” Tim says, holding his hands up in a defensive gesture. After a moment, his hands drop back to his lap, and he gives a small shrug. “Don’t know. I knew I would do what I needed to in order to destroy the Circus, and I did. Thought I would die in the process, but I didn’t. I’m still trapped in the world’s shittiest job, and I don’t really…”

Tim shrugs again. “I don’t know,” he repeats. Then, because it feels true: “It was never… it was never the dying bit I was chasing, you know. I didn’t do this because I thought it would be a good way to get killed. I did it for Danny, and that’s it. Plain and simple. So if you’re asking if I want to die, the answer is no. But I can’t guarantee that I won’t make the same decision again if I have to.”

Martin’s quiet for a long moment. Then, calmer than Tim expects, he says, “Okay.”

“Okay,” Tim echoes. Then, with a levity that only feels slightly forced: “I suppose it’s back to your place, then. Just be sure to buy me dinner first.”

Martin doesn’t smile at that like he used to, but his face does soften a bit. His voice is lighter when he says, “Oh, I will. Within your dietary restrictions, that is. Which means no alcohol.”

Tim groans. “You’re no fun.”

“Uh huh.”

They begin the commute back to Martin’s flat, and the atmosphere between them grows more lighthearted than it’s been in months. Tim feels something warm and familiar curl in his chest, and he realizes just how much he’s missed this. It’s not quite easy conversation, not like it used to be, but it’s nice all the same.

Tim’s ears ring, and his entire body aches, and he still feels a numbness in his core in the shape of suspicious glances and calliope music and a face he can’t remember, but for the first time in a long, long time, he allows himself to smile.

Tim doesn’t visit Jon often. At first, it’s the guilt, acute and cloying and weighing him down. Then, it’s old hurt and stale anger, resurfacing and driving away any passing thought of Jon that isn’t tinged with bad memories and broken trust. After that, it’s just habit.

It also hurts, if he lets himself admit it. To see Jon lying there, motionless and clad entirely in white, the heart monitor attached to him reading out a constant horizontal line even as his eyes move in small, jerky motions behind his eyelids.

See? a part of him whispers. He’s not human. Maybe he never was. Maybe he was always a monster, and you just never noticed. It wouldn’t be the first time.

A newer part of him, one that gets more prominent by the day, recognizes that even if Jon isn’t human anymore, he never would have chosen this. This stasis, this half-death. Not what came before, either. That part of him remembers the way Jon’s hand had gripped his tightly as they’d opened that trapdoor, and how it had continued to do so even as the worms had begun to bite into their skin. He’d tried to protect Tim then, too, putting himself between Tim and Jane Prentiss. For all the good it did, when the worms began to come from all directions. But Tim remembers the way the terror and pain in Jon’s eyes had been tinged with sadness, with a silent apology as he gripped Tim’s hand hard enough to bruise and they both accepted that this was it.

It hadn’t been, in the end. And now it is, with Jon all-but-dead and Tim still here, wheeling his way into Jon’s hospital room for the first time in weeks.

He’s halfway in before he realizes he’s not alone.

“Oh,” he says. “I… I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Martin lets out a sharp, jagged laugh. “Where else would I be?” he says, and it’s tinged with something bitter and broken that takes Tim a bit off-guard. It’s become almost routine now, for Martin to visit Jon, and usually, he comes back looking drained but otherwise fine. Sometimes, when Tim asks him for status updates on our resident medical mystery, Martin even manages a small smile and responds, still dreaming.

Martin scrubs a hand across his face, and Tim realizes belatedly that he’s crying.

“Martin?” Tim says carefully, moving a bit closer to where Martin’s sitting. “Are you… did something happen?”

“No,” Martin says, his voice catching in a way that indicates that something very much did happen. “It’s fine.”

“Is it…?” Tim pauses, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “Is it about Jon?”

Martin’s laugh this time is more like a whimper. “Nope, he’s- he’s the same as always. Still asleep.”

Tim moves closer but doesn’t say anything. The clock ticks rhythmically in the background, and he waits. Patience has never been his strong suit, but it’s been something that’s been required of him as of late, and he’s getting better at it.

He likes to think he’s getting better at a lot of things.

Martin doesn’t speak again for a few minutes. He stares at his hands where they rest just shy of one of Jon’s, his fingers restless against the sheets, coming up occasionally to fiddle with the thin black ring that rests on the middle finger of his right hand. Then, so quiet Tim almost can’t hear it, he says, “My mother died today.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry,” Tim says. They’re empty words, but they’re better than the good riddance and about time and you’re better off without her sitting on the back of his tongue, begging to be released. He doesn’t think they would be appreciated right now, no matter how true they might be.

“Yeah,” Martin says. He’s still staring at his hands. “They called me a few hours ago. She… she passed away in her sleep. Natural causes. From- from her illness.” He falls silent for a few moments, his fingers twisting in the sheets. Then: “I… I think I should be sad?”

Tim studies Martin’s face—the tear tracks down his cheeks, the unhappy set to his mouth, the way he’s shaking ever so slightly where he sits. His face is one of grief, but Tim doesn’t ask. He waits for Martin to continue, and after a moment, Martin says, “She was the only family I had left. She- she was my mother. I took care of her, I- I did my best to be a- a good son.” He takes in a shaky breath, curls his hands into fists, and says, “I haven’t seen her in months, you know. I- I visited at first, but she… she never wanted to see me. So I just stopped going. I’d call, every Saturday, but it was the same every time. She’s resting. She doesn’t feel up to talking right now. Call later, and we’ll see what we can do.”

Finally, Martin looks at Tim, and the guilt in his eyes is so acute Tim can feel it cut through him to his core. “I should be sad that she’s dead, but… but all I can feel is relief. And that hurts. I- I don’t know… why am I relieved? God, she was right, I- I’m horrible, no wonder she- she never wanted to see me, I- why can’t I- I can’t—”

Martin cuts off with a wet sob, and all at once, Tim understands.

“It’s okay,” he says, and he collects Martin’s hands from the sheets, holds them tightly in his own. “You can feel however you like, it’s- it’s okay.”

He squeezes Martin’s hands, just once, and repeats, “It’s okay.”

He knows Martin won’t believe him. But still, he sits, and Martin cries, and he says, It’s okay.

It’s okay.

The hearing aids are a permanent fixture in his ears now, as most people have full hearing restoration after six weeks apparently doesn’t include him. The tinnitus is still particularly bad some days, but they help with everything else. It’s not perfect, but it’s a small price to pay for living, he supposes.

He’s not sure when, exactly, he decides that he’s glad he’s alive. But he does.

He wishes he hadn’t been able to hear at all, when the Flesh attacks. He wishes he hadn’t been able to hear the wet, sticky sounds of things that shouldn’t be able to move without bones slipping through the vents, shattering the relative peace they’d begun to cultivate. He wishes he hadn’t been able to hear the pops of Basira’s gun, bullets burying themselves in things that barely flinched at the contact. He wishes he hadn’t been able to hear Melanie’s screams of anger, the responding screams of pain from things with too many eyes and teeth and limbs as her knife carved a violent path through them.

There are yellow doors and hands slick with blood and a sudden quiet as the last of the twisted, mangled creatures falls, sliced neatly in two in a way that’s just a bit too clean.

Melanie is breathing heavily, but her hands are steady and her eyes are hard with something raging and violent. When Basira reaches tentatively for her knife, saying, “It’s over now, Melanie. We’re- we’re safe,” Melanie stiffens but doesn’t resist.

“This isn’t right,” Tim says after Melanie comes back to herself in bits and pieces, enough to shudder at the blood coating her arms up to the elbows and mutter something he can’t quite catch before disappearing into the toilet. “None of this is. God, can we ever catch a fucking break?”

“We can deal with it later,” Basira says. She’s calm, but she can’t quite hide the tremor in her voice. Her Al-Amira is splattered with viscera. “Right now, we need to make a call. Get this cleaned up.”

“What,” Tim says bitterly, “so we can continue hiding away in the Archives? You’re the one who said we should start sleeping here. Should have known it wouldn’t be safe. It’s not like it was before.”

He rubs at one of the small circular scars on the back of his left hand, his skin crawling with a phantom itch that makes him vaguely nauseous.

“We stay here,” Basira says, leaving no room for debate. “We make the call, and we stay here.”

Tim makes a low, frustrated noise, and bites out, “Fine. Because Basira always knows best. Whatever.” He unlocks his wheelchair and says shortly, “I’m going outside for some fresh air. The smell of rotting meat is making me sick.”

Basira doesn’t follow him.

Martin does.

They situate themselves just outside the glass doors, and they don’t say anything for a long time. Martin still looks vaguely ill. His face is pale, and his hands are fidgeting at his sides. His fingers are resting on his ring, twisting it back and forth, agitated. His shoes are stained a glistening red.

Finally, Martin tilts his head back so it hits the wall behind him and says to the air above him, “Is it horrible that I wish Jon were here?”

Tim snorts, anger still bubbling under the surface of his skin. “Because we’d have done so much better with our own flavor of spooky bullshit?” He bites out a bitter laugh. “Maybe he could have compelled them to explain exactly why every single monster out there has a personal vendetta against us. Working for an eldritch horror of voyeurism doesn’t give you much in terms of an offense.”

“Stop,” Martin says sharply. “You know what I mean.”

Tim does. He’s just not particularly inclined to wax nostalgic about the power of friendship and comradery when he’s got bits of meat stuck in his hair.

Still, he finds that he means it when he says, “I wish he was too. For what it’s worth. Which isn’t a fucking lot, but it’s what we’ve got.”

“Yeah,” Martin says. His hand brushes against Tim’s, and they fall back into silence.

The police arrive, followed closely by the ECDC. It’s a messy affair, even messier than the last time Tim had been in this situation, and Tim wants nothing more than to get away. Forever.

He doesn’t make any jokes this time. He just nods in the right places, and when they’re finally released and he and Martin return to a flat they haven’t seen in weeks, he can feel weariness cutting through him to the bone.

When he wakes the next day, Martin’s gone. His note, stuck to the door of the fridge, says, At the hospital. Be back around noon.

It’s ten in the morning, and the sunlight is bright as it streams in through the kitchen window.

Tim digs out the bottle of rum that Martin keeps tucked in the back of his cabinet and pours himself a drink.

“Peter Lukas wants me to be his assistant.”

Tim looks up from what’s turning out to be quite an impressive doodle of the little figurine of a frog in a top hat he’d purchased back in research from a charity shop and says, “Absolutely not.”

Martin sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, holds it there for a moment, and then says, “I don’t know if I have a choice in the matter, really. It’s… it’s not safe here anymore.” Quieter: “He said he can help. Off- offer protection.”

Tim audibly scoffs at that. He sets down his pencil and notepad and crosses his arms across his chest. He can already feel a headache coming on. (More than the usual, that is. He’s almost able to tune out the constant ringing in his ears now.

Almost.)

“What’s he going to do, isolate them to death? It’s not like the Lonely’s any better of an offensive force than the Eye. We’re doing just fine without involving him.”

“Are we?” Martin’s voice is hard and a bit choked when he continues, “We’re living down here because it’s not safe to stay outside for too long. We’re still finding bits of- of flesh in- eugh.” Martin shudders and folds inward on himself. Quieter, enough so that Tim has to watch the motion of his lips to make out the words, he says, “Jon’s not waking up.”

Tim feels something inside of him twist. “We don’t know that. We don’t know what’s happening with him.” A touch bitterly—old habits die hard, he supposes—he says, “Maybe he’s just not done going through his monster metamorphosis yet.”

“Tim.”

Tim sighs. It’s a profoundly weary sound. “Yeah, yeah. I… I miss him too, you know.”

He’s surprised to find that it’s not a lie.

“Right.” A small, shaky smile crosses Martin’s face, and he says, “I- I suppose they’re right, then. Distance does make the heart grow fonder.”

“Somehow,” Tim says, “I don’t think whoever coined that phrase had this situation in mind.”

Martin’s smile fades as quickly as it had come, and Tim feels a pang of guilt. “Sorry,” he says, pushing away from the desk and wheeling across the room to where Martin sits. He hesitates, just a moment, before placing his hand on Martin’s where it rests on his knee. “I… I suppose I’ve forgotten how to be lighthearted about all of this.”

Martin nods. It’s a small motion. He’s silent for a long moment; Tim squeezes his hand and says nothing. Finally, Martin looks down at his hands and says, “It’s been four months, Tim. Nothing’s changed.” He pauses again, his mouth pinching around the edges. “I… I visited him today. I begged him to wake up, to- to do anything to indicate that he’s even still there. I don’t know why I expected him to answer. It’s not like anything’s different now. He- he’s never going to wake up, Tim.”

Martin’s voice cracks, and he repeats, wetly, “He’s never going to wake up.”

Then, Martin’s crying, heaving sobs that overtake him completely and have him hunched over, dripping salty tears onto the back of Tim’s hand. “Hey, hey, hey,” Tim says, leaning forward as far as he’s comfortably able to and wrapping Martin in as hard of a hug as he can manage. He rubs his hands in circles across Martin’s shoulderblades, feeling Martin’s shaky breaths against the side of his neck, and says, “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

He repeats it, again and again, as Martin cries into his shoulder and says, over and over, words thick with grief, “He’s dead, Tim. He’s dead.”

“It’s okay,” Tim says. Maybe if he says it enough times, he’ll start to believe it.

Eventually, Martin’s body stops shaking and he pulls back, the tear tracks on his cheeks already beginning to dry. His eyes are red-rimmed and glistening, and he looks tired, grief apparent in every line of him.

“I said I’d think about it,” Martin says, in a voice rubbed raw and hoarse. “When Peter called me. I- I said I’d think about it. I- I don’t know why…” He cuts off, makes a small, distressed noise, and says, “What do I even have left? If- if this can help, what- what do I have to lose?”

Tim feels a pang of hurt flash through him, but he suppresses it. He squeezes Martin’s hands, gives him as wide a smile as he can without breaking, and says, “You have me. And I’m not leaving—you’re stuck with me. So don’t think for a second that if you take Peter’s deal, I won’t be there still. I’m like a bad penny, or, I don’t know, a- a fungus or whatever. The point is, you’re not going to get rid of me. Whether or not you decide to work for Lukas—which you shouldn’t, by the way, in case I haven’t made that abundantly clear—you’re not going to be lonely, okay? Not on my watch. I can be very persistent when I put my mind to it.”

Martin looks at Tim, eyes wide, and another small, hiccuping sob escapes him. “You really mean that?”

“Yes, Martin,” Tim says, exasperation and fondness filling him in equal measure. “Christ, just because things got… rough for a bit, it doesn’t mean I stopped caring about you. Honestly, don’t know if I could. You’re a very lovable person, you know. It’s not like being your friend is a hardship.”

Martin laughs a little at that, his voice still thick with tears. “Well, when you put it like that…”

Tim gives him another smile, and this one feels easier. Like it would be harder not to smile. Still, he’s careful with his words when he says, “So, then. What are you going to do? I’ve made my opinion more than known, but…” Tim swallows around the lump in his throat and continues, “It’s your decision.”

“Yeah,” Martin says, barely more than a whisper. “Yeah.”

Peter calls again. And when Martin hesitates for a long moment before giving a quiet yet firm no, the relief that sweeps over Tim is enough to make him feel weightless.

Two months later, as a man who smells of death shuts the door behind him, Jon takes a rattling breath and finally opens his eyes.

“Tim?”

Tim raises the hand that’s not holding a rather large bouquet of white daisies and baby’s breath in a half-wave. “Hi, boss. Been a while.”

The look Jon gives him is half-shocked, half-nervous. “I… I suppose it has. Six months, apparently.”

Tim makes a sound of affirmation before wheeling himself fully into Jon’s hospital room and letting the door swing shut behind him. “You know,” he says, allowing a blanket of levity to fall over him, “when we said you should get more sleep, this isn’t exactly what we meant.”

Jon just stares at him for a moment, face blank and eyes wide. Then, a laugh escapes him, a small hiccup of amusement. “Yes, well. I can’t say that I feel particularly well-rested.”

Tim imagines what it must have been like, to be locked in a dreamscape stasis for six months. He can’t say that the idea sounds particularly relaxing. “Yep, sounds about right. Guess we can cross ‘spooky coma’ off our list of possible cures for sleep deprivation.”

Jon folds inward on himself a bit, hugging one arm to his chest and gripping the other tightly. “Right,” he says, his voice small. He looks away from Tim, focusing on the small window in the corner of the room, and says, “I… I’m sorry, Tim.”

Right. Jon still thinks Tim hates him.

Tim lets out a long, weary sigh and makes his way to Jon’s bed. He practically shoves the flowers into Jon’s hands; Jon takes them, more out of surprise than anything, white petals tickling the bottom of his chin. “It’s been six months, Jon. You’ve been… honestly, a bit dead? No offense. And I’ve been alive. And we both know it was meant to be the other way around.”

Jon opens his mouth, and Tim holds up a hand. “Don’t. I know. I already hear enough about it from my therapist, I don’t need to hear about it from you too. The point is that I’ve… I’ve had time to think. And some of the things you did, I can’t forgive you for. But some of it…”

Tim shrugs. “Martin would always go on about how it wasn’t your fault. About how you were suffering just as much as us. And maybe I didn’t believe it because I was already angry, or maybe I didn’t believe it because all I could think about was finally getting a chance at the revenge I’d chased after for years. But then you were gone, and the Circus was gone, and I just… didn’t have anything left for the anger to hold on to.”

Jon clutches the flowers tightly in his hands, looks down at the petals. “But you were right,” he says quietly. “A- about me.”

Tim casts himself back six months and sifts through a metric ton of bitter remarks and angry assumptions. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Jon lets out a slow, shaky breath. “About me not being human.”

Oh.

“Jon—”

“Do you know what I was dreaming about?” Jon cuts in before Tim can say anything else. “I- I don’t remember, not really, but… but I can guess. I… I Know, somehow, that- that they were the same dreams, over and over and over again.” Jon takes one of the flower petals between his fingers and rubs it back and forth, a nervous gesture. “I started having them soon after I took this job, you know. Naomi Herne was the first one, and I- I didn’t understand why. Every night, she was trapped in the fog, forced into her own grave, and I would try to move, because it- it felt like I should have been able to, but it- it never worked. So I… I stopped trying after a while. I would stand and watch as she relived one of the worst experiences of her life, every night, and I- I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

Jon crushes the petal between his fingers. “She was the first one, but- but there are so many more now. Lionel Elliott and Jordan Kennedy and- and, Christ, Georgie—”

Jon makes a small, unhappy noise. “I don’t know when I realized that they could see me in their dreams too. That in trying to help, I- I’d just made myself another source of terror.”

Jon falls silent for a few moments; the quiet is filled by the familiar tick tick tick of the clock in the corner. Then, so quietly Tim has to focus on his lips to catch the words, he says, “I… I think I made a choice. Before I woke up. I don’t… I don’t know what it means for me, not really, but I know it means that I’m worse than I was before.” He lets out a bitter laugh, devoid of any humor. “So, you were right. I’m just- just even less human now.”

Jon falls silent again, and for a few moments, there’s just tick, tick, tick. Tim rolls the words over in his mind, looks at Jon’s pinched, unhappy expression, and says, “Okay.”

Jon looks at him then, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Okay?”

Tim shrugs and repeats, “Okay. You’re not human. I’m not going to pretend like that thrills me or whatever, but it’s… honestly, it’s a lot less of an issue for me now than it was back then.”

“I- I don’t…” Jon trails off with a frustrated noise. “What?”

Tim sighs. “A lot’s changed, Jon. Things have… well, things have kind of gone to hell. Honestly, we could use a few monsters who are on our side for a change.”

Jon blinks at him in stunned silence for a few moments more before saying, bewildered, “... Right. Uh, I- I suppose I shouldn’t ask how you’ve been, then.”

A wry smile cracks across Tim’s face. “I’ve been just peachy, thanks for asking. Blow up one Circus and suddenly every spooky monster out there wants to kill you. It’s been one big, long, horrible sleepover in the Archives. But hey, at least Elias isn’t there! Now we’ve just got Lukas, and if one or two staff members disappear every once and a while, well—that’s just how it is at the Magnus Institute. Nothing to be concerned about. Sometimes, we still go out for drinks.”

“Tim,” Jon says flatly. The exasperated expression on his face is so familiar—so Jon—that Tim feels a tension he hadn’t known he’d been holding slip away.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tim says, waving a hand absently in Jon’s direction. “Point is, I’m not disappointed or angry or whatever that you’re back in the land of the living.” He pauses, and then, more sincerely: “Martin’s not the only one who’s missed you, okay?”

Jon’s lips part into an O. Then, his mouth twitches up into a smirk, and he says, “Mm, you’re right. Basira did stop by earlier, and then of course Georgie, and I bet even Melanie—”

“Unbelievable. And here I was nice enough to come all the way over here, to bring you flowers.”

“Mm, they are very nice flowers.”

“Damn right they are.”

Jon smiles then, a fragile thing, and says, “Thank you, Tim. I… I’ve missed you too.”

Tim could point out that Jon had been asleep for the majority of the time in question. But he knows that’s not what Jon means. So instead, he offers Jon a smile in return and says, “Be honest: more or less than the Admiral?”

Jon shoots Tim a flat, unimpressed look. “Tim, don’t be ridiculous. Of course less than the Admiral.”

Tim’s been out of the wheelchair for a week when he finally manages to make his way to the roof of the Institute, still learning how to maneuver the crutches he’s moved on to. He swears he can feel every motion of the pins and the rods in his leg—skin covered with even more scars for the collection—as he finally heaves himself through the door and into the cool night air.

The view is just as good as he remembers.

There’s the faint smell of cigarette smoke hanging in the air, and Tim’s entirely unsurprised to see Jon silhouetted against the glow of London, leaning against the wall that rings the roof with his back facing Tim. The cigarette glows a dull red as he raises it to his lips and breathes in.

Jon doesn’t say anything, even as Tim painstakingly makes his way over to where he’s stood. Tim props his crutches against the wall before leaning his weight heavily against it, arms crossed atop the wall in a mirror image of Jon as they both look out onto the city below, humming with life and light.

Finally, after a particularly long drag of his cigarette, Jon says, “I’m going to get Daisy.”

There’s no room for argument in his voice. But that’s never stopped Tim from trying anyways.

“I thought you were done doing stupid shit that’ll get you killed,” Tim says, turning his head to look at Jon. Jon’s staring forward, but Tim gets the distinct impression that Jon isn’t looking out at the city at all.

“It won’t kill me,” Jon says quietly. He moves his hands as he talks, surprisingly competent sign language that he’s begun using tentatively in his conversations with Tim. When Tim had asked him where he’d learned it, Jon had been quiet for a long moment before telling him that he hadn’t.

Well. At least the Eye was being useful for once.

“Yeah, whatever,” Tim says. “Dead or not, you’ll still be gone. You know people who crawl into that coffin don’t come back.”

“I don’t—” Jon cuts off with a frustrated noise. After a moment, he continues, “I have a plan. I- I read a statement, and it said that I would need an anchor. A- a piece of myself to keep here. I can find it when I’m down there, and- and use it to guide me back.”

“Right,” Tim says dryly. “Because our plans have always gone so well.”

“What would you have me do, Tim? I- I can’t just do nothing.”

“Why not?”

Jon affixes him with an expression that’s half-affronted, half-stunned. “Tim.”

“What? Jon, we barely know Daisy. She tried to kill you. No, don’t give me that look.” Tim jabs a finger in Jon’s direction. “You know I’m right.”

“I…” Jon trails off. After a moment, he hugs his arms to himself, his snubbed-out cigarette still smoldering slightly on top of the wall. “I know. But I… I still have to go. I… I’m still going to go.”

Tim exhales slowly and says, “Right. Suppose I should have expected that.”

There’s silence between them for a moment. Then, Jon removes his hands from his arms and signs as he says, quietly, “Why don’t you hate me?”

Tim stares at Jon for a long moment before saying, “What?”

Jon sighs and repeats, the motions of his hands larger and more emphatic, “Why don’t you hate me? Basira and Melanie, they- they keep looking at me like I’m some… thing, and- and maybe I am. No, not… not maybe. I’m not… I’m not human anymore, and I- I know what you said, but what happens when I—?”

Jon cuts off with a small, choked noise, like the air’s been sucked out of him all at once. Weakly, he signs, “I’m so hungry, all the time. What happens when I… when I can’t take it anymore? When I- I become dangerous, a- a monster, will you—?”

Jon’s fingers curl into fists, and he drops his hands to his sides, angling himself away from Tim and staring at an arbitrary point in the distance. “It’s better this way,” he says, loudly enough that Tim can make out the words above the hum of London at night and the ever-present ringing in his ears. “I… I don’t want to go. I don’t want to lose this, to- to lose you and- and Martin. But maybe it’s better than becoming something that will hurt you.”

Jon won’t meet Tim’s eyes. Carefully, Tim reaches across the space between them and takes Jon’s hand in his, uncurling Jon’s fingers gently in an attempt to release some of the tension. Slowly, he says, “You know, I… I shouldn’t be alive right now. Back after the Unknowing, when I woke up in the hospital, I… I didn’t want to be. It was supposed to be whatever it takes, and to me, that was always going to mean my death. Revenge and poetic justice and all of that. I should have died, but I didn’t. And… and you did. And it’s not something I feel guilty about, because we both made the same choice in the end, but that… that doesn’t stop me from feeling, sometimes, like it was my fault somehow.” He lets out a sharp laugh and says, “Well, I was the one to actually blow the place up in the end, but, you know.”

Tim holds Jon’s hand carefully in his like it might break otherwise, the mottled texture of the scar tissue firm against his fingertips. His eyes find the thin white line slashed across Jon’s throat, the stark white bandage poking out from the collar of Jon’s shirt where it covers a fresh scalpel wound in his shoulder, the pale pink spots that pepper Jon’s skin in a mirror image of his own. He can’t see the splash of jagged scars across Jon’s back, a memory of shrapnel and white-hot explosions, but he knows they’re there. “You asked why I don’t hate you?”

When Jon nods mutely, Tim says, “I just… ran out of reasons why I should. I still wanted to, but…” He shrugs and gives Jon a wry, humorless smile. “We’re all just stuck in the same shitty situation. And I guess at some point, I just decided that you hadn’t chosen to be here any more than I did.”

“Oh,” Jon says, barely audible.

Tim takes Jon’s other hand in his, squeezes them firmly, and says, “And I’m sorry. Not for- for how we used to be, because I think the blame for that falls pretty evenly onto both of our shoulders, but… but for everything else. For what’s happened to you. Figured I’ve spent enough time feeling sorry for myself, I might as well extend you the same courtesy.”

Jon’s fingers tighten around Tim’s, and he mumbles something Tim can’t quite catch. Then, he extracts his hands from Tim’s and signs, shakily, “I’m sorry too. For everything. But for what it’s worth, I… I’m glad you’re here. That you’re not dead. I- I know it’s been bad and- and I wish I could fix that, but I… I don’t know if I can.” Jon’s eyes when they meet Tim’s are sad but determined. “But I can fix this. I- I can get Daisy back. I can find my way out.”

Tim looks at the firm set to Jon’s mouth, the furrow of his brow, and says, “Okay. But I’m going to hold you to that. Otherwise, I might have to go in after you.”

Jon looks horrified. “Tim.”

Tim holds his hands up in a placating gesture. “Hey, come back in one piece and we won’t have to worry about it.”

Jon opens his mouth, then closes it again. There’s a long pause before he finally says, decidedly, “I will. I- I promise.”

Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Tim wants to say. Instead, he shuffles closer to Jon and leans against the wall again, crossing his arms on top of it and looking out over the city. “Good,” he says softly.

After a moment, Jon shifts to face the city as well. His arm brushes against Tim’s, and Tim lets that point of contact ground him as he looks up and up and up at the stars above, pinpricks of light on a satin black sky.

“Thank you,” Jon says, just loud enough for Tim to hear.

Tim moves his hand to cover Jon’s where it sits on the wall and squeezes once. “Yeah.”

They stand there until sunlight begins to tickle the edges of the horizon. And when Jon gives Tim’s hand one last squeeze, the other holding the lid of the coffin open, and says, “Be back soon,” Tim believes him.

Three days later, Jon climbs out of the coffin with dirt caked underneath his fingernails and a thin, sharp hand clutched in his. “Tim,” he says, and Tim ignores the pain in his leg as he lets his crutches drop to the floor and hugs Jon tightly.

“Looks like I’m staying above ground after all,” Tim jokes, his voice light even as his words come out wet and choked.

Jon’s laugh vibrates against Tim’s chest. “Yeah,” he says, burying his face in the fabric of Tim’s shoulder to hide his smile. “Yeah.”

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #tim stoker #martin blackwood #creators are revealed now so i can post this!#very exciting #blood cw #body horror cw #injury cw #hospitals cw #suicidal ideations cw #more cw in the body of the post as well #my writing #my fic

195 notes · View notes

ajbwasntwriting · 3 years

Text

Daughter!Reader X Negan, Reader x Daryl: Chapter 13. Flames

First | Previous | Next

(we using the same gif cause I couldn’t get the bridge gif to work sorry no sorry)

I’ll only post more chapters if previous chapters get a good reaction so if you enjoy this please heart it, reblog it, and/or reply to it. Interaction inspires.

if you wish to be added to the tag list please dm me. All chapters can be found under the tag AJ’s Negan’s Daughter AU

Soon the camp was left near barren. The saviours had made up more than half the work force and as far as it seemed you were the only one left. You spotted Daryl sitting in front of a white tent eating an apple. You bee-lined past Eugene and Rick to him, sitting on the chair just opposite from him.

“Hey” Daryl greeted you warmly. You just smiled at him then went back to staring in the middle ground, leaned down in the chair and your arms crossed. You sat there in peeved silence for a moment, just not wanting to be alone right now. “Heard the yelling match you had-”

“Don’t” You said, closing your eyes and shaking your head in annoyance. “I feel stupid enough as is.”

A hand landed on your knee and Daryl’s gruff voice said “You ain’t stupid, Darlin’”

That made you smile whether you liked it or not. You looked at him through the side of your eye, leaning forward and looking at you with so much love. “Darlin’, huh?” you commented on the new pet name. You uncrossed your arms and took his hand in yours, ignoring how sticky it felt from the apple he was eating. “I could get used to that.”

“Anything I can do for you? You name it, I’ll make it happen.” Daryl said.

“Just sit with me a while.” You droned, clearly exhausted. “Before you gotta up and go again.”

“‘Course” he reassured you, kissing your knuckles. You detached your hands so he could finish his apple and you were happy to sit with him. The noise of the camp was gone and there wasn’t anything you could do, but with Daryl you always felt at ease. Though something seemed off about him. A kind of anger was boiling under your skin. Maybe he was pissed the Saviours up and left too.

Jerry arrived back on horse and was talking to Rick. You didn’t bother yourself with it but Daryl’s interest seemed to be piqued. Especially when he walked by talking rapidly into a walkie talkie. You tuned into the conversation out of curiosity.

“I need you to get an urgent message to Alexandria… If Maggie Rhee shows up, delay her at the gate and alert Michonne right away. Do not... repeat… do not let her in without an escort. Over”

“What’s happening?” You asked Daryl. He didn’t look at you as he stood up. You stood up after him and walked behind

“And, Maggie, if you're listening… let's talk.” Rick tucked the walkie back into his belt.

“Hey. What’s goin’ on?” Daryl asked as he approached.

“Maggie's headed to Alexandria.” Rick explained.

“Is that bad?” You asked.

“She's about do something she might regret.” Rick explained further, grabbing the horse.

“Hop on. I'll take you.” Daryl said.

“You sure? We got enough fuel?” Rick asked, already moving to Daryl’s bike

“Yeah. We’ll get there quicker.” Daryl said, climbing onto the bike. “I’ll be back soon, Darlin’” he called to you.

“Better be in one piece” you shot back.

“I’ll make sure of it, Y/N!” Rick replied. You watched as they took off down the road, leaving you in a crumbling camp.

You wandered around the camp, finding the Alexandrians had left too and what was left of hill top and oceanside were scattered with talk of leaving. You eventually came upon Carol. She was packing up with a group you recognised as the kingdom's people. “You leaving too?” You called, grabbing her attention. You settled onto the heel of your feet and placed your hands into the back pockets of your hips, watching as she asked a nearby man to finish packing up the crate.

“This place is bust, Y/N” She said, walking towards you. “I know you tried earlier but-”

“Yeah” you hissed through your teeth. “I get it.” She looked away, seemingly embarrassed. “You're going back to the kingdom I see.”

“There’s room on the wagon if you want” Carol offered, seemingly remorseful.

“No.” You replied “I told Sanctuary I’d be back.”

Carol shook her head in disbelief then chuckled as she threw her head to the sky then back to you. “I don’t get it. You hated it there!” She expressed while you nodded along in agreement. “But you wanna go back?”

‘I was trying to cover my ass but now everyone who knows me is dead’ you thought. Though that wouldn’t fly. Your childhood made you an adept liar though. ‘No granny those aren’t vomit stains on the carpet I just spilled my porridge. Yes, I eat porridge now.’

“I was scared. And lonely. But in time it got less so.” you explained, not breaking eye-contact. “I don’t know the Saviours you knew, but the ones I know appreciate my work. And they’ve got nothing. I had nothing and Daryl came to me, gave me a shot. I wanna extend that to them.”

“We won’t help,” Carol said. “Too many people were hurt.”

“Well if you’re gonna turn away starving children and hard working people,” You retorted. “We’ll go elsewhere.”

“You’re a horrible liar,” Carol chuckled.

“Right back at ya,” you turned to leave and pack your things when Carol called you. She came up to you and offered you a revolver and a belt holster.

“You’ll need it,” she said. You took the belt and weapon.

“Thanks, Carol.” You said. She pulled you into a hug that you returned with gusto then parted so you could pack your things.

You didn’t have much, mainly your knife and the clothing on your back but Enid had forgotten some valuable supplies in the infirmary. Between that, the change of clothes you had and a couple apples you had hidden away in your tent for later, your bag was bare.

You were about to set out and start dismantling one of the tents to bring back when you heard bullets fly. You immediately got low to the floor and pulled out your gun, checking if it was loaded.

The rounds sounded too rapid to be one sided. You walked out the back of the tent and noticed the shoot out. It was a small group of saviours going after Carol’s group. You took a deep breath and ran out of the tent and behind a nearby tree, then peered out the side and took two quick shots at the group. You managed to hit one and the larger group was now caught off guard. In the time it took you to unload the barrel you downed another two and the fire fight had ended with Carol’s group victorious and a number of the Saviours running back into the woods. They disappeared as quickly as they appeared. You ran over to Carol’s group.

“Is everyone alright?” You asked.

“They got Fred!” one of the hilltoppers yelled. You looked at the armoured body and knew in an instant he was gone from the axe wound alone.

“You gotta come with us,” Carol said to you. “The shots would’ve attracted the herd.”

“Alexandria’s the safest bet with the way that herd is moving” Jerry put in.

“Alexandria it is then,” you agreed, helping load up now. The tents were abandoned. Someone from Oceanside radioed that the camp wasn’t safe but no one checked for a response. Everything was loaded up and the carriages were moved.

Off in Alexandria, in someone else’s world. Maggie entered the dark basement cell. Her face was illuminated by what little light creeped between the shutters. Negan chuckled.

“Aw, she just gave up the keys, huh?” He jested “It's a shame. She got the blade, but you...You got the fire. My money was on you.”

Maggie looked into his cell. He sat on his bed, shrouded in darkness. “So you remember me.” She spoke into the darkness”

“'Course I do.” Negan Replied “It's why I thought you were gonna win.”

“Good.” Maggie swallowed hard, emboldening her resolve. This was it, she was going to give this monster what he deserved. “Get on your knees.”

“You know, I remember you screamin' in that clearing.” Negan muled aloud, standing up and walking closer to the bars yet not completely out of the darkness “I remember how much I broke you breakin' open your husband's head like I did.”

“Glenn.” Maggie snapped “His name was Glenn.”

“So now what? You finally come for…” Negan paused for intentional dramatic effect “revenge?”

“Justice.”

“Damn.” Negan gasped “Thought you'd do this a hell of a lot sooner. It take you this long to work up your nerve?

“I was always gonna settle this,” Maggie retorted, her voice growing in volume “what you did to my husband. Get on your knees.”

“What I did to him?” Negan pressed “You mean how I cracked open his skull and popped out his goddamn eyeball? How I bashed his big, beautiful brains into the ground over and over while you and his little friends watched? Is that what you mean?

“Ah, I used to say that I didn't enjoy killin'.” Negan sighed with satisfaction “That was a lie. Your old man… Christ, I forgot his name again. But he was different. Killin' him the way I did, ooh, now, that was fun.”

Maggie pressed the key into the lock, the teeth rolling over the internal mechanisms echoing in the dark cell. Negan took to his knees, as had been requested of him.

“Get to it. Have your justice. Kill me. It was worth it.”

“Lemme see you in the light.” Maggie demanded.

“Come on.” Negan beckoned her on “Kill me.” She turned the key, the lock clicking loudly. “You not have it in you?” Negan teased “Don't you punk out like Rick.”

“Come into the light.” Maggie demanded again.

“Kill me. This is what you came here for!” Negan demanded, his tone becoming desperate “You kill me!”

“Move into the light.” Maggie spook through her teeth, peeved.

“Kill me.” Negan’s head went down and he began to cry. Maggie finally lost her patience, pulling the door open and tearing Negan from his cell and into what little light there was in the room.

“Please. Please.” Negan began to beg. He was disheveled and cowering on the floor in a useless pile. “Please kill me.

“Why?” Maggie asked

“You have to. Just do it.”

“You tell me why!” Maggie began to yell at him “Tell me! Why should I?!”

“So I can be with my family!” Negan cried out “So I can be with Lucille! And with my Y/N!” Negan sobbed silently.

“I should be dead.” He began to ramble “I have to be dead. And it's supposed to be you. It has to be you, because I can't do it. I can't do it. I've tried. I can't. I can't be like this. Please, please don't make me stay like this. It's... Settle it.” He was so distraught every other word he was gasping for air. “Settle me. Kill me. Please.”

“Get back in your cell.” Maggie ordered

“No.” Negan protested from the floor where he lay “No. No. No.” He sobbed “Why?”

“I came to kill Negan,” Maggie said “and you're already worse than dead. That settles it.” Negan hid his face as he sobbed “Go.” she ordered.

He knew better than to argue with her, especially how she pulled him out of the cell without breaking a sweat. “It wasn't supposed to be like this.” He protested weakly, “It wasn't supposed to be like this.”

With that Maggie locked the gate and left the cell, content that her husband’s murderer was suffering.

“What the hell was that?” One of the kingdom’s people said when they were far enough away, clearly talking to you. In their eyes you were the last saviour. They strode up behind you.

“I don’t know” You muttered, pulling one of the horses along the road

You were walking as fast as you can, basically dragging the horses and carriages and this man wanted to fight. “What do you mean you don’t know!”

“I don’t know!” You yelled back, continuing to move. “People do stupid shit when they’re scared!”

“They killed Fred!”

“We killed them!” You finally let go of the horse and turned around to face the man. “And you’ve been killing them for a long time!”

“You don’t know what they-”

“The war?” You cut him off “I know that there is a factory full of people who are starving, working their ass off to get you ethanol, and have no protection.” You were too caught in the moment to notice the wagon train had stopped moving and too angry to hear Jerry and Carol calling to you “Not fighters! Workers! People who didn’t get a chance to defend themselve in your precious fucking war and are paying the price for it!”

Horses trotted up to meet you halfway in the road. You recognised Maggie, Eugene, Tara, and Michone and a few others. Daryl rode up from the back of the group on his bike.

“What happened?” Maggie rode up to the group and asked Carol.

“Saviours jumped us. Ended up shooting each other.” Carol explained. “The gun fire could’ve attracted the herd so we left.”

“Where’s Rick?” Daryl asked.

“He’s not with you?” You shot back.

“What if he headed back to the camp?” Beatrice, a girl from Oceanside, pitched. You could feel the panic set in the group. Daryl disembarked from his bike.

“I know a shortcut. Come on!” He lead the way into the forest. You and a large group instantly took off on foot, following him closely. Within minutes you were back at the bridge to a horrifying sight.

Countless walkers were crossing the bridge. The herd was so thick no sunlight was travelling through and standing at the end of the bridge, with all those walkers heading right towards him, was Rick. Daryl already had his bow out and was picking off the walkers that got too close to his friend.

“What is he doing?!” Maggie yelled.

“He's hurt!” Michone cried. You noticed his clothes were soaked in blood

“That herd that went right through Hilltop.” Daryl gasped “He's trying to bring down the bridge.”

In the next instant Michone had her sword out and was running towards the herd. You called after her and ran after her.

“We turn them around. Fight 'em back.” Maggie followed close behind you

“Fire your guns.” Carol ordered “Try to divert them.

Michone called to Rick as you all ran to the herd, but a moment later the herd caught in flames. Michone stumbled back as the orange heat climbed above your heads. She stood there a moment, shocked into place. You looked through the flames and felt yourself thrown back into your army days.

Rubble and sand were all around you. The air was heavy with debris. It was you, five other servicemen and countless civilians trapped into a crumbling building while bullets flew outside. Children were crying and parents could do nothing to calm them. There was a moment of calm. A moment to get the group through a gap in the rock fall near the back of the building. You got them through while the others lay down ground fire, keeping the enemy at bay. You pulled yourself through the hole after the last of the civilians made it out and went about helping your fellow soldier. They were nearly clear when an explosion went off in the building and you were both sent backwards. You could feel the heat from the explosion on your face, but your ally could feel their life seeping out of their lost leg. He screamed out in complete agony.

The same way Michone screamed out. When you felt yourself come back you noticed Maggie and Carol were holding her back and you had fallen to the ground.

“Y/N!” Tara yelled to you, pulling the rest of you into the present “We have to go!” You nodded rapidly and pulled yourself to your feet. You all retreated back a ways so the herd wouldn’t come to you right away.

“I need to find him,” Michone sobbed. “I need to help him.”

The smoke was rising above them in thick clouds. The radio was going crazy with people who were seeing the smoke.

“What was that?”

“Was that the bridge?”

One of the people with you got on the radio. “Rick!” he called breathlessly “He blew it to stop the herd!”

Everyone around you was in shock and crying horribly. These people had followed Rick, and now they seemed lost. You were in no way a leader but-

“We can look downstream.” You spoke up. Pale and contorted faces looked back at you. “If he fell in the water he’ll be downstream… If he got hit by the blow back he’ll be on the road bu-”

“You heard her.” A man with long hair in a bun and a beard. His face was red but he was already tired of crying “Downstream.”

“I gotta-” Michon spoke, shaking as she got back to her feet. The man beckoned her. In the next moment a small group had run past to look downstream.

“I gotta go to Sanctuary” You announced to those left. Carol nodded, tears streaming down her face. “They gotta know what happened here.”

“Go,” she croaked out, “and bring them back to kingdom.” Beatrice immediately got angry at the notion but before she could speak Carol silenced her. “Without that bridge they’ll starve. Rick didn’t fight for that.” Carol looked back at you. “Go.”

~Tag List~

@felicisimor @bodeckersbitch @lauren-novak @aestthete

152 notes · View notes

grace-likes-things · 3 years

Text

Beside Her

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

A/N: uhh it’s been a while. Here’s this! And here’s to me posting a random one-shot every two years lmaoooooo. Disclaimer: alternate reality where no one died/left after endgame.

Summary: A mission Peter’s off the job for, and which goes terribly wrong.

Warnings: blood, major character death, this one is v angsty folks.

Word Count: almost 6k

~~~~~~~

“So, am I alright to go with?”

“No way, Peter. Your sling may be off but your arm can't handle the kind of wear you put it through yet. Give it another day or so.”

Peter sighs, exasperated, “But the mission’s tonight!”

“Nuh, uh, Pete,” my dad cuts in across the room, “You’re staying here, doctor’s orders. I told you we’d check, and we did, and Helen says no.”

“Mr. Stark—!”

“Not me, Helen, you really gonna combat her decision?”

Dr. Cho gives Peter a stern look, having had experience with his impulsively-gained-injuries before. He turns away, ducking his eyes, knowing not to challenge her.

“Peter it’s fine,” I say, hand on his good shoulder, “You’ll join us on the next one.”

“If—“ my dad buts in, “he doesn't go shatter half the bones in his arm again. And don't go assuming you’ll be on the next one, Y/N, I'm hardly supportive of you coming with tonight as it is.”

I sigh, turning stubbornly towards him as he waltzes out of the room, “I've been training for over 3 years, dad I—“

“Nope. Still my kid, don't push your luck. We’re t-minus 1 hour out, so go get ready,” and with that, he turns the corner and leaves.

“Sorry Pete, better luck next time.” Helen picks up her clipboard and departs, leaving us alone in the room.

I turn to Peter, who’s looking rather defeated about the fact that he won't be allowed on the first mission in three months. I nudge his shoulder playfully, “Hey, think on the bright side, now you get to snoop around the lab uninterrupted for a couple hours.”

He gives me a halfhearted smile, “Yeah? I still wish I could be out there with you.”

His eyes change into an anxious look. I look at him, sympathetic, and grab his hand in mine.

Since the snap, the fight with Thanos, and almost losing my dad, Peter’s had this protective, premature-guilt complex concerning the people close to him. We got lucky not losing anyone, but I think seeing my dad recover from mourning us and the near-death experience I had in the battle, he’s not really comfortable being separated from us in a fight.

“I know. But it’s relatively minor, from what I’ve heard. I mean — minor enough to convince my dad to let me tag along, so.“

“Yeah, I know. I just hate not being there to have your back.”

I lean into his side, shoving him playfully, “You suggesting I can’t handle myself?”

“Absolutely not,” and I see I’ve forced a grin onto his face, “Just think, ya know, maybe your dad’s had a few too many juice pops lately, and I gotta be concerned — I mean, a gain in weight could throw off his balance in the suit—“

“Oh! Throwing my dad under the bus here, are we?” I laugh, “That’s funny, maybe I’ll mention it to him later.”

“Kidding! Don't tell your dad I said he’s fat — he's not.” He hangs onto my hand as I stand from the med-bay bed, “He’s a very fit man, you know, for his age.”

I laugh, “This just gets better and better! I’ll make sure to tell him you think he’s old too after I get ready.”

I move to walk away, but Peter stops me, tugging my hand gently.

“Hey, but seriously,” he murmurs, “be careful tonight. Come back in one piece for me. Okay?”

“Of course,” I say, and lean my forehead against his, “And you have a fantastically boring night, let your arm rest. Don't get into any trouble.”

He kisses me long and gentle, “I’ll try not to.”

——————

Tonight’s mission was a fairly routine one. One of the lingering branches of Hydra left, hiding in a bunker and planning nothing good. We’d all been briefed on the most recent information about their weapons and tactics, and the team had decided tonight was the time to shut the place down.

I examine the repulsors in the palms of my suit, sleeker like Peter’s, but armed similarly to my dad’s. There’s about 15 minutes before we fly out, so I tuck my braids beside my neck — getting my hair caught in the helmet seriously blows — and make my way up to the launch pad.

“Hey, offspring!” my dad plants his hand on my head and shakes it, “You still wanna come along on this one? Sure you don't wanna stay home? Absolutely? Because you know, you’re welcome to, in fact, DUM-E's been missing you down in the lab, i’m sure he’d appreciate your company—“

“Nuh uh, old man, I'm going with. You said so.”

“Oh, so I’m old now? You know, I did end up with an extra five years than you, so you can cut me a little slack.”

I laugh and walk onto the quinjet to meet the team, “Never.”

————————

“You all remember your assignments?” Steve asks, “Me and Sam, Tony and Wanda, Nat and Y/N.”

A chorus of yes’s and nods follow, as if this wasn’t the fourth time we’d answered that question.

The ride to the bunker is relatively boring, other than my dad pestering me with Stay with nat, and don't get distracted, and be careful, and don’t do anything I would do, and definitely don't do anything Peter would do. Nat and Wanda chuckle at my situation from across the quinjet, and it was getting pretty old by the time we landed a bit outside the target.

Once we’ve all gotten set with weapons and coms, we start out on the jog to the bunker. Upon arriving there, Nat and I are tasked with stealing a hard drive that contains targets and weapons data. From what we know, it’s in a room close to the center of the building, so we have a long way to go while trying to get noticed as little as possible.

My dad tells me to stay safe and call for him if needed before we part ways, and Nat and I are alone in a dark hall.

“Alright,” Nat whispers, “We move toward the center of the bunker, 4 floors down, we’ll use the vents if we have to. They might cause a scene somewhere else, but our job is to keep hidden, all the way in and out if we’re lucky.”

“And when are we ever lucky?” I murmur back with a smirk.

“Don’t jinx it, kid, let’s go.”

For the most part, the beginnings of the mission are easy. We used Friday’s heat signatures for a full week to map out the guards’ schedules, so we knew what halls to stick to and when. Making our way to the less-monitored maintenance stairwell, we walk in silence, keeping an ear out for updates over the coms. Just as we reach the bottom of the third flight of stairs, a pair of guards walks through the doors.

“Hello, boys,” Nat says and quickly turns to me, “I’ll take the tall one.”

With that, we spring to action.

The pair raise their weapons toward us, but Nat quickly disarms the man across from her while I blast the gun from the shorter man’s hand and drag him through the doorway before he can reach the alarm on the outside wall. Slamming him into the stair railings, he tries to get rid of me by throwing a headbutt my way, but my suit takes the brunt of the impact. Pulling my arm back and releasing his wrist, I aim a punch square at his face and hear a crack when it lands on his nose. After a disdainful grunt, he shoves me back and tries to kick my legs out from under me, but I quickly grab hold of his ankle and yank up. The man lands harshly on the floor, and one kick is all it takes to knock him out.

When I look up, Nat has already beat her opponent and is checking the outer hall for more guards. “It’s clear,” she says, and we both take the ankles of the two guards and drag them through the door into the nearest room, tying them up securely before jamming the door in place.

“I hope they enjoy a nice nap, let’s keep moving,” Natasha says, and we make our way back to the stairwell.

Finally on the fourth lower level, we hold ourselves with a bit more caution. This is where they guard more heavily, and we still have quite a ways to travel before we’re near the center of the building. With light steps, we make our way down the dimly lit halls, occasionally ducking through doorways and turning corners to avoid passing agents, guards and other workers. It seems as if most of the work they do happens down here, as we constantly see high-ranking members and people in lab coats muttering to one another as they roam the halls. I’m only able to catch a few words of any given conversation, and of the ones that were spoken in English, none of them sound pleasant.

Nat and I travel fairly uninterrupted for the next few halls before she stops me and says, “Alright, we’re close to the center now. The hard drive we need is going to be in a lab somewhere around here, so we’re checking rooms. If there are any heat signatures, we clear it together. If Friday doesn’t pick any up, we split and multitask.”

I raise my eyebrows, “Oh? Going against my dad’s orders, huh?”

She gives me a wry smile, “You seem to be able to handle yourself, and it’ll get us out of here faster,” she points at me, “Just don't make me regret it.”

I laugh, “I won’t.”

And with that, we start scanning the upcoming rooms.

The first room we check has a few Hydra agents inside, so we clear it together, check the computers for the right information and come up empty handed, breaking the doorknob and continuing on. We go about this for a while, knocking out the occupied rooms together, splitting up to clear empty rooms, checking for the right hard drive, and moving on. It’s tedious, but no alarms have been activated so far, and we make a good team.

Now very close to the center of the bunker, we come upon another few rooms free of heat signatures, so we once again divide and conquer. We have to be getting close now.

“I’ll take this one on the left, you’ve got the right?” I ask, walking carefully toward the door.

“Gotcha, call if you find anything.”

I open the large metal door and take a cautious step in, examining the room around me. There are no lights on, so I use a light on my suit to see my surroundings.

It’s strange, the room is large with high ceilings, but is pretty much empty. A few scraps of metal and packaging are strewn about the floor. Concrete floors and dark walls line the place. I take a few steps further in to double check that I haven’t missed anything, but all I see is one door on the opposite side. I turn back to exit when the entrance I came through slams shut in front of me. Alarmed, I run forward and try to open it, but the handle won't budge.

“Nat!” I whisper hushed through the coms, “The door shut behind me, can you get it from the outside?”

I hear her footsteps approach from the other side and the sound of her trying to open the door, “I can't get it, and the lock must be electric, there’s nothing to pick. How’d this close on you?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t see it.”

I hear a new voice over the coms, “Wait, did you two get separated?” My dad’s voice resounds with a hint of anxiety, “What did we talk about, Y/N? I said to stay with—“

“I tried! Not my fault the door shut behind me.”

“Well you should’ve gone through the door with Nat in the first place!”

“Hey!” Natasha’s voice cuts in, “While I would love to listen to you two bicker, we’ve got a job to do. She’s fine, Tony, we’ll figure it out.”

“I could just blast the door handle—“

“No, Y/N, it’ll be too loud, we’ve gotten this far without being noticed.” I hear Nat huff through the door, “It’s in our best interest to keep it that way. Friday’s telling me there’s another door, leads out to a hall. I can go around and meet you there. It's further toward the center, so at least if you have to blast the thing down we’ll be closer to the target.”

“Sounds good, I’ll wait for you,” I say, and with that, Natasha stalks off through the halls.

I turn to make my way across the room, walking leisurely. This place really is unusually huge for a seemingly-unused underground room, about the size of a school gymnasium. I’m wondering if it may have been used for storage or training when I hear a noise to my left.

Turning swiftly with my guard now up, I see a male guard walk through a side door. Another entrance? How did I miss that? I ready my fists in a fighting stance and call through the coms, “Hey Nat? This room was occupied, I’ve got it handled for now but you might wanna make it here quick.”

Strangely, I get no response, but I don't have time to dwell on that fact because the man is charging toward me.

He’s a good fighter, and we both land some hard hits as we combat to occupy the room. I flip over him and blast him into the wall, but he recovers abnormally quickly and rises up again for more. I land another punch to his stomach once he’s in range, but he quickly grabs my wrist after and squeezes with inhuman strength, crushing the thin-design gauntlet on my hand. The metal cuts into my palm before tear what remains off and launch him over my shoulder onto the floor. I move to kick his side but he grabs my leg and throws me off balance, and my back hits the floor in a harsh slam. Groaning, I try to sit up as the guard grabs a metal pole off the floor — oh shit — and slams it onto my other palm, crushing my second gauntlet. Two hands now bare, aching, and unarmed, I continue to fight at a slight disadvantage. But I’ve trained for years, I can handle this.

It turns out maybe I couldn’t handle it.

The guard has to be one of Hydra’s human experiments, because he’s stronger than the average adult. I struggle to gain the upper hand for several minutes. He's had me pinned me to the ground, and just when I think his weight is lifting off me he brings down the pole on my side. Hard.

I groan and curl away. Even through the thin — and now damaged — metal of my suit, the blow took the air out of me. I press my palms to the cold floor to push myself up, but another blow strikes my back and I collapse forward. Finally, the man grabs a fistful of my hair and slams my head into the ground, and a ringing suddenly starts in my ears. Dizzy, head aching, and barely able to think, the next thing I register is being dragged across the room to the opposite wall by my wrists, which are then cuffed in front of me.

And strangely, the guard who put all that effort into beating me walks out of the room.

“Hey!” I shout, “What’s going on, asshole!? Come back here!” But he doesn’t return, and shuts that same side door behind him. I groan in frustration, head still pounding in pain, and try to reach the team again, “Anyone hear me? I’m still in this room, my gauntlets are broken and I'm cuffed, anyone around?” No response, “Hello?”

I’m starting to think Hydra somehow interrupted our signal when another noise distracts me from across the room.

The door opens once again, and this time five people exit. Four guards and…

Peter.

A chill surges down my spine.

They’re dragging Peter into the room.

“Peter?” I call out, panicked, “Hey! What are you doing with him?”

He’s dressed in plainclothes, so he didn’t come here as Spiderman. He doesn’t look like he’s in the best condition, slumped and hardly fighting the guards who are carrying him to the center of the room. My mind starts racing with all the things they could’ve done — what’s wrong with him? How could they have hurt him so badly he isn't able to fight back, especially with his strength? I need to get him away from them, but if these four guards are anywhere as strong as the last, I need a plan of attack. Or backup. Where is the team?

And how did they get to Peter? Peter Parker, not Spiderman, so not out on the streets — he was supposed to be in the lab tonight. Did they get into the compound? Is anyone else hurt? My mind keeps spiraling into more and more panicked thoughts, and then I hear him.

“Y/N?” He calls out, “Where are we?” His voice is raspy and slurred, and I think they must’ve given him something, some sort of drug. I’m about to call back to him when a guard lifts him up and punches him in the stomach.

“No!” I shout, raising up to my knees and then beginning to stand before one of the four guards points his gun at me. I stay there, kneeling before the scene, not knowing what to do to stop either of us from getting hurt. The three remaining guards begin to beat on him again, kicking and punching and Peter is too delirious to serve any resistance other than curling up and grasping weakly at the ankles of the men hurting him. I can hear his pained whimpers, and my heart squeezes in my chest, I feel tears building in my eyes.

“Stop! Stop hurting him, what do you want?!” I scream, wanting to get closer to him but still at a stand still with the fourth guard, “Come on, tell me what you want! You’re not getting anything by just beating him!”

The three guards pay me no regard, but the fourth, still pointing his gun at me, snickers as if I’ve said something funny.

Peter is still at their mercy, receiving hit after hit and a voice in my head tells me, they’re gonna kill him. You have to do something or they’ll kill him.

“What do you want? Come on, what is it?!”

And with a heavy accent, the man says, “To cause you misery.”

The chill returns, and I decide — despite my terrible odds — that I have to get them away from Peter.

I get my feet firmly under me.

I charge toward the guard with the gun, bracing myself.

And he does something I didn’t expect.

He turns the gun on Peter.

I hear three shots.

“NO!” I scream, my eyes go wide and I drop to my knees once again, facing Peter and crawling toward him, “No, no, no, no, no!”

The guards shuffle back into the shadows, laughing, seemingly done with their job, but all I can see is Peter.

I’m frozen for a second, staring, shaking, unable to process the scene before me. He lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling, hands grasping at his chest where blood has begun to pour from three wounds. I race toward him and drop to the ground at his side, placing my cuffed hands firmly over the holes in his chest.

“Peter?” I say, my voice tight and choked, “Hey, hey listen to me, you’re gonna be okay. The rest of the team is here, my dad is here, he's gonna get us out, okay?” A few of my tears leak down onto my hands, running into the blood that now stains them.

“Y/N?” He mumbles, hardly able to speak.

“Yeah, it’s me, I'm so sorry,” I sniff and try to keep my throat from closing up, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop them but you’re gonna be fine, Peter, we’re gonna get help.”

His face is twisted in pain, and when he tries to speak next, only a cough comes out, and blood bubbles out over his lips.

I fail to hold back a sob and move my hands to his cheeks, “Shh,” I try to get out, but it comes out shaky, like a whimper, “Shh, don’t— don’t try to talk.”

His eyes look into mine, I can see the pain behind them as he lies there, struggling to breathe. I stroke his cheek, and only now come to notice the blood I’ve painted there. I sob again. I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do, I don't know how to help him.

Can I?

Is it too late?

I cradle his head across my thighs, take one of his hands in mine and leave the other on his cheek, trying to provide some sort of comfort.

“I’m sorry, Peter, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” and I just keep saying it, breathing it out and heaving air back into my lungs between sobs. Tears are constantly tracking down my face now, and i’m doing all I can to subdue them while he’s still conscious, still looking at me.

My mantra of apologies keeps repeating, and my thumb keeps stroking along his cheek, and I don’t know how long I sit there, crying, mumbling, desperately hoping someone comes to help us before I notice him release a slow, defeated breath.

In, out.

“Peter?” I mumble. My blood freezes in my veins. My breath stills. I wait for his chest to rise again. I watch and pray for it to happen. Please, please, please.

It doesn’t move.

A long, whining sob erupts from deep in my chest as I drop my head and cry, and cry, and cry above him, “No, no, no, no. Please, no.”

I sob, loud and painful, unable to take a breath in anymore. I shut my eyes and don't look up because I can't look at his face — his eyes are still open his eyes are still open.

I’m never gonna see him again,

I’m never gonna hear his voice again,

I’m never gonna kiss him again.

The pain in my chest gets worse and I feel dizzy with the force of my sobs.

And then suddenly there are arms under mine, and I'm being dragged backwards.

Away from Peter.

“No, no, no, no, let me go! Let me go!” And what i’m saying is barely coherent between the sobs, “Let me stay with him, please, please!” But the arms hooked under me don't relent, no matter how hard I pry at them, no matter how hard I kick and scream. He’s getting farther and farther away from me, alone in that room, and I can't bear the thought of it.

“Please, let me go!”

And suddenly I hear my name, as if through a haze, but I can’t make out who’s saying it. I don't really care. I have to get back to him, I have to stay with him, I can’t leave him alone.

“Y/N— “

“Y/N it’s us! Come on!”

I pull and pull at the hands around me but I can’t remove them, I keep getting pulled backwards until—

I’m yanked through a doorway, and the room where Peter lies is dark and blank in front of me.

My hearing isn’t fuzzy anymore.

I gasp in surprise but the sobs haven’t stopped, and my father’s unmasked face appears in front of me.

“Y/N? Hey! You’re okay, we’re here!” His hands are on my face but I swat them away.

“No! Peter’s in there! We can't leave him! We have to take him home, we have to get him home—”

“Y/N— “

“Dad they shot him, I couldn’t help him, I couldn’t help him—“ my words dissolve again into cries of grief.

“Y/N he's not in there.”

I turn to him in confusion.

“He is!” I point my hand frantically toward the doorway, “In the middle of the room! They k— they killed him in there!”

“Y/N…” my dad speaks.

And it’s then that I notice my outstretched hand, pointing toward the door.

There’s no blood on it.

I start to shake harder.

“I- I saw it, I saw it happen I— “

And I notice the thin fog rolling out through the doorway, lazily dispersing along the floor.

I look up. I breathe heavy and shakily. The whole team is staring down at my red, tearstained face. Cap’s face is twisted into concern, Natasha looks sad and sympathetic. Hydra agents lie dead or out cold on the ground, alarms blaring, but no one takes any steps to exit. The raid is over…

And I can't see any blood on my hands.

“Y/N, it was a hallucinogen,” my dad says firm, but gently, “Whatever you saw in there wasn’t real.”

I stare at him, trying to make sense of this. It looked so real. It felt so real.

“But— but I saw it— I felt it, I could feel what they did—“

He gently breaks the cuffs from my wrists, “I know, I know kiddo, but it wasn’t real. They know how to get in your head.”

I shake my head in confusion, “But the cuffs? And my gauntlets are broken—?”

“Whoever did that was real.” Nat cut in, “They hurt you so you wouldn't fight the simulation and then the drugs were pumped into the room.”

I sit there on the floor in front of the Avengers. Disbelief, confusion, and grief all playing across my face.

“Check the room,” I demand.

My dad points a light into it, and Steve walks through, “No one here, see?”

My mind still races, it felt so real.

“Friday?” My dad speaks up, a gentle hand in my hair, “Where’s Peter now?”

“At the compound, sir, working on his suit in your lab.”

I sniff and mumble out, “Vitals?”

“All normal levels.”

I sigh, squeeze my eyes shut, and drop my head into my hands. A sob of leftover panic and relief fights its way out of my chest.

“C’mere,” My dad says, and pulls me closer to him, a soothing arm around my back.

“I need to see him,” I choke out, “I need to know he’s not— “

“I know, I know, we got the job done here, we’re going home.”

——————

I don't remember the walk back out of the compound. It’s all vague reassurances and worrying eyes. I think my dad buckled the straps around me once we got to the quinjet.

The flight back is somber, quiet, despite the fact that we succeeded. I feel the entire team’s eyes on me, but I don't look up. I’m too busy sitting curled on my seat, staring down at my hands.

There was so much blood. So much of his blood.

I spend the next few hours staring, not speaking, unable to stop the images from replaying in my head. My dad sits beside me, stroking my hair, muttering things I can’t hear.

I thought he was gone. All I can hear are the choked, wet sounds of the blood rising from his throat, all I can see is the stark image of dark red dripping down his pale cheek. Pain in his eyes. His chest refusing to move.

“Y/N,” I think it’s the fourth attempt someone makes to get my attention, and I look up to see my dad kneeling in front of me, “We’re almost back.”

“He’s at the landing pad?” I whisper, my voice hoarse.

My dad takes my hand and says, “Yeah, I had Friday call him up.”

The next thing I’m aware of is the quinjet touching down, and I unbuckle the straps and stand up. My dad rests a reassuring hand on my back, and when the ramp lowers, he walks me forward. He can tell I’m still doubtful. He can tell a part of me still believes what I saw back in that room.

But then we reach the ground and I see him.

Peter is standing back from the landing pad, accompanied by Pepper. He’s healthy, he’s standing on his own, he’s not bleeding, he’s not hurt, he hasn’t been shot, he’s okay.

He’s not dead.

I pick up the pace, walking out of reach of my dad, and once I’m close enough to see his eyes a sob fights its way up my throat and I throw my arms around his shoulders.

“Hey, shh, it’s alright,” his arms wrap firmly around my back, one hand landing in my hair and one stroking up and down my spine. His hair tickles my cheek, his shirt collar is bent out of shape — he never folds them right. He’s warm and strong and breathing and alive. I bury my face in his neck as another sob wracks through my body.

“What happened?” I hear him ask, confused, and his voice rumbles so low and soothing and I can feel it against my chest, hear it in his throat where my ear is pressed. I can’t stop my cries long enough to answer him but I realize the question wasn’t directed toward me.

“She’s not hurt,” my dad’s voice reassures him, “They messed with her head. She thought — she saw them hurt you—“

“I thought you were dead,” I croak out. My grip on him tightens and I let my hand trail to the curls at the base of his neck, let them twist around my fingers. My voice has risen an octave when I say, “You died, I saw you die.”

We sway for a moment, his hands still running down my back and through my hair, I don't think he knows what to say. I wouldn’t know, either.

We stay there for a minute, and the rest of the team has walked inside to give us some space, I assume.

After a while, when my sobs have quelled and I'm just quietly sniffling against him, I feel his hand on my cheek, pulling me back.

“Hey,” He whispers gently, wiping his thumb under my eye to clear away the tears there, “Good thing that wasn’t me then, right? I’m right here. And I’ve got proof— I was talking Dr. Banner’s ear off in the lab the entire time, he can vouch for me,” I let out a watery giggle at his antics, “You wanna go inside? Get you warm, patch you up?”

“Yeah,” I sigh out, disentangling myself from him, but keeping an arm around his side as we walk into the building, “Sorry, I’d give you a hello kiss but I’m pretty sure there’s snot running down my face.”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to the hair at my temple, “That’s okay, let’s get you cleaned up.”

——————

After a brief period of time, I’ve showered, changed into pajamas, and am now sitting at the bathroom sink where my dad is bandaging the shallow cuts on my hands from the broken gauntlets. We sit in relative silence, and there’s no doubt from the look on my dad’s face that I appear just about as shell shocked as I feel.

“Kiddo, you gonna be okay tonight?” He asks in a hushed voice.

I don't look him in the eye, instead watching him work on my hands as I mumble out, “Probably not.”

He huffs with a bit of amusement, “Well, thanks for the honesty, I guess.”

He finishes up on my left hand and raises my chin to look him in the eye. I don't know what to say, so I let him speak first.

“Seriously, Y/N, that was heavy, what you went through. Don’t be afraid to ask any one of us for help, okay?” He looks me pointedly in the eye, already doubting I’ll take him up on that. I am his daughter, after all.

“Yeah,” I whisper, “Got it.”

He stands with a sigh and puts the first aid kit back under my sink.

“Goodnight, come get me if you need me.” He presses a kiss to my head and leaves.

——————

Tony looks at the clock. 7a.m., three hours after they returned from the mission.

“Friday? Has Y/N gotten any sleep yet?”

“No, sir. She spent a few hours in the kitchen with Mister Parker, but it appears as if they are both headed to their respective rooms now.”

“Alright. Alert me if she needs help, Fri.”

“Will do, sir. Goodnight.”

——————

“Sir, it appears as if Y/N is in distress.”

Tony wakes up to the alert just forty minutes after he’d laid down to sleep. He's quickly alert and shuffling out of bed, down the hall to his eldest daughter’s room. Although, when he turns the corner he sees Peter already at the door.

The teen looks up at him, “Hey, Mr. Stark. I— Friday told me she needed help. I was just gonna check in.”

“Me too,” Tony sighs, “You go ahead, Pete. It’s you she needs to see right now. Goodnight.”

The man turns to leave, but stops short of turning the corner. He says, tired, but playfully, “Door open, Parker.”

“Gotcha, Mr. Stark,” And the boy walks in to comfort his daughter.

Several hours later, after Tony’s gotten his meager version of a full-night’s sleep, and after a night he’s sure has held several nightmares for his daughter, he walks back past her door to make sure she’s okay.

He smiles warmly at the scene. Wrapped in Peter’s Midtown sweatshirt, his daughter sleeps, restless but quiet, leaning an arm over the boy she loves. He holds her secure, both their legs strewn about the covers, and Tony can't help but notice Y/N’s hand. Resting softly at the side of Peter’s neck, fingers in the hair behind his ear, and her thumb rests just over the boy’s pulse point. Thrumming gently in sleep, reassuring her — even in her unconscious state — that what she saw was fake. Peter is alive and well, sleeping soundly right beside her.

—————

Alrighty that’s it! Let me know how you liked it and thanks for reading!

136 notes · View notes

does-this-look-logicality-to-you · 3 years

Text

Valentine’s Day

words: 2868 universe: human au characters: virgil, roman, patton; mentions of remus, logan, janus pairings: romantic prinxiety, platonic moxiety, platonic DLAMPR, implied background romantic logicality warnings: none i can think of, just fluff on fluff on fluff a/n: happy late valentines day, everyone! i wanted to have this done on actual valentine’s day but executive dysfunction said no thank you. this fic is dedicated to my amazing girlfriend @katlikethesword. i still can’t believe how lucky i am to be your datemate, and i love you with all my heart. this is my first time writing a prinxiety fic this long, so i hope you like it <3

Virgil had never liked Valentine’s Day. As he often said, it was just another commercial holiday created for big corporations to take advantage of people’s relationships in order to make even more money. It was the same with holidays like Christmas and Halloween, but Valentine’s Day had always stood out to him as the worst of them all. He sometimes wondered if, deep down, he disliked this day in particular because he’d never had someone to spend it with.

That is, he didn’t, until he met Roman.

Virgil never would have guessed he’d fall for someone like Roman. The two had met through the internet, after joining a small Discord server for those who shared an interest in Steven Universe. The two held a sort of rivalry between them at first, arguing almost constantly to the point where the others would grow nervous when they noticed both of them online at once. They didn’t dislike one another, per se, but the fact that their opinions clashed a majority of the time led to conflict more often than not.

After some time— and convincing by the others— the two of them begrudgingly started to get along. Their arguments went from heated debates to playful bouts of banter. Virgil found himself growing fond of his eccentric friend, and began to see him as less annoying and self-absorbed. He instead grew to appreciate his sense of humor, and his eagerness to stand up for his beliefs, and his unrelenting loyalty to those he cared about.

Over time, Virgil’s feelings blossomed into something more than just platonic and he felt himself falling. It had terrified him at first— after all, he’d never had feelings like this toward anyone before. He finally came to terms with it after one fateful night, when a voice call lasted so long that the two of them had ended up falling asleep. After that, there was no turning back. After what felt like forever— in reality, a week— he finally opened up about his feelings, and somehow, by some miracle, Roman reciprocated them.

As a result, the two of them were now in a romantic relationship together. Virgil felt himself fall more and more in love every day. It was the simple things that made him special. Roman often sent him messages containing words of adoration and devotion, and he tagged his boyfriend in Tumblr posts that reminded him of their relationship, or of Virgil in general. Virgil had been hesitant to admit that he was in love with Roman, but he did so eventually. He couldn’t imagine loving anyone else.

Not everything was this easy, though. Roman lived thousands of miles away, too far to come and visit unless he was travelling with his family, which was unlikely considering how unappealing his home state was as a vacation spot and how unlikely it was for his parents to plan a trip there. All they could do was pine hopelessly as they waited until they could finally see one another. It wasn’t uncommon for Virgil to lose himself in daydreams of the day they could finally see each other, when they could finally hold each other, when they could finally be together. Roman sometimes joked that he’d expect the pining to die down when they got together, only for it to double once they actually did, and Virgil couldn’t help but agree. It was hard being so far from the person he cared about. All he wanted was to see his love, to be by his side, to be in his arms, even if only for a little while. Was that really too much to ask?

When he woke up on February 14, the first thing Virgil did was grab his phone and open Discord to message Roman. When he did, he’d been expecting his boyfriend to have sent him something, anything, but there was nothing. Maybe he’s not awake yet. He hoped that was it. gerard-gay: hey. happy valentine’s day. i miss you. After he sent it, Virgil lay back down, pulling the covers over himself and closing his eyes again. He stayed like that for a few minutes before stumbling out of bed and changing out of his pajamas. He wasted little time in changing into a purple t-shirt, his favorite hoodie, and a pair of dark gray sweatpants. With that done, he headed into the bathroom. He splashed water on his face, then dried it before taking out his makeup kit. He decided to go for a simple look today, complete with the black eyeshadow on his lower lid that he often wore. Satisfied, he left the bathroom and headed into the kitchen.

The first thing he noticed was that his parents weren’t sitting on the couch like they usually were. Panic surged through him as his eyes flitted around the room, looking for some kind of clue. His gaze fell on a bright pink sticky note on the counter. He came over to it and read it. We had to go pick something up. We’ll be home around 1pm. Love you! ~Mom and Dad Virgil sighed in relief. They hadn’t abandoned him after all. They could have told me beforehand, though. He glanced at the clock on the microwave. 8:49. Damnit, I got up too early. At least he had the house to himself for a while.

He made himself a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal, got out his daily pills, and headed into the living room and set everything on the coffee table. He sat on the couch and turned on the TV, switching it to Netflix and putting on The Office. It wasn’t his favorite show, but it was better than eating in silence. As he ate his cereal, Virgil checked his notifications again. Nothing. He can’t still be asleep, can he? Even on the weekends, Roman was usually awake at around this time. He wasn’t ignoring him, was he?

Virgil soon finished his breakfast and grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch, swaddling it around himself. He stayed there for a while, occasionally having to venture out of his cozy cocoon to ensure Netflix that he was, in fact, still watching. As he watched, he kept an eye on his phone for any indication that Roman was alive and hadn’t grown bored of him.

Soon, he felt his phone buzz, and he nearly dropped it as he opened Discord to check the notification. To his disappointment, it wasn’t from Roman. It was instead from Patton, one of their mutual friends. happypappypatton: Happy palentine’s day!

Virgil couldn’t help but chuckle. gerard-gay: happy palentine’s day pat

happypappypatton: How’s your day so far?

gerard-gay: could be better

happypappypatton: Oh no! Why? Did something happen?

gerard-gay: nothing happened gerard-gay: just kinda worried about roman

happypappypatton: Is he okay?

gerard-gay: idk gerard-gay: i messaged him earlier but he didn’t respond

happypappypatton: Oh no, I’m so sorry!

gerard-gay: it’s okay gerard-gay: at least my parents aren’t home gerard-gay: so i get the house to myself😎

happypappypatton: Can I call you and keep you company?

gerard-gay: nah that’s okay gerard-gay: i don’t wanna take time out of your day

happypappypatton: You’re not happypappypatton: Nobody should be alone on Valentine’s day happypappypatton: Pleeeeease??? I want to talk to you!

gerard-gay: okay

happypappypatton: Yay!!

Virgil laughed to himself as he clicked the phone icon. It didn’t even finish ringing once before Patton picked up.

“Hi Vee!”

“Hey, Pat.”

“How’ve you been?”

“In the ten seconds since you last talked to me?” He laughed. “Exactly the same.”

Patton giggled. “Good point.”

“What about you?”

“I’m doing great! You know I love Valentine’s day.”

“I know you do. You and your roommate are having that Palentine’s party this year, right?”

“Yup!”

“I wish I could come,” Virgil half-joked.

“I know, I wish you could too. Just hang in there, we’ve only got a year and a half ‘till you graduate.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m counting the days.”

“Me too,” Patton agreed with a soft laugh. “Has Roman gotten back to you yet?”

“Nope.”

“That’s really weird. I would have thought he’d have sent you a page-long message about how much he loves you and misses you.”

“I know, I thought so too.” He sighed. “Do you think he’s sick of me?”

“No, absolutely not. You know how much Roman cares about you. Besides, even if he didn’t, he wouldn’t just ignore your messages.”

“Yeah, I guess. It would be pretty out of character for him to just ghost me.”

“Ghost you? But it’s not Halloween, it’s Valentine’s Day!”

Virgil groaned. “You couldn’t not make a dad joke, huh?”

“Sorry,” he giggled. “But you gotta admit, that was kinda funny.”

“Meh. It wasn’t your worst work.”

Patton laughed.

“Anyway.”

“Yeah, anyway…”

The two of them were quiet for a moment. “What about the others?” asked Virgil. “Have you talked to ‘em today?”

“Mhm! I DMed everyone earlier. I’m actually talking to ‘em right now.”

“Oh, cool. Are you…” he hesitated before finishing, “talking to Roman?”

“No, he’s the only one who hasn’t said anything. So on the off-chance he’s actually ignoring you, he’s ignoring me too.”

“Has anyone else said anything?”

“Nope. It’s weird, I asked them if they’d talked to him today after you told me he hadn’t been responding, and they all said no.”

“Even Remus?”

“Uh-huh. Apparently he hasn’t even seen him today.”

Virgil started bouncing his leg anxiously. “Okay, now I’m getting kinda scared. Do you think something happened to him?”

“I dunno. Maybe? But Remus would’ve said something about it, right?”

“Yeah, I’d think so.”

“Let’s change the subject,” Patton suggested. “I don’t wanna make you more anxious about this than you already are.”

“Thanks, Pat. How are the others? What are they up to?”

“They’re doing pretty good! Remus is working on a writing project, Janus is playing Stardew Valley, and Logan’s procrastinating on his schoolwork by scrolling Tumblr. Don’t worry, I already scolded him for it.”

Virgil laughed, the mention of Logan reminding him of something. “Ooh, speaking of Logan, are you gonna tell him today?”

“No, not today.”

Virgil was genuinely shocked. “Really? Why not?”

“C’mon, you know him. He sees Valentine’s Day as an excuse for big companies to make a boatload of money.”

“So? I think that too. What does that have to do with you not telling him?”

“It wouldn’t mean anything to tell him today. I don’t even know if I’m ready to tell him yet or not. Besides, he’s got a lot on his plate today, Valentine’s day or not.”

“I get that. Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so pushy. You tell him when you know you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Vee. You didn’t sound pushy, though. I definitely know how frustrating it can be when your friend’s been pining after someone for months on end but they still refuse to do anything about it.“

Virgil laughed. “Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll stop complaining.”

“I’m not saying you have to. I did my fair share of complaining when y—” Patton stopped abruptly, and Virgil heard a faint voice coming from the other end. “Okay, just gimme a second,” Patton called out, clearly talking to someone else. “I’m so sorry, Vee, I gotta go. Emile promised a couple friends we’d meet them for lunch today and it completely slipped my mind.”

“That’s okay,” Virgil reassured him. “You go have fun, Pat. I’ll be fine by myself.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. If I get really lonely I can always talk to the others.”

“Okay. Tell me if Roman gets back to you, ‘kay?”

“I will. I’ll talk to ya later.”

“Bye! Love you!”

“Love you too.” Virgil hung up the phone and got up, grabbing his dirty dishes and taking them into the kitchen to wash them. Once he finished, he glanced over at the clock, which read 10:37. Only about two and a half hours until Mom and Dad get home, he thought as he put the dishes away. He left the kitchen, checking his phone again as he headed toward his bedroom. Once again, Roman still hadn’t said anything. He’s definitely awake by now. Had he been right? Had something happened to him? He forced the thought away. He couldn’t let that bother him. Why was it so important, anyway? Today was just another day.

He reached his room and sat down at his desk, turning on his laptop and putting on his headphones. He then opened Spotify and put on the playlist he’d made for Roman the day after they’d gotten together, before switching over to Tumblr and scrolling through his dashboard. He could probably do the exact same thing in the living room, but he preferred the cozier, more familiar atmosphere of his bedroom. Peanut, his cat, climbed up onto his lap and curled up into a ball. Virgil smiled to himself and reached one hand down to scratch him behind the ear. Peanut purred, and Virgil’s smile widened.

He stayed there for a few hours, seeing what everyone on Tumblr was up to today. Every so often, he switched to Discord to see if Roman had replied to him yet, but no such luck. He did his best to ignore his growing worry, focusing instead on the computer in front of him and the cat on his lap. He could be busy today, he reminded himself. His world doesn’t revolve around you.

Soon enough, he heard the familiar rumble of the garage door, followed by the ca-CHUNK of the front door and the clip-clop-clip-clop of his parents’ footsteps. Virgil gently moved Peanut off his lap, which the pale ginger tabby didn’t seem to mind much. “I’m gonna go say hi to Mom and Dad,” he told the cat. “You can come if ya want.” Peanut meowed in response, which made Virgil laugh. He knew his cat couldn’t understand him, but he still found it wildly amusing when he acted as if he did. He crouched down to pat his head a few times before leaving his bedroom and going into the living room. He smiled at his parents when he saw them. “Hey,” he greeted, giving a sort of half-wave.

“Hey, honey,” his mom greeted with a smile.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” added his dad.

“Yeah, you too.” He came over and hugged his parents.

“Have you eaten yet?” his dad wanted to know.

“I did,” he reassured him. “I had a bowl of cereal.”

This satisfied him. “Good.”

“What’ve you been up to?” asked his mom.

“Not much. I had breakfast, called Patton and then went to hang out with Peanut and scroll Tumblr for a bit. What about you guys? What exactly were you picking up?” He glanced around in search of a box or some kind of indication of a possible answer but found none.

“Actually,” answered his mom. “It was something for you.”

Virgil hadn’t expected that. “Oh! I-uh, cool. Thanks.”

“Don’t thank us yet,” his dad told him with a laugh. “Go and see, it’s in the garage.”

“Okay.” He went into the laundry room, where the door to the garage was, with no idea what he was going to find in there. His parents rarely got him big presents, and when they did it was either for his birthday or for Christmas. He had no idea what to expect. He reached the door, turned the handle, and flicked on the lights.

Standing there was a teenage boy with a broad smile. He wore a red hoodie and a pair of ripped blue jeans, and his white sneakers were dirty and worn. Around his neck was a necklace with a gold-colored charm shaped like a crown. He spoke, his voice sounding to Virgil like the most beautiful of songs. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

“ROMAN!” Virgil barreled into him, nearly knocking him over as he threw his arms around him. “Oh my God, you’re actually here. Like, right here. In my garage. How did you even manage to do this?”

“I have my ways.”

Virgil pulled back a little to smirk at him. “You’re just as insufferable in real life as you are online, huh?”

“Well, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me and my insufferableness.”

“Unfortunately.” Virgil gave him a lopsided grin as an indication that he was joking, and an adoring smile crossed his boyfriend’s face. “Is this why you haven’t answered my message?”

“I can’t believe you’re actually here. You actually are here, right? This isn’t some practical joke?”

“It’s not a joke. I wouldn’t do that to you. Well, maybe I would, but not on a day like today. Not on Valentine’s Day.”

The two were quiet for a few moments, just taking in one another’s presence. Virgil was pretty confident that he would willingly stay here forever if he could.

“Well, now that you’re here, what do you want to do first?” Virgil asked, finally breaking the silence.

Roman gave Virgil the playful smirk he’d only ever imagined before. “I think I have an idea.” He rested a hand on his cheek and leaned in, and Virgil felt his heart soar as he and Roman shared their long-awaited first kiss.

101 notes · View notes

bts-hyperfixation · 3 years

Text

Never Such A Blizzard Before

This is real long for a drabble, hope you like it @madygswich

Also I've posted this like 3 times now, it does not want to show in the tags man 😭

Packing for the holidays was not your favourite thing. All of your flatmates had already left for home, and from what you could tell the rest of the dorm had cleared out too. So naturally you did what anyone would do when they thought they were home alone… you turned up your Christmas music as loud as you could and danced around, clearing the rest of your mess from around the communal spaces. You were midway through a tango with the mop when you spotted him watching you from the apartment opposite yours. His nose is scrunched from the giggles you can’t hear through the glass. Heat rises to your cheeks as you quickly abandon your inanimate partner and duck into the safety of your bedroom. Of all moments for Jeon Jungkook to notice your existence, it had to be this one.

Jungkook was fairly well known around your dorm as the quiet cutie. Everyone wanted to talk to him, but he tended to stick to a fairly small friendship circle, much to all of the girls’ dismay. He was stunning. And there he was laughing at you.

You go to the turn your speaker down when it cuts out of its own accord. Frowning, you attempt to get it working again, but its no use. Then you notice the lamp on your desk had also gone out. Before you get a chance to test any of your other appliances, there’s a knock at the door. An equally puzzled looking Jungkook is now at your door. You open it for him to come in.

“Sorry to intrude on your… dance class? But nothing in my apartments working and you are the only other person I know is still here.” He states

“Yeah, my stereo and lights have all gone out too.” His brow furrows.

“Right okay, I’ll call the accommodation office. Hopefully, someone will still be there, and we can get this sorted soon.” Jungkook takes out his mobile and you take the chance to look at him up close. His new undercut does wonders for his jawline, the soft curl just adding to the effect. His lose-fitted black jumper and black skinny jeans suit him well, a signature style you’ve noticed. Despite his good looks Jungkook didn’t seem to like bringing too much attention to himself. Unfortunately, by concealing himself it just left more people wondering what was underneath. You are brought out of your thoughts when he scoffs at his phone before putting it back in his pocket.

“What did they say?” You ask trying not to stare any longer.

“Powers out.” You roll your eyes at the blunt answer.

“Did they say how long?”

“Nope.” He says popping the p. “They didn’t seem to give a shit to be honest, looks like we are just going to have to keep ourselves entertained until it hopefully comes back on its own.” He shrugs and starts looking around your apartment. “I’m Jungkook by the way, your Y/N right?” he sits himself down at your kitchen table, swinging his legs on to the chair next to him.

“Um, yeah Y/N… Aren’t you supposed to be going home for Christmas?” you moved to feel the kettle and are relieved to find it’s still warm. “Drink?” you try to avoid his gaze as his eyes follow you around the room.

“I’ll take tea if you have it… but, yeah I’m going home but not for two days. My family aren’t even home right now so there wouldn’t be a point. Why are you still here?” it really feels like his eyes are going to bore a hole in the back of your head as you busy yourself.

“My family all work running up to the holidays, if I went home, I’d just be alone for the next week, at least this way I get to be alone without my mom yelling at me to wake up as she leaves in the morning.” You shrug and try not to dwell on it any longer. Placing the tea in front of Jungkook, you take a seat opposite him before taking a sip of your own drink. You savour the warmth in silence for a little while. Every so often one of you will catch the other looking, he starts pulling silly faces when you catch him, making you giggle in return. Eventually you find your way into an easy conversation, you tell him about your course. He listens like he actually cares about the mundane inner workings of your course work. You return the favour, asking intricate question about his film course, the only difference being you find his genuinely interesting.

“You got a pack of cards, and some torches?” He asks, sitting up right.

“We’re at university… of course I have a deck of cards, as long as you don’t mind the beer stains that is and I think there is a big torch in the place” You point to a cupboard by the door and he fetches them back.

“If we can’t use anything electronic, we might as well do some good old fashion gambling” there’s a mischievous glint in his eye as he shuffles the deck. “How about strip poker?” the look on your face must’ve been quite the picture as he starts laughing immediately. “Okay… how about alcohol? We can bet sips and shots, that’ll help warm us up too.” You nod and leave the room.

You return with a bottle of vodka, lemonade, and two red solo cups. You watch as he pours a dangerous amount of liquor into both cups followed by about a thimble of mixer. For someone who kept to himself so much, he sure was eager to get drunk with a stranger. You snatch the lemonade from his grasp and pour more into your cup. You start with blackjack, a civil game, 1 or 2 sips bet at most. You can’t help but giggle at the face he pulls trying to swallow his almost straight vodka. You then switch to schlumpf, a game with six rounds: the first four involve guessing the next card in the deck, the fifth is trying to get rid of those cards, the sixth involves only the person with the most cards - they must face the pyramid (climb up four layers of cards without turning a face card).

You find yourself fairly tipsy after a few rounds. Fairly tipsy and extremely cold…

“Hey, did we check if the heating worked?” Jungkook seems surprised by your question.

“No… we really should’ve huh?” the boiler is hidden in a cupboard in hallway, you rush from the room to check.

“Nothing” you sigh “Heating’s broken.” You call behind you, just to find Jungkook had come with you. You nearly smack straight into him as you turn back towards the kitchen. Your lips a hairbreadths away from his, tension building between the two of you. He glances at your lips and then back at your eyes, asking for permission, but you’ve already lost focus. Something catches your eye out of the large window and the end of your hallway.

“OH MY GOD!” you pull back from him a rush to look outside. He lets a frustrated breath out through his nose before following you to see what was going on. “It’s snowing!” he watches you as you watch the snow, admiring the adorable grin that has taken over your face. He takes in the way your eyes sparkle with the light from the streetlamps reflected in them.

“Wait what time is it?” he asks, suddenly aware of how dark it’s gotten outside. You hadn’t noticed the world dimming around your games. You glance at your watch and your eyes go wide.

“3am…” you look up at him and notice how close he is again. Stood directly behind you, if you took half a step back, you’d be in his arms. “Did you want to stay here… I mean it would be warmer if we stayed together… I mean if you want…” you stutter through stupid excuse to try to get him to stay the night.

“Yeah, you know what that seems like a great idea, sharing body heat or whatever.” His nose scrunches in the cutest way possible and he wraps an arm around your waist. “Anything to stay warm.” He whispers into your ear making you shiver. His embrace is gone as quickly as it was there. “Do you have enough blankets? Or do you want me to fetch mine? We could make a little fort to protect us.” There’s no way you’re turning down that offer. You settle in your bedroom and give him the torch and your door keys so he can go in search of more bedding. You sit there wrapped in your duvet a staring out the window and the settling snow until he comes back with more pillows than anyone should ever own in hand. He has also switch into a plain white t and grey sweats, a look classic enough to make anyone hot under the collar. You try not to focus too much on his pj’s focus the torchlight on your building site instead.

By the time you’re finished with construction, you are exhausted. You don’t really think about it as you cuddle into Jungkook amongst your mountain of pillows and blankets. All you know is you are cosier than you have ever been.

When morning arrives, you are all to aware of who you are snuggled up with, even more aware of his morning wood poking into your back. You wriggle a little, trying not to wake him, but he just sleepily pulls you back into him. You resign yourself to your fate and instead revel in the warmth his body provides.

“Good morning” he mumbles sleepily kissing your hair before realising where he is and who you are. “Oh um… sorry… that was weird.” He then swivels his hips as he realises what position you are in. He doesn’t, however, release you from his embrace. “Apparently I just can’t help myself around a pretty girl.” You feel the deep blush that creeps up your cheeks and try to hide it in his chest.

“It s’okay.” You mumble into him. He chuckles at your reaction and strokes at your hair.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah.”

“Look at me?” you pull your head back from your hiding spot and tilt your chin upwards, only to have your lips met with his. Slightly stale from sleep, but somehow still amazing. It doesn’t help the shyness you had been feeling, and it definitely doesn’t help the situation going on his sweats. He pulls away all too soon for you. “So… was that okay?”

“Yeah… yeah that was okay.” You’re a little breathless as you answer.

“Cool… so I’m going to go brush my teeth but, do you want to continue this when I come back? Or I can just not come back… completely up to you… although I do think it’s going to be really cold again today, and it did seem to work better with two people for heat and…” you cut off his nervous babble with another quick kiss before peeling back the covers and letting the cold air in.

“Continuing sounds great, but you better hurry because you’re going to get cold real quick, and if you think I’m going to let you back in here with cold hands, you’re dreaming.” You tease, gaining confidence in his sudden lack. His bunny smile shows as he leaps out of bed, practically running from your apartment to his. While he is gone you brush your own teeth and find your condoms (it’s been a while). You peel back the curtains a little and are shocked to find the snow still going strong. At least two foot covers sparkles on the floor as the blizzard continues.

You scramble back under the covers when you hear footsteps approaching. He flings back the duvet making you squeal as he straddles you and places cold hands under your shirt.

“What did I say about cold hand!” you cry as he warms them on your stomach.

“You said you wouldn’t let me back in… but I’m not in, I removed the blanket completely. Although I am now seeing the floor in that plan” he drags the duvet back over your bodies.

“It’s all well and good putting the blanket back now, but I’m already cold.” You pout.

“Oh… let me help you with that.” He dips down so his body covers yours completely. He kisses you deeply, much more passionately now that he is minty fresh. He waits until you can’t breathe properly and then moves on to trailing his lips along your chin and down your throat. “Willing to get a little colder to get a lot hotter?” he asks signalling to the hem of your shirt. You bite your lip and nod. “God your hot.” He bends to kiss you once more before doing away with the unwanted fabric. His hot tongue circles one of your nipples, playing with it until its stiff. When he’s satisfied, he moves to the other side doing the same while one of his hands plays with the abandoned peak.

You moan as he bites sensitive skin. He doesn’t leave you long to revel in the pleasure. His fingers dip into your waistband a tug. You lift your hips and allow him to shimmy your pants low enough to play with your core. His left-hand pinches at your clit as his mouth returns to yours, swallowing the desperate whines that tumble form your lips as he teases two fingers at your entrance.

“Tell me how much you want me babygirl.” You arch into his hand at the pet name.

“So…o mu...ch” you pant, not able to manage more. But it’s enough for Jungkook as he pushes both fingers into you. The stretch burns so nicely as he scissors and thrusts into you. It’s difficult to focus on him as he shuffles down your bed for his mouth to join his hand.

“Look at me Y/N” his voice is low and commanding. You use everything in you to meet his eyes as his lips wrap around your clit and suck. The sensation makes you squeal. His response is to go harder. The heat in the pit of your stomach grows until you feel like you might explode. Your orgasm overtakes you, coating his fingers and chin as he continues his endeavours. You ride his fingers until you come down, gasping hard from the release.

“Can you take me?” you meet his eyes and find nothing but lust within the deep brown. You nod enthusiastically, reaching for the condom you prepared. He chuckles as he slides his own pants down. He rips the small blue packet open and slides it easily on to his hard length. You kick your pants the rest of the way down your legs while he sorts himself out, freeing up your movement. Unable to hold back any longer, you wrap your arms around his neck and drag him back down to meet you. Your lips lock together, tongues exploring one another, you can still taste yourself on him. It takes you by surprise when he enters you.

You let a low whine as he gets thicker the further in he pushes. Your nails claw into his back at the small “fuck” that leaves his mouth when he’s all the way in. You wriggle your hips under him, desperate for friction and he groans.

“You keep doing that and this isn’t gonna last long.” He bites down hard on his lip and tries to focus on controlling his thrusts. Each smack of skin is accompanied by a grunt, the speed dizzying as you feel your high approaching for a second time.

“Jungkoo..” you whine as you clench around him, just to be left empty as he pulls out of you. You pout at the loss, sad as your high disappears.

“Turn over baby girl.” He helps you flip and presses back into you with little warning. The new angle feels amazing. Never having felt so full. He pulls almost all the way out of you before pushing hard all the back in, hitting every nerve you have on the way. He supports your quivering form with his strong arms. You’re not sure when he abandoned his shirt, but you are pulled back against his sweaty chest. Your high builds back up so fast you nearly get whiplash. This one even more intense than the last. He drops your spent body back on to the mattress and grabs onto your bum for purchase as he goes harder than ever chasing his own high.

It doesn’t take long for him to cum, buried deep inside of you. It takes him a moment to recover, resting his hands on your back before pulling out and tying the end of the condom.

“I almost don’t want the heating to get fixed if this is going to stay an option.” He says collapsing next to you and recovering you both with the blankets.

“I’m sure we could do this again even if the heating comes back on you know…”

Masterlist

#bts fic #bts smut #bts imagines #bts jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #Jungkook smut #bts xmas 20 #100

210 notes · View notes

woozibby · 3 years

Text

Delete My Feelings: Part 32: The Date

includes: fluff, wholesome and smiley!yoongi, a bit of sad angst at the end?? idk if it would class as angst though.

wc: 1667

a.n. ahh so the date is finally here!! I’m sorry it took a while to post, but I wanted the date to be just right! I hope you enjoy this written part and please do tell me what you think! This is only slightly edited, so I’m sorry in advance if there are any mistakes.

Last | Masterlist | Next

You nibbled at the dry skin on your lips as you stood and studied yourself in the mirror. Taking in your outfit, you let out a small sigh and ran a hand through your hair.

“You look great,” Seulgi smiles from behind you.

With your laptop positioned in front of her, you glanced at her through the mirror and smiled slightly as she typed away.

“You sure?”

Closing the laptop lid, Seulgi looks up at you and continues to smile.

“Of course! You’ll knock his socks off!”

Laughing at her expression, you shake your head and turn to her. He would be here soon and it was like the nerves were eating away at your stomach. You couldn’t explain it.

On the one hand, you were excited, but on the other, you were scared. This was something that you’d never really thought about, something that you could have never seen coming.

Seulgi notices the nervous look that washed over your face and gets up from her place on your bed. She takes the few steps towards you and links your fingers with hers.

“It’ll be okay y/n, no matter what happens tonight, you’ll both be okay,” squeezing her fingers lightly, you try your best to smile.

“I know, I just—...” you pause and take a moment to think. “I don’t want us to be awkward.”

“Dude, he loves you to no end,” Seulgi laughs, pulling you in for a hug. “There is nothing on this earth that you could do that would make him love you any less.”

You don’t wait to return the hug as you wrap your arms around her waist and rest your head against her shoulder.

“Just listen to your heart and see what it tells you,” Seulgi says. “If anything, at least you gave it a shot.”

The sound of Yoongi knocking at your door was enough to break the hug. Pulling away from you, Seulgi sends you a comforting smile.

“I’ll be here when you get back and you can tell me all about it,”

Nodding your head once more, you pick up your phone and keys and slip them into your large coat pockets before making your way to the door.

“Hey,” you smile as you open it to see Yoongi standing there, flowers in hand.

“Hi, sorry,” he quickly enters. “I got you these.”

Taking them, you bring them to your nose and take a quick sniff. Your cheeks were already beginning to turn pink— you wanted to blame it on the fact you were wearing your coat inside.

“Thank you, they’re beautiful, I’ll just put them in the kitchen.”

As you do that, Seulgi comes out from your bedroom and smiles at the older boy.

“I want her back by midnight,” she laughs. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Rolling your eyes, you push her away slightly when you come close and click your tongue.

“Shut up, don’t you have Hobi to bug?”

Seulgi’s lips form into a pout and she shakes her head.

“Nope, all on my lonesome tonight, so you better have a good time and bring her back safe you hear me?” she says, turning her attention to Yoongi. “Now you kids go have fun.”

Yoongi laughs and you roll your eyes again for the second time that night.

“Yes mum,” Yoongi opens your front door and before you leave, you turn back to Seulgi with a smile. “Help yourself to anything, I’ll message you when I’m on my way back.”

“Yes yes,” she says pushing you out the door. “Now go, have fun!”

Yoongi hadn’t told you where you were going. He kept saying how it was a surprise and that you’d love it. How you’d love it so much that it would break any doubts you had over surprises in the first place.

You didn’t bother to correct him, or to argue, so you sat in silence as the radio played. Your nerves began to wash away just from his presence alone.

It was nice, he was nice. Everything was nice.

After about half an hour of driving, yoongi pulls into a small dinner. You raise an eyebrow as you look at him when he turns off the car and he just smiles.

“Part one, food” he smiles.

Entering the small establishment, yoongi guides you up to the menus and you take a few moments to go over and decide what you wanted. Once you were done, he made his way to the counter and ordered the food.

“Do you want me to find a seat?” You ask, only for him to shake his head.

“No, I got it to go,” noticing your confused gaze, he just laughs to himself. “You’ll see.”

It didn’t take long for the food to be cooked and served. Maybe because it was so empty, it was the only thing they had to do. So yoongi took the bag and you both made your way back to his car and once you were inside, he passed you over the bag.

“It smells so good,” you say, peaking at the contents inside.

“I know, but just wait, it’ll be worth it”

“Okay, if you say so,” you mumble. You try your best to keep your eyes off your food as it would make you more hungry, but the smell just made it ten times more difficult.

“We’re almost there, I promise” yoongi take his eyes off the road, but as you look over you see a small smile playing at his features.

“Okay, I believe you.”

It was another ten minutes or so before yoongi pulled the car over and placed it in park before turning off the engine. He opened his door, got out and made his way to the boot before opening it and pulling out something.

“You coming?” He asks, looking up at you through the gap.

“Where are we?” You ask, exiting the car as you made sure to bring the food with you.

“Just come on,” he closes the boot and holds out his hand for you to take, which you do and he begins to lead you a few meters away from his car.

It’s when you stop walking that you notice the blanket clutched in his one hand. He lets go of your hand before he shakes out the blanket and places it on the ground.

“I thought,” He sits and motions for you to join him, which you do. “We could eat and watch the stars.”

You were thankful that it was getting darker as it hid your blushing cheeks and to try and combat this, you focused your attention on the food.

“Should we- should we eat?”

“Sure,”

So you both quickly tuck into the food that was slowly beginning to go cold. Even when it was cold it was still nice, you made a mental note to ask yoongi how he found that place and how you should go again.

Once you’re both done, you place the rubbish in the original bag before you both lie down on the blanket and look up at the stars. It was so quiet, so peaceful. You never knew that yoongi could be like this when it came to dates- this thoughtful and pure.

It was after a moment or two that you finally rolled over to face him. Resting your head on your arm, you watch him silently as he watched the stars.

“You good?” He asks, smiling to himself. He kept his head facing straight up, but it wasn’t long before he couldn’t wait any longer and faced you.

“This is really nice,” You smile. “Who knew you were such a thoughtful guy.”

Yoongi laughs and the presence of his gummy smile made your heart jump. It was the smile you didn’t see often, but when you did, boy was it special.

“I guess next time I’ll just have to pull out all the stops.”

“You mean this isn’t even your best date idea?” you gasp quietly.

He shrugs to himself and rolls back over to look at the sky.

“I guess you’ll have to wait and find out huh?”

As you continue to watch him, your smile doesn’t falter. You sigh a quiet, but content sigh and hum.

“Yeah, I will.”

Who knows how long you guys had been lying there. Most of the time you had spent there was spent in silence. However, that silence wasn’t a bad thing. It wasn’t awkward, it wasn’t boring or bad. It was nice, it was content, it was in its own way magical. It was mystical, it was like a viewing, well it was a viewing of that was out there to be seen in the universe. It was your friendship with yoongi defined into one evening- one moment.

It was rare, beautiful and something memorable.

When you began to feel cold and see your breath in the air, yoongi sat up and you both decided on that it was a good time as any to return home. So you got back into his car, the same radio channel played and again it was content.

You got back to your apartment and yoongi made sure to walk you back up to your door like a gentleman. Before you parted ways, you turned to him with a smile.

“Thank you for tonight, it was lovely,” he smiles back and nods his head. You could see his cheeks tint a light pink colour and it made you giggle.

“Thank you also,” he looks you in the eyes. “However, can I do one more thing?”

“Which is?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Your cheeks quickly match his own and you nod your head once, letting him to it was okay, and without missing a beat, he leans in and connects your lips. It was over in a matter of moments and as you pulled away, you knew by the look in his eyes. You knew because you felt it too.

There was no spark.

Last | Masterlist | Next

Tag List: @jooniesrose @treetops68 @ggukkieland @yoongistruth @madaboutjeon @betysotelo18 @fangirling-gallifreyan @thequeen-kat @mipetronella @heartfeltscribblings @secretlycrazyhummingbird @rageyoudamnednerd @recklessrewind @completelyillegirl @lovelyseomin @liriaus @tom-hollands-wife @darkskin-buttercup @i-lovekookies @imynnow @alejaye @mr-robot-x @koochiekoo @bloomsjeon @lunery @jks-its-my-time @somewhereinthestarss @pimpnameyannie @moonlaie @deeepvibes @minyg-agd2 @mm00nchild @kim-jias-den @super-btstrash-posts @boraxhae @larryshipstoohard @complicatedjules @a-gayish-unicorn @beeeb05 @whitepinkish @xblueblossom

83 notes · View notes

lumosinlove · 4 years

Text

Sweater Weather

part xiii

Please read the warnings for this chapter in the tags if you feel you need them. <3

Come down, the text said.

Christmas had been wonderful. Remus’ mother had made a perfect Christmas morning breakfast of pancakes and sausages and fresh orange juice, something Remus hadn’t even been aware he missed so much. Julian’s face had been priceless when he opened the Lions jersey with his own name across the back, Sirius’ signature sprawled across the number 24 on the back. He had missed having his family around. Cooking with his mom, talking and reading on the couch with his dad, shooting pucks in the snowy park and washing the dishes with Julian sitting on the counter, chattering away and drying them carefully. It was peaceful. It was home.

But he couldn’t get his mind off of Sirius. Remus knew he was safe and happy at the Dumais’. Logan was there, too, they were family. Sirius would have been welcomed at any of the teams’ houses, he was sure. But Remus wanted Sirius at his house. He wanted to see his mother trying to teach Sirius to cook, hopeless but patient. He wanted to watch his father moon over him. He wanted to see Sirius watch and laugh when Julian got sleepy after dinner, insisting that he wanted to watch a movie even as his eyes started to close.

He wanted Sirius there, on the couch, as the ball dropped to bring in the new year, while his dad popped champagne and Julian jumped up and down, throwing the paper confetti they had cut that morning. His parents leaned in for a soft peck, whispering an I love you, and Remus just—he wanted.

The text said, come down.

Remus’ heart drove into double time.

They’re getting ready for bed, he replied.

Take your time. I’ll be here.

Remus bit back a smile and clicked his phone off, holding it to his chest.

“I’m leaving some dishes to soak,” his mom said, coming over to kiss his cheek.

“I’ll do them in the morning,” Remus said. “What time does your flight leave?”

“Not until tomorrow evening,” Hope looked at him for a moment, then reached forward to push his hair away from his face. “Re, I’m so happy that…well, you’ve really grown. You look so much happier than…well.”

“I know,” Remus said. Since the accident, was what she meant. He smiled, squeezing her hand. “I am. I really am.”

“Happy New Year’s, baby,” she said. “I better go make sure your brother’s in bed.”

Remus laughed. “Probably wearing his jersey again.”

Hope laughed. “Probably.”

Remus watched, trying not to be too obvious about it, as she poked her head into Remus’ room where Julian was sleeping, and then disappeared into the guest bedroom. She waved once, before shutting the door. Remus forced himself to go into the living room and make his bed out of the pull-out couch, giving her time to get ready for bed.

He lasted ten minutes before slipping out the door.

Coming, he sent off, and received a few exclamation points and a short, parking lot.

Remus glanced back down the hallway as he quietly put on his jacket, pulling a beanie low over his ears against the winter air. The house was quiet as he slipped outside.

Sirius’ car wasn’t running, but Remus spotted it easily in the parking lot as he ran through the chilly night and knocked on the window. Sirius looked up and reached over with a grin, popping the door open. He was wearing a puffy jacket and beanie of his own, his hands covered in gloves.

“Hey there, All-Star,” Remus said as he hopped in and pulled the door shut behind him.

Sirius half laughed, half groaned. “Don’t remind me. C’mere.”

Remus leaned over for a kiss, pressing his hand against Sirius’ cheek. Sirius made a noise and pulled back a little, taking Remus’ hand into his gloved ones.

“What are you doing? It’s fucking freezing, Loops.”

Remus just leaned forward for another kiss. “Wanted to see you.”

Sirius sent him a mockingly disapproving look before cupping Remus’ hands between his own. Remus watched, heart flipping, as he leaned down and blew hot air over them, then kissed the cold-red knuckles.

“Better?” Sirius said. “Good thing we’re going to Florida soon.”

But Remus half heard him, too focused on the way Sirius was holding Remus’ hands, his entire attention on keeping them warm. Keeping Remus warm.

“Can we…” Remus glanced towards the back seat. “Just, this thing is sort of…” he hit his knee against the gear shift. “In the way.”

Sirius laughed. “Say no more.”

Remus grinned, and there was a brief blast of cool air through the car as both of them moved to the back seat, Sirius behind the driver’s side, Remus the passenger’s. Remus got in first, and watched as Sirius pulled his door closed, breath a puff of air. Remus scooted over, pressing up against Sirius’ side. Sirius said something quick and sweet that Remus didn’t catch, as it was mostly mumbled into a kiss on his temple, and wrapped him up in his arms.

“Bonne année, mon loup,” he said quietly into the small space between them.

“Happy New Year,” Remus repeated as Sirius’ gloved fingers tilted his chin up for a kiss.

“How long do we have?” Sirius whispered, lips trailing across Remus’ cheek to his jaw.

Remus felt his eyes slip closed, the tension of being away from Sirius releasing at having him so close.

“Everyone’s asleep,” he said, fingers reaching to tug gently on the zipper of Sirius’ jacket. “I think we have a few hours.”

Sirius made a pleased noise, pressing a quick burst of kisses to Remus’ cheek. “Good. How was Christmas?”

“Really good,” Remus said. “Jules practically died at the jersey. Lots of baking. What about you, how’s Dumo’s?”

“Why did I ever leave such close proximity to Celeste’s cooking?” Sirius sighed, and Remus laughed. “No, but it’s great. The kids woke me and Logan up at, merde, five? In the morning? Was nice though.”

Remus bit back a smile. “Saw that picture Logan posted of your matching pajamas.”

“I’m going to murder him.”

Remus snorted, leaning in for a kiss. Sirius obliged for a moment, licking sweetly into his mouth, before he made a noise like he remembered something.

“Speaking of,” he said, absentmindedly taking Remus’ hands and pressing them beneath his jacket and sweater, right to the warm skin of his stomach, he winced a little, but held them there. “Warmer, non?”

Remus nodded faintly, unable to find the words.

“Speaking of murder,” Sirius began again, and Remus burst out laughing.

“What?”

“Re, I found your tapes.”

“Oh?” Remus said.

“Fuck me,” Sirius said, followed by a flurry of French. He pulled Remus towards him and kissed him hard. “I…you’re so fast.”

Remus smiled faintly, looking down. “I was, huh?” He glanced up, raising his eyebrows. “And that relates to murder because…?”

“I’m going to die watching them,” Sirius laughed. “Fuck, Re. You make goalies look like they can’t see out of their fucking masks. How did I never hear your name?”

Remus took a deep breath in through his nose. This was the closest to telling the truth he had ever come but, looking at Sirius in the soft yellow streetlight coming through the window, he felt okay. It wasn’t the whole thing, and maybe he’d never be ready for the whole thing…but it was almost. Sirius deserved that.

“You know Greyback?”

Sirius blinked, obviously surprised. “Yeah. First overall the year before me. He’s on…what, Golden Knights now?”

Remus nodded. “Right. Well, we—we were at Wisconsin together. We played. Everyone thought we would be drafted together.” Remus shrugged a shoulder. “Fenrir didn’t like the sound of that.”

Sirius’ face melted into one of horror. He understood. Of course he understood. “He was worried you’d take first.”

Remus just nodded again, then tapped his left shoulder. “Busted me up pretty good for it. Enough to convince the League I’d never play again. This was, I don’t know, few months before. I’m not surprised you don’t remember. No one likes thinking about career ending injuries when their healthy. Totally normal.”

“Re…fuck me, the next time we play Vegas—”

“No,” Remus hit him in the chest lightly. “No, you will not do anything except beat him and his team.”

Sirius groaned. “Please let me punch him.”

Remus laughed. “No.”

Sirius leaned in, pressing a kiss to one of Remus’ cheeks, then the other. “Mon Loup.” Sirius pulled at Remus’ waist until he gave way and straddled Sirius’ hips, head ducked low in the space of the car.

“Mon Loup,” Sirius said again, softly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Remus shook his head, kissing the corner of Sirius’ mouth. “It was a long time ago. It just…I didn’t trust anyone for a little while. Especially on the ice. It was easier like this, having the job I have. I’m in control. I’m there to help. Do I miss the ice? Of course. Every day. But I also really, really love my job.”

Sirius nodded, hands on Remus’ thighs, and Remus reached out for the number twelve necklace.

“Let’s talk about something happier,” Remus said. “This is a new year, you’re an All-Star, we’re probably going to the play-offs—”

“Non, non,” Sirius gasped, laughing lightly as he pressed a hand over Remus’ mouth. “Don’t say it.”

Remus laughed, holding his hands up in surrender, and Sirius soon replaced his palm with a kiss.

“We could have had an entire week off together instead of the fucking All-Star game, but…” Sirius groaned. “Don’t want to talk about that either.”

Remus ducked down and pressed a hard kiss to Sirius’ lips. “Okay, okay. Jeez, grumpy.”

Sirius, in contrast, made a delighted sound, and accepted the kiss. He went to tuck his fingers into Remus’ hair, but was instead met with the beanie.

“Cute,” he said, before taking it off. “Too cold?”

“Not a chance,” Remus breathed, his entire body heating up with Sirius’ touch. He pushed at Sirius’ shoulders a little, settling him into the corner between the seat and the door, so he could stretch his legs out, supporting Remus more. Sirius gripped Remus’ thighs appreciatively.

“I think the team finally gets how fucking hot you are,” Sirius said.

“Oh? Was that something you were hoping to discuss with them?”

Sirius snorted. “Non. Just…you’re—everything.”

Remus’ heart caught.

“I just mean,” Sirius said, his eyes on Remus’. “You save our asses every day, you help us. You are fucking talented as shit, and then, for me, you’re just…gorgeous. Mon dieu, Remus, you in the showers… if I hadn’t just come…”

Remus laughed. “Okay, enough compliments.”

Sirius shook his head. “It’s the year of compliments.”

“You’re too sweet for me.”

“No, I’m perfect for you.”

The words were true. Remus looked down at Sirius, soft in the streetlight filtering into the garage, and pressed his hands to his cheeks.

“I think you are,” Remus said softly, but that wasn’t good enough. He said it more firmly. “You are."

Sirius’ expression changed, laughter fading. They stared at each other.

“Remus,” Sirius said.

Remus’ thumbs stroked over his cheeks. “Yeah?”

“I don’t want to hide forever.”

“I don’t want to either.”

“But I’m scared. I’m scared.”

Remus nodded, kissing Sirius once, twice. “I know. Don’t feel like you have to do anything, okay? Sirius, I…I’m in.” Remus took a breath, kissed him again, short and hard. “I’m in with you, okay? No matter what. As long as you’re here for me, too.”

“I am,” Sirius whispered. “I always want to be.” He smiled then, nervous but real, and tapped Remus’ wrist right over the watch he had gifted him.

Remus smiled, too, and Sirius leaned forward off of the seat to kiss him with a small, almost desperate noise.

“One day?” he said.

“Name the date,” Remus murmured against Sirius’ mouth. “I told you I’d wait.”

Sirius laughed lightly. “No pressure.”

“No,” Remus said, and pulled back to raise his eyebrows at him. “There’s really no pressure at all. Really, Sirius. As long as…as long as I have this, you, these moments…I’m so happy.”

Sirius’ expression was a quiet one, lost in thought for the most part, and adoring. He rubbed a hand up and down Remus’ side, loving. “Come somewhere with me this summer. Anywhere. A trip. I don’t care, Paris, the fucking jungle, Seattle. I don’t care, I just want to be somewhere. With you.”

Remus’ face broke into a grin. “I want that. Yeah, let’s do it.”

Sirius smiled back, and it filled up the entire space, the small car, the world, Remus’ entire chest.

“Happy New Year,” Sirius said, and kissed him.

Later, as Remus stood and watched Sirius drive away, he tried to think of where he had been this time last year. Happy, yes. Happy with his job, and himself, and how far he had come. Just beginning to think about coming out to his family, but never getting around to it. Loved by his family, his friends, his colleagues.

This year was different. No words had been put to it yet, and Remus understood why. But that didn’t change how he felt.

This year, he felt loved in an entirely different way.

This year, he was in love.

After Christmas, after Gryffindor’s Decembers, Remus was more than ready for a little sunshine in Florida. The Tampa Bay Lightnings had swept the Penguins last year in the playoffs, giving them lots of credit, at least in Remus’ mind. He was excited for the game, excited for the sunshine—

“Well, I’m excited to see you in a swimsuit.”

Remus looked down at Sirius, who was mouthing at the cut of his hips, carefully and torturously avoiding his hard cock. His hair was a wild, morning-mess of curls, and his eyes were sleepy, mouth soft and warm. The sunlight was filtering through the large windows in Sirius’ bedroom, and they were alone for the first time in what felt like weeks. Remus missed Sirius so much he felt it in his veins, and he guessed Sirius felt the same. He had been woken up at five in the morning, hours before they had practice, by Sirius’ hand gently cupping his soft cock through his underwear, Sirius’ already hard one against his hip.

“Jesus,” Remus breathed. “You just asked to suck my dick. I don’t think there’s anything left to be revealed.”

“I disagree,” Sirius said and bit down gently on Remus’ hip, looking up with a devastating mixture of bold and bashful. “You’ll tell me what’s good, d’accord?”

“It’s all good,” Remus grumbled, settling a hand in Sirius’ hair. “‘m gonna come just thinking about it.”

“No, no,” Sirius pressed a kiss to the side of Remus’ cock. “Not yet.”

Remus let his head fall back into Sirius’ pillows, spreading his legs further on his massive bed. Sirius pushed his arms under Remus’ hips, letting Remus’ calves rest on top of his shoulders. He kept his hands firmly on Remus’ waist, warm and strong.

“I might suck, okay?”

Remus, cock hard and flushed against his stomach, gave Sirius an incredulous look. “You might?”

Sirius blinked at him for a moment, and then burst out in a laugh, resting his forehead against Remus’ hip bone. “I meant I might be bad at this.”

“Sirius, you laughing next to my dick gets me going.”

Sirius bit his lip, and then moved his gaze to Remus’ cock again. It was thick, even if not quite as large as Sirius’. Remus’ pale skin was flushed all the way down his chest from Sirius’ mouth and the anticipation. He was practically tingling with it. His cock twitched hard when Sirius, finally, leaned down and pressed his mouth to the base in an open, soft sort of kiss.

Remus pet his hand through Sirius’ hair, watching quietly. He liked Sirius like this, sweet and careful. He could tell how turned on he was, though, but the way his hips were gently, almost unnoticeably, rocking against the bed.

He was so focused on Sirius’ hips, that the hot pressure around the tip of his cock nearly took him by surprise. Sirius sucked hard, and Remus felt the blunt pressure of his tongue against his slit, too.

“Oh,” Remus breathed out, fingers tightening in Sirius’ hair.

Sirius pulled off with a soft sound, and Remus’ cock bobbed above his stomach.

“Good?” Sirius asked simply, and Remus laughed, eyes closed.

“Yeah, baby.”

Sirius hummed appreciatively, and then he sucked Remus down, farther this time, hands moving down to Remus’ ass, fingers digging into the hard muscle.

Remus let out a long, unsteady breath. “Fuck…”

Sirius moaned in response and Remus’ hips jerked up.

“Ah—“ Remus gasped. “Sorry, you okay?”

Sirius just looked at him, and Remus could feel the hard press of his tongue. He realized Sirius was looking for instruction. The thought made Remus even hotter. Sirius, so confident on the ice, a menace, really, taking whatever he wanted. And yet waiting for Remus to tell him this.

He eased a hand around the back of his head, pressed down lightly. Sirius’ mouth moved with him, and Remus’ dropped open, his breathing heavy.

“Go easy,” Remus said, realizing immediately that it was a mistake.

Sirius’ eyes darkened, accepting the challenge.

“Jesus Christ,” Remus had time to say before Sirius was pulling off again and getting his knees beneath him, propping himself up to get a better angle. He laughed at Remus’ expression as he retrieved his hands from beneath Remus’ thighs, letting Remus’ legs splay out on either side of his hips. He circled his hand around Remus’ cock. He jacked him a few times, drawing a dribble of precome out.

“Easy?” he questioned, and then bent again, lips brushing the red head. “Remus…”

Remus smirked. Sirius was smug again, brimming with confidence. Remus wanted both sides, and he loved that Sirius gave them to him so willingly. “Alright, do whatever you want, Captain.”

That pulled the arousal back into Sirius’ expression, and Remus could see his cock now, heavy between his legs and dripping onto the sheets. Sirius bent, wordless, and slipped Remus back into his mouth, inch by inch, until his lips met his fist and Remus’ breathing was shaky.

He dragged up, cheeks sucked in, and Remus let his head drop back on the pillows again, hands fisting the sheets.

“Of course you’re good at this. Is there anything you aren’t good at, Christ, Sirius.”

Sirius just hummed, making Remus’ hips jolt again, and reached for Remus’ hand, placing it back on his neck.

“Aw, baby,” Remus said, squeezing Sirius’ shoulder muscle and then cupping the back of his head.

Sirius’ fingers found Remus’ hips again, digging in and he moaned. Remus wanted to touch him so bad, could catch glimpses of his cock, stiff and needy. Remus relaxed into the rhythm Sirius was building up, mouth open at the wet glide around his cock. He ached with it, felt the pressure building in his core.

“I’m gonna come soon,” Remus said, widening his legs as his balls drew up. “Sirius…”

Sirius didn’t pull up, but sucked harder, twisting his fist around Remus’ cock while he tongued at the head.

“Fuck, you’re so—” Remus’ hips strained upward, head digging into the pillows as his back arched. “I’m gonna, Sirius, I’m gonna—”

Sirius moaned in a way that sounded negative, like he was telling Remus not to come yet. It made Remus gasp. Sirius sunk down again, splaying his legs so he could rut against the bed. He sucked in time to his own thrusts, his eyes shut. His cheeks had a dark flush on them and Remus’ cock pulsed as he tried not to come, as Sirius gripped him hard around his base. It prolonged the crest, the feeling of being just there but not quite. Remus felt like he was already coming, his breathing quick with it. The position showed off Sirius’ shoulders, muscles moving with every hard flex of his hips.

Remus’ back arched harder, and then he forced his hips back down on the bed. His balls ached with how good he felt.

Sirius pulled off with a gasp, panting with his cheek on Remus’ hip. Remus’ cock was shining with his spit and jerking as it pulsed out precome.

“Loops,” Sirius panted, and mouthed just above his own fist, sloppy kiss after sloppy kiss. “Fuck, okay, come, come for me.” he said, and trailed his mouth back up to the tip, sucking Remus down again.

Both of Remus’ hands went to Sirius’ head this time. Sirius held Remus’ hips, his own working faster now, grinding down in small circles. He pulled up to suck hard on the head, and Remus was finished. His hips jolted and he moaned as he came hard into Sirius’ mouth. Remus’ hands pulled at Sirius’ hair and Sirius kept him warm and steady for another moment, tongue gentle.

Sirius pressed his forehead to Remus’ hip again as his fist worked him down, grinding against the bed with small sounds that Remus swore were going to get him hard again.

“C’mere,” Remus wrapped his hands around Sirius’ arms, pulling him, and then pushing him, until he was settled on his back. Remus trailed his fingers up Sirius’ wet cock and Sirius closed his eyes. “What do you want baby? Anything.”

Sirius opened his eyes again and, without a word, gathered Remus to his chest. Remus came willingly, kissing Sirius’ neck and jaw, his cheeks and temples, anywhere he could reach.

“You’re so good,” Remus whispered as he ground his hips and sensitive cock against Sirius’ straining one. “That was so fucking good.”

Sirius made a low noise, arms wrapped around Remus’ back. “Re.”

“Come for me, baby,” Remus grinned. “And then you can think about me while you’re in the showers today, eh?”

“Oh fuck me,” Sirius managed to laugh, temples beaded with sweat as he rut up against Remus.

Remus felt that protectiveness flame up in his gut, familiar by now. He went back to kissing Sirius' neck, teeth scraping and heart leaping with the idea of leaving a mark that he knew he couldn’t leave.

“Je le veux,” Sirius said when he felt Remus’ teeth. I want it.

“This summer,” Remus breathed. “I promise.”

Sirius came between them, sudden and long. He held Remus against him, pressing his lips against his temple.

I love you, Remus thought for what felt like the thousandth time since New Year’s.

He kissed Sirius slowly, trying to pour the words out.

“Love waking up with you,” Sirius said, hands stroking down Remus’ sweaty back. His voice was scratchy and soft. “Watching you wake up, blinking and all that.”

Remus pressed his cheek against Sirius’ chest, listening to his heart. It was pounding.

I love you. I love youIloveyou—

Sirius’ alarm went off.

“Fuck,” Sirius laughed, and squeezed Remus tighter. “Shower? You know, the thing I’m going to embarrass myself in today after I get hard thinking about you.”

Remus grinned, cock fattening again with interest at the image. “That sounds nice.”

“Which one?” Sirius looked down at him, eyes on his semi. He reached for it, palming it gently. Remus’ breathing quickened again and he raised his head, doing his best to look innocent.

“Both.”

Sirius snorted, slapping Remus’ ass and rolling them out of bed.

Florida was just as warm as Remus was hoping it would be. Warm enough, and sunny enough, for the team to organize a beach workout.

“They call it a beach workout,” Logan said, throwing his hat down on a lounge chair so he could pull his shirt over his head. Remus eyed the fleur-de-lis tattoo on his left hip, a dark outline against his tan skin. “But it’s a beach day.”

“Sand sprints,” Kasey sighed, watching the waves and the rest of the team settle down in various rows of beach chairs. “Oh joy. Oh joy, oh joy.” He mumbled that to himself before discarding his shirt, too. “Yo, Loops, from one pale guy to another, wanna do my back?” He held up a bottle of sunscreen.

Remus really liked beach days.

“Sure, Kase,” Remus said.

“Sucks to suck,” Logan said, flexing his shoulders. “No burning here, baby. Can’t speak for freckles over here.”

“Hey,” Finn pushed his sunglasses into his hair as he threw his stuff down on the chair beside Logan. “Skincare is important.”

“I’m going swimming,” Leo announced, and shoved Finn in the direction of the water.

“Hey, Nut,” Logan snorted. “Ask Finn about seaweed.”

“That was one time, it’s slimy, and if any of it so much as floats near me, I’m done.”

Leo laughed. “I’ll protect you, Harz, come on.”

Logan stared after them, but didn’t follow. When he turned, he had put his own sunglasses back on, and Remus couldn’t read his expression. Logan sat down heavily on his chair. Maybe Remus would be able to find some time to get him alone this trip.

“Loops,” Sirius said, walking up to them through the sand. He looked gorgeous, baby blue bathing suit setting off his tan skin nicely. “There’s a chair with me, Talker and James, if you want it.”

“Thanks,” Remus smiled, trying to subtly check out the curve of his ass in the thin material. “C’mere, Kase, before I go.”

Kasey handed him the sunscreen and Remus squirted some into his palm. He sent another look to Sirius, who’s eyes were carefully blank, and smirked as he rubbed the lotion into Kasey’s sun-warmed, strong back.

“Aw, you’re just like Nat,” Kasey said. “Warming it up in your hands and shit, man.”

Remus laughed. “Thanks?”

“Always taking care of us, eh, Loops?” Sirius said.

“I do my best.”

The entire beach was crowded, and some girls in the tiniest bikinis Remus had ever seen asked for pictures with a few of the guys—Thomas the most popular—but other than that, everyone was relaxed and enjoying the much needed break from the brisk winds of Gryffindor.

Remus was on a chair between Sirius and Thomas, chin tilted up towards the warmth.

“Looking a little pink there, Loops.”

Remus cracked an eye open and looked at Sirius, who had just come back from a dip in the ocean. His hair was pushed away from his eyes, sopping and sticking up. The salty droplets fell down his body and Remus, behind his sunglasses, allowed himself a glance at the way his trunks wetly clung around the shape of his soft cock.

Remus loved beach days.

“I’m gonna put the umbrella up.”

“I’ll do it for you,” Thomas said, coming up behind Sirius, dark skin glistening and smile bright.

“Thanks, Talker,” Remus grinned at Sirius’ expression, as if offended that another man would get to raise Remus’ umbrella for him.

“No problemo. I’m gonna get a smoothie, anyone want one?”

“Yes,” James gasped, looking up from where he was lying on his stomach, and Remus jumped. He had thought he was asleep. “Please, I would like—strawberry banana? Yeah, that’s what I want.”

“Anything blueberry, I think,” Sirius said. “Thanks, Walkie.”

“Same,” Remus smiled up at him.

Sirius kicked Remus’ foot as Thomas walked away. Remus looked up in time to see Sirius glance at James, and then jerk his head towards the sea.

Remus smiled, and pushed himself out of his chair.

“Beach days are the best,” Remus said as his feet sunk down in the sand.

Sirius snorted. “Why, because you get to rub sunscreen all over Kasey Winter?”

“That was nice. Maybe it’s because Thomas is walking around all handsome.”

Sirius made a noise that was close to a whine and Remus laughed.

“Maybe it’s because your swimsuit’s clinging to your dick like they’re in love.”

Sirius burst out laughing as they waded into the water. “Alright, alright.”

The water was warm and Remus sunk right into rolling wave, diving down below it and letting the current pull him back for a moment before surfacing. The salt was cool and heavenly on his skin. He flicked his hair out of his face and looked up at Sirius, squinting in the sun.

“I’m never going back to winter,” Remus said.

“Yeah?” Sirius was smiling softly at him, eyes darting all over his face. Suddenly, he could see it. A trip with Sirius, just the two of them. No practice. No worries.

Remus shook his head, and dunked beneath the water again. Everything became quiet for a moment. He could hear the sand sifting against itself. The silence made his thoughts suddenly loud.

He loved Sirius.

Remus broke through the surface just in time for Sirius to dive under. He felt Sirius’ hand press against his chest, submerged, and then it was gone as Sirius surfaced again. But Remus was grinning, hand where Sirius’ had been.

From the sea, Remus could see how the team had spread out. Jackson, Evgeni, Sergei, and Pascal were playing volleyball a little ways down, Leo and Finn were still in the water together. Remus didn’t see Logan. He hoped he went to get smoothies with Thomas. He could see Olli near by, sun shirt and sunhat on, in the shade, happily away from the sun and reading a book.

“Did you notice anything funny with Logan at Christmas?” Remus asked Sirius as they floated together, carried up and down with the waves and hands brushing.

“This again?” Sirius smiled a little and shrugged. “I don’t think so? I mean, I think it’s funny that he’s not living with Finn, but who am I to talk? Took me a long time to move out, too. Celeste is heaven in a person.”

Remus smiled, licking salt from his lips. “Yeah, no…” Remus finally spotted Logan on the beach. He was still sitting on his chair, eyes down and on his phone. “I just was wondering.”

“What do you think’s up with him?”

Remus shook his head. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll let you know.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Okay… I am the captain, you know.”

“No, really?”

Sirius grinned, floating on his back. “I just mean I’m here to help.”

“I’ll let you know, Captain.” What Remus didn’t say was, I actually think this one might help you.

“Hey,” Sirius said, and Remus looked. Sirius was sun-kissed. His eyes took on the light color of the water. Sirius swam closer, even though no one was close enough to hear. “I’d kiss you right now if I could. You look gorgeous.”

Remus let their feet brush in the floating sand. “I’d kiss you right back, baby.”

“Florida ice sucks,” Finn yelled, slapping his stick against it. “Bouncy mother fuck.”

They were at morning practice, two hours of ice time at the Lightning’s rink before the game that night. Remus was partly watching Sirius laughing as he and Olli played keep away while the next drill was set up, partly nodding along to Finn, leaning against the boards complaining, and partly looking at Logan across the rink, silent beside where Pascal and Kris were talking. He was shuffling a small bit of shaved ice with his stick, back and forth, back and forth.

“Loops, you should practice with us,” Finn said.

“He’s not insured,” Coach said, flipping through his notes. He was firm, but he sounded sorry. “If he gets hurt, he could sue us.”

Finn scoffed. “What if I pay him off right now?”

“Harzy, get your ass out on that ice and don’t complain about it.”

Finn sighed, but bumped his glove against Remus’ fist. “I fought for you. You took me down, and I fought for you.” He tapped his temple. “Remember that, Lupin.”

Remus laughed. “Whatever you say, Harz.”

Sirius was in full blown captain-mode, laser-focused on making sure they won every game they could. It was January now. They were getting closer and closer to clinching a play-off spot. But they had to keep winning. Remus watched him touring around the ice, checking in on everyone—Leo, in goal. Talking plays with Pascal. Mostly discussing but sort of arguing with the coaches in the endearing and intimidating way that he had.

Remus loved him.

They were five minutes into three-on-three drills when Logan went down hard near the goal, accidentally tripped up by Leo. It was an awkward, sudden fall, a caught skate blade-on-blade. It took him a second to get up, and Remus didn’t know if it was because he was hurt, or becomes of something else. He had been acting dazed all practice, Remus was trained to look for that for concussion reasons. Only, Logan hadn’t hit his head.

Sirius skated up to him, stopping just short of the boards. “I want you to check Tremz out.”

“The kid’s asleep on his feet,” Moody said from beside Remus. “Or something.”

“Tremz,” Remus called, and motioned him over with a beckoning hand.

Finn skated with him, as if afraid Logan was going to fall. By the look on Logan’s face, Remus didn’t think it was an entirely unreasonable fear.

“I’m telling you, Lo, Florida ice,” Finn said as Logan stepped off. His tone was teasing, but his worried eyes met Remus’.

Alright, come with me, Tremz.”

“Okay,” Logan said. He didn’t look at Finn.

“I just got tripped, Loops,” Logan said from the exam table. Remus saw the sleepless purple beneath his eyes. “Everything feels fine.”

“I know, it didn’t look bad,” Remus said as he washed his hands. “It took you a second to get up though. Feeling okay? I noticed a little at the beach, too. Thought it was the heat, but…”

Logan was silent for a few, long beats.

“Yeah,” he finally said, and that was all. It was faint, and Remus sighed and turned around. Logan was staring at his hands, gloves and helmet beside him.

“Logan,” Remus began, and Logan looked up. Remus stayed across the room, leaning against the sink and shelves. “I just want you to know…I want you to know that I’m a resource for you. That the confidentiality that applies to people like doctors, any sort of doctor, applies to me. I only have to report things if I feel like they pose a danger to yourself, or to other people.”

Logan blinked at him, hands twisting in his jersey.

“I’m here, Tremz. If you want to talk. If you need anything. Really. I’m here.”

Remus turned around, then, giving him space, busying himself with random things until—

“I’m so…” Logan’s voice was faint, small in a way that Remus had never heard it.

Remus turned around slowly, and his heart hurt for him. Logan was staring at his hands, still pulling at his jersey, and his eyes were dull with the pain of whatever he was thinking about.

“I’m…” he tried again, and swallowed hard. He looked up at Remus. “I’m horrible.”

Remus shook his head slowly, and walked over to him. “Why do you think that?”

Logan looked down again. He squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them again, there were tears on his dark lashes.

“Fuck,” he wiped at them roughly, angrily.

“It’s okay, Tremz, hey…” Remus reached out, rubbing a hand over his back.

“No, it’s—” Logan tried again.

And then suddenly, in the next breath, Logan was sobbing. Great, heaving sobs that wracked his entire body. The scary part was, they were nearly silent besides his ragged breathing, as if he couldn’t bear to let them out but couldn’t catch his breath either. They tore out of him.

“It’s okay,” Remus said softly. “This is okay.”

Logan buried his face in his hands, elbows on his knees, and cried.

Remus felt tears in his own throat just at the sight. This was hurt. This was pure hurt.

“I can’t love him,” Logan said, breathing hitching while he tried to get the words out. “I can’t—they’re—”

Remus took that in stride. He figured this was something to do with sexuality, based on what Leo had said—or, rather, shown. He thought of the multi-colored thread of his bracelet.

Remus shook his head. “Yes, you can.”

Logan looked up at him, green eyes bright and chest still jumping with his tears. He shook his head. “No.”

“Yes,” Remus said gently. “Logan, you can love whoever you want.”

“Not here,” Logan’s lip trembled and he blinked new, hot tears. He wiped at his face with the sleeve of his jersey. “Fuck, Loops you see what they—if they knew…”

“I know,” Remus said quietly. “I understand why you’re scared. I’m…” Remus took a breath. “I’m the same. And when I was playing…I was scared, too.”

That froze Logan in his tracks.

If anyone had told Remus a year ago that the first person he would be coming out to was Sirius Black, the second Leo Knut, and the third Logan Tremblay, he would have laughed.

“You’re…” Logan breathed.

Remus nodded silently. “Yes. And I understand.”

In the next moment, the door was opening.

“Hey, Loops, is Tremz—”

Remus felt Logan recoil at Finn’s voice, eyes widening at Remus as they both turned to look.

For a moment, Remus could only watch as Finn appeared, just his head and shoulders through the door, sweat dripping from his hair. The smile slowly dropped from his face as he took in the sight in front of him. Logan’s red eyes. His shaking hands.

He took another step inside. “Lo, oh my god.”

“Harz, do you want to give us a minute?” Remus said as steadily as he could. This was not what Logan needed. He should have locked the door.

“Lo, what’s wrong?” Finn looked at Remus. “Is he okay? What’s—Lo, what’s wrong?”

“Finn,” Remus said more firmly. “I’m asking you to give us a minute.”

“Logan,” Finn said again, taking another step through the door. He looked tall on his skates, but wrecked by what he was seeing. Remus heard Logan let out a low sob from beside him, and watched Finn’s face break, worried and confused.

“Finn, leave,” Remus said, and walked forward, pushing Finn gently backwards.

“Hey, no—get off me,” Finn said louder, and looked desperately back at Logan. “Lo…”

Logan looked down, lip shaking like it was taking everything in him to hold himself together.

Remus had never seen Finn aggressive off of the ice. For a moment, Remus thought he was going to push back, but then he deflated again.

“Logan,” Finn pleaded.

“Finn, I swear to fucking god, listen to me,” Remus gave him a shove. He opened the door. “I’m sorry, I know. You can talk to him later, that’s up to you, but right now, this is my office.”

Remus shut the door. They could both see Finn’s silhouette, standing there still, through the shade on the window. After a few, long moments, it disappeared.

Remus turned. “Oh god, Logan, I’m so sorry, I should have locked—”

Logan let out another breath, half air half tears, and shook his head. “None of this is your fault.”

“No, I told you that you could talk and then the person you’re talking about fucking—walks right in.”

Logan looked up, startled. “You know?”

“I…”

Logan’s hands gripped the padded table on either side of his thighs. “Do people know?”

“No, no, no—” Remus held up his hands, walking back over to him. “No, I swear, Tremz, no one knows.”

“How do you?”

Remus took a breath. “Um. Well…”

“Remus,” Logan said. He looked truly panicked. “Remus.”

“I can’t say that without—” Remus sent Logan a pleading look.

“Was it Finn?”

Remus pressed his lips together. He shook his head.

“It was Leo,” Logan said.

Remus knew before he could help it that his surprised expression gave him away. He guessed that he shouldn’t be that surprised. Leo and Logan were roommates on the road. It was logical that Leo would be a friend Logan might have confided in.

“Yes,” Remus stumbled through the word, and only because Logan had said, rather than asked.

Logan put his head in his hands.

“Fuck.”

“Do you…what’s can I do?”

“I don’t know,” Logan said. “I don’t even know what I can do.”

“I think…I think you should talk to Finn. Then you two can figure out what you want to do. It’ll be hard and awkward but…it’ll work out. I know it will. You guys have a strong friendship.”

When Logan laughed, he sounded unbearably tired. “When has anything like that ever worked out before?”

Remus smiled a little. If he only knew.

“Just trust me, okay? Can you?”

Logan let out a long, exhausted breath. “Yeah,” he said, voice rough. he snuffled, and rubbed his jersey against his face. “Fuck…yeah. I can.” Then, Logan looked at him carefully. “Are you…do you have someone?”

Remus hesitated, but nodded silently. “But I won’t say more than that.”

Logan’s eyes widened. “He’s in the League.”

“Go talk to Finn,” Remus evaded the question, then paused. “Maybe after you’ve both cooled off a little.”

Logan heaved himself off of the table. “Thanks, Loops. Really, I…I don’t really talk about this. My sisters, they want to talk about it, but I just…”

Remus waited patiently. Logan still looked tired, but he was standing a little straighter now.

“I’ve always been scared of it,” Logan said. “I was never allowed. I’m still not allowed.”

“Oh, you’re allowed,” Remus shook his head. “They are just people stupid enough to believe they can control something like that. Logan.”

Logan looked up at him.

“You said you love him.”

Logan’s eyes closed and he looked down again.

“And,” Remus gestured at the door. “I don’t know if you noticed, but he was about to take a swing at me just to get to you, so… it’s pretty clear to me that he has some sort of feelings, too.”

Remus had a brief, panicked thought, suddenly remembering June. He didn’t understand that part of this. From the way Finn had just acted, to whatever Leo, who lived with Finn, seemed to think…he didn’t know how she fit in.

“Feelings and a girlfriend,” Logan said, voice thick again.

“That doesn’t mean it won’t…” God, Remus ached for him, remember seeing Sirius with girls. “It’ll feel good to tell him, I think. He’s your best friend. Let him be there for you in any way that he can. Logan, you need people to support you through this. I didn’t have that, but now I do. And it’s really fucking important.”

Logan sniffed, eyes filling again. “I’ve never said it.”

Remus sucked in a breath. Me neither, he wanted to say, but instead he wrapped his arms around Logan, feeling him return the hug with a little bit of surprise.

“I think you should,” Remus said.

As he said it, he made a vow to himself, too.

The stadium was blue that night with Lighting jerseys, warm-up music blasting as the two teams skated around the ice. There were some vibrant spots of red near the glass, and Remus watched as Sirius skated over to a father and his two small children, one boy, one girl. The girl was wearing Thomas’ jersey, and the boy was wearing Sirius’. Remus smiled as Sirius waved at them with his glove, and then whistled at Thomas. Thomas skated over, too, asking the little girl for a high five through the glass, and then pretending to be knocked over and onto the ice with her force. She giggled madly. Sirius threw a puck over to the boy, then posed for a picture.

His attention was pulled away by the sound of a hard stop in front of the boards near him.

“Fucking ice,” Finn grumbled. He looked at Remus, then away, cheeks flushing. Pascal was with him, and squirted him with a water bottle.

“Not with the cameras and microphones around, mon cub. Florida will kill us all.”

Finn rolled his eyes. He looked tense. He didn’t look at Logan, a few feet away, on his knees and stretching.

Remus caught Logan’s eye and raised an eyebrow. Logan shook his head. So, they hadn’t talked about it yet. That was good, it had only been a few hours. By the looks of it, Remus would guess that they weren’t talking at all right now.

“Don’t let it affect your play, Harzy. It’ll work out,” Remus said quietly, and Finn’s eyes snapped towards him. They went hard, and he all but threw his water bottle back into the bench slots.

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Finn said lowly.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” came a new voice, and one of Tampa’s blue uniforms came skating up, taking Finn immediately into a headlock. “If it isn’t my baby brother.”

Remus raised his eyebrows. He had completely forgotten that Finn’s brother played for Tampa. That he had a brother in the League at all.

“Alex, come on,” Finn groaned as Alex rattled his helmet before letting go. Finn laughed though, and hugged him, slapping his padded shoulder. “Hey, man. Ready to get your ass whipped?”

“Fat fucking chance,” Alex shook his head, and smiled at Remus. He had his brother’s smile, all blinding perfect teeth, crinkling soft brown eyes. Alex kept a faint, red stubble that Finn shaved clean off. He called for Logan, then, who skated over a little hesitantly, and bumped fists with him.

“Sup, Lo,” Alex said. “Haven’t seen you in the city for a few years, what’s that about?” He glanced back at Finn, who’s smile had faded. He raised an eyebrow and looked at Remus. “These kids lived at each other’s houses during college.”

Remus smiled back, dying a little inside at the pain he wasn’t sure Finn’s older brother knew he was currently causing.

“I can believe it,” Remus said.

Logan coughed and shuffled a little on his skates. “Just busy, I guess.”

“I guess,” Alex parroted with a laugh. “Alright,” he smacked Finn’s ass with his glove. “Good luck little brother, love you bunches.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Finn grumbled, retaliating with a shove from his stick, but he smiled again. Remus was glad, because he could see about fifteen cameras trained on them.

“Boys,” Sirius stopped hard in front of them. “The fuck are we standing around here? Circle shoot, come on.”

Logan shot away as fast as it seemed that he could. Finn, however, looked again at Remus. His brown eyes were worried and Remus did his best to look back calmly.

“It’ll be okay,” he said, and then glanced at Pascal, who was very obviously pretending like he wasn’t listening.

“You can’t know that,” Finn said quietly.

“But we can hope,” Remus replied, and then nodded towards center ice. “Cap’s calling. Play the game first, and come find me later if you want.”

Finn took a long, slow breath, and then wordlessly skated away.

Pascal took his place in front of Remus, and he was smiling. “Sometimes we all simply need a little baby push in the right direction, non?”

Remus stared at him. Pascal just kept smiling.

“Like a dinner invitation,” Pascal shrugged exaggeratedly. “On a stormy night.”

Remus nearly choked. “I—Dumo.”

“I have a game to play, Remus,” Dumo sing-songed as he skated away to shoot on Leo.

“Dumo,” Remus yelled.

“What are you yelling at Dumo for?” Coach said, coming out of the tunnel with his line card.

Remus stared at him. “Um—the water bottles, he was unscrewing the water bottles.”

“Oh,” Arthur laughed. “The usual.”

“Yeah,” Remus said distractedly. “Apparently.”

They won 3-2, two goals from Thomas and one from James. The atmosphere in the locker room as everyone packed up to get back on a plane to Gryffindor was calm and pleased. Remus was packing up his supplies in the visitor’s PT room when there was a knock at his door. Remus looked up.

“Finn,” he said, not completely surprised. “Hi. Good game.”

Finn sent him a small, wavering smile. His hair was tucked beneath a beanie and he had his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his light gray suit.

“Can we talk?” he said.

“Of course,” Remus gestured to a chair and the exam table. “Where ever.”

Finn pulled the hat from his head, red hair a mess beneath, flopping over his forehead. He let out a long breath as he hitched himself up onto the table, vans swinging on his feet.

“Logan’s really hurting,” he said. “And it’s my fault.”

Remus blinked. Based on Logan, he had thought he was going to have to work a little harder to get Finn talking.

“Okay,” Remus said slowly. “Why is it your fault?”

“Because I’m an asshole.”

Remus laughed, just a little. “Harz, you aren’t an asshole. What do you mean?”

Finn took a few moments to respond. He was pulling at his suit lapels and seemed to be biting the inside of his cheek.

“Loops, what I’m about to tell you…”

“Doctor’s confidentiality, Harz,” Remus said. “It’s the same deal as you telling me you think you might have an STD. That information’s going no where, unless I think you’re about to cause someone else some harm.”

Finn actually laughed. “Oh. That’s a real nice image, thanks.” He cleared his throat. “Me, um. Me and Logan, in college…we had, well, I wouldn’t call it a thing but,” Finn looked up at Remus, expression soft. “Logan’s my best friend. That’s all we’ve—that’s all we’ve said, but I,” Finn pressed a hand over his mouth, staring at the wall. He laced his fingers together, then, elbows on his knees. Remus watched him think it through, watched the words formulate in his mind. He watched Finn feel them in his entire being. “Remus, I love him so much. Really, love him, I mean. I’m—I’m in love with him.”

Remus looked at him. He admired him. Finn was nodding slowly to himself, eyes closed. Remus understood Logan’s pain now. Logan, who had never said such a thing, not even when Remus had flat out asked him.

“Finn, that doesn’t make you an asshole.”

Finn just gave him a pained look. “June.”

“Oh. Yeah, okay, maybe explain that to me.” When Finn didn’t answer, but just pressed his fingers into his eyes, Remus took a step further. “Finn, was…was this, like, a jealousy thing?”

“It didn’t start that way,” Finn said. “At first it was…it was me trying to be happy. Me trying to move on.” Finn groaned. “I…I really, really like June. And she really likes me but,” he laughed, a little tearfully. “It took her about three fucking days after I asked her on a date to figure me out. Literally, I thought we were going to lunch and she fucking sat down like, alright, O’Hara, who are you in love with?” Finn rubbed a hand over his face, laughing again, but the laugh was sad. “I thought I was going to fucking cry.”

Remus thought Finn looked like he was going to cry right now.

“After I told June what was up,” Finn sighed. “We became really good friends. Like, is that weird? She’s the first person I got to open up to. Ever. She’s—fuck, she’s incredible.”

It actually made pretty good sense to Remus. He’d never actually seen them kiss, but he could see the affection there.

“And she said she would come to family skate with me, as a friend, because my family was at my brother’s this year, right? Here, in Tampa. But everyone assumed she was my girlfriend, of course, I mean that’s logical.”

“Right…”

“And then she went along with it, maybe to help, and then I saw the look on Logan’s face, and I thought…” Finn stopped abruptly, swallowing hard. “I thought…maybe now he’ll talk to me. Maybe we can sort this out. Maybe I’ll finally tell him…I’ll tell him…”

But he couldn’t finish.

“I think,” Remus began. “I think you guys should talk to each other. Really, just—just a long, sit down talk.”

Finn nodded. “I try. Logan…fucking French.”

Remus smiled a little. “There’s a lot of history here that I don’t know about, and a lot of feelings I wasn’t there for. Only you two know how you feel, and what you want.”

Finn still looked conflicted, though, and he was rubbing at his heart like it hurt. “But Leo—”

Remus tilted his head a little at him. Logan had mentioned Leo, too.

“Does Leo know about all this? What is he, like the middle man between you two? Because he’s the one who told me to talk to Logan.”

Finn’s head snapped up. “Really?”

“Yeah, but he also told me about you and June, so—”

“No, no,” Finn said, suddenly standing. “Leo knows about me and June. Like, the truth. Logan doesn’t know.”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Well, Logan’s the one you’re in love with, right?”

Finn’s smile was sad. “Only for seven years of my life. But, there's…”

Remus waited for him to go on, but he didn’t, just shook his head. “Well,” Remus said. “Then I think maybe you should tell him that you don’t have a girlfriend. That might make things a little easier for him.”

Finn groaned. “Yeah. Fuck me, see? I’m an asshole.”

Remus put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. “No, Harz. You’re trying your best to be yourself in a world that’s making it really fucking hard. You’re brave. You just need to talk to the people who will help you. You’ll support each other.”

Finn blinked at him, and then cursed and pulled Remus into a hard hug, face tucked into his neck.

“You helped me, Loops. Fuck me,” Finn pulled back and he was sniffling a little. “Do you get paid for this?”

Remus laughed. “Yes.”

“Good.”

“Good,” Remus patted his shoulder. “We need to get on a bus now, Harz.”

“A long talk to him on the bus,” Finn’s face lit up with anticipation and nerves.

Remus shook his head. “No.”

Finn sighed, but nodded as if resigned to Remus being right. “We’ll talk to him at home.”

Remus tilted his head as Finn turned towards the door. “We?”

“Catch you on the plane, Loops!” Finn called, and let the door close slowly behind him.

It was caught by a hand before it closed. Sirius’ head poked in.

“Jeez,” he said, and then grinned while Remus rolled his eyes. Sirius closed the door, turned the lock, and then pulled Remus in with his hands on his hips. He leaned down to brush their lips together, his hair, wet from his shower, dripping cooly on Remus’ neck. “You’re city hall today, eh?”

Remus grinned, wrapping his arms around Sirius’ neck. He looked handsome in his dark gray suit. “You have no idea.”

“Is this to do with your Logan fixation?”

Remus snorted. “Oh God. That makes it sound like I have some sort of kink for him.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“Shut up,” Remus laughed, and pulled him down for a hard kiss, licking into his mouth before sealing it with a soft scrape of his teeth against Sirius’ lip. “You know that’s only for you.”

Sirius tucked his face against Remus’ neck and held him close. “Mine or yours tonight?”

Remus thought for a moment, heart speeding up. He carded his fingers through Sirius’ hair and pressed a kiss to his neck. “Mine. I’ll cook.”

And I’ll tell you I love you, he didn’t add.

The plane ride felt quick, and Remus had slept the entire time. He was groggy as they stumbled off the plane. He caught Sirius staring at him as they exited into a waiting area. Sirius smiled at him, warm and soft. It filled Remus up to the brim.

I love you.

It had been playing like a record on the plane, even as he slept. He dreamed in I love you’s, now, he lived and walked in them. He needed to say it. He thought of Finn and Logan. He needed to say it. He would say it tonight.

Sirius had one AirPod in, and he looked down, still smiling. Remus expected his phone to buzz with a text any second.

Instead, Remus watched Sirius’ entire posture change. He stiffened. He had a funny look on his face, looking down at his phone. It was staring and vacant. With alarm, Remus realized he could see Sirius’ hand shaking. He took one step forward, and then Sirius looked up. His eyes, even from across the room, were completely blank, cold. They stopped Remus in his tracks. It was identical, perfectly identical, to Sirius’ first years on The Lions. That stare was Sirius looking through layers and layers of walls, of brick and cobwebs and years of being torn down. What Remus didn’t know, was what had sprung them up so fucking quickly. Just hours ago, Sirius had been smiling and kissing his neck. Now, he was looking at Remus like he didn’t know who he was. Before, years ago, Remus hadn’t known Sirius well enough to realize that look for what it was.

Now, he knew Sirius looked afraid.

“Whoa,” he heard from behind him, and turned. Finn was staring at him wide-eyed. Logan was staring at Sirius, eyes even bigger. James was staring at Sirius, expression unreadable. They all had their phones in their hands.

Remus reached for his own phone, nearly dropping it. No emails. No texts. Remus’ hands were shaking, too, now. He had a feeling in his stomach.

Twitter. Trending.

Remus swayed, hand reaching out for something to grab onto and finding one of the flimsy, belt, line dividers. He felt his entire body heat up, then go ice cold.

#SiriusBlackGay.

It was worse when he clicked on it.

Captions. Horrible, horrible, captions. He didn’t even see if there were any supporting messages. All he could see were question marks, and capital letters. Slurs.

Burning this jersey, one said.

#notmycaptain.

And the pictures.

They were dark, but they were clear. Taken through Sirius’ car window, in Remus’ parking garage. On New Year’s eve. Remus was on Sirius’ lap. They were kissing in one, and in another, Remus was kissing Sirius’ neck, Sirius’ face tilted up, eyes closed. They were perfectly recognizable with their hats off, with the streetlight filtering in.

#CaptainBottom the tweet read.

Remus felt sick. He pressed a hand to his throat. He couldn’t breathe.

Sirius.

Remus looked up when someone said Sirius’ name, quietly. It was Pascal. He was the only member of the team to approach their captain, the others still frozen or shuffling with shock. Remus watched as Pascal reached out a hand. He watched as Sirius fell a step backwards.

“Sirius,” Pascal said again, followed by French that was too low for Remus to hear.

Not even Sirius seemed to hear. Remus watched his throat work around a swallow. Remus silently begged Sirius to look at him. But he didn’t.

Instead, Sirius turned on his heel and walked out of the airport, automatic doors opening before him, and then sealing shut. Sirius disappeared as the light’s reflection took over the glass. Remus found himself staring at his own, murky reflection, smaller and behind Pascal’s, who still had his hand out.

Remus couldn’t look away from the whites of his own terrified eyes. His hand closed more tightly around his throat. He couldn’t think.

Vaguely, he registered James walking slowly up to him. He stood there, shown in the door’s reflection for a long moment, and then Remus watched his hand reach out and gently hold Remus’ shoulder.

“Can I drive you home?” James said softly.

Remus stared ahead, eyes unseeing. James gently took his phone out of his hand and clicked it off, slipping it into his own pocket. He wrapped his arm more firmly around Remus’ shoulders.

“Come on, Re. Let me—let me be here for you.”

“He needs you,” Remus choked out. They both knew who he meant.

“I’m going there next,” James started walking them forward. “Lily’s going to you. She’ll meet you at your apartment, okay?”

That made Remus’ eyes fill. He blinked away the wetness, and it dripped down his cheeks.

“Okay,” he whispered.

“Okay, babe,” James said and squeezed his shoulders.

They followed where Sirius had been, out the doors and into the freezing night.

550 notes · View notes

imherongraystairstrash · 3 years

Note

I don’t think this is along the line of your usual fics, at least I’ve only seen you post one thing in the TDA series, but would you be willing to write Kit and Kieran bonding after Kieran finds out that they’re related? Because I just feel like Kieran would be happy to have a family member that he actually likes, and isn’t a horrible person.

Yes! Kieran would be so happy to have a family member that doesn’t treat him horribly! I also want to apologize for posting this monster of a fic. I just had too much fun writing this! Kit’s POV is something I didn’t know I needed to write until now. ALSO, it broke my heart to write some of this so... You’re welcome.

Characters: Kit & Kieran bonding times (platonicccc I don’t want anyone thinking this is anything other than platonic because, ew)

Notes: This is a couple of days before Kit goes to live with Jem and Tessa :)

...

Kit had been staring out into the distance for so long, time seems to have lost it’s essence. He kept telling himself to stop standing there and go back inside. Perhaps he should do some packing, since Jem Carstairs and Tessa Gray were going to come in a couple of days and take him to Devon. But all Kit had done this evening was this; looking out at LA and wondering how his life had changed so drastically in the span of a couple of months.

He had the balcony door open and turned to find Kieran standing there.

“Is it alright if I stay here?”

Kit simply nodded at him and then turned back to the view. It was a really nice view. Nothing like the one he had in his old house.

Kieran rested his forearms on the railing and looked out at the city, just as Kit was doing.

“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Kieran asked.

“Nope, go ahead.”

“When you look out at this view,” Kieran said, “do you see what you would consider to be ‘home’?”

Kit shrugged. “I’ve never seen LA from here before, so it doesn’t really look like home. Except for that street over there; I used to pass it when I was going to school in the morning.”

Kieran squinted, trying to identify the street. He didn’t know why, but Kit sort of liked that he was actually putting in the effort to find the street he was talking about. Most people would shrug it off or nod and smile a fake smile, just so that they could end the small talk. It sort of felt like Kieran actually cared about what Kit said.

“Is it the one that goes along that building with red lights?”

“Uhh,” Kit looked at the expanse of red lights, none of which were near the street he had been talking about. “Not really. It’s the one that has that stop sign at the end of it.”

“I’m afraid I do not have knowledge of what a ‘stop sign’ is or what it may look like.”

Kit’s eyes widened and he bit back the urge to say “wow”. How old was this guy? How secluded was Faerie? He didn’t ask those questions though, because they seemed rude.

“It’s okay, Kieran. I won’t be offended if you don’t want to keep looking for it. I mean, it’s pretty small.”

“No, I want to find this path you had taken to your school in the past. It feels important.”

“Oh okay. Umm,” Kit looked at the street. “Oh, do you see that green car over there?”

“Hm. Oh yes! I do see it!”

“Okay, to the right of that road, is the street I was talking about.”

“Is there a woman and a man professing their love to one another, for all to see, on the lighter road, beside that bigger, darker road?”

Kit blinked. And then he understood. “Oh, you mean that couple making out on the sidewalk? Yeah, that’s the one.”

Kieran smiled, clearly proud he’d found the street. Kit smiled too, because it had been a little fun. Then his mind drifted and he thought about how Kieran was supposedly related to him. That was really weird. He also looked nothing like Kieran; but maybe that was because they weren’t that related.

“Hey, Kieran?”

“Yes?”

“How are we related again? Are we like cousins or something?”

“I think your great-great grandmother was my half sister?”

“Oh.” Kit said. “Well, I still don’t know what to call you. Are you like my great-great-great uncle, then?”

Kieran looked pensive. “Perhaps?”

“Cool.”

“I was thinking it was a bit hot, actually.”

Kit felt his jaw drop. What the hell?

“What?”

Kieran looked at him surprised. “You said you were cold, but I think it’s rather warm outside. Hot, even.”

Kit released a breath in relief. “Oh, oh okay. Thank God.”

“For what?”

“Oh, nothing.”

They looked out at the landscape in front of them. Kit was going to just let the silence hang, when he suddenly felt bad for his Triple-G Uncle (yes, he thought, that’s what I should call him).

“Oh, Kieran?”

“Yes?”

“When someone says ‘cool’ they usually mean, like…‘nice’.”

Kieran looked at him and tilted his head to the side. “I don’t believe I follow…”

“It’s like… uh… you see, i—it’s hard to explain. Let me think.” Kit furrowed his eyebrows trying to figure out how to explain. “Well, it’s like saying ‘awesome’ or ‘great’, you know?”

Kieran pressed his lips together. “Oh. That makes a little bit of sense.”

“Oh, really? Cool! I thought what I just said just confused you even more.”

“No, no. I think I understand now, especially after you used it in a sentence.”

“Huh. And you’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

Kieran eyed him. “Even if I wanted to, I cannot lie. I’m Fae.”

“Oh, yeah.” Kit bit his lip. “I forget that sometimes.”

Kieran snorted. “I don’t.”

Kit pressed his lips together. He wanted to know more about his ancestors, and now was as good a time to ask. And when would he get a better opportunity to learn? Here was Kieran, who was raised in the Unseelie Court. Just ask, Kit, he thought. Just ask the stupid question already, before you leave and won’t ever be able to know. Just do it.

Kit almost laughed because that reminded him of a vine he had first seen in second period math. Then, he shuddered because ugh, second period math. That class was torture unlike any he had ever endured.

Anyways, what had he been thinking about? Oh yes; he had to ask Kieran his question.

“Christopher?”

Darn it. Just when he was going to ask his question. “Yeah?”

“I do not recall ever having a family member that has never tried to kill me or was cruel, save my brother, Adaon.”

“Oh,” Kit said, eyes wide as he shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “That’s um—that sucks, Kieran. I—I’m sorry?”

“Why do you apologize?”

Kit frowned, “I don’t know. That’s the sort of thing people say.”

Kieran hummed. “You mortals apologize too much.”

Kit didn’t have anything to say, other than ‘sorry’ which would be kinda dumb, considering what Kieran just said. So, he opted for silence.

“As I was saying,” Kieran continued. “I do not think I have had a good relationship with family members for a long time, so I hope you can forgive me if I do not keep good company; I don’t interact well with others because of my upbringing.”

“Oh.” Kit bit his lip, absentmindedly. What does this mean?

As if reading his mind, Kieran added quickly. “I just thought that perhaps we could try to be each other's family?”

“Nobody’s ever wanted me to be their family member before.” Kit mumbled.

“I can say the same for myself.” Kieran said. “I thought maybe we could talk and introduce ourselves better. I know family isn’t just blood but—”

“I’d like that.” Kit interrupted, without meaning to. “Get to know each other, I mean.”

Kieran looked surprised. “You would?”

“Yeah. I mean, you seem pretty dope—I mean, interesting.”

Kieran smiled. “You, too, seem ‘dope’”

Kit laughed at that. Maybe it would be fun to teach Kieran modern slang.

“Okay, first things first though, nobody really calls me Christopher, unless I royally messed up. You can call me Kit, instead.”

And so they talked to one another. Nothing too deep. It was the type of conversation that has no real subject to it, and because of that, it was enjoyable. Kit got to ask his question about Faerie and Kieran asked him questions about the mundane world. Kit even showed him the Katy Perry left shark meme. Kieran’s face when Kit told him that there were people inside those costumes could have also been a meme.

Kit did not know where life would take him. He supposed that living with Jem and Tessa couldn’t be too bad. Who knew? Maybe they won’t ignore him as his dad had. Then again, isn’t that what parents normally do with their children? Just pretend like they don’t exist, except for times when it’s convenient for them?

It didn’t really matter, not right now. At least Kieran felt Kit was worth his time, and maybe, just maybe, he could have the relative he never had.

Yes, that would be nice.

...

Tagging some lovely people: @celias @tsccreatorsnet @atla-lok143 @hitheresomeoneusingthus @rinadragomir @youngreckless @aceofjesper @autumnangel20 @julemmaes @cupcakesandkittens @no-scones-allowed @fictionally-fantastic @stxr-thxif @forjordelia @itsdaughterofthemoon

If you want to be tagged in future fics, notify me! If you asked to be tagged and I didn’t tag you in this post, please remind me (my brain cells are gone at this point)

#kit herondale #kieran kingson #tsc #tda fanfiction #tsc fanfiction #kit and kieran #the dark artifies #idk what else to tag this asss

101 notes · View notes

damienthepious · 2 years

Text

it has been so fucking long since i’ve managed two whole posts in one LKT. pure madness. is my brain returning to me? saints i hope so....

still need your teeth around my organs (chapter 6)

[ch 1] [ch 2] [ch 3] [ch 4] [ch 5] [ao3] [ch 7] [ch 8] [ch 9] [ch 10] [ch 11] [epilogue?]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien, Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Enemies to Lovers, Rivals to Lovers, Dueling, Sexual Tension, (because they’re IDIOTS), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, mutual IDIOTS, canon typical Arum ignoring feelings

Fic Summary: Damien won yesterday, Arum won today, and now all that’s left is to break the tie. The only issue, however, is that neither of them are willing to do so, not until they are both satisfied that they have fought fairly, and honorably, and one of them has truly won.

Chapter Summary: Damien is only half-lucid enough for this conversation. He and his rival both refuse to let that stop them, however.

Chapter Notes: obviously continued warning from last chapter for injuries and medication! these two are going to be the death of me.

True to the doctor's word, Arum hears the faint sound of movement in the examination room a little more than an hour later, the rhythm of Damien's breaths catching in a faint gasp, a quiet groan. Arum stills, his eyes darting to the doorway, and Amaryllis pauses mid-word, raising an eyebrow in his periphery.

"He's coming around?" she asks with a tilt of the head, and Arum nods stiffly. "Saints. You've got good hearing, huh?"

Arum nods again, too distracted to decide whether or not that was a compliment and whether or not he is bothered by it. "He- he does not sound- distressed, or..."

"Let me just check him over real quick," she says, standing and- patting Arum's shoulder, quick and simple before he can react, and then she marches to the door with a glancing smile. "Two minutes, and then if he's still awake you can come talk with him. Okay?"

"I-" Arum snaps his teeth, unsettled and uncertain, wanting to either hiss and spit or otherwise to bowl past the doctor and see Sir Damien for himself, but- he snaps his teeth again, exhaling sharply through them, and then he gives a third nod, stiff and uncomfortable. "F-fine. I suppose that- yes. Better to have a- a professional look his sorry hide over, before- yes."

She smiles wider, nodding in return, and then she says again, "Two minutes," before she slips through the door and out of sight.

Arum-

Arum is far too uncomfortable to simply sit and wait. He stands from the table, pacing an awkward circle in the small room, ducking his head intermittently to avoid catching any hanging bundles of herbs on his horns.

He can hear Damien's breath catch, a fluting little noise, and then an exhale, and- and Arum knows with full certainty that the poet is sighing through a smile. He knows that particular noise.

"... would say, my flower, good morning," Damien breathes, and the stiffness in Arum's shoulders eases entirely at his voice, even so wavering and exhausted. "And all the more beautiful a waking for the blessing of your sight, but-"

"It's not morning, Damien," the doctor says, warmth and exasperation both in her tone. "Not for a while, yet. Now hold still, let me get a look-see."

Damien hums, a gentle assent, and Arum hears him whisper below the rustle as Amaryllis works. "Yet so brightly you glow, Rilla, like dawn, like... ah-"

"Yeah, you aren't gonna wanna stretch like that. Here, back down. Relax."

"Ah- yes, of- of course."

There is a minute or so of quiet, after that. Gentle rustling, the distinct noise of a bottle being uncorked, and Arum thinks- the name Rilla. Why does that catch in his mind? When has he heard-

"Nothing looks worse than it did earlier tonight," Amaryllis says dryly, and Arum can imagine her squinting with her hands on her hips. "Good. Thank you for staying put, this time."

Damien hums, vague and musing. "I believe... hm. I believe that you may have had a hand in my stillness, medicinally speaking, if this familiar fogginess in my mind is any indication, my flower."

"That is my job," she says brightly, and the knight breathes a soft laugh. "Do you think you might be up for a visitor, just for a few minutes?"

A pause. "A... a visitor?"

Another pause. Arum fidgets with his cape as he paces, imagining- perhaps the doctor nods, here, or smiles, or gestures meaningfully.

Damien must have- must have answered in some silent way of his own, though, because after a long, quiet moment, Amaryllis steps out of the room, leaving it cracked behind her again. She does not look surprised to find Arum standing, pacing, though he still instantly when she approaches.

"He's going to be a little out of it," she explains quietly with a half-smile. "He might doze off again, might be a little loopy- just, don't hold it against him, okay?"

"Wh-" Arum shakes his head. "Why would I- don't be ridiculous."

"And don't get him riled up, if you can help it," she continues, aiming a stubborn finger towards him as he blinks and pulls his head back. "I know that he gets himself going sometimes, but- just, like, try."

"I- I have no intentions of-" Arum scowls, utterly thrown off. "I only intend to- to confirm when he might- might wish to speak about our- our next duel. That is all. There will be nothing for him to become riled up about, Amaryllis."

She looks at him, her dark eyes stern and knowing and deep enough to worry, and he drops her gaze with a huff.

"Hm," she says, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping her fingers off her elbows. "Well, that's not the most comforting speech I've ever heard, but- it'll have to do. Don't keep him awake too long, okay? He needs his rest."

She moves out of his way, going back to sit by the table again without fanfare, and Arum blinks after her warily for a long moment.

"Well?" she says, glancing up at him over her third cup of tea. "Go on, then. I'm not gonna stop you, and obviously I'm not going to eavesdrop, either. You two have your own thing," she says with a wave of the hand.

Arum opens his mouth, closes it, shakes his head again. He turns for the door, before the look on her face can rattle him any further. He pushes it open, and-

Might doze off again seems to have been the most accurate estimation. Damien does not look particularly conscious when Arum slips into the dim room, leaving the door cracked again behind him, just in case. He stirs slightly at the noise of Arum's claws against the wood floor of the hut, humming and tilting his head without opening his eyes, but apparently he managed to slip from the waking world again in the brief time it took for Arum and Amaryllis to converse.

Arum pauses, uncertain, thrown again by the sight of Sir Damien without armor or protection or that keen, steady look in his eye- but only for a moment. He steps closer, finding a sturdy seat beside the cot and settling there.

"Evening, honeysuckle," he manages, trying to keep his tone mellow and unconcerned, trying not to startle. "I hope you do not mind my intrusion, tonight. Your doctor did not seem to think that you would."

Damien blinks slowly, eyelids raising only halfway as his muzzy gaze finds Arum beside him in the dim of the room. He blinks again, lips pursing, but then-

He smiles, warm and dazed, and Arum tries not to react, not to lean towards the strange heat of it.

"Oh," Damien says, his voice more breath than word. "Arum."

Arum-

The way Damien's tongue curls around his name as his eyes slip back closed. The way his frame softens on the exhale. Arum doesn't know where to look, doesn't know what he is allowed while Damien is so- so vulnerable.

"This is... a dream, then," Damien hums, still smiling vaguely with his eyes closed. "Must have... drifted off. A dream... safe 'neath Rilla's roof and yet beside you, my dearest rival... my rival most dear."

"I should have known you would still play your tongue at poetics, honeysuckle, even while too injured to stand," Arum says, and he is glad for only the smallest moment for Damien's sedation, because it means the poet likely won't be able to hear the way his voice shakes beneath his intended gentle mocking. Hopefully the doctor was honest about giving him privacy, else she would certainly hear it.

"I could stand!" Damien insists, his eyelids fluttering open though his gaze remains unsettled and vague. "I could," he repeats and then he clenches his hands in the thin sheets as if to make good on the assertion.

"Don't," Arum growls, leaning close enough to press his palm against the back of Damien's hand. "Don't you dare, honeysuckle. Your doctor will have my head if I allow you to injure yourself in foolishness. I know full well that you're stubborn enough. You could, perhaps. You should not."

Arum hears the poet's heart skip a beat as Arum pulls his hand back, and some of the vagueness dissolves from his expression very suddenly, though he settles again, no longer threatening to rise.

"You..." he exhales, a huff of breath that isn't quite a laugh. "This... this isn't a dream," he says slowly. "This isn't- you're here. You are honestly... truly here."

Arum cannot read Damien's inflection; there is an odd blankness there. He nods, after a moment.

"So I am. Absurd as that may be. You have a deeply unusual physician."

Damien barks a surprised sort of laugh, then gasps and winces hard, lifting a hand to clutch at his side. "Oh, ah- don't make me laugh, Arum, my ribs-"

"Careful, little poet," Arum growls, frowning hard as Damien opens one eye through his wince. "I did not intend to... I thought that I was simply pointing out the obvious. I understand, I think, why you have explained our... situation to her. Clearly she understands enough. Understands your stubbornness, if nothing else."

Damien breathes another laugh, less strained, and then he sighs back against the pillows. "Stubbornness is a quality we share," he murmurs. "She and I, and you as well, I should say. Stubbornness abound."

"I am glad for it," Arum says, feeling- distinctly awkward. "If it means that she- that she can convince you not to disregard your own health for a single moment. Were you truly going to try to rush into the jungle to meet me, even in such a state? Bones cracked, freshly stitched-"

Damien ducks his head, an embarrassed curl to his lips. "I don't... I don't know. Truly, I cannot remember much with clarity. But- I do not remember, so obviously I cannot deny it, either. I know that I did not wish to leave you waiting, unaware, assuming the worst-"

"I wouldn't have-" Arum pauses, snaps his jaw shut, then huffs and looks away entirely. He hears the poet breathe another soft laugh. It should prickle at him, perhaps, that Damien knows his mind enough to predict how he would have reacted, but- "Well. I suppose you found a way to avoid the worst without injuring yourself, though- though sending your doctor to meet with me in your stead was an astonishingly dangerous maneuver."

Damien hums, pursing his lips for a moment, and then the tiredness seems to sweep through him again for a moment, and he sighs and closes his eyes. "Mm... I disagree, I think. I trust... yes, I trust her with my body, my heart, my soul. I trust her with yours, as well."

"You sent her to meet a monster, honeysuckle," Arum points out, too baffled by Damien even acknowledging the idea that Arum might have a soul to think of anything else to say. He had not even been thinking- he had not been considering the danger to himself, in that particular moment, only-

"I sent her to meet you," Damien breathes, his eyes still closed. "Arum... I sent her to you."

Arum swallows, even more uncomfortable, but he cannot think what to say to that. He shifts, ignoring the way his chest rumbles with a low growl.

"What beast did this to you?" Arum says suddenly, and he did not mean to allow the question to escape him, despite the sharp stab of territoriality in his stomach, but- "What creature dared to- to try to deny me my rival?"

Damien blinks his eyes back open again, his cheeks darkening just slightly with heat. "Ah- er, well-"

"I don't know how they dare," Arum growls, and the heat in Damien's cheeks deepens.

"You... you needn't worry," Damien says, ducking his head with an oddly sheepish smile. "It... well, it will not harm anyone else again, least of all myself."

Arum blinks, remembering unbidden how shockingly quick the little knight can draw and fire, his near-magical accuracy, the spark of his eyes in the midst of combat, and he manages with some effort not to laugh aloud at his own stupidity. "R-right. Yes, of course. I should have assumed- rather, I did not mean to imply that you could not- that you were not capable of-"

"I inferred no such thing from your questions, Lord Arum," Damien says, still ducking his head. "I would feel quite the same if someone else had..." he trails off, looking away, and then he meets Arum's eyes again. "I should mention, perhaps, that... that I am nearly certain that I survived as I did in no small part due to the skills I have honed in our duels, my dear rival. I could thank you for that, perhaps, but-"

"Don't," Arum snaps, and the poet stifles another laugh.

"Precisely," he says through a grin, "I thought you might not be keen on that particular gratitude."

Arum wrinkles his snout, looking away. When, eventually, he looks back, the poet still watches him carefully, his expression soft, blinking slow and lazy like a cat, clearly fading by degrees back towards unconsciousness.

"You... when, honeysuckle, do you think... when do you think we might meet next, to discuss our continuing duel?" Arum asks slowly, feeling dubious. This may, he thinks, have been a mistake. Damien does not seem entirely lucid at the moment, and... well, this does not feel fair. He cannot expect the knight to consider his schedule while sedated in a doctor's cot. "That is-"

"Oh, oh we needn't wait terribly long, I should think. I expect I will be perfectly mended in a week or so-"

Arum exhales sharply, pure disbelief as he pulls his head back.

"I am going to pretend that you said that entirely due to the sedative," he growls low. "Because your doctor told me that you broke a rib, and I am not so stupid as to think that will be mended in a week. I refuse to believe you would be so careless with yourself." He shakes his head, moving to stand. "This- I should apologize, honeysuckle, because this was- clearly a mistake. I will speak with Amaryllis and she will decide on a time when you will be healthy enough to speak with me again-"

"Wait- wait, no, please-"

Damien-

Damien grabs Arum's hand, skin warm against his scales and his heart thudding suddenly fast, his eyes wide and pleading and panicked, and Arum freezes.

"I- I'm sorry," Damien gasps, his voice thick and strange and frightened. "I'm sorry, please- don't- don't-"

Arum remains perfectly still, staring down at the knight, struck breathless by the shock of Damien's hand in his own.

"Honeysuckle-"

"I'm sorry," he says again, squeezing Arum's hand as his face twists in obvious misery. "Don't- don't leave? Please-"

"Damien," Arum breathes, and then-

(He told the doctor, did he not? He told her that he would not let Damien rile himself, if he could help it. He can- he can help this, can't he? He can-)

He leans closer, squeezing Damien's hand in return, frowning sternly and tutting under his breath as he settles back in his seat again. "Oh, hush," he mutters, looking away without releasing the poet's hand. "You need not apologize, little honeysuckle. You are injured and exhausted and dizzy with medicine. Hush, I'm not going- I'm not going anywhere just yet. Not unless you want me to."

"I don't," he keens, voice wavering weak and his eyes still wide and shining in a worrying way. "I don't- I'm- I'm sorry-"

"Hush," Arum repeats, more insistent, and then he switches tactics. "I am flattered that you are so eager, honeysuckle," he drawls, tilting his head, and Damien's mouth curls into more of a pout. "But you know fully well how exacting my standards are, don't you? You must, by now. I will not have you at less than your best. Rest. Recover, little rival. When you are ready-" he pauses. "When your Amaryllis says that you are ready, rather, we will meet again. I can be as patient as I need to be. I've been patient for my victory so far, haven't I?"

Damien pouts more deeply, exhaling a long, tired breath as he gazes up at Arum. "I suppose... I suppose we have... we have both shown our patience. I only... I don't want to... to be left by the wayside, to fall from your... your attention."

Arum pauses as Damien's eyes slip back shut, and then the words register properly in his mind and he gives an incredulous laugh.

"Lose my-" he laughs again, utterly baffled. "Honeysuckle. You need not worry for my attention. Of all in the world, you need not worry for that."

Universe help him think of anything else besides Sir Damien, some days. Ridiculous.

Damien hums, eyes still closed, his head drifting slowly sideways in a losing battle with gravity. "So long to wait, though," he murmurs, his fingers fluttering against Arum's palm. "So long... I'll miss you."

Arum-

Arum stills, staring hard at the knight as his breathing evens out again, as his hand goes slack in Arum's grip.

"R-ridiculous," he breathes, after a long, long moment, when he is certain that Damien is safely unconscious again. "Utterly- utterly absurd."

As absurd, of course, as the idea of Arum missing Damien in return.

[↣]

#elle's fanfic #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #lord arum #amaryllis of exile #sir damien #still need your teeth around my organs #aaaAAAAAAAAAAAA #[begs for comments] [begs for comments] [begs for comments] [begs for comments]

3 notes · View notes