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albertasunrise · 4 months

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Hope - Hope I See You Again

Masterlist

Summary: After Joel loses his wife and your best friend during childbirth. You support him as he takes on parenthood on his own at 22. But when feelings start to develop, you battle with the guilt you feel for falling for your best friend’s husband.

Relationships: Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3 I choose to give none. Read at own risk. 18+… this is to avoid spoilers! (So a longer chapter...Another angst fest but I hope you enjoy. Had most of this written out already hence posting it so quickly after chapter 4, can't wait to heart what y'all think ♥️)

Series Masterlist - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

10 years later...

"Sarah!" Joel calls up the stairs as he munches on his toast "Hunny you're going to be late."

"COMING!" She replied as thumping steps erupted on the landing.

Joel chuckled as he listened to his daughter clamber down the stairs, smiling when she planted a kiss on his cheek and skipped to the plate of toast he left on the side for her.

"You're a good father." She said as she ravaged the breakfast he made her.

"I try to be."

"You make some for Uncle Tommy?" She asked as her ears perked up at the sound of his truck parking on the drive.

"Yeah, yeah..." Joel waved her off "Although he's gonna eat me outa house n' home at this rate."

"Who is?" Tommy asked as he walked into the kitchen, giving his brother a friendly slap on the arm as he passed.

"You asshole." Joel grumbled, eliciting a snigger from Sarah.

"Sarah baby... you're gonna miss the bus if you don't leave." Joel said as he eyed the clock.

"Ah... crap... Okay, gotta go. See ya later Uncle Tommy." She said sweetly as she kissed his cheek before skipping to her father to do the same thing "Still on for tacos tonight?"

"Wouldn't be Tuesday without them." Joel winked before waving at his daughter as she sprinted out the door.

"Ready?" Tommy asked as he unceremoniously shoved the last of his toast into his mouth.

"One of these days, you're gonna choke." He snorted as he pushed himself to his feet "I'm driving today." He said as he snatched up the keys and headed to the garage.

...

Joel was just finishing up laying the table when Sarah came screaming in. He couldn't understand how she had so much energy despite being at school all day and then soccer practice afterwards.

"HEY!" She shouted, practically skipping into the kitchen.

"Hey baby girl, how was your day?" He asked as he grabbed and placed the serving spoon into the bowl of chorizo and potatoes that he'd just finished frying off.

"Great, do you mind if a friend joins us?" She asked sheepishly, smiling sweetly at him as he turned to see a tall boy beside her.

He seemed familiar. His dark hair and piercing blue eyes reminded him of someone he used to know.

"Dad this is Noah." She said sweetly "He's new and his mum wasn't able to get him from school so I said he could come here for dinner and then you could drop him home later?"

The boy's name made Joel's stomach twist. There was no way this was the boy that had been practically glued to Sarah's side as a toddler. There are plenty of kids with that name.

"Baby I-"

"I know I should have asked first but Dad... you always make extra so there will be plenty for all of us." She pleaded with her big brown eyes, knowing that it would win him over.

"I don't wanna impose Mr Miller, sir." Noah said, his head dropping "I can probably walk home from here."

"Sit down." Joel grumbled as he motioned to the table with his head, smiling when Sarah kissed his cheek and whispered thanks in his ear.

He watched as Sarah eagerly dug into the food on the table before noting Noah's hesitance.

"Dig in son." Joel encouraged and Noah gave him a nervous nod before doing as he was bid.

Dinner then passed fairly easily. Sarah talked about school and practice as Noah smiled at her enthusiasm.

"So where are you from Noah?" Joel asked as he wiped his hands on his napkin and grabbed his beer to take a swig.

"I was actually born here." Noah confessed and Joel's heart sped up a little "My parents moved when I was little. Dad wasn't well and so we moved closer to my grandma."

"You don't say." Joel replied, his heart in his throat as Noah continued.

"We moved back here 'cus mum got a job in Austin. Thought it would be good to get a new start after dad..." He trailed off, his eyes growing sad.

"Perhaps next taco Tuesday you can bring Ali?" Sarah suggested as she gave Noah's arm a friendly squeeze.

"Ali?" Joel asked and Noah smiled sweetly "Ali's my little sister. Short for Alison." He replied sweetly "Well little ish... She's a few years younger than me."

"Joel thought he was going to be sick. There was no way this wasn't the Noah he knew as a boy."

"Dad..." Sarah called but Joel felt like he was drowning, her calls for him muffled like his head was underwater.

"DAD!" She shouted and he leapt from his skin as he returned his attention to both of them "You okay?"

"What?" Joel asked as his eyes flitted between the two kids "Oh... Yeah, sorry just uh... Just a long day."

Noah's cell phone ringing filled the awkward silence that had blanketed the room and when he pulled it out to see who it was, he excused himself to take it.

"You sure you're okay dad?" Sarah asked as she grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Yeah, baby." He replied sweetly, trying his hardest to be convincing "I'm fine."

10 years earlier...

"Joel, you need to take it easy man." Tommy pleaded as he pushed his brother back onto the bed "They cut into your fucking skull man."

"What I need... is to get out of here." Joel grumbled as he let out a frustrated huff.

"Sarah and I nearly lost you." Tommy choked, his eyes growing glossy as he remembered the last few weeks "We've watched you crash twice... Been told to prepare for the worst more times than I wanna remember... So please, just rest."

"How are they?" He asked and Tommy sighed "They're doing as well as can be expected." Tommy sighed and Joel nodded "I think the kids have been a great distraction though."

Joel smiled at that.

"When do you ship out?" Joel asked, changing the subject and Tommy signed "Sunday. Now you're not knocking on death's door, they've decided it's time for me to leave."

"I'll be okay." Joel promised but Tommy didn't look convinced "I promise."

...

2 weeks later...

Joel watched as you puttered around the house, looking anything but relaxed as you finished clearing up after lunch. He gingerly pushed himself to his feet, wincing when his stitches pulled.

"Need some help?" He asked as he limped into the kitchen.

"No." You replied plainly and Joel sighed.

"Please, let me help." Joel pleaded and you growled in frustration.

"You can help me by sitting the fuck down so you don't pull a stitch." You growled and Joel shrunk back.

You'd been cold towards him since he got out and Joel couldn't say he blamed you. You were now stuck babysitting him as he recovered from three major surgeries on top of his daughter whom you'd been caring for for almost a month.

"Please... I just... I want to help."

"You've done enough Joel." That statement had him shrinking away from you as he nodded.

"I'm going to check on Sarah." He said quietly as he limped from the kitchen.

"She's sleeping."

Joel didn't reply. Just left you to finish your frantic cleaning as he limped away with his tail between his legs.

Present day...

"Sorry." Noah said as he stepped back into the room "Was my mum."

"Everything okay? Sarah asked and Noah nodded.

"Yeah, just a broken arm."

"What happened?" Joel asked, his confusion obvious from his expression.

"Oh, my sister hurt herself during gym." Noah replied "Why mum couldn't grab me... Was up the hospital with her."

"What about you dad?" Joel asked and Noah grew quiet again.

"Noah's dad died a few months ago." Sarah pipped up and Joel's eyes almost bugged out of his skull.

"Shit... I'm... Shit I'm so sorry son I-"

"It's fine." Noah assured him as he gave Joel a weak smile "Not like you knew."

"Do you need me to drop you home?" Joel asked and Noah nodded.

"If you don't mind."

Joel gave him a friendly smile before grabbing his truck keys off the side.

"Come on."

...

Sarah sat in the back as Noah directed Joel home. He couldn't help but think about the little boy he'd known a decade ago and how he'd grown into this polite young man. Part of him wanted to confess that he and Sarah had been inseparable as kids but until he was sure that he was who he thought he was, Joel needed to keep that information to himself.

"This is me." Piped up Noah as he pointed at a house with a Large Volvo parked in the drive.

It was nice. Exactly the sort of house he'd pictured you living in. Pulling up, the porch light flicked on and the door opened, revealing a face that Joel had thought he'd never see again. Time had been kind to you. Your hard was cut to just below the shoulders and wavy and your features had matured but it was unmistakeably you.

"Thanks, Mr Miller, sir." Noah said as he unbuckled his seatbelt and grabbed his pack "Thanks for letting me crash Taco Tuesday."

"Call me Joel, please."

Noah gave the older man a shy smile before turning to say goodbye to Sarah. Hopping out the truck, Joel watched as Noah jogged up to you and he smiled as he watched to greet the boy with a hug. He'd known you'd be a natural mum.

You glanced up at him and his heart stopped. Your eyes locked and he wondered if you'd recognise him too but when you squinted before raising your hand in thanks, Joel realised it was too dark in the cab for you to see him.

Sarah clambering from the back to the front pulled Joel's attention away from the spot you'd been standing and he chuckled at the inelegant way the 12-year-old dumped herself in the passenger seat.

"So what do you think of Noah?" She asked as she tried to act casual and Joel snorted.

"He's a good kid." Joel replied as he pulled away from the curb "How did you guys meet anyway?"

"He had to redo a year." Sarah replied "Not his fault. His dad was in and out of hospital so he missed a lot of school. When they moved here the school suggested that it would be good for him to redo 5th grade."

"Do you know what happened to his dad?" Joel asked, trying to sound as inconspicuous as possible.

"Apparently his dad was in an accident when he was little. Complications from that had him in and out of hospital but a year ago he got real sick and his immune system just couldn't cope."

Joel once again felt like he was going to be sick.

He'd had suffered a few long things from the crash. Back pain and headaches being the key ones but nothing following the surgery he'd had. So to learn that Alec had continued to suffer in the 10 years that followed the accident had him wanting to pull over and vomit up the tacos they'd eaten for dinner.

You must hate him.

...

"How was your evening hunny?" You asked as you finished unstacking the dishwasher.

"Was great." He replied with a smile "Made a friend. Sarah Miller." He continued as he placed the plate you handed him in the cupboard "She invited me to join her and her dad Joel for taco Tuesday."

"Joel Miller?" You asked, your heart hammering against your ribs as your eyes widened.

"Yeah... You know him?" Noah asked as he turned to face you "Mum?..."

"Um... Uh, yeah I..."

Noah's eye caught a glimpse of a photo on the wall that until now he'd never looked at twice. It was of you and his dad with two guys you'd told him were friends from when you'd lived here. He looked more closely and noted how he was gripping the jeans of a man who looked a lot like Joel and then his eyes flitted to the little girl in the man's arms. His eyes widened as he studied her face.

"This is them... isn't it?" Noah asked as he turned to look at you, pointing at the photo he'd been studying just a moment ago.

"I was best friends with Joel's late wife." You answered as you sat down at the kitchen table "You and Sarah were inseparable as kids." You chuckled as you remembered how fond of Sarah Noah had been.

"Why have you never mentioned them before?"

"Because we fell out of touch." You confessed, "After your dad's accident, things got tense between us."

"Tense?" Noah pushed "How?"

"Joel was driving the car that night." You told him "He almost died but when he left the hospital, I blamed him for your dad's condition and so our friendship kinda fell apart."

"But Dad's car was t-bone by a drunk truck driver." Noah pushed and you sighed.

"I know."

"So it wasn't Joel's fault."

"No." You choked as you remembered how bad things had gotten "But I blamed him anyway.

10 years earlier...

Joel's head was pounding.

Headaches had been a constant complication from the surgery on his head. Limping into the kitchen, he found you leaning against the counter sipping a cup of coffee as you started out the window across from you.

If you heard him enter you didn't show it. It had been a week since you'd snapped at him and Joel had done his best to give you space. Even if that meant suffering his increasingly painful headaches but this one was unbearable.

"Have you seen my pain pills?" He asked as he limped towards you and you shook your head.

"No."

"Any idea where they could be?" He asked as he tried to rummage through the cupboard for them.

"No."

"Please... my head is pounding." He pleaded and that seemed to snap you out of your trance.

"Oh... You have a headache do you?" You growled condescendingly "Poor Joel's head hurts."

"Please." Joel pleaded but you were having none of it.

"Alec is paralysed from the waist down and you want me to keep track of where you put year headache tablets?" You growled and Joel immediately stopped searching.

"I-"

"The man I love... the father of my unborn child is never going to walk again." You snarled as you slammed down your mug, making Joel flinch from the sound "He's never going to walk again... meanwhile, you get to walk away with no long-term consequences. How is that fair?"

"I'm so sorry."

"I don't want your apologies, Joel." You growled, "I just want you out of my life."

Joel didn't care that you could see his tears. He stood there openly sobbing as you scoffed and turned your back from him.

"I think it's time you left." You said as your hand closed around something in front of you, turning to toss his pain pills at him.

Joel didn't reply he just nodded. Limping from the kitchen to pack his things.

He left an hour later.

Present day...

Noah had been off with you since the evening he'd learned his history with Sarah and Joel. You felt guilty about how you'd treated Joel all those years ago but you'd been pregnant and lost. You'd hated the fact that your husband had been crippled for life and needed someone to blame.

You'd blamed Joel.

You were standing in line waiting for your morning coffee when a familiar voice caught your attention. Looking over your shoulder you saw an older Tommy Miller walking towards the bar.

He ordered his coffee, paid then walked towards you. Only to stop in his tracks when he spotted you and his smile disappeared.

"Long time no see." You said when he took a few more tentative steps towards you.

"Yeah. Been a while." He replied plainly and you flinched at his tone.

"How have you been?" You asked and he shrugged.

"Left the army. Working for Joel now." He replied and you nodded.

"How is Joel?" You asked as you accepted your coffee from the barista and thanked them.

"Do you care?" He growled and your brows pulled together.

"Oh course... I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

"He's fine." Tommy grumbled as he poured a few sugars into his coffee before turning to you "He wasn't the night you kicked him out."

"Tommy I-"

"He collapsed after getting out of the taxi that had taken him and Sarah home." He interrupted, his tone ice cold as he turned to face you and leaned in closer "He'd developed another brain bleed and almost died. Ali's parents had to fly out from Canada to take care of Sarah whilst Joel fought for his life for a second time."

"I didn't know." You choked as your hand flew up to your mouth.

"No..." Tommy trailed off as he scoffed at you "You were just too caught up in your own problems to notice how he'd started to go downhill."

You didn't get a chance to reply.

Tommy was out of the door before you could utter a syllable. He just left you standing there feeling terrible about the fact that you had neglected him. You had blamed him for your misfortune and you had pushed him away when he needed you.

You had to fix this.

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller the last of us #last of us #the last of us #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal gif #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #last of us fanfiction #Pedro Pascal gif

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byslantedlight · 5 days

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Hello OFMD Tumblr thingie, and all the amazing people who are out there, and especially the ones who've been making all the posts that have made me so happy over the last few months. 💖💖💖 First and most importantly, thank you, thank you, thank you, to anyone who sees this!

This is my first post to Tumblr (probably pretty obvious from my huge lack of Tumblr sophistication! And the length of this post...) If you don't count reblogging things that I wanted to be able to find again. I've braved up to comment thank you to people a couple of times, but that's been it so far. I must admit it all looks a bit scary from this side of the glass, even though I can also see how friendly people mostly are.

But OFMD fandom is big! And you've been here a long time! I loved Series 1 when I watched it, and knew I wanted to watch out for Series 2, but it wasn't until I re-watched it when the Series 2 trailer came out on BBC iPlayer that I fell veeeery in love with it! And by then you were already here, and there was a language and debates about things I'd barely even noticed, and it's mostly me staring with big eyes thinking wow, and sometimes huh? and... well, you know. Plus there's trying to work out Tumblr, which I definitely haven't actually managed to do yet, and possibly never will, so... I decided to just jump in and post summat. Even just rambling, which is a bit of a specialty of mine... I mean - what's the worst that can happen, right? 😬

So... how come now? Well, I can't make art or gorgeous screenshots or gifs. I do write, but I'm still hanging out to get the right voices in my keyboard... I know them when I hear them, but you've gotta get the right rhythm going, and I'm not quite there yet, I don't think. Although really, I should probably just sit down and try (and stop waiting for work to shut up and give me time - I should be a pirate and take it!)

Anyway (told you about the rambling...) what I'm mostly doing apart from rewatching the eps on a constant loop is reading the fic. I'm picking it according to kudos on AO3, and according to recs that I see on Tumblr, and it's occured to me that alot of the stories I'm loving must have been recced looong ago, and that newbies like me totally missed them, and so maybe I could do my own recs, even if they are of older stories, and someone might find them useful. You know, if I work out how anyone else might ever see my posts. 😁 And if people aren't put off by my probably age-revealing use of emojis. (But I am entirely age-appropriate for Ed and Stede, and if I had to look up what zaddy meant too, well, that just means I matched Rhys Darby's expression in the bts, right? 🤨)

So it's not much, but I'd like to contribute even just a tiny bit to OFMD fandom in return for everything it gives me, so... yeah. That's my plan. I'll start in a bit, but this post is probably already too long since it's just rambling. And kind of dull. I should probably have said tl:dr at the top, shouldn't I, but then maybe anyone who actually saw this wouldn't, so... See, I kind of live in hope. 😊

Okay. Tags next, right? ... ack ... why won't it let me create new tags instead of just using ones from the drop down...? Well, those will have to do for now... maybe someone who sees this will have mercy and tell me how? I'll just be over here being a slight failure at Tumblr... And if you've made it this far (how long is an acceptable post over here?! Not this long, I don't think...) - thank you hugely for just that, and may your dreams be OFMD and joyous!

#ofmd #ofmd fanfic

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corazondebeskar-reads · 6 months

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you know you never stood a chance - chapter six

you know you never stood a chance series

six: hold me like a grudge

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

qz!Joel Miller x f!reader

Words: 2.6k

Summary: After a tense situation, you reunite with Ellie and Joel.

Warnings: dub-con due to power imbalance, free use, sex as payment, vaginal sex, cum eating, Joel is mean/bad with feelings, this is not canon compliant, no use of y/n, degradation, canon-typical violence and danger, description of injury, spanking, pussy spanking, rough oral (m receiving)

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

When the grass outside rustles underfoot, you flinch. You’ve been there for a while, long enough that the adrenaline started to seep out and leave you shaking in its wake.

The only reason you don’t shoot when you see a shadow is that Ellie takes the risk of speaking first.

“Hey, is that you?”

It’s so quiet, so careful. A sick part of you wants to stay silent, to hope they leave. But you’re forced to reckon with Joel’s evaluation of you: you’d never survive out here on your own. Probably wouldn’t even make it back to Boston, and then what? Get shot by FEDRA trying to get back in?

“Ellie?” you whisper back.

“Hey, Joel!” Ellie starts to yell, stopping when you shush her loudly from the garage.

You move, stepping closer to the frame where you can see her before moving into the light. She throws her arms around you, and you freeze, holding the gun pointed to the grass, too afraid to move.

“I know he’s an asshole, but don’t do that again,” she scolds, brow furrowed.

You’re thrown off guard but feel a rush of affection for the girl. “Sorry,” you say.

Joel comes out of the house from the back door and glowers at the two of you. “Inside,” he barks.

You follow behind Ellie as she rolls her eyes and prattles on about a large stick and what he should do with it.

He shuts the door behind you, clearly having scoped out the whole house before Ellie found you. He turns to her. “Upstairs.”

“What?”

“Upstairs, now,” he snarls.

She goes to protest but catches your eye.

“Please,” you say. You don’t want her to witness whatever he’s about to say to you.

When she’s gone, he rounds on you. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

You stare at the floor, lips twisted as you fight the urge to lash out.

He lifts your chin with his hand. “Huh? You listening to me?” He huffs out a laugh. “Clearly not, or we wouldn’t be here right now. We got one fuckin’ rule, do you remember?”

When you still don’t answer, he shakes your chin a little, jostling your jaw and drawing your glare to him.

“Well?” he says.

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“Do as I’m fuckin’ told,” you mimic his drawl, poorly.

This wasn’t your first time out. After that night, when he fought with Tess, he dragged you with them on a supply run. It was fairly standard shit. Before you left the QZ, he had armed you—for appearances only, he reiterated, don’t touch those unless you’re gonna be ready to use them—and then told you the rule.

And you listened. Same shit, different place. He said drop, you’d drop. He said run, you’d run. Mostly, you just kept a nice resting bitch face in place so their contacts wouldn’t know you were an easy target.

“What am I gonna do with you, huh?” he says, still holding your face in place. He tugs the revolver from your other hand, not that you resist, and shoves it in his waistband.

“Just leave me here.”

“Shut up.”

“You asked me a question.”

“Yeah, and I expected a real answer, not a stupid one.”

You move to kneel, but he grabs you.

“Not a bad idea, sweetheart, but you gotta watch that ankle.”

The thought gives him pause, and you watch apprehensively as he considers things.

“We’re staying here today. You’re gonna rest that fuckin’ ankle, and we’ll get back on the road in the morning.”

Ellie is thrilled to discover you’ll be taking the day off in a place with real beds. She finds some old sudoku books and pencils and hangs out in “her” room.

True to his word, Joel makes you stay in bed all day. Your foot is propped up on a stack of pillows. You sulk, but he brings you a couple of books to choose from, a bottle of water, and some cold soup, just like getting sick back in the old days.

Actually, it’s a little too much like the old days. It makes you want to run. Instead, you let the historical nonfiction novels lull you in and out of a hazy sleep.

He comes to get you after nightfall. Ellie’s sound asleep, and he brings you into the room he had staked claim to.

“You ready to say sorry?”

“I’m sorry, Joel,” you mumble.

“What were you thinking?” He asks again. He’s softened since this morning, to your great relief.

“I’m tired of being your burden.”

“Is this ‘cause I don’t get to fuck you?”

“No. I mean, sort of. It’s bad enough that I can’t pay you out here. But then to be a risk, to create more trouble than just being a mouth to feed…”

He’s quiet for a minute. “Lay down on your back. Head over here,” he gestures to the end of the mattress.

The abrupt change is exhausting, but you do as you’re told. Once you’re lying there, head draped off the edge of the bed, he reaches down and takes his cock out. He has to bend his knees a little, being just tall enough over average to not quite fit together, but he slides into your mouth.

It’s so easy this way for him to press right into your throat.

You try to pour out your excess emotions, the residual fear, the relief, everything by finding purpose through his dick, but he pulls out when you try to get a hold of him.

“Not this time, sweetheart. You want me to take what ya owe me? Fine. I’m gonna use your throat as a fuckin cocksleeve.”

The words shouldn’t please you, but they do. The catharsis of the relief, the elation at being useful, and his touch all send you trembling.

“You better not cum,” he warns. “Not until I’m fillin’ ya up.”

You want to argue that he’s already filling you up, but a) he’s absolutely not in the mood, and b) well, he’s filling you up, so you can’t really speak.

Instead, you do the only thing you really can do. You lay there and take it. He lets you curl your hands around his thighs, holding on so you don’t go scooting up the mattress during the more aggressive thrusts. It lets you stabilize your head and tilt to an angle that grants just a little more air.

It’s rough in a way he hasn’t been before, which is saying something, but it’s also transcendental. Maybe you’re being dramatic, but you’re in the fucking clouds. You’ve never felt so light, so peaceful.

He pulls out abruptly, fingers squeezing the base of his cock as he pants. It’s still so close to you, so you use his legs to push upward and try to get it back in your mouth.

He swats at your cunt. “Quit it.”

You moan, the pain turning quickly into a tingle that spreads across your lips and clit. It worked, though, and you back off, now dangling half off the bed, only supported by your palms against the thick trunks of his thighs.

He scoops you up, an arm under each of yours, and pushes you back up on the mattress. “Hands ‘n knees,” he says.

You’re still feeling a little weird, so when you’ve gotten into position, you drag a pillow over and nuzzle your face down into it, arms threaded under it to hold it against you.

“You’re all cockdumb now, huh?” His hand traces over your lower back. You moan, a quiet, rumbly thing, and press back toward him.

He smacks your ass. “Hold still, pretty girl. Let me open you up.”

You don’t do more than drool and moan as he works his fingers into you, stretching you to ease his passage. His other hand stays on your lower back like a brand, an anchor. When he pulls his fingers out, he licks them clean before guiding his cock to where you’re dripping and aching for him.

He pushes in slowly, and you arch your back under his broad palm. He pushes you back down against the bed, hand settling between your shoulder blades and another wrapped in your hair.

“Stupid girl,” he grumbles. “Foolish little brat.”

Tears well up. It’s so much. Everywhere he touches you is past ignition, already licked clean by his flame, ash smoldering in the wake.

“Quiet,” he hisses, and you realize the soft little sounds permeating your dream were your moans and gasps. You bite your lip hard, face screwing up at the pain, but it works.

He doesn’t like that, though. He lets go of your hair and sighs, pulling out just to roll you onto your back before plunging back in and picking up the pace to take you apart. He pushes his thumb into your mouth, groaning as your teeth sink into the dry and calloused flesh, tethering you to the earth.

The sound of his hips slapping against you should be a bigger concern, but that would mean stopping or slowing down, and he doesn’t see that as an option. Instead, he watches as your blank eyes blink up at him, wet and wide, and your lips wrapped around his thumb.

“Christ. You really just need your holes filled, and suddenly, ya know how to be good. Fuckin’ slut.”

“Your fault,” you choke out, the words slammed out of you by his aggressive pounding. “Wasn’t—b-before.”

You wish you hadn’t said anything when he laughs again, dark and pleased with himself.

“Yeah, you’re right. Only a fuckin’ whore for me now, huh?”

Finally, finally, he touches you when he’s getting close, tugging the thumb from your mouth to rub the wet pad of it against your clit.

“You ready, sweetheart? Gonna cum on my cock, make me feel good?”

You whimper, nodding. “Yes, Joel, please.”

He works you to it until you break down, clenching around him so tight. He has to make himself pull out, his sex-addled brain screaming for him to bury himself deep in you. Instead, he covers your stomach.

You’re shaking through the aftershocks of your orgasm, and he rubs at your clit until you give him another one. It’s easy, you fall right apart, and then you’re practically limp, breasts heaving with the effort to breathe steadily.

He swipes a finger through his mess and brings it up to your mouth. You suck it clean, and he does it again until he’s fed you most of it. You take it each time, sucking and licking his finger, and watching him with wide eyes.

“You’re so fuckin’ sweet like this. Why can’t you just listen this good all the time?” It’s said softly, fondly, but it cuts you deep. He stands up, stretches, and leaves the room without another word.

You start to cry, burying your face in the pillow and holding your breath so he doesn’t hear. You’ve gotten good at this, over the decades, of choking down your weakness and swallowing it whole, letting it rip you up inside rather than out, so by the time he’s come back in the room, you’ve quieted.

You rub away any lingering tears with sleepy fists and a yawn.

“You think you can sleep with your ankle propped up?” he says when he crosses the room.

You nod, one fist still over your left eye, which won’t stop stinging, and sling your legs over the side of the bed, sitting up.

He catches your shoulder. “You’re stayin’ right here. Lay down, and I’ll set it up.”

Slowly, you settle back onto the bed. He must really not want you to walk on it if he’s going to trade rooms. Maybe the injury was worse than you thought.

The rest of his cum has dried, leaving a tacky residue on your stomach. He doesn’t wipe it clean, though; he never does anymore. Not worth wasting the water over, you think.

That’s what he tells himself, too.

The gentle hands you remember from so long ago have returned, delicately arranging pillows under your leg. You twist your top half to thank him, only to find him pulling back the blanket to slide into bed beside you.

It’s fully dark, now, when he presses a kiss into your hair and settles on his back beside you. Even through both of your shirts, you can feel the warmth of him where your back presses to him. He doesn’t hold you, but the closeness is enough to let you drift off to sleep.

The sun breaks through the bedroom windows before the birdsong wakes you. Joel is already awake when you roll over. This time, he does sneak his arm beneath you, pulling you to his chest.

You can’t breathe, too afraid the movement will fully wake him up. He’s never, not once, given you this much of him. You idly wish he hadn’t, because how were you supposed to live without it now?

“This is a nice quilt,” he says, shattering the silence before you work yourself into a panic. “Shame we gotta leave it here.”

“You get the stuff, and I’ll make you one when we get back.” Your voice is muffled in his shirt, too tense to pull away and properly look at him.

“Didn’t know you could sew.”

“I’m a woman of many talents, Miller. Sucking cock, basic sewing, annoying the hell outta you…” Aw, fuck. End of list. Oh well.

He chuckles, and you hate the way you can never tell if he’s laughing at your joke or laughing at you.

You fall back into quiet again, and when you think he might have dozed back off, you relax a little, letting your head find a home in the hollow where his arm meets his chest. “I’m sorry,” you whisper to his t-shirt.

“I know, sweetheart. Look, when we get home, if you want to leave, I won’t stop ya. But not out here. Not like this.”

“M’not leaving. I got a quilt to make, remember?”

He leans down and kisses the top of your head, resting that way for a moment with you drawn close.

Of course, the peace doesn’t last. Ellie bursts through the door, boundless energy as always, sending your already-racing heart into overdrive.

“—room is empty; what did you say to her? Couldn’t you just have been nice?”

Joel waits, staring at her blankly. You, however, have buried your face in his side. You’re both fully dressed, and there’s no evidence of anything, but you know she’s not stupid.

“Oh, ew, god, come on! What the fuck is wrong with you?” She’s backing out, pulling the door behind her, but her disgust carries down the hall.

Joel tilts your chin up with a curled finger. “At least we know she didn’t hear any of the other times I fucked ya.”

Your cheeks are on fire, and you can’t look him in the eye.

“It’s not like she walked in on us,” he teases.

“She’s never going to talk to us again,” you groan.

“She’ll get over it. If not, you can give her the talk.”

“Oh no. No, you can handle that.”

“Let’s let the Fireflies handle that,” he decides, scrubbing at his beard with one hand. He gets up, groaning. “Should make it to Bill’s today, even if we go slow.”

“Joel—”

“I know you’re not about to argue with me, right?”

Your mouth twists into a scowl, but you soften when you look up at him. The sun through the window is bathing him in yellow, and his brown eyes trip up your heart like they always do.

“No,” you say with a sigh. “I’ll follow you.”

He stops you before you leave the room, two fingers under your chin. “When we get to Bill’s, I’ll help you add another thing to that skillset of yours.”

“What?”

He hands you back the revolver you had stolen from the garage skeleton. “I’ll teach ya how to shoot.”

next chapter

*title from "Hold Me Like a Grudge" by Fall Out Boy

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #joel miller x female oc #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #you know you never stood a chance series

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wintaerbaer · 7 months

Text

things we don’t say: part 4 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 11.5k

chapter warnings: swearing as usual, jin is sad and precious, alcohol consumption, one (1) instance of mild violence, suspension of disbelief as to the legal consequences of said violence, jungkook still has zero filter, feelings and bed sharing

a/n: this was a fun one >:) shout out to everyone who brainstormed, sprinted, or otherwise shouted about this fic with me and gave me the motivation to power through this (y’all know who you are, and i love each and every one of you <3)! and a massive shoutout to @jeonqkooks for the beautiful new banner!!

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

“And Tae encouraged you to do this?”

“Yeah. Kind of made up my mind for me actually.”

You toss down a few potential dresses on Maya’s bed after spending the past several minutes raiding her closet. With the bulk of your wardrobe still at your old apartment, she’d invited you to borrow something of hers for your date with Seokjin.

You may also be sharing a couple glasses of wine to calm your nerves.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but I can see you thinking.”

“It’s nothing.” She holds a sparkling gold number up to your shoulders, then frowns and throws it back down. “Or at least nothing you want to hear, anyway.”

“Don’t tell me you’re on about Tae and I again.”

She shrugs. “I think you’d be great together. Sue me.”

“I could say the same about you and Kook.”

A snort rasps from the back of her throat as she coughs on her wine. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“The two of you are more alike than you think,” you say. “And I don’t think you give him enough credit. He’s a good guy.”

She purses her lips, watching clouds go by out the window. “He’s…frustrating.” Her eyelids drop, coming together in a slow blink as her focus turns back to you razor-sharp. “And weren’t you against us together in the first place?”

“Yeah, because it was just sex.”

“It is just sex.”

“Well, I changed my mind.” You take a sip of your drink, let the acidic taste roll around and coat your tongue before it slides down your throat. “If there’s a possibility you two can make each other happy, then you should have that. I think maybe love is rarer than it seems.”

“He and I are far from love.”

“For now,” you say. “But maybe someday?”

She only grimaces like she’s swallowed a bitter pill, giving the tiniest shake of her head before rushing to change the subject. “Tell me about this Seokjin guy.”

“Not much to tell,” you explain. “Joon knows him from the hospital. He’s been very pleasant when we’ve texted. Polite. I’m definitely not getting creep vibes from him.”

“Always a plus. But still, text me the address of the restaurant and a physical description once you’re there.” She pauses, tapping a finger against her chin. “Also, I have some condoms if you want to take a couple.”

“Um, no?”

“Why not? Best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

“See, that sounds like something Jungkook would say.”

“Well a dumbass clock is right twice a day, or whatever the saying is.”

“I don’t think that’s quite right.”

“Close enough in his case.” Her voice lowers suddenly—delicately—as if to share something confidential even though you’re the only two in the room. “But speaking of protection, did you hear back from the clinic?”

Maya had delicately suggested a couple weeks ago that you should probably get tested for STDs given that you don’t really know how many women Jace had been with and if they were being safe. It was a fair point, as humiliating as it was to consider that he may have found yet another way to rip apart your life, and so you’d gone for an appointment last week, trying not to cry as you provided the necessary samples.

“Negative,” you murmur, feeling embarrassed even though you know you shouldn’t be and that your friend would never judge you. But the fact that you even have to have this conversation at all gnaws at your own sense of self-doubt. “I’m clean.”

She presses her mouth into a line, an acknowledgment of the misfortune of the situation, while simultaneously tilting her chin in approval. “Good.”

You pick at a loose thread hanging off the hem of the dress you’re holding, a dog barking somewhere outside the window as you grasp for literally anything else to talk about. “So where are you guys heading tonight?”

“Who knows?” Maya says with a sigh, leaning back on the bed. “You know it’s like herding cats with them sometimes. I’m supposed to go over there after this, and we’re going to wing it then.”

“So one of our usual clubs?”

“I’d bet my left tit on it.”

You let out a soft laugh, feeling that maybe you’d rather be spending time with your friends tonight instead of going on a half-hearted date. But Seokjin seems nice, and you’ve already committed so you’re stuck. “Could you please just try to make sure Tae has some fun?” You chew at your bottom lip. “He’s been so focused on cheering me up, I want to be sure he still has time for himself.”

“Worry not. I’ll help him pick someone up,” Maya says nonchalantly.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Her entire body perks up, eager that you’ve taken the bait. “Why, does that bother you?”

“Also not what I meant,” you say, crushing down the tiny flip in your stomach at the thought of Taehyung taking someone home as Maya pouts. “I just want him to enjoy himself. I don’t think he’s been doing enough of that lately.”

“Without his other half there with him?” Maya mumbles. “Fat chance.”

You ignore it, knowing she’s baiting you yet again.

But your heart warms all the same.

Seokjin is the embodiment of a perfect gentleman.

He’s handsome—you can’t help but notice as he stands at your approach, introducing himself and coming around the table to pull out your chair for you with a slight bow. When the waiter appears to take your drink order, Seokjin (or “Jin,” as he says to call him) offers to let you pick the wine, so you go with a nice-looking pinot grigio (you haven’t even been able to look at reds since that night). Typical first date conversation flows as you browse the menu, order, and wait for your food, and you find that Jin is soft-spoken without being shy, confident without being arrogant. He tells you about his job as a physical therapist and how he likes to spend his weekends fishing with his brother on his parents’ boat. As you likewise share anecdotes about your publishing job and college shenanigans, Jin listens attentively with kind eyes, asks thoughtful questions, and chuckles at all the right bits.

He’s nice.

But there’s no spark.

You can sense it in his posture, too. His eyes are kind, but there’s pain behind them. He asks questions, but there’s an uncertainty lingering under the surface. He laughs at your jokes but subtly deflates each time like he’s guilty of something.

By the time your meals arrive, you’re ready to chalk it up as a loss.

“Jin,” you begin, tone aiming for the gentleness of “it’s not you, it’s me” proportions. “You seem like a wonderful guy, but for the sake of honesty, it doesn’t feel like either of us sees this going further, does it?”

Jin’s shoulders sag, the mask of obligatory cheerfulness falling away in defeat. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!” you say quickly, not wanting him to feel bad when he was clearly trying his best to have a good time with you. “I think we both knew going into this that we were each coming to the table with…baggage.”

Jin nods, his eyes now tinged red as he murmurs, “It’s been tough.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Ah.” He smiles sadly. “We’ve only just met, and you’re clearly a very sweet woman. I’d feel bad dumping it all out on you when I’ve already wasted your time.”

“Maybe it would be good for both of us?” you suggest. “Obviously we’re both not feeling this from a date standpoint, but maybe what we need is just a friend who understands.”

A slow tip of his chin downwards as he considers. “I think I can do that.”

“And you’re not wasting my time, for the record. I just appreciate the company.”

Jin visibly relaxes at that, his posture easing with the pressure of the date now gone.

“So Namjoon told me you also just got out of a long-term relationship?” you ask, poking at your ravioli.

His chin dips in acknowledgment, voice rough as he states, “Aera.”

“How long were the two of you together?”

“Since high school.” He twists the fabric of his napkin in his hands. “She was my first…everything. Truly. I’ve never loved anyone or anything like her.” A stray thread absentmindedly twines around his finger, the blood darkening under the skin. “We made it all the way through college and my physical therapy schooling doing long distance. Spent the past couple years finally living together. We were happy.” The thread snaps, and he shakes his head. “At least I thought we were.”

You’d swear you can feel your heart literally ache with how forlorn he looks across the table as you gently ask, “I’m guessing she left?”

“I proposed, and she said no.” A strand of dark hair falls in front of his eyes, and he rakes a hand across his head one, two, three times in frustration. “She told me she thinks she’s missing out. That she already lost most of her youth to me, waiting to finish school, when she could’ve been enjoying herself and seeing what else is out there.” He slumps forward, leaning his forearms on the table and lacing his fingers together. “But I can’t understand. I spent just as much time with her, and I never doubted it. To me, she was always the one.”

A quiet settles at the table, the conversational white noise of your fellow diners taking over for the moment as you soak in the sudden sense of kinship with the man in front of you—both blindsided by the partners you thought you’d spend the rest of your lives with.

“I get it,” you tell him, feeling the need to give something in return after he opened his heart to a stranger. “My ex—I thought we were about to get engaged too. I was making all of these plans in my head only to find out that we definitely weren’t on the same page.”

Gentle eyes appraise your face. “He broke up with you?”

“He cheated.”

The words taste bitter as they drop from your lips.

“I’m so sorry,” Jin says, and you can tell by his tone and the look on his face that he genuinely means it.

You chew the inside of your cheek until a canine catches the soft corner of your lip and you taste blood. “I found a ring in his desk and then found him in bed with someone else two weeks later.”

“Wow, Y/N.” He bends in as if he’s going to take your hand before seeming to think better of it and sighing. “I can’t even imagine if I had…” A shake of his head like he’s trying to clear an intrusive thought. “Puts my situation into perspective. I feel awful even comparing the two.”

“Oh, please don’t,” you quickly say. “Your hurt is just as valid as mine. But I can tell that you’re a really great guy, Jin. And if Aera can’t see it, I’m sure there’s someone out there who will cherish that.” You smile to yourself, remembering a night not too long ago with tanned skin and old photographs. “That’s the advice Taehyung gave me, at least.”

“Taehyung?”

“Oh, sorry, he’s my best friend.”

There’s an agreeable hiss as Jin sucks his teeth with a nod. “Well, he sounds like a smart man.”

“He’s my favorite person in the whole world.”

“He must be pretty great, then.”

You can’t help but to nod your head eagerly, words rushing out of you. “He cares so deeply. And he’s so, so talented, but he has a tendency to underestimate himself sometimes,” you gush. “But he’s incredible at everything he does. And just…so resilient. I’ve seen him go through things that no person should ever have to endure, and he’s never let it make him resentful. He could be having the worst day of his life, and he’d still give you the shirt off his back. I admire him more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“You’ve known each other a while then?”

“Since we were kids,” you explain. “It was lonely growing up in my house—my parents weren’t around a lot—so we’d hang out every day. He always knew how to cheer me up, how to make me smile, even by simply being there. Some days, we’d literally sit in my room doing homework silently for hours, and it just felt nice to share space with somebody else. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t have him.”

Jin watches you closely. It reminds you of Namjoon’s typical evaluative expression, and you can instantly understand why they’re friends. Heat rises to your cheeks as you realize you’ve been jabbering on, though Jin doesn’t look too bothered, asking, “And the two of you have never…?”

You sheepishly poke at your food again, red as a tomato now based on how hot your cheeks feel. “No, he doesn’t feel that way about me.”

“But you feel that way about him?”

Something strange churns low in your belly. You’re not sure why your usual denials catch on the back of your throat, but they stick there, holding your tongue hostage. It should come easily, the words, “No, just friends” a habit by now.

Why do they suddenly feel like a lie?

Thankfully, you’re saved as your phone flashes in the low light of the restaurant with an incoming call, Jimin’s face appearing on the screen.

You furrow your eyebrows at the smiling photo, Jin still watching you curiously. Jimin knows you’re on a date right now, and he’s supposed to be out clubbing with Taehyung, Maya, and Jungkook. Why would he be calling you? Could it be a case of butt dialing? Then again, maybe he’s just drunk.

Or maybe something is wrong.

Your anxiety wins out, and you make a quick apology to Jin, who kindly waves you off, before swiping to accept the call.

“What’s up? I’m on a date.”

“I know, Y/N, and I’m so sorry, but I think we need you at the apartment. Something’s happened.” Jimin’s voice is frazzled on the other end of the line, the discomfort in your stomach slipping straight to full-on nausea as your fingers tighten around the phone, skin stretching taut around your knuckles when he speaks again.

“It’s Tae.”

The club is loud, music pounding an earthquake into the walls and floors as a tangle of sweaty bodies surges around the dance floor. Jimin thinks to himself that maybe, just maybe, he's starting to get a little too old for this when the image of the writhing mob does more to set off feelings of claustrophobia than set him at ease. Still, once he and the others have made camp at a more secluded table in the back of the room, drinks in hand, he's still appreciative of the time out with his friends—even with Jungkook immediately scurrying off with a glint in his eye, target already in his sights.

"Ugh, look at him," Maya sneers, watching him chat up a blonde woman at the bar. "Shameless. Absolutely shameless."

Jimin can't resist a smirk. "Careful there, Maya, you sound jealous."

"Oh, fuck no!" she shrieks, punctuating this with a sip of her drink. "On the contrary, I hope this works out for him, and they get married and have a million babies and move far, far away. Get him out of my hair."

Both Jimin and Taehyung chuckle at that. "You do know you have the option of not sleeping with him, right?" Jimin asks.

"I take what I can get, and he's good at his craft. I'll give him that." Jimin chokes on his drink, while Taehyung only smiles, amused. "Speaking of getting, anyone catching the eye of either of you gentlemen? I'm happy to take on wing-woman duties tonight."

"No," Taehyung says, shaking his head. "I'm just here to make sure none of you do something stupid."

Maya rolls her eyes. "Translation: the love of my life is out on a date, and I'm trying not to think about it. How about you, Chim?"

"I don't know." Jimin shrugs. "Let me get a couple drinks in me and then see how I feel."

"Suit yourselves. But just remember that I offered when I ask one of you two to help a girl out." She tosses her hair over her shoulder. "Especially you, Tae. I know your heart is taken with your endless 'will-they-won't-they' thing with Y/N, but you could always sell the fake ex play better than Jimin here…Tae?"

But Taehyung is no longer paying attention, eyes now intensely locked on the crowd like a hawk zeroing in on prey. Maya follows his line of sight to a couple grinding on the edge of the dance floor, a dark-haired woman and a man with a distinct, bright green jacket—

"Oh my God, is that Jace?!"

Jimin's head snaps around, and even from a distance, there's no denying it. Jace tosses his head back, laughing at something the woman says, before he presses into her further, leaning back down to whisper something in her ear. Jimin quickly turns towards Taehyung, who sits terrifyingly still, eyes still zoned in on Jace and his date.

"Tae, I know you're angry. We all are," he begins, gripping Taehyung's forearm in an attempt to grab his attention. "But you cannot confront him. Not here, not now. Y/N is doing great—she's finally starting to move on. Don't undo that by poking the bear."

"He's right," Maya says, leaning in. "You're not going to accomplish anything here. It's loud, there's too many people—he'll just brush you off. And I know you care about her, Tae, but really? Not your battle to fight. Let it go."

Taehyung continues to sit in silence until Jace and the woman disappear into the crowd, and it's like a spell is suddenly lifted as he blinks rapidly at his friends. "No, you're right." He rubs a finger at the space between his eyes. "Y/N is a grown woman. She doesn't need me to protect her."

"See? A man of sense," Maya lilts. "Not like Mr. Don Juan over here about to stick his tongue into yet another college girl who thinks his immature ass counts as an ‘older man’." She nods her head towards the bar where the blonde woman has positioned herself closer to Jungkook, his hands now encircling her waist.

Taehyung quirks an eyebrow, teasing, "You’re not in college though."

Maya's jaw drops, and she puts a hand to her heart in feigned offense. "Wow! Someone's feisty tonight."

"Don't underestimate Tae when he's in one of his moods," Jimin laughs. "And don't overestimate Kook. I bet you twenty bucks he doesn't take her home."

"I'll take that action. He's got her wrapped around him already. Easy money." They shake on it, and the conversation devolves into trying to find someone in the crowd for Maya to shoot her shot with. However, in spite of her previous claim that she "takes what she can get," she finds an excuse to brush off every potential candidate ("Too short…too tall…too rich-looking?").

(Jimin suspects it may have something to do with the man who is now kissing the blonde at the bar.)

An hour later, and they're still parked at the table and on their third round of drinks. Jace has not resurfaced since they first spotted him, much to Jimin's relief, and he hopes he snuck out to a different club somewhere across town or maybe even a different country. Taehyung sports an easy smile now, alcohol loosening up his body as he laughs at a story Maya is telling about two guys who once had a fist-fight over her in this very club during college. Still, Jimin keeps an eye on their surroundings, likewise wary about what might happen if Jace spots them.

"And thankfully, the cops didn't wind up getting called, but oh God, can you imagine?" Maya howls, her and Taehyung in near-hysterics as she finishes up her story.

"Geez," Taehyung gasps, wiping at his eyes. "You're gonna make me piss my pants. I need the bathroom."

He stands from the table and wanders off in the direction of the restrooms, Maya staring at his back the whole way.

"We need to get that guy laid," she dramatically sighs.

"While he's still in crisis mode over Y/N’s breakup?" Jimin scoffs. "Good luck with that one."

"I don't get those two—I really don't." Maya rattles her perfectly-manicured nails against the table. "She's single for the first time in four years. He's been helplessly in love with her for so much longer. I don't know what he's waiting for."

"I mean it's only been what, a month?" Jimin muses. "He probably feels like it's too soon to make a move. Which is fair."

"Jimin. You're a man. You have eyes. Not only is Y/N pretty, but she has that whole—" She waves a hand in front of her face. "—'take me home to meet your parents’ energy to her. She won't be on the market for long, and you know it. She's already got this date with this Seokjin guy—and Tae told her to do it! It's like he's trying to sabotage himself! And then you have Y/N being smitten with him as always, too. I mentioned helping Tae find a hook-up earlier, and she looked like she was going to hurl."

He shrugs, tapping the side of his glass in thought. “I think they’re just scared. Imagine knowing someone for as long as they have and having to take that leap and risk losing it all.”

“You are out of your mind if you think either of them would reject each other,” Maya snorts.

“You don’t think Y/N might not want to take the chance that they fall apart? Especially after what she’s going through?”

“Tae wouldn’t do that to her,” she frigidly says, as if to challenge the very audacity of the thought.

“I’m not saying he would; I’m just saying she might be guarded.”

“So the solution is for him to help set her up with other guys at his own expense? That’s not fair to him either.”

He tilts his head in subtle agreement but adds, "Look, I want to see the two of them together as much as the next person. But maybe we need to just…let them come to it on their own? I mean, we've tried nudging them in the past, and it clearly hasn't worked. But I have faith they'll get there. Tae can be an idiot, but not that much of an id—"

His thought is cut off by screams and the sound of a commotion out on the dance floor. Hairs standing up on the back of his neck, Jimin bolts from his chair and darts into the crowd, Maya close on his heels. They shove their way through the surge of bodies—pressing back and away from the source of the disturbance—until they reach the spot where a small space has cleared out, and Jimin hears Maya swear loudly behind him.

Taehyung is knelt over Jace on the floor, his fists connecting with the latter's face and head over and over in a frenzy. Jace lies there, face bloodied and clearly dazed, his hands weakly raised in front of him in a futile attempt to shield himself from the blows, but Taehyung is relentless. His arm swings down on a repeated loop as if powered by a motor, and even though the music continues to pound above them, Jimin would swear he can hear the sound of knuckles cracking against flesh and bone. He rushes forward with Maya, both of them grabbing ahold of Taehyung's shoulders to pull him back, but he struggles against them, still trying desperately to connect his punches.

Jungkook suddenly materializes out of nowhere, a halfway-finished beer in his hand that he promptly empties over Jace’s head before grabbing Taehyung around the waist and dragging him back through the crowd. The three of them are able to muscle Taehyung towards the door, Jungkook breaking off to intercept the two bouncers who are stalking their way over as Jimin shoves Taehyung out onto the sidewalk.

"What the fuck, man!"

Taehyung's eyes are wild, his gray hoodie dotted with blood. "I wasn't finished," he says, deep voice chillingly calm.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Maya screams. "Are you trying to get yourself arrested?! Over that piece of shit?!”

“You said you were going to the fucking bathroom,” Jimin angrily adds. “How the hell did you wind up in a fistfight?!”

“I saw him. I hit him. I’m going to do it again,” Taehyung bluntly states. “Let me back in there.”

“The hell we are!” Maya exclaims, and Taehyung may have a few good inches on her, but she steps toe-to-toe with him to block his way. “He's not worth it, Tae, he's not!"

"She is!" Taehyung snaps, and Jimin notices his hands start to shake as the adrenaline begins to wear off. "She…you guys saw her that night. You saw her. In all this time, I have never seen her that broken. Never." His voice cracks, and a sheen appears behind his eyes, tears threatening to spill. "So get out of my way because I am going to make that motherfucker feel every tear I've had to wipe from her face because of him!"

"You're not." The door of the club swings shut as Jungkook joins them outside. "We're leaving now."

Taehyung takes a step forward, pleading, "Jungkook, I—"

"No, Tae, you're done." Jungkook moves to grab his arm, but Taehyung recognizes defeat and shakes him off, pulling his hood over his head and tramping off in the direction of their apartment. The others follow behind, close enough to keep a watchful eye out but with enough distance to give him space to cool down.

"How did it go inside?" Jimin asks quietly.

Jungkook pushes a hand through his hair. “We lucked out. I've worked with those guys before, and we're friendly. Gave them a quick rundown of the situation, and they're going to try and contain it, but…you know…" He shrugs. "That was technically assault."

"What that was was idiotic," Maya hisses.

"It was awesome."

"Kook!"

"What?! It was. Would've thought about taking care of it myself if Tae hadn't beaten me to it. Guy deserved it."

"At the cost of possible jail?" Jimin chimes in. "We all hate the guy, but I don't think it's doing Y/N a favor if she has to bail us out of—" He slaps a hand to his forehead. "Oh, fuck, Y/N."

The other two look at him in question, and he hesitates. "Do we…do we tell her?" he asks slowly. "She's on that date. What if it's going well?"

The three of them fall into silence, looking uneasily at Taehyung's back. He walks with his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched and heels digging into the sidewalk. Jimin watches as he takes a kick at an empty can, sending it flying into the gutter.

"It's Tae," Maya murmurs suddenly from his left. "She'd want to know."

"Shit, yeah." Jimin presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to rub away the headache that is quickly developing. "I'll call her—see if she can meet us back at the apartment."

"I'm going to call Hobi too," Jungkook says, phone already out. "I've punched someone before and can guarantee—his hand is fucked up."

Jimin nods, slowing his steps so he can fall behind the others for a bit of privacy. He doesn't know how the night spiraled so out of control, but he can't shake the existential feeling that something in the cosmos has changed.

Sliding his phone out of his pocket, he takes a deep breath of the night air and dials your number.

Your hands shake as you fumble with your keys outside the guys' apartment, struggling to grasp the spare that Taehyung lent you when you decided to stay with them. Jimin had said to take your time if you had to, but the thought of something being wrong with Taehyung had you in a panic. He hadn’t given you any details either, saying that they’d explain it all once you were there.

Jin had hurried you out at the distressed look on your face after you hung up, telling you that he’d take care of dinner and to go take care of your friend (you’ll later try to have Namjoon pass along some money for your meal that Jin will steadfastly refuse). Not wanting to stand and wait for an Uber, you had half-run the twelve blocks from the restaurant instead.

Out of breath, you gasp out a, "What happened?!" when Jungkook opens the door at the sound of your scrambling, not even giving him a chance to answer before you're pushing past him inside.

Taehyung sits on the edge of the couch with Hoseok kneeling in front of him, first aid kit at his feet. From here, you can see that his right hand is littered with cuts, purple bruises already forming across his swollen knuckles even as Hoseok tends to the wounds. Taehyung doesn't look up when you walk in, his eyes hooded and fixed on his hand.

"What the fuck happened?!" You repeat, but the room is quiet for a moment more as Jungkook, Jimin, and Maya all look at each other as if they don't know what to say.

Jimin breaks first. "We, ah…" he begins from his armchair seat. "We ran into your ex."

Your heart drops into your stomach, and you immediately feel dizzy. Images of Jace flood your mind: his smile, his hands, his voice—him tangled up in your bed when you got back from the beach house.

"He was at the club," Jimin continues. "And Tae…he, um—"

"He kicked his ass!" Jungkook chirps, an unmistakable hint of delight in his voice.

A tornado of feelings rips through your insides, a blend of confusion and anxiety that has you momentarily reeling. You'd be lying if you said you didn't have any residual feelings for Jace, the tiniest part of your brain in a worry over the state he might be in right now. But it all melts away when you look down at the man who still won't meet your eyes, his purpling hand making your heart twist even harder.

"Are you okay?" you ask softly, and Taehyung finally lifts his head to look at you. His gaze is stoic, but there's a haze of emotion behind his eyes that you can't place.

"I'm fine," he says, but his voice is tight and gravelly.

Hoseok tuts, dabbing a spot of ointment across Taehyung's knuckles. "Let's hope you stay that way. I don't think you'll need any stitches, and nothing seems to be broken, but we'll have to keep an eye on this to make sure nothing gets infected." He pulls bandages out of the first aid kit and begins wrapping Taehyung's hand.

You're afraid to ask this next question, but the words fall out anyway. "Did the police come?"

Jimin shakes his head. "We got out of there quick, and Kook talked to the bouncers that were friends of his—" Jungkook gives a two-finger salute from his perch by the kitchen. "—they said they'd try to take care of it, but who knows." He pauses before asking, "Do you think Jace would press charges?"

"I don't know," you answer honestly. You've known Jace to be proud, but you're not sure if that means he'll brush this off as a simple scrap or want to save face in some way.

"If he does, I know a lawyer who might be able to help," Maya pipes up at the opposite end of the couch. "He's a…friend. Owes me a favor."

"A lawyer friend?" Jungkook asks, eyes narrowing. "Do we know him? What's his name?"

"Last name: Out. First name: Butt."

Jungkook scoffs at that, but you also hear him mutter under his breath, "He sounds like a butt."

"Well as much as I would like to stay and chat about fights and butts," Hoseok says, bandaging the last of Tae's hand and closing his kit, "Sunny and I have a meeting with the wedding coordinator in the morning so I’ve gotta go. Keep that clean, and text me immediately if anything looks or feels wrong or if the swelling doesn’t go down. I can swing by in a couple days to look at it again."

Taehyung nods silently, and Hoseok heads for the door, waving as Jungkook shouts, "Thanks, doc!"

An awkward silence sweeps the room as the door swings shut, the only sound being that of Jimin anxiously tapping his heels against the floor. Maya reads the room, looking around at each person and eventually settling on you and Taehyung. Your posture is tense as you stiffly hover by the side of the couch, shifting your feet, while Taehyung is back to avoiding eye contact.

"I think I'm going to head out too," she says, standing up and shooting Jimin a pointed look.

"Do you need a ride home?" Jungkook asks. His tone says that he's trying to be nonchalant, but his eyes betray his eagerness.

"I'm a big girl, Kook," Maya drawls. "I can get myself home."

"Would you let lawyer friend drive you home?"

She rolls her eyes dramatically, her whole head tilting back in exasperation. "Oh my God, you're insufferable. Fine."

Jungkook moves for his keys, a certain spring in his step, while Maya addresses the rest of you. "I'll stop by tomorrow. Please, please try to stay out of trouble until then. Looking at you, Tae." And then she and Jungkook exit the apartment, Maya slipping money into Jimin’s hand as she goes.

Jimin lets out a heavy sigh. "Well he's not coming home tonight." He stands and stretches his arms above his head. "I'm gonna turn in. Let me know if either of you needs something, yeah?" He shuffles away to his bedroom, leaving you and Taehyung alone.

Taehyung continues to sit still as a statue, staring at the wall, and so you take a careful seat next to him, slowly so as to not jostle the cushions too much. When he keeps his eyes straight ahead, you gently take his injured hand between both of yours. His body visibly softens as you graze your fingers back and forth across his palm.

"Tae…"

He looks at you then, and you take the time to examine his face. There's no guilt or shame in his expression, but you see a pain there that has you reaching up to rub at the creases between his eyes.

His eyelids droop down at your touch. “I’m sorry about your date.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “It wasn’t going that well anyway.”

You see a muscle jump in his jaw, concern tightening the corners of his mouth. “Did he do something?”

“Easy.” You resume your tracing of his palm. “He was very kind and respectful, and we had an oddly sweet conversation. Just realized that neither of us is in the proper mindset for it to be anything more than maybe a friendship.”

A hum comes from deep in his throat. “Alright.”

“Certainly no need for you to fight any other men on my behalf,” you say, and he shoots you an uneasy look before staring down your reflections in the dark of the TV screen.

You take it in with him, observing the shadowy duplicates who feel like they’re sitting across from you. The linked arms, the soothing press of your knee to his—your current situation may feel anxiety-inducing, but the figures mirrored in the screen look comfortable. Unified.

"Are you mad?" he whispers after a moment.

The question catches you off guard. "Why would I be?"

"I know you still care about him." Taehyung swallows, glancing down at your intertwined hands. "You wouldn't still be this upset over him if you didn't."

You let his words sink in, not altogether untrue but certainly not at the forefront of your mind right now. "I'm not worried about him—I'm worried about you." Taehyung's eyes flash at that with something akin to confusion, and you chew at your lower lip. "I've never seen you like this."

It's true. Taehyung, in spite of his mild nature, has always had a protective streak in him. One time, when the two of you were twelve, a few boys in your class had spent a week bullying you about your clothes—calling you a “spoiled, pretentious bitch”—only to come back from gym class one day to find their shirts in the garbage, cut to bits. But never—in all of your years together—have you ever known him to get violent.

"I tried to let it go. I did," Taehyung insists. He picks at his bandages, and you cover his hand with your own to still him. "I just…" His voice cracks, eyes suddenly glassy. "I couldn't stop seeing you on the bathroom floor that night."

The tears spill over, and you pull him into you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he gasps into your shoulder. He's trying to force the emotion down—you can feel it in the way his body trembles—and so you tangle your fingers in the spot where his hairline meets the back of his neck. You know it's always been a soothing spot for him, and his breathing slowly evens out as you coast your fingers back and forth, a rogue piece of your brain taking pleasure in the feel of his soft hair under your hands.

"Tae," you whisper again once he's calmed, and he pulls back to look at you, face entirely too close. Your heart stutters at the sheer amount of raw affection in his expression, and the words you were about to say catch in your throat along with your breath. Since when does being around him make you so nervous?

"I'm sorry," Taehyung murmurs, entirely oblivious to your current internal struggle. "I know this isn't about me—"

"No," you quickly say, snapping out of your inner turmoil. "Tae, you're allowed to have feelings, you know?" Your fingers absentmindedly run along his neck again. "And like you told me that night, I will be fine. I will be. It just…takes a bit of time. And I appreciate everything you've done to try and help get me there."

You try to convey just how much you mean this in your tone, lacing your words with every bit of gratitude you've built up over the past month (over the past years). Taehyung seems to understand, his thumb coming up to gently brush against your chin.

A glimpse of white bandages turns you sullen, raising your hands to delicately graze against their soft edges and chart the way they wrap around his knuckles. He winces as you touch them, and frustration crests like a wave in your chest; you hate that he’s hurting, hate that your own troubles are the cause of it.

“You didn’t have to do this for me,” you sigh, dripping with guilt.

“I’d do anything for you.”

His words are firm, and he cants forward as he says them until his forehead rests against yours, a single shared breath haunting the space between your lips.

"I just don't ever want to see you like that again," he whispers.

And it's all too much: your pulse spikes, the blood pounding through your veins at his nearness and the honey-sweet words rolling off his tongue. This time, you're the one who can't look him in the eye as you put some distance between your bodies, abruptly shifting away from him on the couch.

"You won't."

The tension settles in thick, and Taehyung gazes at you, undoubtedly perplexed by your sudden withdrawal. Just as he opens his mouth to say something, you nod at his hand. "You had an eventful day. I'm fine out here if you want to sleep?"

He slowly shakes his head. "No, uh…I don't think I'll be able to sleep. Might just stay up and watch some TV. You can take my bed, though, if you're tired."

The charged atmosphere still has you slightly shaken—your scrambled brain trying to make sense of the tingling in your stomach—but concern for Taehyung ultimately wins out, and you tell him that you'll stay up to keep him company. He doesn't argue with that, simply flips on your favorite cooking channel and drags your legs into his lap as you stretch out.

It's how Jungkook finds you as he slinks back in the next morning, smiling to himself as he drapes a blanket over your sleeping forms.

July is beginning its descent into August, stifling clouds of heat stuffing themselves into roads and alleyways, when your sign to move back into your own apartment comes in the form of Jeon Jungkook almost getting a full look at your bare ass one Saturday morning.

He immediately flips his back to you, frantically covering his face with his arms and bellowing, "I'M NOT LOOKING!" at the top of his lungs.

"Jeon, you'd better keep your eyes covered or I swear to God I'll put your nuts in a vise!"

"Is that like a kink thi—"

"Do NOT." You rush to dress yourself, giving him the signal when it's safe to turn around.

He doesn't look the least bit ashamed, the bastard.

"Not that it's necessarily unwelcome, but why were you almost naked in my living room?"

You glare at him. "Jimin is taking one of his long ass showers."

"And Tae's at work. Just use his room."

You'd thought about it, but the idea of getting naked in your best friend's bedroom had made you blush, like you'd be crossing some sort of line.

"I thought I could change fast enough," you say, not wanting to have to explain your reasoning to Jungkook of all people.

"Well you obviously thought wrong." He smirks, and you already know what's coming. "Nice bra, by the way."

You pick up a throw pillow off the couch and fling it at him. You'd been shooting for his head, wanting to smack the smug grin right off his face, but your aim is about two feet off and he catches it effortlessly anyway.

What an ass.

“No wonder Maya is always pissed at you,” you jab. “Constantly flirting with other girls.”

His demeanor shifts ever so slightly—his shoulders lower, and you can tell by the way his cockiness subtly but immediately deflates that you’ve wounded him. A pang of regret for your words hits at the sight of wide doe eyes.

“She talks about me to you?”

You wouldn’t have believed it to be possible, but you don’t think that you’ve ever seen him look so innocent, tentative hopefulness coloring his face.

“Not, like, regularly, but sometimes, sure,” you say, not quite certain how to handle this new edition of Jungkook.

“What does she say?”

Wow, those big, round Bambi eyes are really doing work.

“Just that, you know.” You scratch at your ear, not wanting to accidentally throw Maya under any buses while also honoring your friendship with Jungkook. “You’re kind of annoying sometimes.”

That clearly doesn’t make him happy, his jaw tightening with discontent as he grimaces. “Right.”

“I mean think about it, Kook,” you say, compelled to defend Maya. “You hook up with her, and then flirt and pick up other girls right in front of her face.”

“We’re not exclusive!” he exclaims.

“Maybe she wants to be?”

“But that was her idea!”

That stops you. Not once since you found out the two of them were hooking up did it cross your mind that Jungkook would ever be the one unhappy with their arrangement. He’s never had a serious girlfriend in the entire time you’ve known him. Up until this moment, you were sure he’d be a perpetual bachelor. “What?”

“She wanted to be non-exclusive.”

“And you…don’t?”

He looks away from you, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t know.”

No. It can’t be.

“Wait a second.”

You move to stand in front of him, taking his face in your hands so you can turn him every which way, inspecting his face. Pink cheeks, a creased brow, jawline so hard you could probably cut yourself on it.

“You’re flustered!” you shriek. Jungkook quickly uncrosses his arms to bat your hands away, reeling back to put some distance between the two of you.

“I’m not!”

“You are!” you shout, following him as he roams around the room. “Jeon Jungkook is flustered!”

“Bah, you’re insane, woman.” He swings a dismissive hand even as the two of you settle in at the kitchen island.

“You’d be cute together!”

“She’s too stubborn.”

“I can totally see it!”

“It would never work.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Hey, worry about your own love life.”

He means it to be teasing, obviously not thinking too hard about his words because the second he realizes what he’s just said, he pales. “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you say, sobered. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Still—“

“You’re right. I’m avoiding things.” You peer over at the pull-out couch, still in bed-mode with your blankets and pillows messily strewn across it. Your suitcase, meanwhile, sits off to the side with the contents tangled and half-overflowing.

In short, you’re a mess.

The guys have never made you feel unwelcome, have only ever made it clear that you are free to stay as long as you’d like, but you’d be lying if you said you haven’t felt your time here beginning to weigh on your shoulders, knowing you’re only putting off the inevitable.

You feel like you’ve been (slowly, but surely) making emotional progress, but going back to the apartment might threaten to undo all of that. Although it may have felt like it at times growing up, you’ve technically never lived alone, and you’ve grown accustomed to having your people around. In fact, you thrive on it. Being around your friends is the only reason why you’ve been doing as well as you have.

You love having someone to come home to.

“I need to move back soon,” you tell Jungkook. “But returning to the apartment is actually terrifying.”

He considers you for a moment, leaning his weight back on the granite countertop. “Do you know what helps me when I’m not confident about something?”

“Getting a stranger to moan your name?”

“Well, yes, but aside from that.” You shrug, and he grins. “I just do it.”

“Wow, Jeon,” you say, with the appropriate amount of eye roll. “Reaching real deep on that one.”

“I mean it!” he urges. “Just need to rip off the band-aid. The longer you dwell on it, the harder it will be in the end.”

That’s…oddly decent advice.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you might have a point,” you say, somewhat thrown off by this flustered, good-advice-giving version of your friend.

“And speaking of things being harder, that last bit of advice also goes for forepl—“

“Aaaaaaand it’s ruined.”

“I’m just saying it has multiple applications!”

“Yeah, it’s time for me to move back out,” you say. “I can’t live with you anymore.”

Jungkook chuckles, rubbing at his jaw. “Tae is going to be devastated though.”

Your head jerks around. “What? Why?”

“Because he likes having you here,” he says, looking at you like you just asked him what color the sky is. “The guy punched out your ex for you. I think it’s safe to say he enjoys having you around.”

You wince at the mention of the club, a nerve jumping in your chest every time you’re reminded that Taehyung almost got arrested defending your honor. Nothing had ever come of the fight, so you’re assuming Jace has chosen to just let it go, and for that, you’re thankful. You never would have been able to live with it if Taehyung had suffered serious consequences over your own personal crisis.

You’d do the same thing for him, sure. But that’s different.

“Jimin and I will miss you too, of course,” Jungkook continues. “And I’m still kind of sad I didn’t get my own shot in on that asshole that night. Dumped a beer on him though.” He smiles at you like he’d be wagging his tail if he had one.

“My hero.”

“Yeah, the mayor said I’m getting a medal.”

“Oh, really? When’s the ceremony.”

“Sunday afternoon.”

You snap your fingers. “Ah, I can’t make it. I have a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, a super important thing. Way more important than your thing.”

“You’re a heart-breaker, Y/N. My ego will never recover.” He grins again, playfully rapping his fingers against the counter as he stands to grab a drink.

“Yep,” he says, voice muffled on the other side of the fridge door. “Definitely going to miss you around here.”

As Jungkook predicted, Taehyung frowns when he gets home from work and you tell him about your plans to move back into your apartment at the end of the week, perhaps sensing your apprehension about returning to the scene of the crime. He insists he’ll come with you and sleep over the first night for support and to make sure you’re okay being back there.

“Whatever you need,” he says. “You’re not going to face it alone.”

Your apartment is pitch black when you swing the door open, the quietness hovering in the air making you feel like you're suffocating. You flick on the light, and you're struck by how much emptier the space is. Jace definitely came by at some point as all of his things are no longer present: his gaming system, his turntable, the tiny rhino statue he had picked out on your last vacation together. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a glint of a key on the kitchen counter.

Taehyung tries to give you space by busying himself—turning on lights and opening cabinets in a seeming attempt to take inventory of what Jace left behind. He steals glances at you every now and then as you slowly move through the living room, hands reaching out to lightly brush at the furniture with no real goal in mind. This is supposed to be your home, but you feel like a stranger—the ghosts of late nights binging TV shows, giggling wildly at inside jokes, promising forever lurk around every corner.

When you take a hesitant step inside the bedroom, your breath catches in your throat and you choke on a sob. The bedsheets are still in a tangle, a relic of that night seven weeks ago when your whole world fell apart.

Taehyung senses something is wrong and bolts to your side in an instant, hands steadying you where you slump against the doorframe. He turns you in his arms, and his fingers come up to cradle your face in his direction.

"Don't look at that, look at me," he murmurs, thumbs rubbing away the tears that have begun to fall. "What do you need?"

To run, to hide, to crawl into the deepest hole you can find and scream your lungs out until the pain subsides. But you can't. Instead you focus on the brown of Taehyung's eyes, let it ease you back down until your breathing steadies and your heart rate levels.

"A shower," you finally choke out. "I need a shower."

He takes a final swipe at your tear-stained cheeks and offers up a small smile. "Okay. Where are the towels?"

You nod in the direction of the closet as Taehyung ushers you out towards the bathroom. It feels empty in here too, the single toothbrush staring you down from its holder and counter notably absent of shaving cream and hair gel. You tear your eyes away from the vanity to start the water running, and Taehyung pops up a moment later with a towel in hand and a fresh pair of pajamas he must've found in your dresser.

"Take your time," he says. "And if you need anything, anything at all, just give a shout. I'll be right out here." His cheeks take on a hint of pink when you quirk an eyebrow at him. "I'll close my eyes. Promise."

You thank him as he steps out so you can strip and get into the tub. The water is set to a near-scalding temperature and you welcome the sting, scrubbing away at your skin as if trying to erase all of the memories that are once again flooding back.

Your first date at the art museum, where he pointed to a painting of an extravagant rose garden and said it reminded him of you.

Your first kiss under the stars, the two of you losing track of time as he pulled you in again and again.

Endless Saturdays wandering around the city, not caring where you wound up as long as his hand was in yours.

Planning your someday wedding, his whispered promises of, Soon, beautiful, soon, sealed with a signature wink.

Picking out names for children who would never be born.

The tears are pouring out of you now, but you let them. One cry, you promise yourself. One final, good cry to wash it all away, and then it'll be time to let go for good.

You don't know how long you spend in the shower, but by the time you step back out into the living room, Taehyung has already set himself up with a makeshift bed on the couch. He lifts his head when he sees you and, taking note of your red-rimmed eyes, gets up to pull you into a hug.

For a moment he just holds you, arms banding tight around your shoulders before he says, "I cleaned out your fridge. Most of it was spoiled." He hesitates, pulling back to look at you. "And I changed the bedsheets." A hand rubs at the back of his neck. "I actually ran downstairs and threw them straight in the dumpster, I hope that's okay."

His thoughtfulness overwhelms you, and you'd probably start crying again if not for the fact that you don't think you have a single tear left in your body. As you gape at him, Taehyung interprets your silence for disapproval and quickly adds, "I'll buy you new ones."

You respond by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him back into you, sinking your face into the crook of his neck as you whisper a, "Thank you."

He seems to falter for a second before returning the hug, and as you give him one last squeeze he steps back, scrutinizing you more closely. "You look like you could use some sleep."

"Yeah," you admit, eyeing the cramped set-up on the couch. "Is that going to be okay for you though?"

"Absolutely," he chimes, bounding over to the couch to settle back in. He has to bend his long legs to fit, toes pressing into the fabric of the arm. "See? Comfy." When he catches the uneasy look on your face, he says, "Honestly. Y/N. Nowhere else I'd rather be."

You give him a hesitant nod—you know it'd be useless to try to convince him otherwise. "Okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight!" He flips onto his back, popping an arm behind his head and closing his eyes.

You cross the room slowly and, just like last time, find yourself pausing at the threshold of your bedroom. The bed is no longer a mess, fresh sheets now stretched neatly across the mattress, but as you look at it, it strikes you that you have never slept here alone. And while you may have committed yourself to moving on from this moment forward, you know this has the power to break you. Tomorrow, maybe, but right now, you're nowhere near ready for this.

You look back and forth between your bed and where Taehyung is lying, his legs now half-draped over the couch's arm, and you make up your mind.

"Tae?"

"Hmm?" He opens his eyes and turns his head to look at you.

"Can you sleep in here with me?"

He blinks, jaw dropping in surprise. "Uhh…are you sure?"

His hesitancy has you losing some of your nerve, and you have to look away. "I just don't think I can…" You purse your lips and shake your head. "You don't have to. I just—"

"No, it's okay. We can—yeah," he blurts, already standing up.

He sidesteps you in the doorway, taking your hand and pulling you into the room after him with a soft smile. "C'mon. Like I said, whatever you need."

Taehyung pulls back the covers so the two of you can crawl in. It's awkward at first, both of your bodies lying stiff across from each other. Physical affection has never been altogether uncommon for the two of you, but this—lying in the bed you used to share with your ex—feels like crossing a line of intimacy that you've never experienced with him before.

But then Taehyung laughs, reaching over to take your hand in his. "I know we’re a long way from high school, but we can do this, yeah? Not like we haven’t shared a bed before."

It breaks the tension, and you giggle back, looking down at where he's laced your fingers together. His knuckles are still lightly bruised with touches of yellow and green, and you run your free hand over the marks, smile drooping.

"I'm really sorry about this," you murmur.

"I'm not." Taehyung's forehead creases. "I'd do it again."

"Please don't," you say quickly. "If you see him again, just let it go."

He frowns and opens his mouth to respond, but you cut in. "Not because I care about him. I just don't want you getting into any trouble on his account. He's not worth it."

Taehyung briefly clenches his jaw but eventually gives you a slow nod. "Well I think my point was made anyway."

"Thank you," you say, pulling his hand up to brush a light kiss to his bruises. "I know I keep saying that, but I really can't tell you enough."

"You don't need to thank me. I know you'd do the same." His face breaks out into one of his boxy smiles. "Remember when Luna broke up with me, and I barely left the apartment for two weeks? You stopped by every day to make sure I was still eating."

You hum at the memory. It had been two weeks of dropping off take-out and commandeering the boys' kitchen to make large batch meals, even harassing Jimin to give you regular updates on whether or not Taehyung had eaten lunch. Jace had given you grief about it at the time, whining that Taehyung was a grown man who could take care of himself, especially when the two of you had just moved in and were still working on unpacking.

“And my birthday junior year of high school.” He’s quiet as he remembers, eyes fixed on some spot over your shoulder as if he’s rewatching the moments on film. “You got me those shoes I’d been absolutely enamored with.”

His old ones had been falling apart entirely, soles curling away from the fabric like orange peels in the sun. Barely even looking away from the bottle at that point, there was virtually no chance that Taehyung’s father would give him enough money to buy him new ones at the thrift store, let alone the high-end sneakers you’d always catch him subtly staring at every time the two of you wandered around the mall after school.

So of course, you’d done the only logical thing and surprised him with them for his birthday, the look of complete elation on his face making your heart leap in ways you didn’t even know it could.

A touch of joy slips into his expression too now as he picks another recollection out of his brain. "Or that time in college when I got stuck in that bathroom across campus with no toilet paper and you left class to break into the men's room and bring me some."

You scrunch your nose at that, saying, "We swore never to talk about that again!"

Taehyung laughs. "I know, but what I'm trying to say is that that's what we do. We take care of each other."

The truth of the statement hits you like a truck as you're suddenly anchoring yourself in Taehyung's eyes again.

It's as though every moment of the last seventeen years comes rushing back to you all at once—every joy, every celebration, every tear, every heartbreak. And at your side in each memory are the same brown eyes you're staring into right now.

A feeling that you're too scared to place stirs in your chest and has you panicking, and you can see that Taehyung isn't unaffected by the moment either as his lips part and he studies you with a newfound softness. When he reaches up to brush your hair behind your ear, the feeling in your chest swells and snaps, and you bury your face in his chest, tears starting afresh, as he wraps his arms around you.

"I'm here," he whispers. "I'm right here."

You press your hands into his back, clinging to him, and hope the pressure conveys what your words can't—what you don't even have a name for yet.

Your sobs subside after a while, but you stay wrapped up in each other. Right before you fall asleep, one final flashback of Jace leaks into your mind—words he had spit at you before leaving this place that night.

I've never been your priority. No one can be. Not when he's around.

It's hard work dragging yourself awake the next morning, your eyelids heavy and begging you to close them for just five more minutes.

But you realize that the side of the bed next to you is not only empty—it's cold. Reaching out to your nightstand, you flip your phone over to check the time. 10:42. The morning is practically gone.

You pull yourself out of bed and shuffle into the living room where you spot a figure standing in the kitchen. Taehyung is busy at the stove, white t-shirt tight across his shoulders as he works, humming to himself, and you stop for a moment to take him in (was he always this broad?).

"Good mood today?" you say. He turns, flashing you a smile over his shoulder.

"Morning, sleepyhead!" He catches himself, realizing he might sound a little too chipper for the occasion and quietly asks, "How are you feeling?"

"Alright," you shrug, and it's the truth. The seemingly endless crying the night before had been exhausting, but it also provided you with something of a catharsis, leaving you feeling almost refreshed today.

"Good," Taehyung says. He nods to the plate on the counter next to him. "I made pancakes."

"The chocolate chip ones?"

He places a hand over his heart and looks at you in mock offense. “Of course. What do you take me for?”

You laugh and wander over to the dining room table where a bright bouquet of lilies now sits in a vase. Pinching one of the delicate, silky petals between your fingers, you ask, "What's this?"

Taehyung glances over his shoulder again, blushing slightly when he sees what you're looking at. "Oh, I um—" He fumbles for his words. "I ran out to get you some groceries and saw the florist next door. Figured they could, you know, brighten things up in here a little."

"You didn't have to do that," you tell him softly, but he brushes you off with a shrug.

"I wanted to."

You reach for the petals again, the bright orange seeming to cast a glow on your skin like a sunset. “You know these look like—“

“The ones you used to collect on our walks growing up?” He chuckles at your stunned silence. “Yeah, I know.”

It still surprises you sometimes—the depth of his thoughtfulness and how well he knows you—and before you can stop yourself, you’re stepping up behind him at the stove. You wind your arms around his middle, pressing your forehead to the space between his shoulder blades and allowing your breath to warm the cotton of his t-shirt. It’s soft—intimate—and you feel Taehyung tighten up under your touch, his entire body going rigid.

“Y/N—“

“You know you mean the world to me, right?”

It’s a near-whisper—you sound like you’re on the brink of tears—and maybe that’s why Taehyung’s hard lines soften at the sound of your voice, turning in your arms so he can reciprocate the embrace and press a cheek to your temple. He doesn’t say a word, just holds you tight as you lean your face into his chest and inhale the comforting scent of pancake batter, laundry detergent, and honey-scented soap.

You think you could stay here forever.

Last night’s mood seems to linger in the air like little beams of light that warm your skin in the best way. You recall falling asleep in these same arms, this same scent wrapped around you—how it was easily the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

It's different, this space between you now. Has been since the night in the bathroom. You and Taehyung may have gone through a metric fuck ton of pain over the course of your lives, but there's no denying that this breakup is pushing your friendship into a new form, molding it into a new shape.

You're too nervous to dwell on it, but damn, if you aren't going to take advantage of how good it feels to cling to him right now. You want to wrap yourself around him like a koala—draw your legs around his waist and bury your nose into the hollow space at his collarbone.

What a great way to scare him off too, your brain says, even as your heart argues, He's stuck with you through worse.

You're tempted—seriously considering dragging him over to the couch so you can snuggle him properly—when the fire alarm goes off, the pancake on the stove burnt and blackened.

Taehyung releases you in a flash, spinning to shut off the burner and pull the pan off the stove as you rush to the hallway closet for a broom. You swing it underneath the alarm until the smoke clears, and the device stops its blaring shrieks. As silence filters back in, Taehyung tips the burnt pancake into the trash, the previous moment ruined.

"That'd be our luck to burn this place down your first day back," he jokes.

You tip your head up, already thinking this may have been a bad idea and wishing you were back at the guys' place. "Maybe not the worst thing in the world."

He approaches you slowly but deliberately, raising a long finger to press at your chin until you've lowered your gaze enough to look him in the eyes. Taking your hands in his—gently, so gently—he says, "We're going to breathe life back into this place. I'll be here every day if you want me to be."

"You d—"

"I will. Or Maya or Jimin or Kook." He moves his head so you're forced to look at him even as you try to look away, confronted with the raw sincerity in his eyes. "We'll drown out the bad memories with new good ones."

His voice is CPR, pressing warmth into your chest, and just like that, the suffocating walls around you open up a bit. You can see it, the two of you sitting on the couch watching TV—or maybe you watching him play one of his games—your other friends occasionally dipping in and out as they please.

More orange lilies on the table.

You pull your hands from his and drift to the kitchen counter, picking up the glinting silver key sitting on its surface. Turning back to Taehyung, you press it into his palm, and he stares at you, eyes wide with wonder.

"You're sure?"

You nod, and he curls his fingers around the key like it's something delicate—handling it with the same care you once saw him give a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest in the park when you were thirteen.

"Every day," he promises, pinky wrapping around yours and squeezing. "Just say the word."

a/n: likes, reblogs, and feedback are always appreciated! <3

taglist is open!

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyung #bts fic #bts fanfic

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bumpkinspice0 · 3 months

Text

Recovery Time Chapter 8

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

No use of y/n

Rating: Explicit (Minors do not interact!!!!!!)

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: November is here, winter creeps closer, and feelings become more real.

Warnings: Like none? Typical angst, fluff, desperation??

Series Masterlist

Previous - Next

AO3

_______________

Chapter 8: Storm Brewing

The garden was finally bare, the soil tilled over and weeded of its dead occupants. Precious loved herbs and other plants dug up and brought inside to last the winter. Seeds sorted and stored for next year. Harvest time was over and the dirt can lay in rest for another winter. October had come and passed, the early days of November bringing a new chill to the air.

Joel helps you prep the garden soil for next year and he almost wishes he hadn’t offered. You had buckets of compost stored and ready to enrich the soil, nasty smelling stuff. Vegetable scraps, egg shells, bones— garbage really. He was helping you spread garbage around your dead garden. He’s done stranger things, he supposes.

“Please tell me this is the last one,” He sighs, dumping out the final nasty, juicy contents from the last 5-gallon barrel you rolled out.

“It’s the last one,” you scoff, raking the dumped contents evenly over the soil’s surface. “You can start putting the leaf piles on top then we’re done.”

“Thank god,” he retreats to the edge of the garden where you’d had a massive leaf pile waiting. He grabs an armful and spreads them on top of the compost, “Why are we doing this again?”

“Keeps the soil healthy.” You dust your hands off and grab a fistful of leaves for yourself, “You gotta put back what you take out. The parts you don’t use decompose and make the soil healthier. Circle of life and all that.”

“And the leaves?”

“Extra barrier and extra compost.” You step closer to him and he does his best to ignore how that makes his heart speed up ever so slightly. “Use what’s around, ya know?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” He grabs another armful of leaves, “But it was good this year? The garden?”

“Better than other years. Only got good at it the last two years or so.”

Joel wasn’t much of a farmer. Hell, he killed nearly all of his houseplants. The idea of constantly managing something so delicate was intimidating. Game hunting was easy in comparison. Straight forward— almost literally. Point and shoot. Set a trap and leave it. Hunting didn’t take skill, it just took luck. But growing food… That was a whole different story.

Your storages were plentiful from what he saw. You didn’t really seem to keep track of resources used because of it. Much more lax than Bill. If he had to guess you probably easily had enough for 6-8 months at the moment— But he can’t help but wonder how much you’d used on him. How much did he take from you? The question that’s been constantly on his mind lately.

He’d brought back some meager kills. That turkey and a good handful of rabbits. Was it enough?

“Thinking you got enough to make it through the winter this year?” He asks before he can stop himself.

You pause, he’s not sure if it’s from his sudden forwardness or because you’re actually thinking about it, sorting through everything in your head. He sees your expression drop a little bit— his unspoken words evidently being heard loud and clear.

Will you be fine without me?

He hadn’t brought it up in weeks, him heading back to the QZ. You hadn’t either. Christ he’d been healed for just as long and he still wandered around here like a lost puppy. What was he waiting for? You to chase him out with a broom in hand? Or maybe for you to tell him please don’t go.

He had to. He had to leave and him lingering around you like a ghost was making it all the more difficult.

“It was a good harvest this year,” You finally answer, kicking out more leaves in your path. “Winter can be unpredictable, though. For extra assurance, we should probably think about getting bigger kills if we—”

You pause again, your back to him. He can’t see your face but he can guess what’s painted across it. Panic. Blushing embarrassment. You said it twice, the forbidden word.

We.

You’d both been dancing around referring to each other as a pair since he got here, now you were the first to let it slip. He knew what we meant. We meant I’m thinking of you. We meant I’m planning a future where you’re there. We meant don’t leave.

He doesn’t say anything, the pleasant afternoon soured by him asking silent questions. Joel didn’t like being so timid. It’s not who he was. He was a blunt, straightforward man— often to a fault. He wishes he could still be that emotionless with you. It’d make everything so much easier. Instead, he lives in fear of hurting you. Of bringing the curtain down on this small little paradise you’d given him. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve you. It’s time he gets back to what he was actually good at.

All things must come to an end, even the good things. He had to come back to reality. Joel just had to pull the trigger… but when?

He tosses a final fistful of leaves onto the barren garden and stomps off to the edge of the property.

“I’m gonna set up a few more traps.”

__________

A bloated awkwardness had settled between you both since this afternoon, and you have your stupid mouth to thank for it. The damn thing always got you into so much trouble.

You said we. You desperately wanted to try and recover and blurt that you were referring to you, Gus, and Lily, obviously, but that would have made the whole situation ten times worse. You just blurting whatever came to mind had gotten you into this mess.

How had Joel become such an integral part of your life in such a short time? He’d crawled into your heart and made a home there without even trying. From day one you knew he wouldn’t stay, and yet that never seemed to matter.

You’d told him six weeks for his estimated recovery time. It only took a glance at the calendar to see that specific date had come and gone. He’d been recovered. Walking strong with newly healed over scars. He was a picture of health… and he was still here. That meant something.

He hadn’t mentioned the QZ once. Not even people inside it. He’d been vague, at best, about what he’d done there. The only family you knew about was his brother, who was likely now hundreds of miles away. What did he have to go back to, you wonder. You’d never asked, but then again he probably wouldn’t tell you if you did.

Maybe you’re waiting for him to ask. Ask if he can stay here… but you probably made your feelings about that rather clear… right? Maybe you have to ask, then. Ask him to stay. Tell him how you feel.

The fear of rejection is a powerful one. People underestimate it all the time.

So, instead of facing the fear, you dance around in this awkward limbo you’d made for yourself, because of your big dumb mouth.

You’re curled up on the couch while he passively plays guitar in the corner of the living room, Gus and Lily curled up at his feet like he always belonged there.

The playing stops and you dare to glance in his direction. His gaze is on the curled-up fur children at his feet, sadness pulling at his features. You can only hope what he’s thinking about.

“Hey,” he looks at you, “So… I was thinking bout somethin’.”

“That’s dangerous.” You hope, just for a moment. Hope that he’ll ask to stay the winter. Stay longer. Stay forever. Just… stay.

“Yeah,” he gives the weakest smile you’d ever seen in your life. Oh no. “I was… thinkin’ about when I should leave.”

You’d never had your hope dashed so quickly.

“Yeah?” You say, trying your best to hide the fact that your heart is shattering.

“I should… do it soon. Before the snow falls.”

You look away from him, clutching your book to your chest, “That’s… a good idea.”

He lets the silence brew in the room. God, if you thought the air between you two was uncomfortable before…

You hold back a tear, putting on a brave face. “When were you thinking?”

He’s set the guitar aside, leaning heavily over his knees. He wrings his hands together nervously.

“Tomorrow.”

The single word is like an arrow to the heart. Tomorrow? That soon? You can’t believe you’d scared him off so easily. If there was a time to tell him to stay, it was now. Beg him not to go. Tell him how you feel. Show him he’d always have a home here.

Say something. Anything.

“That’s… soon.”

Idiot.

“It is.” He nods dismissively. You don’t know why, but you really want to punch him right now. He sighs, coming over to take a seat next to you. Good. Closer to punch. “I’ve taken enough from you, darlin’. It’s time I be on my way.”

“Good, you’ve been a nuisance anyway.” You think hiding behind some sarcasm will distract from the stinging behind your eyes. It doesn’t. Still, you manage to will the tears to stay inside, “It was a pleasure you have you, Joel.”

He rests a hand on your thigh and you swear it burns. “I… don’t know how to repay you.”

Don’t leave. You want to say it so badly. That’s how he could repay you if that’s what he felt he needed to do. Is it selfish of you to want him all to yourself? Like a treasure you found. Yes, of course it is. He had a right to leave. He had a right to his own damned free will.

“Just live, that’s all you have to do,” You place your hand on top of his, “And come back to visit?”

“Of course.”

Those sorrowful deep brown eyes say all his mouth never could. Does he even really want to leave? God, you hate this. What do you do now? Do you eagerly start packing his supplies? Leave him alone? Cry? Beg? Say it. Just say it!

“Joel…” You squeeze his hand just a little tighter. His expression lightens, just a little. “I…” I don’t want you to leave. “I’ll miss you.”

Coward.

He breathes out a small smile, squeezing your hand back. Can he feel it? Your heart breaking.

His other hand comes up to rest on your cheek. “I’ll miss you too, darlin’.”

“Joel…”

This was too much. He was too much. You can’t just sit idly by while this happens. You can’t just watch him leave without fighting just a little. Without speaking your peace. If you don’t, you know you’ll regret it forever. You have to do something. Do anything.

You come crashing into him, your lips finding his immediately. He moans into you, his other hand coming up behind your head to pull you in closer. He wanted this too. Good. You crawl on top of him… or he guides you down to the couch, you’re not really sure. It doesn’t matter. You had him, here, right now. When your words fail you, this is how you can tell him. Tell him to stay.

His hands trail down from your face and squeeze your waist, pulling you closer to him. You rake your hands through his hair in a frenzy, just needing more. All of him. Oh god, he felt so good already. His tongue comes out to explore your mouth, you open with a desperate sigh. He was eager. He was willing.

He was yours. Right now he was yours.

Your hands drop to his belt. You feel him flinch under your touch.

“Darlin’... I…” he breathes between your lips. Whatever he was going to say dies on his tongue. His hips raise up in encouragement.

“Joel,” you moan as you undo the buckle, “Joel, I—”

A mighty gust of wind shakes the cabin, testing its very foundation. You both jolt upright, the moment completely ruined by shock. The windows rattle with newfound intensity. The bones of your little home creak in protest.

A storm was coming.

“Shit…shit,” you grumble, climbing off Joel, much to your disdain. You walk over to your little weather station by the front door, three little mounted dials that Art always swore by. A thermometer, a barometer, and a hydrometer. The temperature had dropped significantly since this afternoon, dwindling down past freezing. The air pressure was dropping rapidly, you swear you see the needle moving before your very eyes. Yep, the telltale signs of a storm. When you glance out the window your heart drops.

The snow had only just started to fall, small white specks starting to blanket the ground, and it was picking up speed. The sky was barely visible, the undoubtedly massive clouds whited out by an oncoming freeze. It was going to be a blizzard—a big one.

“What is it?” Joel comes up behind you.

You groan, wishing so badly you could ignore it and take him back to the couch and continue where you left off— but you know you can’t. You’d said earlier that winter was unpredictable, and that was true. Early snow meant more work that had to be done now before it got worse. Preparations done to assure your safety. More wood inside, more water in the tank, relocating the chickens, bringing up more food from the cellar— You could both do it before the storm got worse. If you hurried it’d be done in an hour. Then you could get back to… everything.

You were likely going to be snowed in for a few days. Maybe it’s a sign, you think. A final gift from the almighty to get Joel Miller to stay just a little longer. You’ll take what you can get.

“Winter came early.”

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #Joel Miller #tlou #the last of us #recovery time

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sansxfuckyou · 21 days

Note

top 5 etho ships ? bonus points for any explanation

my personal top five in no particular order, and like, ya gotta understand im still new here (hermitcraft/life series) so my opinions are poised to change, but the current standings are:

Bdubs/Etho/Cleo, i'll be honest, i haven't written or read any clethubs, but i saw some art of them that made my brain shortcircuit. they are femdom, himbo, and twink. i just think that Etho should have two people who are stronger than he is on either side of him at all times, bonus points if you let Cleo be the tallest. Bdubs being super clingy, Etho reluctantly tagging along, and Cleo making sure they don't fucking die because yeah they are god damn idiots sometimes, but they're her idiots. and she loves them. and probably gives them noogies and headlocks them.

Cleo/Etho, their marriage in limlife is so much fucking fun, especially when read under an aro4allo lens. Etho whose been happily married for over a decade watching his friends enter relationships and realizing that he loves differently, he doesn't even love remotely close to how they love, love isn't even the right word. hes scared so he leaves, hes not doing it right and his wife must be upset about it, that must be why everythings crumbling. and Cleo, not giving two shits, because that's her husband and by god they're gonna make it work if he can realize that being absent is whats breaking up their marriage, not showing affection and intimacy differently.

Gem/Etho, as a canadian i am legally obligated to ship this, as a lesbian i love it when men have chaotic gremlin girlfriends who put them in their place. see that one episode of hermicraft wherein Gem beats his ass on repeat and he keeps coming back for more. its like, like theres an unspoken solidarity, 'hey we're the same even though we're not' and they stick with each other. predator/prey dynamic if you go with deer Gem and fox Etho, you also get it with sea monster Gem and fox Etho, except he's the prey and she has the biological advantage instead. also, when paired with the transfemme Etho headcanon we get some yuri which im always down for.

Grian/Etho, this one came to via an Ao3 commenter and i have seen two pieces of fanart for it and like, seven fics. but i still think the dynamic of bird and fox would be fun to work with in writing depending on the bird Grian is hybridized with, especially if Grian is the smaller one. also in limlife??? hello?? Etho, swearing loyalty and promising to be someones sword is not heterosexual behaviour. what they had in limlife, even if brief, had me shaking i'll be real. also, for their hermitcraft dynamic, it'd be hot if i threw Scar into the mix, for flavour.

Pearl/Etho/Tango, consensual workplace relationships make me absolutely insane, it could tear apart their business or bring it further together. they have the kind of dynamic that makes my head absolutely fucking empty, one of those 'i just think theyre neat' kind of ships. the culture clash between each of their species and their own personal tastes, Tango's a blaze and they mate for life, Pearl's a siren and they don't do much for romance, Etho's a fox and they come and go- but they make it happen in spite of that. im working on getting them a canonized Ao3 tag right now, they have such a fun dynamic. also, they fucked in that post office when no one was looking.

tbh these are all really closely tied, and i also have a soft spot for tangtho and the team ties poly. they're all really fun ships, i just really enjoy polyships to be real with ya'll. and the life series and hermitcraft are full of so many possible polyships that its just making me foam at the fucking mouth. sorry boat boys enjoyers, the vision has not yet engulfed me, but hey im a multishipper it might be yet to happen.

#asks #the bestie anon #ethoslab #i just love putting this sopping wet pathetic excuse of a man in relationships. it makes me grin.#mcyt #heres hoping this sparks the poly postal vision in someone elses head

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 4 months

Text

Treasure - a Malevolent fic

John just keeps remembering the bad things first.

This one lands hard.

Part of the Surrogate series. Written with @sepiabandensis.

AO3

---------

“Come on, English! You can keep up!” Parker needled, running without any effort at all, and it just wasn’t fair.

Arthur shot a look in his direction that communicated the profanity he couldn’t get the breath to speak.

“Faster!” Dis called.

“Faster or longer?” Parker called back. “He can’t do both!”

Dis considered. “Longer this time. Good call, Yang.”

“Thank me later,” Parker muttered to Arthur, deadpan.

“I… hate… you,” Arthur gasped.

“No, you don’t,” Parker grinned.

John and Sunny ignored them both.

Everyone’s exercise routine had changed; Faroe was still doing princess stuff, but Arthur and Parker now spent at least an hour walking and jogging and running, side by side (or at least, Arthur wasn’t too far behind), and Sunny and John were taking full advantage.

John loved it. More than he knew how to express. Because of Sunny, he finally didn’t feel so… alone.

[How has the poetry quest gone? Found anything you like yet?] Sunny said, tone somewhere between genuinely curious and gently teasing.

[Challenging because he’s so damn stubborn.] But John sounded pleased. [I’ve decided I’m going to bring Hastur into it. He owes me.]

Arthur tripped. Parker pulled him up. “Thanks,” Arthur muttered.

“Always, pal,” said Parker, and smacked him on the back too hard because it was funny.

“Fuck you.” Arthur grinned.

“Right back atcha.” Parker grinned, too.

[Impressive,] said Sunny. [I'm sure he will have a wealth of poetry to loan you; the Librarian should also be able to make some good recommendations, if Arthur doesn't get too suspicious.] Sunny chuckled, low. [How did you manage to get a favor from the King?]

[Because he failed to protect us, and I am going to use it.] There wasn’t even really any emotion in that statement. John saw an opening, a weakness, a sore spot, and planned to take it. That was all. [He’ll provide what I ask.]

[Would he not provide what you ask anyway?] Sunny replied, quietly puzzled.

John paused as though that hadn’t occurred to him. [I… well, I don’t know. I just don’t want to give him any ideas, and asking for erotic or romantic poetry for Arthur could do that.] It made sense. Who wouldn’t want Arthur?

Sunny, for one. [Does the King desire Arthur?] There was growing horror in Sunny's voice. [I don't know that I will be able to deal with THREE of you lusting after that noodle-man. Ugh.]

John huffed. [It’s not like you have to worry about it. Parker wants you. That’s clear. But Hastur’s marked my person—I mean, he has good taste, obviously—but I don’t trust him. He actually has a body to work with.] John growled a little.

Arthur was used to weird noises from his passenger during these times, and ignored it. “Gotta… gotta slow a bit.”

“Sure.” Parker relented, though his “slow” was still aggravatingly hoppy, as if he had to keep his heart rate up and just walking wouldn’t do it. “You sound like a damned broken bellows.”

Arthur raised his middle finger. Parker laughed.

[Maybe that isn’t such a bad thing, that he’s marked,] Sunny said. [Hastur does appear to care for him. Perhaps not in the past, judging by what we heard, but certainly now.] Sunny let out a thoughtful sound. [I mean, assuming that Arthur isn’t too hung up on the idea of bodies in general, I think you’re safe; you do have a hand, after all.]

[And a foot. Up to the knee, actually.] John wasn’t boasting. He recited this with the unselfconscious pride of a child. [Not that it’s been worth much. When I try to take over that thing, we just fall down.] A beat. [Sometimes pretty hard.] Another beat. [We’ve fallen in a lot of holes.]

[What is it with that man and holes?] Sunny laughed. [I didn’t have anything but his eyes. That’s probably for the best.]

[Ha! My person doesn’t know how to take care of himself. He needs me.] John would preen, if he could. [It’s a miracle he’s alive at all. Anyway, I’ve decided the poetry will happen, and maybe… a song. We’ll see. I’m torn because…] He stopped.

[You can tell me.] Sunny’s voice was gentle. [I mean, you didn’t laugh at me before.]

“Sounding better,” Parker said.

“Just another minute,” Arthur whined.

Parker turned and glanced back. “Dis is tapping her foot.”

“She is?” Arthur sighed. “Fuck. Fuuuuuuck. Fuck!” He picked up the pace.

John let the silence stretch for a moment, hesitating. [It’s… it might be… bad?]

Sunny��s voice gentled. [You can tell me, John. I think… I think of everybody in all of Carcosa, you and I… we share… more than anybody else, in a way. Tell me anything.]

[I still don’t feel like ‘John,’] John said quickly as though afraid the words would be condemned. [And I can’t tell him that. I can’t tell anybody. You don’t count, obviously.]

Sunny took a moment to answer. When he spoke, his voice was solemn. [I… I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I thought you had taken the name back up.]

John sighed heavily. [I use it for him. It makes him feel… I don’t know, but it means a lot to him, I guess because I chose it myself, before the poison. I say guess because he sucks at explaining really emotional things.]

[He does.] Sunny paused, weighty, the kind of pause that John had learned meant he was ruminating. [...He… he wanted me to be John when we first met, you know. Mentioned someone called Lilly and everything. When that didn’t… jog my memory, or whatever it was he was hoping for, he…] Another sigh. [...I don’t want to say he ‘gave me’ my old name. It wasn’t a good thing when he called me Yellow. It’s like he was… denying me… any of the personhood you’d earned. What I’m trying to say is I’m sorry you’re stuck with a name that doesn’t feel right. I understand that feeling. I… didn’t like my old name at all.]

John fell silent while Arthur puffed, silent while Arthur took a moment to bend over and gasp like a dying fish (“Wait! Just a fucking… come on, ”) as Parker lightly jogged around him.

“You gotta get in better shape,” said Parker.

Arthur held up his middle finger again. “Best I can.”

Parker had a look on his face John had seen; a look that said he was thinking something that made him mad, but whatever it was, Parker didn’t say it. “Gonna give you to the count of ten, then I’m carrying you like some dame in a dime novel.”

“Oh, you fucking…”

“Nine… eight… seven…”

Arthur got moving at the count of two. “I hate you all.”

“No, you don’t.” Parker sounded pleased.

[The problem is I chose this name,] said John. [But I don’t remember doing it, nor do I remember this Lilly who inspired it. I don’t know what to do because I want to give him things I’ve created, but I can’t… put that name on them. Right now. It doesn’t feel right.]

[Names can change.] Sunny let out a low, mournful sound. [I was… I was Yellow for a long time, John. Almost nine years. I hated that name, but… ‘Yellow’ isn’t gone just because I’m Sunny, now. I just… I’m not him anymore, if that makes sense. If you wanted to use a different name, until you feel like John fits—or never, if the case may be—I think that’s understandable.]

[You don’t feel like Yellow to me.] John said earnestly.

[...Really?] Sunny said, low and stunned.

[You never have, as long as I’ve known you,] John said, oblivious to the profundity of his words.

“Fuck this,” said Arthur, interrupting the moment.

“Come on,” said Parker more gently, pulling him up. “Is it really that bad?”

“Stitch in my side won’t go away.”

“All right. We’ll walk the rest of the day. Fuck Dis,” said Parker, who could tell the difference between whining Arthur and exhausted Arthur. “Honestly? It’s fuckin’ amazing you can do this blind.”

“I’m not blind, though,” said Arthur. “Not really. I have John.”

[See? See? What in fuck do I do with that? I can’t take that name from him!]

[He doesn’t know any better.] Sunny’s voice was gentle. [I mean, you’re right: the name ‘John’ is important to him. It represents a lot. But it’s just a name. You’re still important, even if you don’t feel like being called that; and he loves you. That’s not going to change because you’ve decided to call yourself James or Fitzwilliam or something.]

John went quiet for a moment. [How are you so wise?] He asked, almost suspicious.

[Probably the eight years being called a name I hated by a person who also hated me,] Sunny said dryly. [Personally, I don’t recommend it. I feel like I’ve learned more in the… oh, year and a half or so I’ve been with Parker than I did in all of that time.]

John let out a deep, pleased rumble. [Are you sure you don’t want your praises sung properly before the court? I still think you should be.]

[If word gets out that Hastur has a Forgotten One, he’ll look weak,] Sunny said, which was not an answer at all. [It’s safer for all of us—me, you, Parker, Arthur, Hastur, Faroe—if I stay hidden. Besides, it would be silly to do so if I’m going to rejoin with Hastur in five years or so.]

John sighed. That was a whole topic he didn’t like, so he moved along. [What do you think I should call myself?] he said.

Sunny considered. [Do you feel like human names? Or is that too close to John?]

[I don’t think I want a human name, no. Even if it’s just for me, and I don’t tell Arthur. I’m not human.] He hesitated. [I still think of myself as the King in Yellow. But that obviously won’t work.]

[You… you could, if you wanted to.] Sunny sounded very much like he hoped John wouldn’t want to. [You know, I could use your personal name, if you wanted. If that would help you feel more yourself.]

Arthur’s left hand formed a fist and raised into the air as if celebrating. [That’s brilliant!]

Parker eyed it.

Arthur tilted his head. “Everything good?”

Yes! said John.

Arthur shook his head. “They’re like a couple of kids in their room, scheming, while we do the real work.”

Parker snorted.

[I… I’m not brilliant,] Sunny said, baffled. [I—alright, I will. You just have to decide on one, then. And when you’re ready, you can tell Arthur and Parker, and we’ll handle it.] He rumbled. [Maybe… something in R’lyehian? Most names for our kind come from our language, you know.]

Dis had caught up. “Down to walking?”

“Yeah, he’s tapped,” said Parker.

“Good. Time to shoot,” said Dis.

“Wh-what?” said Arthur, gasping. “Now?”

“Take aim and shoot.” She shoved a bow and arrow against his chest. “Like this. Before you catch your breath. People in a fight won’t wait politely while you wheeze.”

“Ooh,” said Parker. “I like that.”

Arthur sighed. “Guess I’m outnumbered. Ready, John?”

Yes. [And yes. I agree.]

The conversation paused briefly while John directed, helping Arthur to take aim with his new bow (and how the hell Faroe made it look so easy was a mystery in itself). They’d done it with a javelin; it was a different thing with a different weapon, all while Arthur hadn’t caught his breath yet.

The breathing kept moving Arthur, throwing off their aim.

You have to breathe out and hold it. Just for a moment, while you release, or it goes off.

“Right,” said Arthur.

Yes. Yes! Straight line from the opposite shoulder. Good.

“Wow!” Parker said. “Hit the target!”

“I have a great partner,” said Arthur, warmly, and touched his left hand. “You’re a treasure, John.”

Dis took the bow. “Walk.”

Arthur did, shaking his fingers. “I’m going to need callouses.”

“I’ll join you next time,” said Parker, walking with him. “Damn, that was cool to watch.”

[Yes,] John said suddenly. [In my own tongue. Yes.]

[Well,] Sunny said, deeply pleased with himself. [I think Arthur just gave me an idea.]

[I’m all ears. Haha! I don’t have any ears,] said John.

Sunny politely chuckled. [It’s simple, snappy. Can shorten it for a nickname if you want. It’s golden, so it works even better. And, technically, Arthur gave it to you, so it has meaning.] Sunny’s voice was bright, cheerful. [What do you think of Gokar’luh?]

John went completely quiet.

Arthur’s left leg jerked, and he fell with a gasp.

Parker caught him. “Hey, careful! You okay?”

Arthur’s left arm hung limp. “John?”

I…

“John?” said Arthur again, standing.

It’s a beautiful name, John said softly..

John?

You don’t… remember. Do you.

Remember what? Sunny’s voice was puzzled. Are you alright?

A beautiful name, John said again. We… we picked that name before, Sunny. When we were one.

“Huh?” said Parker.

“John?” Arthur gripped his left hand. “What name? What’s going on?”

And John growled.

This wasn’t the playful, childish growl of before. This was deep, and angry. The kind of growl that came with destruction. We need to go in. All of us. Sunny, we need to find Hastur. This doesn’t get borne alone.

Did I do something wrong? Sunny’s voice went worried. John? I’m… I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did, but I won’t do it again.

No. You did not. John’s voice dropped. He did.

“Who did what?” said Parker. “Arthur? You know what’s going on?”

“No. I…” Arthur frowned. “I don’t understand them, and I wasn’t paying attention.”

Parker reached up and stroked his jaw. “It’s gonna be okay, bud. It’s gonna be okay.”

HASTUR! John roared, and there was magic in it, and he hadn’t warned Arthur, and maybe didn’t care.

Arthur passed out.

Parker caught him. “What the fuck?”

And maybe, in fact, it was on purpose. That’ll get his fucking attention! John snarled.

What the fuck, John? Sunny’s insubstantial breath came in panicky gasps. Why?

“What the hell is going on here?” said Dis, jogging up.

“I don’t know! John’s lost his fucking mind!” Parker said.

It was necessary, John snapped.

Parker’s jaw was set. “You’re fucking lucky I don’t have a way to deck you.”

No! Sunny yelped. No, no, don’t—don’t fight! Please, let me wake Arthur up and we can just—we can figure it out, please—

Hastur appeared, replacing air so quickly that breeze blasted them all back a step. The world went still. Sound faded out; color did, too, as though he’d put reality on pause.

He seemed huge, and he brought some kind of boundary with him—clear and pearlescent, like a soap bubble, keeping Arthur and Parker and Sunny and John in one place.

Dis was on the outside of whatever this bubble was. She mouthed, good luck, gave Parker a thumbs-up, and walked away at speed.

“Oh, shit,” Parker said quietly, staring up at him.

“Is there a reason,” Hastur said slowly, and they could both feel the rumble of his voice through the ground, “that you have chosen to hurt your host?”

Yes, said John. And first of all, he’s not fucking hurt. He’s out, because I don’t want him getting in the middle of this.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Parker was muttering.

Sunny let out a small whimper.

“In the middle of?” prompted Hastur, louder.

Gokar’luh, said John.

And Hastur… shrank?

Not exactly. But the anger evaporated like mist in the morning, the rumbling around them ceased, the looming threat just… vanished. The bubble disappeared. Birds chirped. The day was lovely.

“Ah,” said the King in Yellow.

Ah? Ah? John repeated.

Parker frowned. “Gokar’luh. I know that word. Treasure?” he said. “Uh. Buried, or…”

“You remember,” said Hastur to John. It wasn’t a question.

I remember enough. Sunny doesn’t yet. But I’m sure he will.

Arthur stirred.

Hastur rested one hand on his head and put him right back under.

Ha! said John, as if he’d been proven right.

“What in fuck is going on?” said Parker.

“I suppose it cannot be avoided,” Hastur said softly, and without any further warning, picked them both up.

Parker yipped. “Warn a guy!”

What—what don’t I remember? Sunny whispered.

“Uh. Hey. Big guy. We, uh. Are we in trouble?” said Parker.

“No,” said Hastur, and flew.

Arthur slept. Honestly, he probably needed it.

They went to Hastur’s bedroom, which was huge. Absurdly huge, though Parker knew that was for practical purposes; couldn’t get up to much with another god if it wasn’t huge in there, just practically speaking.

Sunny was quiet, but there, present, awake. Parker kept contact, fingertips on his jaw. Parker’s tongue lashed in his mouth; Sunny twisted incorporeally in his head.

Arthur snored very lightly. It was cute. Hastur laid him gently on the bed.

Answer for what you did, you coward, said John.

Instead of answering, Hastur took Arthur up again—still holding Parker—and went to a seemingly random corner in his room.

It turned out he had a little secret stash there, hidden in the wall. From it, he took something; something of spikes, something black that gleamed as if twisting light inside itself, something Parker had trouble focusing clearly on.

“What is that?” Parker said, voice low and wary.

In his head, Sunny gasped. Is… Is that a crown? Of godblood? His voice was low with shock, the disbelief clear. Hastur… what is this?

Hastur put the crown in Parker’s hands.

Parker froze. “The fuck?” he whispered. “Why does this feel familiar?”

“Go on,” said Hastur.

Parker turned it in his hands, studying, analyzing how it buzzed against his palm. “It feels like the first time Sunny cast magic through me.”

What? Said Sunny, soft and high.

“Fucking hell, Hastur, what is this?”

“That is the crown of my son.”

Parker’s eyes went huge.

Sunny was quiet.

You fucking… John started.

“Sunny… you had… you had a kid?” Parker said almost reverently.

S… son? Sunny’s voice was soft, raw and vulnerable and shocked. We… We have a son?

Had, snarled John.

And Hastur just… went there. “He was going to kill Faroe and Arthur.”

“Oh, shit,” Parker whispered. “Why was he going to do that?”

“To hurt me.”

Wh… What? Sunny sounded so small, so lost. Why would—I don’t understand.

“Was he jealous?” said Parker quietly.

“Yes,” said Hastur. “But I had driven him away long before then.” He took the crown back, handling it like the most precious thing he had; his many eyes lingered, one finger gently tracing the glassy planes of its points.

John was breathing hard. You killed him!

“I had to.”

You killed… you killed him!

“You don’t remember anything but that moment, do you?” said Hastur.

I… I had a son, Sunny whispered slowly. I had… But I don’t… His breath quickened.

“I got you,” Parker murmured. “Breathe.”

I had a son! Sunny hitched.

Parker was staring at the little hole in the wall. “What’s that in there? There’s more stuff.”

“Things.” Hastur sealed it up.

Murderer! John cried.

This had swung right out of control. Parker exhaled slowly and touched his lips.

Hastur sighed deeply. “I hadn’t planned on this today. We will go over all the facts later, including the public face we must wear about this.”

I won’t be an issue, Sunny said, his voice… broken. I don’t remember. I’m… sorry.

But you… John seemed confused that no one was rising with him in rage and shouting. But you killed him!

“I was not given a choice,” said Hastur.

“At least you got to be a father,” said Parker quietly. “Some of us’ll never get that chance. I’m sorry it went that way.”

But you… John stopped.

I’m sorry, Sunny said again.

“Don’t be.” Hastur’s voice was rough. “Arthur was there. He’ll have his own version of this to tell. Perhaps… you should all stay away from court today.”

But you… John trailed off again. In court? What, you want me to pretend this is a good thing? That you killed our son?

And Hastur bailed.

He put both humans on the bed, gently enough, and then just left . Floated out. Left them in his bedroom.

Coward! John cried after him, voice cracking, and then fell silent.

Arthur snored, the tiniest little buzzing.

Fuck me, Parker thought, and swallowed. Did this make him the responsible adult in the room? Close enough. He tried misdirection. He wriggled a little. “Now, this is a bed for a king, huh? Hey, Lester. Come on, buddy. Wake up.” He patted Arthur’s cheeks lightly.

Parker’s eyes stung, but the tears were not his own. I don’t remember. I don’t remember him, Sunny mumbled as they spilled down Parker’s cheeks. He’s… I don’t…

“Hey,” Parker said. “Sunny, it’s… you’re okay. I’m here, bud.”

I don’t remember my own son. Sunny made one small, pained keening sound.

He… he was… John stumbled. Gokar’luh was…

“Proud,” whispered Arthur. “Like Hastur without Faroe. You remembered?”

John sounded shaky. Yes, he whispered. But only the end.

“Fuck. I’m sorry.” Arthur sighed, then slid his hands over the blankets beneath him. “This isn’t our bed. Where are we?”

“Hastur’s bed, no big deal,” said Parker. “Talk.”

Arthur looked troubled. “That’s really ironic,” he said softly. “The night it all happened, we came back here. We slept in this room.”

Gods don’t sleep, John snapped as though catching him in a lie.

“Faroe and I slept. Nibbles was here, and…” Arthur sighed. “I’d better start at the end of the Games. I guess it’s time to talk about this.”

Arthur told them.

He told them about Faroe reacting to their constant bickering by running off, blaming herself.

He told them about their journey through the Dreamlands, their many adventures, always just behind her, fighting to catch up; he told them about Hastur changing—about Hastur away from the constant adoration of court. About finally finding peace, even respect, between the three of them. About the strange, simple beauty of being stuck alone on the road.

He told them Hastur’s version of events when the Oracle was cast aside.

And then he told them what the Oracle claimed.

“Oh,” said Parker, who could see it, who had always been good at seeing from all sides, and could see how everybody fucked up and there was no good or bad guy.

It was just sad. Fucking sad. He wiped his eyes, this time for himself.

Arthur struggled to describe the sound of Faroe’s throat being torn, struggled to describe the pain of his legs being snapped, of John casting magic, of the desperation to reach Nibbles and free her so Faroe could be okay.

He healed her, said John, suddenly remembering.

“He did,” said Arthur. “Or she’d be dead.” And then he had to briefly stop, shuddering and gasping for emotional control.

Parker wrapped an arm around him and hugged him tight, rubbing small circles into his back with his thumb.

Arthur turned against him and breathed against his shoulder, exhaling slowly and shakily. Finally, softly, he continued.

He told them how heroic John had been. He told them of drawing the sword from the stone.

We did? said John, awed.

“You’re incredible, John,” Arthur whispered, and meant it.

John made a choked sound and fell silent.

Arthur told them about climbing the rubble and leaping toward their enemy—how John directed him like a human javelin, how they managed to pierce Gokar’luh’s hide. “Then he ripped us off him, howling like a demon,” Arthur said, voice rough, “and he threw us so fucking hard. So hard it made my neck hurt. So hard… it was worse than falling. He threw us so hard .”

“He was trying to kill you,” Parker said, voice low and full of gravel. “Smash the both of you.”

Arthur nodded. “I don’t know this part, but I’m still sure of it,” he whispered. “I think they were both… done. They needed it to end, but they were both too fucking proud to just… end it. Or at least, Gokar’luh was. Hastur kept telling him to stop, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.”

“I think I know where this is going,” whispered Parker.

Arthur swallowed. “Gokar’luh said, ‘All this time, you could have changed… but not for me.’ After that is… he… was trying to force Hastur to kill him. I’m really certain.”

“Yeah,” said Parker, and scowled. “I swear. I swear . These fucking gods pretend to be so different from us, but they’re not.”

“So yes,” Arthur said. “He tried to kill us. And when Hastur saved us, Gokar’luh swore he’d murder Faroe. That there was nowhere she would be safe, he said. He’d find her, and kill her. No matter how long it took. And that’s the thing about Hastur, Parker. He’s done horrible things, but he really loves my daughter. So that… Gokar’luh had found the magic button. He’d already nearly killed her once, and the threat of a repeat was just too far. So that’s when Hastur took the sword we’d made, and…”

Killed him. John took a shaking breath. Pierced both of his hearts in one strike. He knew exactly where they were, and he just—and he—

Arthur took John’s hand in his, holding it to his heart as he squeezed. “Hastur held him while… while he died. They said… Hastur said he was defeated. That Gokar’luh had won. And… that he loved him. I think f,or what it was, it couldn’t have gone any other way, but it could have been… so much worse.”

Parker wiped his eyes again. “Worse.”

“Hastur was so fucked up after that,” said Arthur. “We got Faroe, and we came home, but he was so fucked up. He was like a different person.” And there was no better time to say it. “I think he’s still fucked up. He’s hiding it, but he’s not okay. He hasn’t gotten better.”

“Fuck.” Parker slumped, arms on his knees. “Fuck. When was all this?”

And perhaps unexpected, Arthur laughed; it was not a good sound. “The night Kayne dumped you and Sunny and Larson all into our laps and said we had to make a good show. Literally hours after, right on the stroke of midnight—Faroe’s birthday.”

Parker groaned and rolled onto his back. “Oh, fucking hell, no wonder you were bugfuck crazy. And that’s why Hastur had to…”

“Sway me. Yes.” Arthur swallowed.

Parker exhaled, puffing out his cheeks, and stretched his arms over his head onto the pillow bigger than his bathtub. “This is a big problem, fellas. A big problem.”

I’m sorry, John, Sunny whispered, the sound heart-wrenching. I didn’t… I didn’t know. I’m sorry you had… to remember, like that.

John was so quiet. I just remembered the moment, the… the moment it was too late . That’s all I had. It was too late. He was dying.

“I don’t know that remembering the context would have made it better,” Arthur said quietly. “You were so angry at Hastur afterward. You were for a long time.”

I am angry now, John said. Fuck. But I don’t know what I would have done in his place.

“Wait a second,” said Parker. “That can’t be the same Oracle they were all laughing about Hastur smashing in court. Tell me it’s not the same one, Arthur.”

Arthur sighed slowly. “If Hastur looks weak, if it becomes known how he reacted to threat against Faroe, if any of this gets out… we all get a target painted right on our fucking faces. Especially Faroe. She’s the most vulnerable, and he won’t risk that. For all his awful qualities… he’ll never risk her .”

Fuck this place. Fuck it. Fuck!

Parker let out a sigh. “That’s just mobsters for you. They show weakness, someone’s gonna come gunnin’ for that as hard as they can. You got targeted ‘cause he’s been calling you his kid, John, and that’s not a weak position.”

John paused. I know that. Though it sounded like it hadn’t fully sunk in until now. And Faroe is… a child . I can see why we must… defer attention.

“Faroe stays safe.” Arthur’s tone was grim, final. “Period. I’m united with him on that.”

Yes, yes, I know, said John, because they’d been over this loads of times.

“I fucking mean it,” Arthur actually snarled. “Whatever has to happen for her to be safe, it’s happening. ”

“Ain’t no one arguing that,” Parker said gently. “It’s okay, English. For once, everyone’s in agreement.”

Arthur calmed.

Parker climbed out of the bed, stood, and held open his arms. “Come ‘ere, English. This’s for you too, John. And you, sunshine.”

Arthur needed it. Sore, slow, he climbed out of the bed, following Parker’s voice, and accepted a hug so tight it made his bones crack. He exhaled slowly, tension draining. “John, I’m so sorry you remembered this way.”

John hesitated. At least I remembered when we weren’t in public view. I don’t think I could’ve… maintained myself if this had happened in court, or something.

You’re not upset with me, are you? Sunny’s voice was so small.

John grunted. No. Why would I be upset with you? You helped me. You’re the wisest person I know. I trust you.

This… has hurt you. It was my doing, however unintentional. Sunny’s voice was subdued. I am… It is… It’s a relief to know you don’t hold it against me. I’m sorry it happened, but I’m… I’m glad you’re here.

Parker smiled, giving Arthur another tight squeeze before letting go, and he turned away. “You alright, partner?” he asked, voice quiet.

I… don’t know, Sunny replied in his own whisper. Could we stay a bit longer?

Parker smiled, touching his lips.

John? Could… could Parker and I stay a bit longer?

I’d prefer it if you did. We need the wisdom.

Arthur snorted softly, but didn’t seem really dismissive. “Yeah. Wisdom. I can’t say we don’t need it.” He got back on the bed (well, climbed onto it), and sat with his arms around his knees.

I don’t know that I’m up for any more wisdom today, Sunny said, quietly.

Just be you . John was so sure of this.

Arthur closed his eyes and leaned forward.

Parker hesitated just a little, then put his arm around Arthur’s shoulders.

Sunny took a shuddering breath, and began to speak.

This is my son that you have taken, Guard lest your gold-vault walls be shaken, Never again to speak or waken.

This, that I gave my life to make, This you have bidden the vultures break— Dead for your selfish quarrel’s sake!

This that I built all of my years, Made with my strength and love and tears, Dead for pride of your shining spears!

Just for your playthings bought and sold You have crushed to a heap of mold Youth and life worth a whole world’s gold—

This was my son, that you have taken, Guard lest your gold-vault walls be shaken— This—that shall never speak or waken.

John let out a soft sob.

Arthur took a shuddering breath, letting John’s tears fall onto Parker’s shoulder—and, head down, he responded.

“Do not stand By my grave, and weep, I am not there, I do not sleep—

I am the thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints in snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain, I am the gentle, autumn rain. As you awake with morning's hush, I am the swift, up-flinging rush Of quiet birds in circling flight. I am the day transcending night.

Do not stand By my grave, and cry— I am not there, I did not die.”

Fuck you both, John choked out.

Sunny laughed, voice thick with tears; in a moment John joined him, the two bass voices rising and falling with their sobs and laughs. Arthur held Parker tight, face buried against his shoulder, and Parker held all three of them as best he could until they grew quiet and still.

-------

Notes:

Sunny's Poem: A Mother To The War-Makers Arthur's Poem: Immortality (Do Not Stand By My Grave And Weep) Kraiva would like to dedicate this fic to IchthyOccult, who has been dutifully reminding everyone of how neither John nor Sunny knew their son was dead since John lost his memories. You're a little freak, Ichthy, and I love you.

#malevolent #surrogate series #surrogate fic #malevolent fic #malevolent au #arthur lester #parker yang #sunny | yellow malevolent #hastur malevolent

14 notes · View notes

thesmutalorian · 5 months

Note

Oh bro, scarlex #4evaaa 😤😤 (the ART for that pairing bro lmao, I love women for their weird passions so much). I am considering an AO3 account purely to do a chapter by chapter review/commentary for you lololol. I probably should just do it, the whole reason I haven’t is some teenage-born fear of the cops somehow interrogating me for some unrelated shit (????) and this sort of tomfoolery comes up bc they’ve seen my phone shit and next thing you know, dateline has me on blast for my risqué reading tastes smh 😔 it does not make sense in any way (like gorl it’s too late for your online trail, you’re already ruined) and I need to get over myself lmao

and no need to apologize for not writing his POV, you gotta do what you gotta do, bro. But I share the sentiment of “oh this absolute biTCH BOI” when I read his thoughts Lmfao. Friggy’s lack of a part 2 was devastating. I am unwell over it. I need Allison to have some goddamn agency. I have since branched out in my search and looked at ffn for content 🙂 which brings me to my next questiooooon, have you read a story called Cold Hands? It’s the first of a 3 part series, and although the premise had me kinda like ehhhh, I think it’s pretty good! I’m only just in the second part, but it’s a good time.

I would actually die if I had to interact with murder crab men tbh. It couldn’t be me, would simply perish of fright, so I’m glad you understand LOL.

Bro the space pond- that shit was delightful. I ENJOYED that, like Charlie needed a win and now she has a little spa/swimming pool/ oasis situation she’ll hopefully get more access to 😎 the tail, shit, I’m about here like 👀what that tail do👀👀

You should definitely feel free to post from that board of ta’kesh 👀 I am curious. also, finding out you are into mando is so funny when seeing the similarities between mandalorians and Yautjas 💀💀💀that shit killed me, I was like this woman knows what she’s about!

I look forward to more good soup 😊

me reading your play by play if you do (but also I understand cause I’ll cry if I’m ever traditionally published and someone’s like ‘hey did you write about fcking the predator’)

I haven’t heard of cold hands but now I wanna check it out!!

the tail do {redacted} ☺️ and yes mando (read masked men) in general really do it for me — probably has to do w years of trying to decipher and cater to others’ emotional swings and loving the idea of Not that🤪 and then them being absolutely ruled by a strict code that they then twist or break for the sake of affection????? BROOOO SIGN ME TF UPPPPP 😤👏🏼 💳💳💥💥

(I forgot to drop fanart, none of it is mine just Pinterest sourced and I’d tag them if I knew)

*update* wonderful @predatorperspective said these are from

creature13, xenogardian and crispy-ghee 🫡

#yautja #answered #ao3 #fanfic #close quarters

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flyingraijin · 2 years

Text

successful.

Pairing: Atsumu Miya x fem!reader

Word Count: 7355

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive jokes, Atsumu is a little shit, Osamu does actually care about his brother, all characters are 18+

Series masterlist + ao3

You spend the rest of the day avoiding Atsumu, Suna and the rest of the boy's volleyball team like the plague. After your incredibly public and therefore incredibly embarrassing confirmation earlier this morning that you were agreeing to Atsumu's proposal- not that's anyone but you and Atsumu know that's was that was - you'd all but sprinted out of the gym with a face that felt like it was steaming and absolute mortification burning in your gut.

It wasn't any surprise that the rest of the volleyball team had been stunned by what happened. They all knew you well enough through your relationship with Suna, but, while the two of you had been together for over a year, you had never shown much PDA around any of them. Kissing Atsumu right on the mouth was far more scandalous than anything you'd done publicly with Suna before, and you're sure the fact that it was Atsumu didn't help at all. Thank god Atsumu had understood your meaning exactly and played it off very well, calling you "princess" and "baby" in a sickeningly sweet voice and then waving you off with a yell of, "Don't miss me too much!" Honestly, you realise now that you owe him a lot. The kiss you'd given him was completely unwarranted - there were so many other ways you could have communicated to him that you were in on the plan. However, in the moment, you were so full of adrenaline and nerves that you didn't think, and Atsumu had taken the brunt of it all spectacularly.

With how full of gossip most of the kouhai on the volleyball team are, you have no doubt that this new development will spread through the school like wildfire, and hopefully solidify the fact that you and Atsumu are together. Which satisfies you at first, however, as the day progresses, you start to realise you should probably have discussed with this Atsumu a little more before you did anything so drastic.

Because people have questions.

You're able to brush off most of what people ask you in the hallways, avoiding each question by ducking out of the way or using Hinami as a shield. However, you aren't able to avoid the rapid-fire of queries from Hinami herself who, after hearing about your earlier kiss with Atsumu, isn't able to hold off her curiosity any longer.

"Girl," she says to you as the pair of you sit down at one of the tables outside during your lunch break - the cafeteria had been far too crowded and too full of staring eyes, so you'd forgone your usual seating plan to move outside. "You've gotta tell me what going on! Everyone is talking about you!"

You let out a low groan and run a hand over your face. "Yeah," you mumble out, trying to buy yourself some time with the facade of being overwhelmed. You'll need to think up a story, and fast, if you're going to make this work. "I'm sorry. It's all just been… a lot."

Hinami raises an eyebrow. "I can tell. You've been frazzled today."

"It's a big adjustment," you explain to her. "I never thought people would care as much as they do."

"So you are actually dating Miya Atsumu."

You cringe at the accusation but force yourself to nod anyway. Hinami lets out a snort.

"Wow, you certainly seem enthusiastic," she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. You backtrack immediately.

"I-it's not like that, I'm just… overwhelmed?"

It comes out as more of a timid question than an explanation, but thankfully Hinami doesn't seem to notice as she launches into a new set of questions.

"So how long has this been going on? And what about Suna, I thought you weren't over him? Is this like a rebound? Ohmygod, are you using Miya Atsumu as your rebound boyfriend?"

You wave your hands, trying to slow her down a little. "Woah, okay. First, this hasn't been going on long at all. Only since that party over the weekend! Second, I don't know what's going on with Suna. I don't think I'm entirely over him but he's made it pretty clear there's nothing left to be said between us so I figured it was time to move on. And third, no, I don't think Atsumu is a rebound." You have to make a very deliberate effort to keep your voice stable as you say, "I do actually like him."

"Girl, you need to explain from the beginning," Hinami tells you before shoving a chunk of rice into her mouth. "Go on, right from the start! I need every detail."

You know you're trapped. And it's in this moment that you really regret not actually talking properly to Atsumu about how the details of this whole situation would work. So you're forced to do the only thing possible in this situation; you lie.

"Well," you start, slowly, giving yourself time to let the story unfold in your own head. "I knew him through Suna, right. And we didn't really ever talk much in person, because he puts up this whole attitude of being kind of a douche, which you know I'm really not into. But we ended up texting a bit - o-obviously it was all friendly, nothing flirty or anything because I was still dating Suna at the time! But I got to know him a little better through there and I realised that I kinda liked him. Only as a friend, of course! But then, two weeks ago, after Suna broke up with me, Atsumu reached out to check if I was okay. And we started taking more and more. And then at the party, we were dancing and things just sort of happened. A-and we kissed. And then over the rest of the weekend, we texted more and he asked me out on Sunday. We both really wanted to keep it quiet, since things are still tense between me and Suna, but then I got to school yesterday and everyone knew so… yeah."

Hinami splutters through her rice, looking incredulous. "And you didn't saying anything to me the whole time?!"

Immediately, you feel guilty. "I wanted to!" You say quickly, reaching out to grab her wrist. "I promise I really wanted to. It was so hard keep it all a secret. But Atsumu…" you drop your head and then lean in a little closer, as the corner of your mouth twitches up. "Well, just between us, he's a huge softy and he want to keep things a secret because he didn't want his reputation around school getting ruined."

Hinami gives you a look through narrowed eyes and for one heart-stopping moment you think she might've seen right through you. You've never been the best actress, especially when it comes to real things in your own life, and you're suddenly terrified she's going to call you on your bullshit.

But then her shoulders slump and she lets out a huff of air before crossing her arms over her chest. "Ugh, fine, I'll accept that. But no more secrets from now on, okay!"

You nod at her. "Of course. I've already told Atsumu that now that everyone else knows, just not fair to keep you in the dark anymore. So no more secrets!"

Hinami reaches out her pinky towards you, something the pair of you have done since you first met. "Swear on it?"

You hook your pinky through hers. "I swear on it," you reply to her, squeezing her finger. "No more secrets."

In that moment, try as you knight, you can't meet her eyes. The guilty is too heavy on your heart.

When lunch break ends and you head back inside with Hinami, you make a concise decision that you need need talk to Atsumu. Properly. In depth. With Hinami asking for all the details of you'd relationship, you've come to see that there are a lot of creases in your story that need ironing out. And you need to agree with Atsumu on these because, in order for things to be believable, your stories have to match up.

Duh.

At first, you consider trying to find him in person. But then you realise that you have absolutely no idea where to even start looking, since you don't even know which class he's in. And there's absolutely no way you're walking into his volleyball practice this afternoon, not after the fiasco that was the early morning practice. Plus, you doubt the team will be happy if you pull him away and disrupt their progress… again.

It's after going over all this, that you come to the conclusion that you need to text him. Only, as you only realise once you're home at the end of the day and are searching through your contacts on your phone, you do not have his number.

Which is real fucking shame, because you have the number of literally every other member of the volleyball team, even the upperclassmen who'd graduated at the end of last year like Kita-san and Ojiro-san.

As you sit cross legged on your bed, glowering down at your phone, you consider for a moment texting one of the other team members - most likely Osamu- to ask for Atsumu's number.

But then you slap you own hand against your forehead pretty violently as you remember that they all think you're dating Atsumu. And it'd be hella suspicious if you didn't have his number by now.

Idiot , you tell yourself angrily as you collapse backwards onto your bed. Fucking idiot .

You're well and truly stumped now. Because the only obvious answer for you now is to wait until tomorrow so you can find Atsumu at school and speak to him then.

Realistically, it's not like you'll be able to see him any sooner than tomorrow anyway. But for some reason, the idea of having to set the entire thing up while at school makes you incredibly anxious. There's so much that could go wrong, not the mention the fact that this conversation you need to have, it's a pretty serious one. That will undoubtedly take up a lot of time that you don't think either of you will have at school.

Frustratedly, you drop your phone beside you on your bed covers and then raise your hands up to rub furiously at your eyes. You feel like you've aged several years in the past few days; you wouldn't be surprised if you found a grey hair sprouting one of these days. It's been such a stress, even when you didn't fully realise all the implications, and you're not entirely sure how you'll sort this entire mess out. For the moment, it feels more like you've just dropped a match onto a pile of sticks in the middle of a dry grass field, and are just hoping that nothing else catches alight.

Which really isn't a good feeling. Not at all.

You're just about ready to give up and start on your school work when all of a sudden your phone vibrates violently beside you. It startles you and you jump up in response, heart pounding as for a moment your eyes dart around your room in panic. Then you mentally slap yourself and reach over to pick up the phone again, glowering at it as the screen lights up.

You've got a new notification for a text message. And it's not from a number you have listed in your contacts.

Frowning, you unlock your phone and open the new chat. Your eyes narrow as you scan over the message, and then a weird bubble of what feels like it could be a laugh or a groan rolls up your throat. There's no name to attach to the message but the tone is obvious.

Unknown number:

Hey princess ;)

A huff of air leaves your nose as you snort to yourself, shaking your head at you phone screen. Your fingers are practically a blur when you go to type back.

You:

How did you get my number???

The response is instant, like Atsumu is sitting on the other side of the conversation waiting for your message.

Unknown number:

Had it 4 a while. The head of ur photography club gave it 2 us the first time u photographed one of our matches

You:

Why tf would she do that?

Unknown number:

Idk

You roll your eyes, a make a mental note to be nice to Matsui during your next club meeting. Inadvertently, she's just saved you a lot of trouble, even if you don't happen to like it very much.

When you look back down at you phone, you see Atsumu has sent another message

Unknown number:

Sad I didn't reach out 2 u b4? ;)

You:

Lol, you wish

Unknown number:

Ur so mean, princess.

Dw, I only kept quiet cuz of rinrin. I wasn't ignoring u <;3

You:

Fuck off

Unknown Number:

Ooh spicy ;p

You can't help but let out a snort of laughter. You'll give Atsumu one thing, he's relentless in everything he does. And while it's annoying as all hell, it can be entertaining as well.

Unknown number:

So wut u up 2?

You:

Better things than talking to u

Unknown number:

Ur so mean to me

You:

Ofc x

Actually, I need to talk to you

Unknown number:

Aren't we doing that right now?

You:

In person, idiot

We need to discuss this whole thing

Set up some boundaries

Unknown number:

U gonna draft me a whole legal contract?

You:

Your jaw clenches a little in frustration and roll your eyes.

You:

We just need to come up with a proper story

Hinami asked me a whole lot of questions today and I had to think up answers on the spot. It was stressful.

Unknown number:

Hinami?

You roll your eyes again, even harder this time.

You:

She's my best friend

See, you need to know this kind of stuff

Otherwise no one is gonna buy it

Unknown number:

Alright, I get it

U wanna meet up tmrw?

You:

Yea

When are you free?

Unknown number

Uhhhh

I don't have morning practice so I could walk u 2 school?

Your eyes widen at his question and your jaw drops a little. That's… well, in the grand scheme of things, it's really not a big of a deal. But for some reason, the idea of Atsumu walking you to school seems very… intimate.

You:

Wouldn't you have to go outta your way?

I don't want to make you walk halfway across town just cuz

You half expect him to agree with you and suggest something else. From what you know, your house isn't that close to the Miya house - not that you even know the exact location of where they live. And Atsumu never goes out of his way for anyone, especially not some random girl he barely knows.

However, as he seems to have made his personal mission over these last few days, his reply surprises you.

Unknown number:

Nah, it's all good.

Walking a little further than usual will compensate for not doing morning practice

That… makes sense. But you can help but feel like it's just an excuse.

Still, you choose not to say anything and instead begin typing back.

You:

Okay, if ur sure

I'll text you my address and you can meet me here at 7:30?

Unknown number:

Sounds good

See u then, princess ;)

You don't grace him with a reply back, too exasperated with his overly audacious attitude even in a text conversation. For a moment, you just stare down at your phone, taking in the conversation. Then your finger slips to the power button and you almost shut the thing off, finally ready to get started on your homework.

However something stops you, and after another moment of hesitation, you copy Atsumu's number and put it into a new contact.

At first you name it 'Miya'. But then you realise that Osamu's name in your contacts is exactly that too and so you backspace and type in 'Atsumu' instead.

For a moment, you stare at it, taking in the shape of each character. And then, as if as in an after though, you add a heart emoji beside it.

With that you save the contact and the switch you phone off, and then throw it to the otherwise of the bed. It's just for effect, you tell yourself and you climb to your feet and cross the room to your desk. Only for effect.

It feels oddly like you're trying to convince yourself as you flip open your biology textbook and get started on the digestive system.

Much to your surprise, Atsumu is waiting right outside your house when you open the front door the next morning. You’d half expected him to be late, despite specifying a time for him to get here, but no. In fact, he’s here early.

He greets you with his usual confident grin as you step out of your front gate and into the road. “G’mornin'.”

You barely give him a head nod in reply, too tired for your usual attitude. You’d been up again for most of last night worrying, nervous about seeing Atsumu and what you’d need to say to him. And, since after discussing the details of your… arrangement today, you felt like once you got to school later on, your relationship with Atsumu would start in earnest.

“Hello,” you tell him bluntly as you fall into step beside hm and the pair of you begin to make your way up the road. Atsumu lets out a hefty snort at the rough grumble of your voice.

“Well, ain't ya just full of sunshine this mornin'.”

You give him a glare out of the corner of your eye and then have to smother a yawn with your hand. “I’m just tired. My mom has banned coffee in our house so I think O’m going into withdrawal.”

Atsumu chuckles at the scowl on your face and reaches one arm over so he can ruffle up your hair. “Aww, that’s cute.”

You smack his hand away immediately. “My pain in cute to you?”

“Kinda,” he responds without missing a beat, just shrugging one shoulder nonchalantly. The corner of his mouth twitches. “Yer eyes are all droopy and yer moving like a sloth… adorable!”

You smack at him again, this time hitting his shoulder, and he jumps away from you, immediately going to rub at it. “Okay okay, I’ll stop. Just no more violence.”

You roll your eyes and let out a huff through your nose. Then you gaze flicks back to him, and then around him. One of your eyebrows quirks upwards curiously.

“Where’s your other half? You two walk to school together, right?”

Atsumu nods mildly. “Usually, yeah. But I scared him off today. Told him I wanted some alone time with my girlfriend .” He throws one arm over your shoulder when he says it, pulling you into him. And then letting out a bark of laughter at the look of disgust you shoot in his direction.

“Yeah, we need to talk about that,” you say to him, grabbing at his forearm to force it over your head once again and so free yourself from his grip. “We need to set some things straight.”

“‘M all ears,” Atsumu replies, and for emphasis he cups his hands behind his ears. You roll your eyes again and shake your head at him.

“First,” you tell him seriously, “we need to have a story. I had to make up a whole lot of shit on the spot yesterday when my best friend started asking for details, and I’m really bad at that so we need to understand exactly where we stand and how we got together.”

Atsumu nods, understanding. “So what did ya tell her?”

When you recount the tale you'd given to Hinami, you make sure to watch Atsumu's face for any signs of conflict or otherwise displeasure. It’d be a disaster if something you’d said to Hinami were to be contradicted by something else Atsumu had going on at the time, since you don’t know how you’d be able to go back on any of the details. Thankfully, Atsumu doesn’t seem to have any objections.

“That sounds okay,” he says when you’ve finished, looking down at the ground as he seem to go over the details in his head. “So it’s not like ya cheated on Sunarin or anythin'?”

You give him an incredulous look. “Of course not! Remember, this is about showing him what he’s missing, not making him hate me any more than he already does.”

“I doubt he hates you,” Atsumu points out. You can’t find it in yourself to agree with him just yet, in the case of mistakenly getting your own hopes up. Instead, you quickly move on.

“Also,” you say,” there need to be some boundaries in terms of… physical affection.”

Atsumu looks up at you, and theres a sparkle in his eyes that has you backing up instantly. Accusingly, you point a finger at him. “I am not ,” you say very firmly, “going to so anything remotely sexual with you.”

Atsumu opens his mouth, possibly to protest, but you shut him up immediately with a very sharp glare and continue talking, giving him no room to butt in. “Kissing is okay,” you clarify. “But only if it's for the sake of making things believable. We will not be making out in every possible corner we can find, understood?”

One of Atsumu’s eyebrows quirks at the way you seem to talk to him as if he’s a toddler. However, eventually, he just gives you a nod in understanding. “Alright.” Then he cocks his head to the side a little and gives you a knowing look. “Although, ya should remember that with both times we’ve kissed you were the one who initiated it.”

Your cheeks flare with heat as you realise he’s completely correct. It wouldn’t even be stretch to say you’d forced him into both kisses the pair of you had shared, which, granted, does make you feel guilty every time you think of them. However, since Atsumu hasn't shown any objection to it, you push it out of your mind again.

“Both of those were justified,” you say to him as calmly as you can, trying to end this particular thread of conversation and move on to a different topic. Atsumu, however, doesn’t seem to want to drop it just yet.

“Yeah, but I didn’t agree to them,” he says, wiggling his eyes. “Not that I didn’t enjoy ‘em. Buuuuuut….” he then fixes you with a very devious expression that gives you a sinking feeling in your gut. “I think for compensation, you should allow me two free kisses of my own.”

Immediately you open your mouth to protest, but Atsumu manages to cut you off by raising his hands defensively. “I’m not gonna be a perv about it!” he assures you, quelling your worries immediately. “Honesty. Just… two free kisses. To make up for the two ya landed on me.”

You allow your mouth to close as you give him a very long, suspicious look. He seems sincere enough. And if you think about it, if the kiss he wants are equal to those you’d given him so far, it’s highly doubtful he’d find a way to abuse them in order to get anything overtly sexual out of you. And it’s not like he’s asking for two free goes at whatever he wants, they are just kisses after all.

So, you eventually sigh and nod in agreement. “Alright. But only two, and once they’re gone, they're gone, alright?”

“Alright,” Atsumu agrees. He shoots you a cheeky smile. “Any other rules you wanna establish?”

“We need to be seen together,” you tell him. “If the point of this is to ward off your fan girls, and get Rin to regret breaking up with me, we need to make it public. So we should probably eat lunch together sometimes. And arrive at school at the same time, so it looks like we walked together.”

“You could come to all my volleyball matches,” Atsumu cuts in to suggest. You shake your head.

“I already go to all the official games for photography club duties though, so it wouldn’t do much.”

“No, I mean all my matches,” Atsumu says. “That means official and practice matches. A lot of the fans of the volleyball team come to the practice matches because they don’t have to buy tickets to watch, so you definitely have to be there.” He gives you a wink. “Supportive girlfriend duties, obviously.”

You glower at hm. “Rin never made me come to the practice matches.”

“Well, I ain’t Rin,” Atsumu shoots back. Then he pouts. “C’mon, the point is showin' Suna how much happier ya are now, right? Don’t ya think it’d look really bad for him if ya started comin' to the practice matches now that you’re datin' me?”

He’s right, frustratingly. Suna had never asked you to come to his practice matches or practices in general. He’d said it was because it’d be a waste pf time for you to come, since Inarizaki won almost everything anyway, however you’d always had an extra sneaking suspicion it was because he didn’t like the extra attention. You also had never made an added effort to, since you figured he didn’t want you there. But if you started coming to watch to see Atsumu… well, that’d probably get to Suna.

An idea sparks in your mind and you turn to look Atsumu. “Okay. Could I come to your practices too?”

He looks a little surprised by your sudden eagerness but shrugs nonchalantly anyway. “Course, s’long as ya don’t disrupt things. Coach probably wouldn't be too happy with that.”

“Of course I wouldn’t,” you tell him. “I’d just… sit in the stands and study or something. It’d be just for me to be there, you know?”

Atsumu flashes you a smile. “Yeah, I get it.” Then he leans in, eyes sparkling. “Ya know what, I think I’d like it id you came to watch our practices. 'Means I’d have an extra excuse to show off.”

You shove his face away, scowling. “You’re such a jackass.” He only cackles with laughter in response.

There’s a moment of silence then, as you think over everything that’s just been agreed. It seems like most of your bases are covered, although it has all been mostly you setting the boundaries. Feeling a little guilty, you shoot Atsumu a sideways glance.

“Is there anything you wanna say?”

“Hm?” he asks, looking up from where he seemed to have been staring at his shoes. You roll your eyes.

“I mean in terms of the agreement,” you tell him in exasperation. “Any boundaries or rules you want to set?”

“Oh.” Atsumu’s face scrunches up for a second, as he seems to think very hard about your question. Then his expression lights up again. “ Oh! You need to be my date to all the celebration parties that the volleyball team throws.”

You face immediately falls. After the last party you went you, you’d kind of sworn off going to big social gatherings for a while, figuring if you didn't put yourself in the position to have your whole life screwed up again, things wouldn’t go as wrong. Atsumu seems to notice your hesitance, though, and jumps in immediately.

“It would look really suspicious if you didn’t come,” he points out. “Plus, the volleyball parties are usually a lot smaller; players and dates only. And Suna will definitely be at most of them.”

You purse your lips, thinking for a second. Then you let out a soft sigh. “Fine. But you had better stay with me the whole time then. No abandoning me to go hook up with random girls in the bathroom!”

Atsumu puts a hand on his chest, looking incredibly offended. “What kinda dickwad to ya think I am?” he asks, incredulous. “I’d never treat my girl that way!”

You roll your eyes, though it's with slightly more endearment this time. And you don't duck away when he reaches for you to ruffle up your hair again.

“I promise,” he tells you, sliding his arm over your shoulder. “I won’t abandon ya. You can even handcuff me to yer wrist it ya wanna.”

Your nose crunches a little as you make a face at him, and then you shove him away again. “Okay, let's not go that far, weirdo.” But your voice is warm and when you glance up at him out of the corner of your eyes, you can see that he’s smiling too.

By now, the pair of you are approaching the Inarizaki High School campus. Already in the distance you can see other students walking towards the large gates, and after taking one last deep breath to prepare yourself, you shift a little close to Atsumu.

“Wanna hold my hand?”

Atsumu positively beams down at you, seeming to take far too much glee from the innocent suggestion. However, you can’t help but smile a little at the eagerness with which he reaches out to grab your hand. His palm is incredibly warm as it presses against yours and you can feel the calluses that cover his skin from countless hours of volleyball prcatice when he laces with fingers with your own. You don't mind though, you don’t even flinch at all, far too distracted by the way your hands seem to fit together like puzzle pieces. Whenever you’d held Suna’s hand, it’d always been in when you were alone, in deserted place where no one could see the pair of you being affectionate. And it had always been a little awkward, like neither of you really understood how your fingers were supposed to fit together.

This feels nothing like that. You chalk it up to the fact that Atsumu probably has more experience than Suna with girls and affection in general. But his hand… it feels really nice against yours. And you can’t help but tighten your grip and squeeze just a little as the pair of you step through the school gates, suddenly filled with a rush of anticipation and excitement.

For the first time since this whole thing started, you get the feeling that things might not actually be so bad.

Atsumu walks you right to the door of your classroom that morning. Once you get on campus, the pair if you make an effort to talk about casual things and, to your great surprise and by total coincidence, you find the the pair of you have a very similar music taste. Not that it has much relevance at all to your day to day life, and the information you end up exchanging back and forth about your favourite bands is completely useless. But it's nice to find some common ground with Atsumu, even if it is something as random as a few songs, and helps you get the feeling that despite the fact that this relationship is fake, the pair of you may still be able to get along as friends.

You're actually giggling by the time you arrive arrive your classroom, with Atsumu sporting a bright smile of his own. The few people around - it's still early so the hallways aren't completely packed yet, thank goodness- do send the pair of you a couple of questioning looks, obviously curious at seeing you together. And for the most part, you try to ignore them. When you come to the floor of your classroom, you finally go to pull away from Atsumu, dropping his hand for the first time since you'd grabbed it outside of school.

You turn to him, suddenly feeling a little shy as you notice just how many people are watching the pair of you by now.

"Well," you start awkwardly, scratching at the back of your head. "I'll see you around, yeah?"

Atsumu winks cheekily at you, reaching out to brush a strand of your hair back from your face. You try to act causal as he tucks it gently behind your ear.

"Of course," he tells you, making an obvious show of his affection - you can't help but think he's eating up all the attention, fucking bastard. "See you around, princess."

And then before you even know what going on, he leans forward and presses a very sweet kiss to your cheek.

It's doesn't even last a full second and yet you feel completely winded when he pulls back. And he seems to know this because as he steps away and then begins to turn, you don't miss the smirk that's spreading across his face.

Your cheeks burn. Fucking bastard .

Then you turn and dive inside your classroom and away from what feels like the millions of shocked eyes that are staring at you in wake of what just happened.

Everyone is talking about you for the rest of the day. It’s even worse than it was on Monday or Tuesday because now it’s like everyone knows exactly who you are and what you’ve been doing with your life for the past couple of years. You hear whispers about Atsumu as you walk the school halls with Hinami. You hear whispers about Suna, about the rest of the volleyball team, about Osamu, even about your former upperclassman on the team who’d graduated already. All now linked to you. More rumours are spreading, ones that really don’t have any credibility, and there are a number of times you're tempted to spin round and point out someone in the hallways who you pick up on telling an outright lie. Hinami stops you though, keeping a tight grip on your arm and guiding you away from any compromising situations. She seems to have recovered from the saltiness of you not having told her about your thing with Atsumu and is now parading around with her arm linked through yours as if you’re some kind of celebrity.

“Ignore them," is what she tells you when you look round to see yet another group of Atsumu’s fangirls standing huddled in one corner, whispering behind their hands. “They’re all just jealous of you.”

You sigh and rub hard at your temples, a headache long having formed in the back of your skull. “It's even worse than before. I never thought…” you trail, trying to figure exactly what you’d assumed. Atsumu is popular, yes, but you didn’t think him getting a girlfriend would be treated like the next big scandal of the century.

Hinami shakes her head and reaches across your face to tuck your hair behind your ears. “You’ll be fine,” she assures you, smiling brightly. “C’mon girl, own it. You’ve got the man they aaaaaall want. Be proud!”

Not really, you think sulkily to yourself, ducking out the way of a younger group of girls who are also staring at you. Is this even worth it? At all?

You're cut off from your sulking very quickly, however, when you and Hinami round a corner and walk right into one of the Miya twins- thankfully, not the one you're now supposedly dating.

Osamu lets out a little noise of surprise when you just about slam into him and jumps backwards. You freeze up when you see him, you steps faltering, and for a long moment the pair of you just look at each other. Then one of Osamu's eyebrows quirks.

"Hello."

"H-hi," you reply, your voice breaking in a very embarrasing way when you do. You weakly clear your throat, dropping his gaze as your cheeks burn.

Osamu’s eyes drop for a second as he looks you up and down sceptically. Then he jerks his head a little towards the side of the hallway. “Could I… talk to ya?”

Your eyes widen. “Yeah sure!” you exclaim immediately, before flushing even more. God, why are you so awkward?!?!?!

Hinami looks between you and Osamu for a moment before nudging you a little with one elbow. “Go on, I’ll catch up with ya later, alright?” She gives you what you think is supposed to be an encouraging smile, however with the way her eyes are sparkling, she looks far too devious to give you any kind of hope. Immediately, you know she's going to be grilling you about this conversation afterwards.

Once she scurries off, you follow Osamu as he steps up to the wall, to get out of the way of the rest of the people in the hallway. For a moment, he just stares down at you, eyes narrowed and arms crossed over his chest. You struggle to meet his eyes in return, squirming uncomfortably as your mind spins with what he might want.

Is he going to call your bluff? He knows Atsumu better than everyone, he might have been able to see through the both of you. Or maybe Atsumu told him about the whole thing and he’s going to chew you out for basically forcing Atsumu into being your fake rebound after his other best friend dumped you. Not that you really forced Atsumu, since it was his idea, but since you did kiss him first, it’d probably look that way to an outsider and-

“So, is it a head injury?”

Osamu’s voice cuts off your internal rambling and you jump in surprise as you look back up at him. “E-excuse me?”

“Do ya have a head injury?” Osamu repeats, looking at you suspiciously. “Like, some kinda brain damage or somethin’?”

“Uh, no?” you reply, blinking at him in confusion. Osamu’s eyebrows furrow even further.

“Then did he pay ya?”

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stutter out, still staring. What the hell is he getting at ?

Osamu lets out a sharp huff of air and leans back a little to survey your whole body again. “‘m just tryna figure out why the hell yer datin’ ‘Tsumu,” he says then. “If ya don’t have brain damage, and he didn’t pay ya, then what reason do ya have to date him?”

You mouth drops open in shock. Oh.

“M-maybe,” you stammer out, thrown for a loop at Osamu’s interrogation. “Maybe I just like him?”

Osamu does not look convinced.

“What’s there to like?” he asks, sounding a little indignant. “He’s stubborn, immature, a huge liar and he can barely do anythin' other than volleyball!”

You blink a few times, completely stunned.

“Plus,” Osamu continues, “his hair is stupid. If ya wanted the looks, I’m obviously the better option!” He pouts. “So why him?”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was jealous. It helps to ease your shock a little and you manage a smile as you look up at him. “Aw, Osamu, are you sad I didn’t pick you?”

Osamu scowls at you. “What, no!” he looks away. “Yer not my type.”

“And you’re not mine,” you reply, letting out a soft laugh. Osamu shakes his head in response.

“Exactly,” he points out. “So why Atsumu?” Then his eyes narrow a little. “Yer not using him, are ya?”

Immediately your hands go up in defence. “What no! Of course not” Well, that’s actually a lie, but it’s not like Atsumu is using you any less . “Why do you care so much?”

Osamu’s shoulders drop and you feel your heart sink a little as a real, serious look crosses his face. Shit, you think. Is he about to call me out?

But he doesn't. Quite the opposite, actually.

“It’s just,” he starts slowly. “You and Sunarin… when ya were together, you two made so much sense. Yer both… well, you and him are the same. But ‘Tsumu… he’s not like Suna. They’re sorta opposites of each other, and I just don’t see why…” he trails off, looking at the floor for a moment. When his gaze returns to you, it’s probing, serious, and you feel a chill rush up your spine. “Look, he really seems to like you , okay? And I din’t want ya to hurt him.”

You stare up at Osamu, once again completely shocked. That was probably the last thing you’d ever expected to hear from him. Not just the part about Atsumu actully liking you (wow, he must really be laying it on thick for Osamu to actually believe that crap) but the observation about Suna too. Because, well… he’s exactly right. Atsumu is probably the furthest thing from Suna that you can get, and maybe that’s why you’d agreed to this whole fake relationship thing in the first place - because he’s the one who would hurt Suna the most. But you’d never even thought about what it might look like to an outsider.

You can see the real concern in Osamu’s eyes now. And you realise with a jolt that’s he’s genuinely worried for Atsumu. It’s sends a flash of warmth through your chest, a rush of affection, because it’s sweet. Especially considering the pair of them tend to pretend they hate each other so much.

After carefully arranging your face, you give him your softest smile. “Hey, I get it,” you start out, trying to conjure up as much raw emotion inside you as possible in the hopes of perfecting your lie. “I was surprised too because… well, the thing with Rin was really difficult. But Atsumu was there for me and it just… it just fit, ya know?” You shrug one shoulder, and for a brief moment, as you think about Atsumu, you feel a stab of genuine affection. So it’s not a total lie when you say, “He and I get on well. And I promise, I never want to hurt him, okay?” Without thinking, you reach forward to touch his shoulder, bring his gaze back to yours. “You can trust me on this one.”

Osamu gives you a long look and you have to force yourself not to drop his eyes. You hope you’ve been convincing, since apart from Suna, Osamu is probably the person most imperative in making sure this whole thing works. If he believes it, then you can trust that everyone does as well. And for long moment, you're terrified that he doesn't.

But then he lets out a soft sigh and takes a slow step back. “Alright,” he says. “I’ll trust ya.”

You smile and its full of relief. “Thank you.”

“Are ya…” Osamu starts then, scratching at the back of his neck a little awkwardly. You can tell he doesn’t quite know where to go from here, as the tension between the pair of you dissolves. “Are ya gonna come to our practice later?”

You weren’t planning too. Not today, at least. You know you’d discussed it with Atsumu but showing up so soon after establishing those rules felt a little… well, for a lack of a better word, desperate . But now, with Osamu’s eyes on you, you find yourself nodding slowly.

“Uh, yeah. N-not that”- you start, suddenly panicking -”not that I’m gonna disturb or anything!”

Osamu chuckles at you sudden worry. “I wasn’t thinkin' that,” he assures you, flashing you that classic Miya smile. “I was just wonderin’”

“Oh,” you say, embarrassed. “Okay.”

“‘Tsumu will probably be extra hyped if yer there anyway,” Osamu points out, more to himself than you. He makes a face. “Don’t encourage him too much while yer there, alright?”

“Of course not,” you tell him. Forcing a smile, you push some of your hair back from your face so you can look at him properly in the eyes. “I may be his girlfriend, but I don’t want his ego getting any bigger either.”

Osamu snorts. “Right.” He runs a hand through his grey hair, ruffling it up slightly. “Well, I see ya later then.”

“Yeah, see you,” you say back. And just like that the conversation ends and Osamu is walking away, leaving you to stare down at your own feet.

I guess I'm going to volleyball practice later, you think to yourself as your shoulders sag with a long sigh. Today is gonna be much longer than I expected .

#atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #miya atsumu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#sweetener.#💙 blue's fics

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dxncingwithastrxnger · 1 year

Text

5. i know you get me, so i let my walls come down

A/N: Chapter 5!!!! Guys, lemme tell you, I changed the events of this chapter soooooo much. Honestly, I’ve made a lot of changes to the chapters, I’ll probably be writing out some extra drabbles and scenes later on that didn’t end up in the main story, ngl. But for now, the story continues!!! I will say, the smut in this chapter was totally unplanned. At first, I didn’t want to cause I already have smut planned for both chapters 7 and 8, but this scene wasn’t that long and I figured you guys wouldn’t complain much, lmaooooo. Anyways, this chapter is pretty fun, I hope you enjoy it!!!

Pairing(s): Tristan x Lancelot, slight Nasiens x Percy

Summary: Lance’s friend group likes to spend the occasional weekend at Percy’s grandpa’s beach house over in west Britannia and this time around, they invite Tristan and his friends to come along.

Tags: Alcohol, smut, explicit sexual content, handjob, slight dom/sub dynamics, sir kink, shower sex

Song Inspiration: Teenage Dream By Katy Perry

Word Count: 4,398

Not beta’d, all mistakes are my own.

~*~

[Series Masterlist]

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9]

[Read on AO3]

[Author Masterlist]

~*~

"Percy!! We need to figure out room assignments, everyone else is gonna be here soon!!"

"Hey, does anyone know what we're gonna do for dinner?"

"Somebody better plan on restocking the pudding while we're here."

"Why don't you just do it yourself, Gawain?"

"Lance, do you think there's enough left in the kitchen for you to whip something up for everybody?"

Lance shakes his head, chuckling to himself as he sets his bag on the floor by the hallway leading to the bedrooms and heads towards the kitchen. He'd missed his friends and all the chaos that came with them. "Lemme take some stock in here and I'll see what I can do, Anne." He tells the bluette standing in the middle of the kitchen, hands on her hips.

"Oh, good. I hope there's enough, I really don't feel like going out in public again today." She admits.

"Rough week?" He questions.

"You have no idea." She groans. "I seriously needed this weekend away. Plus, it's been awhile since we've all gotten together here, I've missed it." She sighs.

Lance nods, walking over to the fridge and opening it up. "Definitely." He agrees. He grimaces at the near empty fridge and opens up the freezer instead, looking over the items inside thoughtfully. "Hey, can you look and see if there's any flour and baking powder in the cupboards?" He asks Anne over his shoulder.

He hears her move to look as he pulls out a package of frozen sausage and tosses it onto the counter, closing the freezer back up as well. "Full bag of flour and half a tin of baking powder. Little bit of sugar in here, too." She informs him.

"Alright, cool. I think I got something in mind." He says, pulling out his phone as he leans against the counter. Just gotta see if Tris is willing to make a pit stop.

'Hey, how far out are you guys?'

'About 10 min'

'Do you think you'd be willing to do me a favor?'

'Does that mean you'd "owe me one" afterwards?'

'Why of course'

'Alright, fine, what is it?'

'Stop by a store and grab some milk and butter, pretty please? Doesn't matter what kind or brand'

'Ugh, okay. Only cause I like you so much ;D'

'Thank youuuuuu. I'll make it up to you, promise'

'Oh, I know you will'

Lance snorts, pocketing his phone and looking up to find Anne staring at him with a smirk. "You talking to your new friend?"

He rolls his eyes playfully. "They'll all be here in about 15 minutes or so." He informs her. "Once they get here, I'll have everything I need to start on dinner."

"Great!" She exclaims. "In the meantime, we should probably make sure that the idiots out there haven't made a mess of things already." She points her thumb over her shoulder and in the direction of the living room before turning around and walking that way. Lance shrugs and follows her, having nothing better to do while he waits.

~*~

Seventeen minutes later, Lance is in the process of defrosting the sausage when he hears exclaims from the living room. "Hey, uh, Lance?" Donny calls.

Lance walks into the living room, eyebrow raised. "Yeah...? What's up?" He questions.

"What the hell are Tristan Liones and Isolde Connors doing walking up to the house!?" He exclaims, half panicked.

Anne gasps. "Isolde is here!?"

"Oh, they finally got here, then." Lance says, a smile spreading over his face as he tries not to seem too excited.

"Oh? "Oh"?? That's all!?"

Lance doesn't answer Donny, instead walking closer to the clear glass wall making up the front of the house and watching as four people come up the stone steps. He spots Isolde and Tristan at the front and two men behind them that he doesn't recognize. He doesn't pay much attention to them, his eyes going back to Tristan almost immediately. It's only been about a day and a half since they'd last seen each other, but Lance was excited to see him all the same. In the past week, they'd spent the night together three more times and gone on two dates. They texted everyday and called sometimes, too. Lance didn't think it was even possible to be so attached to someone after so little amount of time, but the proof is right there in front of him that definitely was. He's been wearing a smile all week and all he can think about half the time is when he'll see the man again.

He's found out so much about the prince of Liones since that first night. He now knows that Tristan's favorite color is yellow and his favorite baked good is cinnamon rolls. His OCD was first diagnosed when he was 9, his Bipolar Disorder was diagnosed when he was 15. He'd had one girlfriend and two boyfriends in the past, all before him and Isolde were revealed to be dating to the public at age 19. When he was a kid, he'd had a dog named Monspeet that was first given to him by his Uncle Zeldris and Aunt Gelda, and the dog passed away when he was 17. He currently only models men's clothing, but he's considered asking to try out some women's clothing as well. Not only does he wear lip gloss, but sometimes more than that. He loves everything to do with the beauty and fashion industry and hopes to one day start his very own line of makeup and beauty products. He's obsessed with space and stars, has been for as long as he can remember. He has a deep passion for learning new things, becoming fascinated whenever he finds out a new fact he'd never known before. Whenever he comes to Lance's apartment, he has a new question about the plants he's growing and the crystals Lance keeps around his living space. Lance happily answers each one.

And so, when Percy calls him up and tells him that he wants to get the gang together for the weekend at his grandpa's beach house, the question of bringing Tristan along tumbled from his mouth before he'd even realized what it was. Percy, of course, said he could, and mentioned that he could bring a few friends along with him since the house was so big. Percy's grandpa's beach house has 8 bedrooms total and with their usual group there, only 4 of the bedrooms are taken, leaving the other 4 completely vacant. Tristan immediately agreed, saying he was sure his three best friends would love to come. One of which is, of course, Isolde, and if Lance remembers correctly, the other two are Jade and Chion.

Lance never told Donny, Anne, or Gawain about him and Tristan. They only know that he invited someone who he's getting close to, which they know in translation to mean dating. He technically didn't tell Nasiens directly, either, but he's certain that Percy told him who he was inviting and the both of them already know a little bit about him and Tristan anyways since they'd caught the two men making out back at the club a week earlier. It's just now that Lance realizes there's something else he's never told them. Tristan is the first guy he's ever dated, and he's never really tried to dig too deep into his own sexuality in the past. He's been attracted to plenty of guys, he's just never acted on any of it. So, given all of that, not only is Donny freaked out by the literal celebrities walking up, he's probably also extremely confused. Anne would most likely be just as confused if she wasn't so happy about Isolde being here. Oh, well. They'll adjust.

Lance walks over to the front door, opening it up as the group of four reaches it and holding it open. Percy comes rushing into the room and stops beside Lance. "Hey, everyone! Glad you all got here okay!" He greets cheerfully.

"Oh, Percy, right? It's wonderful to see you again!" Tristan exclaims with just as much cheer. "These are my friends, Isolde, Chion, and Jade." He points to each one as he introduces them.

"Great!!" Percy shakes hands with each of the newcomers, waving the rest of Lance's friends over. "This is Anne, Donny, Gawain, and my boyfriend, Nasiens! And-" Anne barrels into Isolde with a squeal, interrupting Percy.

"Anne!? I didn't know you'd be here!!" She exclaims as the two embrace quickly before pulling back.

Percy smiles at the two before continuing. "And then there's Lance, of course!"

Lance steps back into view after closing the front door and locking it, sending a wave at the new people in the room. "Hey, guys." He says casually.

Before anyone else can answer, Tristan comes right up to him and plants a kiss on his lips. Lance immediately wraps his arms around the silverette and returns the kiss without hesitation. He hears a choked gasp and a "What!?" from his group of friends and he internally snickers. Tristan pulls away slightly, giving him an amused smirk. "I got you your stupid butter and milk." He whispers, his arm coming up to show the grocery bag he's holding in one hand.

"Well, thank you very much, your majesty. I appreciate the hard work you put in, in order to do so." He whispers back, taking the bag from him. "Now I can make dinner." He says in a normal volume this time.

Tristan gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "Am I finally getting to taste the Lancelot Antin's cooking?"

"Oh, don't get too cheeky now, maybe I'll change my mind." Lance quips.

The prince narrows his eyes at him. "You wouldn't."

Lance sighs. "You're right, I wouldn't. Only cause Anne would kill me if I made us go out for something, though." He points his thumb at the bluette.

"Damn right." Anne grumbles, arms crossing over her chest.

"Huh. Good to know." Tristan has a mischievous glint in his eye as he turns away from Lance. Lance just shakes his head, chuckling at the prince's antics.

Tristan starts introducing himself to the rest of Lance's friends and people start to mingle, so Lance takes the milk and butter into the kitchen, putting them away for now. He then finishes his process of defrosting the sausage and then sets it aside for the moment. He then gets out the flour, baking powder and sugar, setting them on the counter as he gathers up other things he'll need.

A few minutes later, he's just starting to flatten the biscuit dough he made when arms wrap around him from behind. "That's kinda hot, you showing off all your muscles like that. Definitely a view I could get used to." Tristan comments.

Lance snorts. "Is that so?" He asks, folding the dough over and then flattening it down with his palms.

"Mm-hm." The silverette nuzzles his face against the man's back and Lance feels butterflies take flight in his stomach at the simple affection. "Your friends seem really fun and this house is gorgeous. Thank you for inviting us." Tristan says sincerely.

Lance stops what he's doing for a moment to place his hands over Tristan's on his waist. "Of course. A lot of good memories have been made here, I'm glad I can add some with you to the mix." He admits.

Tristan doesn't reply, but his hands start to tremble slightly in his grasp. He's about to question why, growing concerned with the man's silence, but then Tristan just tightens his arms, hugging Lance tighter, and buries his face in his back, humming softly. Lance smiles softly and squeezes his hands before focusing back on the biscuit dough in front of him.

~*~

"Dinner's ready!!" Gawain swats a spatula against the living room doorway multiple times to get people's attention.

Lance shakes his head at her with a chuckle as he passes another full plate of food to the pinkette beside him. Isolde has insisted on helping him every opportunity she gets, including taking food from the kitchen to the dining room. Lance had an inkling that she was trying to get him to like her, which was confirmed when Tristan whispered to him to just go with it. Truth is, he has no problems with her. Tristan already explained to him that she doesn't see him in a romantic way and that they're just friends and nothing more, that Isolde is glad their arrangement is over now. And Lance believes them both, he has no reason not to. Not only does he trust Tristan's word, he trusts Anne's as well, and Isolde is a really close friend of Anne's. And so, he lets her do her thing, not like he's complaining about the help.

Lance passes the last plate to Isolde before making sure all the burners are turned off and putting all the dishes he'd used into the sink. He'd made biscuits and gravy. It was simple and about the only thing he could've made with what they had. He'll go out and do some grocery shopping tomorrow morning, making sure there's some good freezer stuff stocked up for next time they come.

"Hey, do you know where the corkscrew is?" Donny asks him as he walks in, heading straight for the wine cart. Which was completely empty save for the wine and champagne glasses on it.

"Yeah, right here." Lance says, grabbing it out of a nearby drawer. "Whatcha need it for?" He asks curiously.

The redhead starts gathering champagne glasses, sending a wide grin Lance's way. "You're boyfriend brought us the wonderful gift of alcohol!" Lance chokes at the title Donny gave Tristan. Boyfriend. Lucky for him, Donny isn't paying much attention as he tries his best to balance all ten champagne glasses. "Hey, think you could bring that in yourself?"

"Y-yeah, I got it." Lance coughs. Donny then walks through and into the dining room, leaving him alone in the kitchen.

He'd be lying if he said he hasn't considered the title at least once. He has. Just yesterday, in fact. But...is it too soon? They've known each other for 8 months, but they've only been dating for a week. One single week that's been incredible. And when he imagines giving that kind of title to Tristan, and Tristan giving that same title to him in return, it just feels right. So maybe it isn't too soon for Lance, but what if it is too soon for Tristan? He just isn't quite sure what the right move here is yet.

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts and leaves the kitchen, finding that he's the last one to enter the dining room. There's a spot open for him right in between Tristan and Tristan's friend, Chion. The purple-haired man has eyes on him as soon as he enters the room, scrutinising his every move as he walks over to the empty chair. Lance just tries his best to ignore the distrust radiating from the man as he takes his seat. Tristan is currently chatting animatedly with the green-haired man on the other side of him. Lance smiles softly at seeing the two getting along so well.

"Alright! Who wants a drink?" Donny calls, drawing everyone's attention as he picks up the corkscrew that Lance had set on the table.

"Please be careful, Donny." Nasiens pleads.

"Don't worry, I got it." Donny waves him off.

"Yeah, don't worry, Nasiens. Donny learned his lesson from last time, when Anne damn-near beat the shit outta him." Lance teases the man, Gawain, Anne, Nasiens, and Percy snickering at the comment.

"Oh?" Jade raises an eyebrow in amusement and curiosity.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Donny grumbles, pushing the screw into the top of the champagne bottle and pointing the bottle in the direction of the kitchen, holding it close to the doorway. Everyone in the room winces at the loud pop as the bottle is opened. Donny then proceeds to fill everyone's glasses halfway, setting the bottle in the middle of the table and sitting back down.

"Oh! Does this mean we can do a toast?" Isolde says from her spot between Anne and Gawain.

"You should do one." Gawain suggests, elbow on the table and her head resting on her chin as she appears to admire Isolde, a look on her face that Lance hasn't seen in years. Well, that's new. Lance makes a note to keep an eye on that.

"Oh, well," Isolde looks around the table, receiving encouraging looks from everyone. "Well, I guess we should toast to new friends. I think I speak for all of my friends here when I say that we're very hopeful for the rest of the weekend. You all seem so wonderful already and this whole place is beautiful. So, thank you." She finishes speaking with a shy smile, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Cheers!" Tristan exclaims, reaching his glass out to clink against hers and then everyone else's as they all do the same.

From there, everyone begins to eat and dinner is anything but quiet. Everyone's chatting and having fun, though Chion seemed a bit uneasy the whole time. Halfway through dinner, Tristan's hand grabs his under the table and Lance intertwines their fingers together. Tristan turns and beams at him, bringing their hands up to his lips and kisses the back of Lance's. Lance then proceeds to look away and act as if the blush growing on his face isn't there as he continues eating, swearing he hears the prince snicker quietly beside him.

~*~

The next day, almost everyone sleeps in, unsurprisingly, and that includes Tristan. Something else Lance has learned about the man is that when he doesn't have anything to do the next day, he really likes to enjoy his sleep. Lance went and got groceries early on, returning with breakfast for everyone, though it ended up being more like lunch for a lot of them. And then it was collectively decided that they would all head down to the beach, as one does when staying at a beach house.

"So, you remember how you owe me one, right?" Tristan comes up to him and crouches down, his hands resting on his knee and his chin resting on his hands.

"Of course I remember. Why?" Lance asks from his place in the sand, leaning back on his hands and his legs stretched out in front of him to allow the water to run over them. His fingers tap against the sand as he stares back at the silver-haired man.

Tristan gives him a shy smile. "I think I know what I want you to do."

He tilts his head at him. "Really? Ready to cash in already?" He jokes and Tristan giggles, nodding his head. "Well, what is it, then?"

The prince bites his lip, his body doing a small wiggle motion that Lance finds extremely cute. "Be my boyfriend?" He asks quietly.

Lance's breath hitches and he stares into his eyes, searching them for any hint of joking. All he saw was a mixture of anxiety, hope, and affection. "Is that all? Cause if that's the case, then you really don't need to use your favor to get me to say yes." He says, sitting up and reaching out to grab one of Tristan's hands in his. "I was plannin' on askin' you the same question already." He tells him.

Tristan's eyes light up. "So, is that a "yes", then?" He asks.

"Yes, your majesty, I will happily be your boyfriend." Lance grins at him, the sentence making his heart soar.

Tristan squeals slightly, jumping at him and tackling him into the sand, giving him a kiss that takes his breath away. Lance laughs against his lips and wraps his arms around the shorter man's waist, kissing him back with just as much enthusiasm. The silverette holds the blonde's face with both hands and deepens the kiss, swiping his tongue over the other man's bottom lip. Lance accepts him, delving into his mouth and sucking on his tongue, drawing a moan out of the prince.

He pulls back and looks down at Lance. "I think I need a shower. Come help me clean up?" He asks coyly.

"Sounds like a good idea to me." Lance whispers. Tristan climbs off of him and stands up, Lance following suit, and Tristan grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers as he leads them back up to the beach house, leaving everyone else to their own fun.

The two of them quickly make their way to their shared bedroom for the weekend, going straight to the connected bathroom. Tristan turns on the shower and adjusts the temperature as Lance goes up behind him, planting kisses down his bare back as he reaches for the waistband of the silverette's swim trunks and pulls them down, sucking and nipping until a mark is left at the base of his spine. He stands back up as Tristan turns around, stepping out of the trunks pooled at his ankles and running his hands down Lance's sides and over his hips until he's pulling Lance's swim trunks down as well. Lance leans down and kisses the prince as Tristan starts walking backwards towards the shower, pulling the other man with him as he steps inside under the spray of water.

Tristan reaches down and grabs Lance's cock, rubbing his thumb over the tip and drawing a groan out of the blonde-haired man. Lance bends down to grab the backs of both of Tristan's thighs, pulling the man up and placing his legs around his waist in one quick motion, causing Tristan to let out a small squeak as his hands latch onto Lance's shoulders. Lance chuckles as he presses Tristan's back to the shower wall. The silverette arches into him, his body instinctively reacting to the cold tile touching his skin, and the action causes his cock to rub against Lance's. Both men moan into the kiss, pressing closer to find that same friction again.

Lance grabs his bodywash from one of the shower shelves, pulling back from the kiss. "I'm supposed to be cleaning you up, right?" He says huskily as he pours some of the soap into his hands, blindly putting the bottle back on the shelf as he keeps his eyes on Tristan.

"Yes, I do believe that was the intention of this shower." Tristan says, smirking as he runs his nails down Lance's chest lightly.

"Thought so." Lance says as he reaches down and wraps his soap covered hand around both his and Tristan's cocks, holding them in a firm grip and giving one, single tug before stopping and Tristan bucks his hips up, trying to get a continuation of the motion. Lance tsks and changes his grip on the prince, instead grabbing tight hold of his hip and pinning it in place.

Tristan gasps and bites his lip. "I love it when you take control." He comments.

Lance gives another tug, this one quicker. "You implying that I usually don't, little prince?" The pet name slips out, something he'd never called Tristan before, but it gets a very noticeable reaction from the other man.

"N-not at all, s-sir." He stutters out, his eyes wide and dark, the absolute furthest thing from innocent.

That flash of heat runs through his body again at being addressed as such and he pumps his fist as he growls out, "Say it again."

"Sir. P-please." The silverette tries to move his hips again.

"Stop squirming, little prince, and I'll give you what you want." He breathes out. Tristan whimpers, but stays still, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "Good." The blonde whispers, before making good on his promise, pumping his fist and continuing the motion instead of stopping after just one pass.

Both of them groan and Lance starts moving his hips in time with his fist. Tristan lets out a whine and Lance digs his nails into the prince's hip, a warning for him not to move yet. Lance speeds up the motions of his hand a bit, groaning. "L-Lance. Sir." Tristan's voice is strained and Lance presses their foreheads together.

"Almost there, sweetheart, just wait a bit longer." He pants.

He jerks them both off quickly now, chasing both their highs but his main focus is Tristan in that moment. They both moan together as they get closer, the hot water beating down on them without much notice from either one.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Tristan chants, his back arching forward more with each curse and his body starts tensing up, like a coil getting ready to spring, and Lance is feeling much the same way.

"That's it, little prince, let me see you cum." The taller man encourages, and that was all it took for the silver-haired man to fall apart in his arms.

"Oh, Lance!" He shouts, body locking up completely as he cums hard. Lance tries his best to keep watching the beautiful sight unfolding before him, but his own orgasm takes over and his vision blurs as he cries out Tristan's name in return.

Tristan comes down from his high with another whimper, Lance with a soft groan, and both of them become still finally except for the heaving of their chests as they try to catch their breaths. "Damn." Lance says.

Tristan giggles. "I cannot wait to do some more exploring with you."

~*~

A/N: What do you think?? Did you guys like this chapter or no?? Tell me your thoughts, I wanna know!!! I actually got this chapter finished last night but afterwards, I was so tired and felt like I was about to pass out from exhaustion, so I just waited to post this chapter until after I woke up but I woke up much earlier than I planned and Imma prolly go right back to sleep after I finish posting this, ngl. BUT whenever I wake up again, I’ll be working on chapter 6 and chapter 6 will definitely, 100% be out later today, so watch out for that!!! Ily, guys, thank you for reading!!!!

~*~

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