#tissue had been taken but the empty box was left there. something they both continuously do when they know 2 replace it n put the empty box

[a-freak-gasoline-fight-accident]

so the cousin i live with who refuses to answer the phone, even though she's the closest to it, bc 'it's never for me anyway' just answered the phone. pretty sure this miraculous change stems from me not answering the phone on purpose another time when i knew it was their brother calling wanting to be picked up, and me telling the brother through discord to keep calling bc i wanted to see how long it took her to get up and answer it.

#so she just answered it before n they were joking about how OmG yOu AnweRDED the phONE like it's a huge game to them #there was another incident where i had been in the bathroom n saw that there was 1 tissue left in the box. walked out of the bathroom 2 get #get something. saw the brother walking out of the bathroom and back towards their bedroom. got back into the bathroom myself n saw the last #tissue had been taken but the empty box was left there. something they both continuously do when they know 2 replace it n put the empty box #in the spot 4 the recycling. our 80 year old grandma keeps replacing them 4 them :) same with the toilet paper.... ANYWAY i grab the empty #tissue box n throw it down the hallway towards their room n go back into the bathroom. then i hear him ask the other what happened. the sis #sister told him that i threw the box. he said he was just in their. then i think the sister asked him if he was gonna throw the box out n h #said No......that box was left their in the hallway for hours with them just walking over it n kicking it around. my mother was the 1 who e #ended up throwing it out n replacing the empty box in the bathroom. not doing shit in this house is a choice they consciously make n they t #treat it like it's a game #oh n the boy's been washing their own school n work clothes but it's not out of concern 4 their grandmother. pretty sure it stems from them #not wanting to be yelled at by my mum lmao

[honeyhotteoks]

their gift (j.yh + p.sh)

summary: third installment in the husbands series; your relationship with them grows, blossoming into something more secure and more permanent. you spend the night loving each other. part one: room for three || part two: and if i stay

note: 18+ content, minors DNI. // have even more husbands yunhwa. i can't contain it, every time i see them next to each other i want to write another installment....

warnings: non idol!yunho, non idol!seonghwa, fem!reader, married!yunhwa, established yunhwa x reader relationship, mmf, praise play, degredation/humilitation, use of a bdsm collar, pet play, rough foreplay, rough sex, oral (m receiving), hard dom hwa and use of sir, hard dom yunho and use of daddy, yunho also subs, fingering, squirting, gratuitous use of puppy, good girl, slut, etc., anal play and anal sex, dildos, thigh riding, some light pain play, spanking/impact play, overall this is just an exceptional fuck-a-thon - please let me know if i missed any.

pairings: yunho x seonghwa x reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff

word count: 11.2K

my masterlist || read it on AO3 || part four; hold fast together

You have to admit, you’re a little nervous. Riding in an uber back to their apartment - your apartment, you fidget with your fingers nervously and chew the inside of your cheek. It had been a very unexpected, and very detailed Saturday. You run the pad of your thumb unconsciously across the edge of your newly manicured nails and click the lock on your phone again to see if you’ve gotten any more texts from them.

 Seonghwa’s last message hangs unanswered, and you drag up on the chat of your messages, as if that will make something new appear and explain what’s going on. 

When you get home, get cleaned up and put on the gift I’ve laid out for you. Read the note, and wait. 

He’s given you instructions via text before, but after the day you’ve had of pampering and preening, it feels different. The bags at your feet contain neatly wrapped new clothing, each piece folded perfectly between layers of fine cream tissue and wrapped with black ribbon. Seonghwa had provided you with an itinerary, a gift from both of your lovers, all paid for and planned meticulously down to the last moment. 

Life with them over the past few months had taken on new growth. No longer just casual and undefined, you are instead a part of their lives and they are a part of yours. Living in their apartment is new, but even after all this time they are still making good on their promise to take care of you. 

As the black car slides to a stop outside the apartment, your stomach erupts in little butterflies. It had been awhile since you had been properly nervous with them, and you pat your clammy hands dry on your trousers. You head upstairs, steadying your breathing, finding your key buried in the bottom of your purse, and continuously checking your phone. 

You push open the door to the apartment and look around, met only with quiet. “Hwa?” You call into the empty apartment, “Baby, are you here?” 

You’re met with silence. 

“Yunho?” You shut the door behind you, setting your bags by the door and sliding off your shoes. 

Again, the apartment is quiet, but when you listen a little more you can hear something faint in the background, the soft backbeat of music from the back of the apartment. You check your phone again, and still nothing. Moving through the apartment you start to hear the music more defined the farther back you go. With a sigh you push open the door, your mouth dropping open immediately. 

Your shared bedroom is lit with the warm glow of white candles, lining the sill of the large sweeping windows casting a soft yellow glow across the space, and the steady sound of warm summer rain against the window makes you wonder if he even planned that detail. 

Stepping closer to the edge of the large bed, your mouth runs dry. A sizable black box sits perfectly centered on the bed, a note resting on top. To the left of the box is a new robe, a perfectly shimmering cream and like soft silk to the touch. You run your fingers along it, realizing immediately where this night is going and your stomach knots in anticipation. Lifting the note, you read it quickly. 

Darling - 

We’ll be home in thirty minutes. Please put on your new gifts and wait for us, you know how we want you. Do not open the red box. Do not break the rules. 

With love.

It’s unsigned, but you know it’s Seonghwa. His handwriting is distinct, and while Yunho thinks ahead and favors games like this, he’s rarely the one to plan things out with this level of detail. 

You set the note aside and look to the right of the black box to see the red box that Seonghwa referenced in his note. Despite his instructions you see another, smaller note affixed to it and you smile when you read it. 

A gift for our darling, for Yunho’s eyes only. Be patient.

He had never planned something quite like this, you think. 

Checking the time, you know now you have more like twenty minutes, and you need to assess what he’s given you to prepare with, and how complex it might be. You set the red box on the bench at the end of the bed and slide off the lid of the black box. 

Your breath catches in your throat when you part the tissue paper inside and see what is laid inside for you. A blush pink set, simple and mesh but effective and sexy, leaving little to the imagination. A matching garter belt waits as well, a set of sheer cream stockings, and beneath it all a blown glass plug. He wants you pretty tonight, pliant and touch starved, and after the last few weeks of work you’re fairly sure it won’t be an act. 

Heat pools in your belly as you lift the plug, clear glass with pink twisting smoke inside to form a rosette at the base. The pink matches the lingerie perfectly, every detail perfect and soft. 

You move quickly, cleaning up as fast as you can in the bathroom and making sure you look and feel your best for the night ahead. When you’re ready, you relax yourself with a long exhale, and push the lubricated plug past the tight ring of muscle of your ass, and ensure it’s perfectly in place. Within minutes you’re finished dressing and looking yourself over in the large mirror that rests against one wall. As you slip the robe over your shoulders it all starts to fall into place. 

This night isn’t a gift for you necessarily, you are being wrapped and gifted for them, for Yunho. The thought sends a bubble of pleasure through you, and you can feel yourself tense around the plug, the pleasant weight of it already building the anticipation inside you. 

You had discussed a scene like this, but it was so long ago, and you are realizing only now that Seonghwa had kept his husband’s fantasies and filed them away for a night like tonight. You cinch the robe loosely closed, and position yourself in the perfect center of the bed, waiting patiently on your knees, the red box directly in front of you at the foot of the bed. You wait. 

You hear Yunho first, his laugh sharp and happy at the far side of the apartment. You can’t quite make out their words but they sound good, relaxed and pleasant like a Saturday night should be. You double check the way your robe is sitting, how it parts to reveal some of your skin strategically, before resting your hands on your thighs and waiting. 

“Is she home?” You hear Yunho ask, their voices getting closer to the bedroom door. 

“Mhm,” Seonghwa’s warm tone echoes through. 

“I don’t understand why she couldn’t come to dinner,” Yunho says. 

“Don’t you not trust me by now?” Seonghwa sighs and you hear the knob of the door rattle as someone on the other side grips it. 

“Hwa,” Yunho groans. 

“Come on,” Seonghwa says, and the door handle twists. 

When Yunho sees you, his lips part, eyes blowing wide as he takes you in. Seonghwa grins, leaning in and kissing his husband on the cheek before moving into the room, but Yunho barely registers it, his eyes are raking over you. 

“You look beautiful, darling,” Seonghwa crosses the room for you, cupping your cheek and leaning in for a kiss. 

“Hi,” You manage, “is this what you pictured?” 

“Let’s ask Yunho, shall we?” Seonghwa sits next to you, legs crossed and hanging over the edge of the bed, but he reclines towards you, your shoulders nestled together, “My love?” 

Yunho’s eyes flick to him. 

“How does our beautiful girl look to you?” Seonghwa’s fingertips run up and down your thigh. 

“Perfect,” Yunho seems to recover slightly now that the shock has worn off, and he steps into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. 

Seonghwa turns to you and kisses your cheek again, “Was the day nice?” 

“It was almost too nice, Hwa,” You rest your hand on his and give it a squeeze, “you pamper me too much,” 

“Hardly,” He shakes his head. 

“What’s this?” Yunho’s eyes find the red box, his long fingers brushing delicately over the note. 

“A present for you both,” Seonghwa explains. 

“What’s the occasion?” Yunho smiles. 

“Hmm,” Seonghwa sits up, sliding off his suit jacket and moving towards Yunho at the foot of the bed, “Honestly? You’ve both been working so hard. Long hours, sleepless nights, and I haven’t heard a complaint out of either of you.” 

Yunho’s smile softens, his eyes shining, and you feel warmth bloom in your chest. Yunho reaches for him and brushes his hand along Seonghwa’s jaw, “I know that look,” he murmurs, “you have something planned.” 

Seonghwa shrugs, “Open your present,” 

Yunho straightens up and lifts the box, reading the note again and looking at you. 

“If it’s not the right time,” Seonghwa says, calm and even, “we’ll save it for another night.” 

A flood of heat rushes through you, blush surely darkening your cheeks, and you know exactly what is going to be nestled in the box. These threads of Yunho’s fantasies are knitting together before your eyes, and while Yunho looks pleasantly bemused, you know that when he sees what’s inside he’s going to fall apart. 

Seonghwa meets your eyes, a pointed look communicating something silently, and you nod, assuring. You’ve grown accustomed to silently communicating with them, especially where the bedroom is concerned, and while Yunho doesn’t pick up on it, you see Seonghwa’s shoulders relax. 

Yunho lifts the lid, and his breath catches, “Oh,”

“Do you like it?” He checks. 

Yunho brushes his fingers along the item in the box that you can’t quite see yet, and smiles, “I love you,” 

Seonghwa sighs, relieved, and moves into Yunho’s space to kiss him softly. Your body buzzes with anticipation now that you know what’s about to happen. Seonghwa leans back and smiles at you, undoing his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves, moving behind you on the bed so he can kneel behind you. 

“Hello,” He murmurs as he shuffles closer, his legs wide so he can effectively fold around you, his chest warm against your back, “are you ready for us, love?” 

He can feel your heart racing, you’re sure of it, but you keep calm and nod, “Anything you want tonight, I’m yours,” 

Yunho hums pleasantly, and Seonghwa presses a sweet kiss to your temple. 

Seonghwa’s arms wrap around you, his hands settling over the looped tie of your robe, “Should I show you your present, baby?” 

Yunho swallows hard, his throat jumping and he nods. The room feels stifling hot and chilled all at once as Seonghwa slowly pulls the knot open, sliding it off your shoulders torturously slow and parting it open to reveal your body to Yunho. Seonghwa rests a warm palm over your belly and you can practically feel him smiling, “Look at how beautiful she is for us tonight,” 

Yunho closes the box, setting it aside and climbing onto the bed, kneeling in front of you both, looking between you, and you can see the moment he starts to shift into his firmer persona. His fingers coast over your skin, dipping over the swell of your breasts, dragging up and down your chest, his thumb dragging up the front of your throat and down again, resting at the hollow. 

“Baby,” Yunho murmurs, meeting your eyes and tightening his hand just slightly, “will you be good for me tonight?” 

Your hips shift unconsciously and Seonghwa chuckles behind you, his fingers stroking your stomach. You nod, “So good,” 

“Mm,” Yunho sighs, “do you want to see what’s in the box?” 

“Please,” your voice is needier than you want it to be so early in the night, but caged between them you can already feel yourself trembling. 

Yunho straightens up and reaches for Seonghwa over your shoulder, tugging him forward and catching his mouth in a hungry kiss. You jut forwards, pressing yourself against Yunho’s chest, your cheek on his crisp white shirt. Seonghwa moans softly into his husband’s mouth and Yunho laughs lightly against him. When Yunho’s hand closes over Seonghwa’s and starts to slide it down your belly you gasp, gripping onto his bicep to steady yourself. 

“I can’t believe you did this,” Yunho groans, still devouring Seonghwa’s lips. He moves his husband’s hand down your body, slipping under the hem of your panties without a second thought and you feel their combined fingers parting your folds. 

You can’t see them with how you’re sandwiched between them but you hear the moment their lips break apart and Yunho shifts, “You’re so wet already, my love,” 

“Oh,” You breath, your fingers tightening on him 

Yunho moves Seonghwa’s hand further, guiding two of his fingers up inside you before Yunho returns his own fingers to your swelling clit and starts to rock. The pleasure is immediate, sharp and hot and you press your eyes closed, moaning against them. 

Seonghwa’s fingers start to pump, slow and firm and you scramble against Yunho’s chest. 

“I think she likes being your pretty present,” Seonghwa’s voice is deeper now, and he kisses your shoulder. 

“Mm,” Yunho grips your hip with his free hand and rocks them forwards to reposition you as he teases you, “my perfect gift,” 

“Please,” You whine, jerking your hips again. 

Yunho slides his hand again, closing once again over Seonghwa’s, and he pulls both of their hands away from your aching heat and out of your panties. They love to tease, love to see how far they can push you before you fall apart, and then how many times you can come before it breaks you. Yunho leans back and direct’s Seonghwa’s fingers up to your lips. Holding his gaze you accept them against your tongue, closing your lips around them and sucking off the wetness of your arousal. You can feel Seonghwa’s erection pressing against the small of your back, growing harder with every sharp suck and he groans, his free hand cupping your cunt and holding you there, the heat from his hand making your head spin. 

Yunho pulls Seonghwa’s hand free and presses his own fingers to your lips, his mouth parted and he nods as you run your tongue along his digits. The weight of them on your tongue is pleasant and delicious and you rock your hips against the firm press of Seonghwa’s hand. 

“Calm down,” Yunho shakes his head, “you’ll come soon enough,” 

You shudder, his fingers sliding out of your mouth and he smiles before backing away properly to give you some air. Seonghwa’s hand releases you, and he simply holds your trembling body in his arms as Yunho reaches for the box. 

“Should I open it for you?” Yunho asks, his hand ready at the front of the box to lift it open. 

You nod, your stomach knotting up at the anticipation. 

Yunho shares a look with Seonghwa over your shoulder, and you watch him soften as he lifts it open. The gift nestled in the velvet interior of the box is just as you pictured, a perfect simple gold chain, with a square clasp at the back. Hanging from the center is a round pendant, a gold circle with a knot at the top to secure it to the chain. Pressed into the velvet next to the necklace is a small screw and delicate turn key, and your eyes prick with tears. You know the necklace is sexual, a collar meant to mark you as their submissive lover, but the permanent lock and the weight of what this means in your hands has you melting between them. 

“It’s so beautiful,” You breathe, glancing up to Yunho. 

He cups your cheek, bringing your eyes back up, “Are you ready for this?” 

“Yes,” You nod, leaning into Seonghwa’s arms, “please, put it on me,” 

“I told you,” Seonghwa murmurs. 

Yunho smiles, warmth radiating from him, and he sets the box to the side, deftly removing the necklace and shifting on the bed to come behind you alongside Seonghwa who gathers your hair into his hand and lifts it away from your neck. 

The necklace loops around you, the pendant perfectly hanging at the base of your throat, and you shiver at the feeling of the cool metal, the weight of it grounding you. Yunho brings the clasp together and you watch as he takes the screw and the locking mechanism from the velvet box. 

“Hold this,” Yunho murmurs and you feel Seonghwa’s fingers against your neck too. 

Their fingers working together, they secure the necklace with a click. They pause, Yunho’s fingertips brushing along the permanent lock for just a moment before your hair is released and both of your lovers gather you back into their arms. 

“Do you know what this means?” Yunho nuzzles against your head, kissing along your jaw and working his way towards your throat. 

You gasp, the way they tug you further against them making you lose your position on the bed and you unfurl your legs, steading yourself with a hand on Seonghwa’s thigh. Seonghwa cups your breast, flicking your hardened nipple and massaging the plush curve of your breast. Things are about to get heated fast, and you blink hard, “It means I’m yours, I belong to you.” 

“Mm,” Yunho sucks softly on your throat just above the necklace, the collar, “it means we belong to each other.” 

“Yun,” You gasp, falling back against his shoulder. 

“We’re going to take you apart tonight,” Yunho nips with his teeth, “every inch of you until you can’t remember your own name,” 

You moan, sharp pleasure striking through you. 

“You’ll take everything,” He presses down hard on the soft part of your stomach just above your pubic bone, “and you’ll say please and thank you,” 

“Yes, yes,” You’re already writhing in their arms. 

“y/n,” Seonghwa bites at your ear, sucking softly on the lobe before he murmurs low, “will you be a good pet for us?” 

Your muscles clench around nothing and you nod, panting, “Yes, yes, please,” 

“Yes, what?” Seonghwa’s thumb and forefinger tighten, pinching your nipple firmly and you gasp sharply. 

You weren’t sure when you walked into the night exactly who you’d be with - the way they shift fluidly between dominant with you, submissive with each other, and sometimes just devouring you with passion, with love and need like you’ve never known before. But here and now, with the collar locked around your throat, you know who you’re caught between. 

He pinches again when you don’t answer right away, not enough to draw real pain but just enough to shock your brain and you babble out the right response, “Yes, sir,” 

“There you go,” Seonghwa hums, “I knew you could do it.” 

Yunho’s fingers toy with the straps of your elastic pink garter, lifting part of it over your thigh and letting it snap back down against your skin with a sharp sound, “What a needy puppy,” 

Yunho sucks sharply on your throat again, snapping the harness a little harder this time and you moan, your hips rolling to try and find some friction but finding none, “Yunho!” 

He snaps the harness harder, “Not right now, sweetheart,” 

“Daddy,” You choke out, caught between the way their hands are exploring your body, “I’m sorry, Daddy,” 

He sighs hot and warm against your skin, pleasantly melting against you at the words on your lips. You had gotten used to using ‘sir’ with Seonghwa, especially with the way he usually commanded the harder scenes, favoring a punishment of sharp spanks while Yunho soothed you, but calling Yunho anything is new. You had moaned it out in the middle of an orgasm the first time, the word slipping out of you with Yunho’s cock buried deep to the hilt inside you, and his reaction had solidified it as not just a playful want, but a need. 

“God,” Seonghwa groans, “say that again,” 

“Daddy,” You repeat, your voice breathy when Seonghwa presses down on your clit through the mesh of your underwear. 

“I love when you call him that,” Seonghwa confesses, pulling Yunho’s mouth up to his and kissing his husband soundly. When they shift, you feel Yunho’s hard cock through his black trousers and you brush your fingers along it, pressing along the shaft with the pads of your fingers. 

Yunho breaks the kiss and curses, pushing your hand away and pulling himself off the bed to stand. 

For a beat, you wonder where things will go but then you watch Yunho recover and he sweeps his hands through his hair to smooth it away from his face. He crosses to the middle of the room, standing on the hardwood floor a few feet from you and he starts to loosen his tie. 

“Come,” He says, firm and even. 

Seonghwa pushes you forwards to help you out of your reclined position and you stand on shaky legs, moving towards him. 

“Down,” He glances quickly at the floor and lifts his loosened tie over his head. 

As you kneel, you hear Seonghwa move off the bed as well, the rustle of the bed sheets and the creak of the bench at the end of the bed as he sits behind you. Yunho licks his lips, glancing between you and Seonghwa before he takes a step forward and crouches in front of you. 

He strokes your hair, petting you softly until his thumb strokes across your lips, parting them and hooking over your bottom teeth to drag your mouth open. He takes the loop of his tie and presses it between your teeth and when you bite down on the fabric, he smiles before standing, his hand coasting down the length of the tie until he’s holding the end of it. 

Your body feels electric, every rush of air across your skin sparking goose bumps, and you can barely breathe. The loop of his tie obstructs your mouth a little, soaking through with your saliva as you breathe around it, and he smiles as you adjust to the feeling of it between your lips. 

“Such a pretty puppy,” He sighs. 

You whine softly around the fabric, feeling the bubbling knot of heat in your core. 

He wraps the tie around his hand, closing it into his fist and he tugs it experimentally, just enough for you to feel the pull and shift forwards to accommodate the newly taut lead. 

“Hwa,” Yunho looks up at him, “undress her,” 

“You sure?” Seonghwa asks, but you hear him stand behind you. 

“Positive,” Yunho looks over your body, “I want her in just the collar.” 

“Fuck,” Seonghwa breathes. 

You steady your breathing around the fabric, staying even through your nose, your eyes locked on Yunho’s as Seonghwa’s fingers travel over your body. He unclasps your bra and the garter belt, sliding them away from your body and tossing them to the side. He draws you up high on your knees and he pulls down your panties, but Yunho makes a noise and Seonghwa pauses. 

“Just pull them down, don’t… leave them,” He gestures and Seonghwa understands easily, tugging your panties down so that they’re caught tight and stretched between your thighs, but leaving you fully exposed otherwise. 

Yunho takes a step away from you, his arm stretching out to account for the lead, but then he tugs down sharper than before and you collapse forwards onto all fours, locking down your jaw around the fabric to brace for another tug. 

“What’s this?” Yunho smiles, leaning over you, “What a filthy little thing, you are,” 

Seonghwa presses on the plug, shifting it deeper and sparking heat through you, a pleasurable spike from your core to your nipples. When you whine again, it’s Seonghwa who chuckles at you. 

“We pampered you all day,” He scolds you, his hand kneading one of your cheeks, “like a princess, and you still can’t help but act like a little slut,” 

You moan sharply, your hips jerking. 

Seonghwa presses again on the plug and his hand cracks down across your backside in a sharp spank that leaves you shrieking out a startled moan, the tingling vibrations echoing up your spine. Seonghwa makes a disappointed sound with his tongue on his teeth, “Is that what you are, baby? A fucking slut?” 

You nod, your head hanging between your arms and your eyes unfocused, fixed on the way your underwear is stretched and cutting into your plush thighs. 

“Answer me,” Seonghwa smacks again, and you feel the lead tug upwards to raise your head. 

“Yes sir,” You mumble around the cloth, and though the words are swallowed up they know you’re answering just like they want. 

“You want us to fuck you like a slut, puppy?” Seonghwa doesn’t wait for a reply before his palm cracks down again. 

“Please,” you whine, “sir, please,” 

“How wet is she?” Yunho asks, and you look up the length of the tie to see his hand, firmly gripping the lead still, the veins in his hand jumping as he flexes. 

Your eyes snap shut when Seonghwa sinks two fingers inside you, working them deep for a moment and stroking along your g-spot before pulling them free. “Look at that,” Seonghwa muses, “I’ve never seen her this soaked,” 

You’re trembling more now, barely able to contain the little mewling sounds you’re making and you know things are about to heat up with Yunho sighs above you, a groan on his lips. Yunho draws your head upwards to meet his eyes with the tie between your teeth and looks down at you, a soft look on his face. He strokes your hair with his free hand, “Does my sweet puppy need to come?” 

Your eyes flutter shut and you nod tightly, “Please, Daddy,” 

The hand stroking your hair shifts, moving to cup the back of your head and Yunho’s expression settles before he yanks on the lead, the combination of the pull with the tie and the push with his broad hand in your hair leaves you collapsing unceremoniously on the floor over his smooth black leather shoe. 

“Down,” He urges you again, pressing at the back of your head. 

You’re shaking, but you ease down your front half, and Yunho’s hand in your hair directs your cheek against his shoe. He presses more of the tie into your mouth with his free hand, stuffing it tight and stroking your cheek once before he says, “If you move, I’ll make you wait all night.” 

Your body clenches, and his hand positions perfectly to hold your head down against him. It should be humiliating, it’s certainly the furthest down the path of degradation play you’ve ever been, but something’s unlocking inside you with every push forward. It feels out of body the way you respond to his words, but you nuzzle your cheek against the stiff, warm leather of Yunho’s shoe and arch your back, your ass held high and body open and ready for them. 

“Good fucking girl,” Yunho groans. 

You feel Seonghwa’s hand lift away from your ass, and you know what’s coming, but the sharp sting of the spank still jerks you and you whine again, pressing your cheek further down to avoid lifting away with a moan. The fabric filling your mouth is hot and wet now, abrasive and difficult to breathe around but you focus your breath through your nose just like you would when taking them down your throat. 

“Let’s go,” Seonghwa says firmly, “how fast do you think we can make her come?” 

Yunho pets you again, before tightening his hand in your hair, “Let’s see,” 

Yunho drops to one knee beside you, and the position would probably feel awkward if not for Yunho’s tall lanky legs which allows you the space to stay pressed against his foot while he kneels on the other leg and reaches back around you. 

Yunho’s fingers find your slick folds, sinking down hard onto your clit and rocking his hand fast and firm. You moan hard around the tie, the feeling of finally being touched building heat so fast inside you that you’re dizzy. Seonghwa spanks you fast and firm once more and you cry out, desperate to move but locking yourself in place, one of your hands coming down hard onto the wood floor to steady you. 

“Listen to her whine,” Seonghwa’s hard, dominant voice sends a shock through you as he spanks you harder, “slutty puppy, begging for something inside her,” 

Your eyes roll back, the feeling of an orgasm building across your whole body. They have you pinned perfectly between them, and instead of giving you a moment to catch your breath, edging you up like they normally would, they only seem to bare down harder. Yunho’s hand presses firm, moving so fast against you now that you’re barely able to comprehend it, only feeling the deep pressure building. 

“So needy,” Seonghwa spits, clapping your ass with his hand again before thrusting three fingers deep inside you, thrusting them deeply a few times and then returning to delivering punishing spanks to either cheek. 

The noise you make sounds tight, feral, and disconnected, and your ears feel like they’re ringing as your body starts to shake. Yunho’s murmuring to you, but you can’t quite hear it, all you’re able to understand is the overwhelming sensation. Pressure drops inside you, a tickling sharpness that concentrates under Yunho’s hand, and it’s like nothing you’ve felt before. You’re close to scrambling out of their hold, the heady feeling too much all at once, but when Seonghwa’s palm cracks down once more, your body does break apart under them. 

The pressure releases hot and fast, fluid spilling from you and pouring down your thighs as your body breaks into desperate shakes. 

“Fuck,” Seonghwa’s hands shift to hold your hips, a little more gentle than a moment ago. 

“Fuck, baby,” Yunho works his hand quick, coaxing more out of you until you jerk away from his hand and your head lolls to the side off his shoe, the scene forgotten in the haze. 

“Get her up,” Yunho says, and you don’t know exactly why he sounds the way he does or who’s hands are who’s, but a moment later you’re being dragged back from the floor and into Seonghwa’s arms. 

“Here we go,” Seonghwa hooks his arms under each of your knees and opens you up wide. “Quick,” he beckons to Yunho. 

Yunho pushes up his sleeve higher to hook over his elbow, and crouches by your side, three of his fingers sinking inside you, searching for a moment before he finds your spongy g-spot and crooking his fingers just right. He pumps his hand in little short bursts, concentrating his movements over the core of your pleasure inside you, and you writhe against Seonghwa, pushing your hips into Yunho’s hand to chase the pleasure.

“Come for Daddy, baby,” Seonghwa commands, widening your legs, “you can do it,” 

“Again,” Yunho drags his fingers inside you just right and the feeling from a moment ago returns, fast and hard inside you. 

With a harsh cry you bite down on the tie, shaking desperately, and this time you watch as clear fluid erupts from your core, beckoned out of you with Yunho’s fingers. As you start to squirt he drags his hand out, returning to rub your clit fast and hard, and it’s messy but it’s everything, and your vision whites as you let yourself fall inside the pleasure. 

A moment later, Seonghwa releases your legs and you feel their hands easing you to the floor, your body still shuddering as you collapse into the warm wetness below you and into Seonghwa’s chest. You don’t realize how hard you’ve come until you feel the tie being pulled from your mouth and Seonghwa’s hand taps your cheek, “Baby? Love, wake up,” 

You suck in a sharp breath now that your mouth is unobstructed and blink your eyes open, Seonghwa craning around to get a good look at you as you rest against his shoulder. He cups your cheek, “Hey, my love, look at me,” 

You blink hard, focusing on him until your vision rights itself and you are able to form any kind of coherent thoughts. “Hey,” You sigh, wetting your lips with your tongue. 

“Fuck,” Seonghwa smiles and drops his forehead against yours, “alright, there you are,” 

“Did I go somewhere?” You hear the question leave you but as you start to come back to yourself you realize what must have happened is that for a brief moment you lost consciousness. 

“Come here,” Yunho collapses next to you both, looking relieved, and pulls you into him, kissing you tenderly. 

“Just scared us for a second,” Seonghwa says as you break away from Yunho’s mouth and rest between them, your thighs still trembling. 

“I’ve never,” You shake your head, “that was intense,” 

“Never?” Yunho asks, running his hand through your hair, “Even before us?” 

“No,” You sigh, “I didn’t think I could,” 

“How was it?” Seonghwa strokes your bare skin, tender and curious. 

“Amazing,” You sigh, feeling boneless, “I just wasn’t ready for it, I didn’t know,” 

“It’s alright,” Seonghwa soothes. 

“I’m sorry about the mess,” You manage. 

“Oh no,” Yunho rests a hand on your chest, stroking softly, “that was… it was very sexy,” 

“Mess can be good,” Seonghwa kisses your temple, “especially if it makes you feel like that,” 

“Mm,” Yunho sighs, “I want to see if we can make you do it again,” 

“God,” You laugh, “give me a little bit,” 

“Mhm,” He kisses you, “we’ve got all night,” 

Seonghwa eases up off the floor, making sure Yunho has a good hold on you, before heading towards the master bathroom. You watch as he strips off his damp clothes, tossing them in the laundry and rummaging around in the linen close for a few towels. You blush feeling a little cold and exposed now that you’re no longer in the hazy glow of your orgasm. 

“Oh no,” Seonghwa sees your expression and shakes his head, “don’t be embarrassed, I know that face.” 

“Hwa,” You sigh, moving to push off the floor but your legs are still not working yet. 

“No,” He interrupts you with a hand on your knee, “Yunho’s right, it was beyond sexy. I want to see if I can make you come on my cock like that,” 

“Seonghwa!” You clap a hand across your lips. 

“I’m sure Yun agrees,” Seonghwa smirks. 

Yunho brings you against him a little better, reaching around and gently slipping his fingers over your swollen clit. You jump against him, feeling sharp and exposed, but he shushes you. He doesn’t move his fingers much, just feels the way your clit is uniquely swollen and hard and he nods, “I do, and I don’t know about you Hwa, but I want to taste her more now,” 

Seonghwa nods, crouching by your side to towel you off, Yunho’s fingers slipping away from you. As Seonghwa cleans up a bit, Yunho takes the opportunity to stand, stripping off his own clothes, his white dress shirt visibly wet at the front and you watch him smile, self satisfied at the sight. 

You sigh, letting them take care of you since you’re feeling pretty boneless, and Seonghwa lifts you smoothly into his arms. He cradles you against his bare chest before he sets you down on the bed, spreading you out over a series of towels that are now laid out over the bed. 

“Oh,”

“When you’re ready,” Seonghwa kisses you, “we’ll keep going,” 

“Can I have a glass of water?” You ask, tugging one of the lightweight blankets over you. 

“Of course,” Seonghwa shakes his head, “I should have done that earlier,” 

He jogs off before you can tell him he’s being fussy. Yunho stretches long, and you bite your lip as you watch the way his muscles shift, the way his cock shifts up and stands at attention. He crawls across the bed, moving towards you and eases down next to you, one hand snaking inside the covers so he can cup your breast. 

“Hey,” He murmurs, “you’re doing okay, right?” 

Yunho has a habit of checking in like this - where Seonghwa trusts you to stop him or say when you’re not into something, Yunho second guesses. In the moment he can be confident and calm, but he still gets nervous that they’re pushing too hard, even now. 

“I’m perfect,” You assure him. 

He touches the necklace gently, fingers tracing the O-ring and he swallows nervously, “And this?” 

“I’m perfect,” You repeat, closing your hand over his, “and I love you,” 

“I love you too,” He softens, gathering you close and bringing your lips to his, “so much, sweetheart,” 

You draw his hand away from the collar, intertwining your fingers and letting your lips part, tongues flicking against each other. Heat rushes to your core again with a dull, sore throb and your thighs squeeze together. 

“Yeah?” He murmurs against your mouth, breaking your hands so he can reach under the blanket again and cup your hip. 

The feeling inside you that’s knotting up is something insatiable, and you pant and nod against his warm skin. 

“You need something?” He strokes your back, working your mouth. 

If he touches you with his hands again you might burst, but you need to feel something and fast. You shift, rolling towards him and yanking the blanket over him too. He leans back, reclined against the pillows and you ease yourself over him, straddling one of his thighs and laying down fully on his chest. 

“Is that better?” He asks, shifting his leg a little, increasing the pressure up on your core. 

“Much,” You sigh, rocking your hips slowly and sighing against his chest. 

“You’re hungry today,” He strokes your back again before resting both of his hands on your hips over the blanket. 

“Mhm,” You nuzzle into him, slowly grinding yourself against his thigh, “I just can’t stop,” 

“Good,” He drags you with his hands, matching your pace but just adding a little pressure, “you know you can use me anytime,” 

You shudder out a sigh, “I thought you wanted me begging and calling you Daddy,” 

“I already had that,” He shrugs, “I just want to be with you,” 

You hear the door swing open but you let your eyes slip closed, rolling your body against Yunho still. You hear the sound of a glass being put down next to you, and Seonghwa’s warm hand lands in the center of your back softly as he leans over you and kisses Yunho. 

“Already?” Seonghwa murmurs. 

“I think she just needed to feel something,” Yunho replies softly, squeezing your hip. 

You hum pleasantly, the warm comfort of pleasure enveloping you, “I don’t know what you’re doing to me today,” you stretch, leaning up on Yunho’s chest to perch on your forearms. 

“Don’t stop,” Seonghwa sits next to you on the small section of bed between Yunho and the edge, “if you need to come, come,” 

“This is getting greedy,” You smile, your hips starting to move again, “I need to touch you both,” 

“You will,” Yunho shushes you, shaking his head and dragging your wet core along his hot thigh. 

“Tell us how you want us,” Seonghwa asks softly, reaching under you to trace his fingertips softly over your hard nipples. 

You jerk softly and widen your legs to drop lower on Yunho’s leg, “I thought I was the gift for Yunho? Shouldn’t he tell us what he wants?” 

“Mm,” Seonghwa kisses your shoulder, “that is a good point,” 

“Me?” Yunho smiles, “I don’t know,” 

“Yes you do,” Seonghwa drags a thumb over your nipple again, “let’s see.” 

“You can have my mouth,” You offer, “or you could fuck me,” 

Yunho nods, “What else?” 

“You could watch Hwa fuck me,” your hand that is braced on his chest drags down his stomach, coasting along his pubic bone and the base of his cock, “or you could fuck me together?”

“What if,” Yunho sighs, body tense under you as you keep fucking yourself on his thigh, “maybe I do know what I want,” 

Seonghwa reaches around you, and you feel his hand join yours to wrap around Yunho’s prone cock. Yunho’s head drops back and he groans, his fingers tightening on you. Seonghwa leans against you, “Tell us, yeobo,” 

Yunho reaches for you, dragging you down to his mouth again, “I want you to come again, right here,” he flexes his thigh under you, “and then I want to watch Hwa make you squirt again,” 

“Fuck,” You curse against his lips. 

“And then,” He groans as Seonghwa’s hand drags up and over the soft head of his cock, “I want you on top,” 

“Oh,” You shudder, “I’m close,” You drop your head against Yunho’s chest, working yourself against him feverishly now. 

“That’s right,” Seonghwa’s hands land on you, one on your thigh and the other stroking your back, “there you go,” 

“I’m,” You moan, and Yunho wraps his arms around you, gathering you close to his chest. 

“Come for us, baby,” Yunho murmurs low, “I know you need it,” 

Your body curls, hips jerking as you rut yourself against him, but when you come again you’re barely able to keep yourself up. You fall apart with a gasping moan, and it takes about a minute of sighing aftershocks and their hands massaging your skin with soothing circles for you to slip into sleep against Yunho’s chest. 

You’re not sure how long you’ve fallen asleep for, but when you wake it’s to the feeling of the mattress shifting and the sound of hushed moaning. Your core throbs again, and as your thighs shift, you can feel how slick your arousal still is between your thighs. You’re sore, but you’re also incredibly empty, and as you ease your eyes open you know immediately that you won’t be sated until one of them is deep inside you. 

They’re wrapped together on the other end of the king bed, Yunho on top, and their mouths are locked in sync. You watch as they rock their hips, not yet fully fucking but you can see their cocks are slick with lubricant and glistening as they grind on each other. Yunho dips his head, capturing Seonghwa’s nipple in his mouth and flicking his tongue over it, earning a tight moan from Seonghwa. They clearly think you’re still asleep, desperately trying to stay quiet and not rock the bed too much, and you wonder how long they’ve been at this teasing game with each other. 

You find your clit under the blanket and start to rock, watching them as they pleasure each other, but it doesn’t feel right. With extremely quiet movements, you reach an arm out to the bedside table and slide open the drawer. You wait to see if they notice, but they don’t. Yunho has Seonghwa’s head turned to the side away from you, and he’s whispering something you can’t make out in his ear as he thrusts his hips for some friction. 

Your eyes don’t leave them, but you search the drawer, a feeling of relief washing over you when you find what you’re looking for. Quietly you move the dildo from the drawer to under the blanket, not bothering to try and find lube with how wet you are. You watch them still, opening your legs wide, and pushing the dildo inside. It’s not quite as large as Yunho, but it’s sizable and you feel stretched immediately, the head of the phallus shape dragging along your soft spots perfectly. 

Seonghwa twists under his husband and catches Yunho’s ear between his teeth, and when you hear his words you nearly cry out on the spot. “Just say you miss her pussy,” 

“Fuck,” Yunho pants, and you start to work the dildo in and out of your tight channel. 

“You do, don’t you,” Seonghwa teases him, and they roll, ending with Seonghwa on top, nestled between Yunho’s open legs and their cocks rubbing slickly against each other. 

“Hwa,” Yunho groans, “I swear to God,” 

“You swear?” Seonghwa teases. 

“Shh,” Yunho groans, “you’ll wake her,” 

“You’re the one making all the noise,” Seonghwa says. 

You’re shocked they haven’t noticed you yet, especially with the way you’re fucking yourself in earnest now, the blanket covering you slipping down to your hips. 

“Who’s needy now?” Seonghwa bites down on Yunho’s chest as he kisses his way across it, “look at you,” 

Yunho makes a tight whine as Seonghwa pumps his fist over Yunho’s red and weeping cock, and the sound has you gasping, pleasure fluttering up your body as you watch them together. 

“Baby?” Seonghwa turns towards you, his eyes darkening when he sees you - exposed down to your waist and the blanket bobbing where your hand works the silicone cock in and out of your tight wetness. 

Yunho’s head falls to the side, “y/n?” 

“Hi,” You pant, a little breathless, letting your hand slow to a stop with the dildo pushed deep inside, “you didn’t have to let me sleep,” 

Seonghwa rocks away from Yunho to sit back on his heels and watch you, “We tried to wake you,” 

“You were dead to the world,” Yunho smiles. 

“I’m sorry,” You blush a little, “I didn’t mean to leave you by yourselves,” 

Seonghwa smirks, “I think we’ve been occupying ourselves just fine,” 

“I can see that,” Your eyes flick between them. 

“I was kind of proud,” Yunho grins, cheeky with his tongue against his teeth, “we fucked you to sleep,” 

“Shut up,” You laugh, hiding your face in your free hand. 

“Mm,” Yunho shakes his head, “no,” 

Seonghwa runs his hand down Yunho’s thigh and cocks his head to the side as he regards you, “How long have you been up?” 

“A few minutes,” You admit, “how long was I asleep?” 

“Um,” Yunho leans to the side to see the clock, “thirty, maybe forty minutes?” 

“Well,” You sigh, your muscles clenching around the silicone cock, “don’t let me interrupt.” 

Yunho glances up to his husband, coming up off his back to his forearms, and it seems like he might try and take back control until Seonghwa lays a palm flat on his chest and pushes him down again, shaking his head. 

“Hwa,” Yunho glances at you. 

“We’ll take care of her too,” Seonghwa assures, “but she’s right, we were in the middle of something,” 

Yunho blushes, his ears running red. It’s not often that you see him on his back, a breath away from begging, but suddenly the man who had your face pressed against his shoe looks ruined, flattened by his own desire and arousal, and his utter need for the man above him. You’ve watched them before, but it’s rare to see Yunho quite so nervous looking. 

“My love,” Seonghwa murmurs, his hands running up the back of Yunho’s thighs to tip him open with his hips angled up high, “I think our girl would like to watch. What should we show her?” 

Yunho’s mouth opens, but no sound comes out and you watch him swallow hard. Your hand moves on its own, gripping the base of the dildo to bob it in and out of you steadily. 

“Fine,” Seonghwa turns his head to you, still holding Yunho in place, “How would you like us, love?” 

Sometimes his words mean what position, but not this time. This time he’s asking who you want. The night has bled from their dominant aggressive personas to the tenderness of your lovers without any mask, and back to whatever this moment is, a razor wire that will determine the rest of the evening. How you want to come, how you want to be fucked, how you want to be talked to, will all unfold here with whatever you choose. 

A flash of your night earlier flickers through you - they way they had you controlled, begging, desperate and soaking, and you bite your lip. With a few moves, you kick the blanket off yourself, spreading your legs wider and making sure they’re both watching when you start to fuck yourself again. Yunho makes a soft noise, and Seonghwa grins. 

“Please, sir?” You murmur, moaning, admittedly a little theatrically, but you get the desired response. Yunho’s cock twitches and Seonghwa’s eyes flutter shut for just a moment while he thinks about his next move. 

“That’s it then,” He sighs. 

“Hwa,” Yunho looks between you both. 

“No,” Seonghwa shifts forwards, pressing his wet cock to Yunho’s entrance, “if our girl wants this, she’s going to get it.” 

“Oh, fuck,” You breathe, stunned by the expressions on their faces. 

“Baby,” Yunho groans as Seonghwa begins to shift his hips forwards. 

“Let me take care of you,” Seonghwa soothes him. 

“I,” Yunho’s eyes squeeze shut as he revels in the sensation of his husband’s cock filling him so deliciously, “I love you,” he manages. 

Seonghwa strokes his cheek once, dragging his thumb over Yunho’s full bottom lip and smiles, “I know, I know you do.” 

The sound of the room changes as Seonghwa rocks forwards and starts to pump his hips, sharp snaps down to drive his cock deep inside Yunho, and you start to match the pace of Seonghwa’s thrusts with your hand to feel full in just the same way that Yunho feels. 

“Hwa,” Yunho moans, his hands locking onto his hips to support his weight, “God,” 

Seonghwa stays focused, never slowing, but he turns his head to you. “Puppy?” 

You don’t expect the pet name, it’s not something that you play with regularly, but it is a perfect way to address you while he’s commanding the both of you. Baby, darling, love, all of these are endearments he says to both of you, each one like a secret soft kiss, but puppy is new. It runs the deepest strike of pleasure through you, and you press the cock deep, relishing in the feeling of it filling you to the brim. 

“Yes, sir?” You pant. 

“Come here,” He snaps his hips down and locks his pelvis with Yunho’s. 

You shift up, sliding the dildo out of you and shifting onto all fours, crawling across the expanse of the bed until you’re closer, “Sir?” 

“Kneel and face Yunho,” He directs you and waits for you to comply, “now hand me that,” 

With his gesture towards the toy, you grab it from its discarded place amongst the sheets and pass it to him. Seonghwa smiles, “Eyes on me,”

You look back at him, and watch as he drops his mouth over the length of the silicone cock, groaning as he tastes your arousal coating it. A low, tight noise bubbles out of you and he bobs his head a few more times over the toy until he lifts his mouth off and nods his head at you, “Look at Yunho,” 

You settle again, leaning onto your forearms with your ass in the air, a familiar position now. Yunho cups your face, smoothing your hair back and you can feel his hands trembling, the tension inside him as he waits for Seonghwa to keep fucking him more palpable than anything. 

“You think you deserve to be filled?” Seonghwa presses the head of the toy on your throbbing entrance. 

“Please, please, sir,” You press back, desperate now. 

“Darling,” Seonghwa says, and it’s clear immediately he’s not addressing you, “do you think she’s been good for you?” 

Yunho’s hips shift, you can feel the weight on the bed change as he does, and you know he’s a breath away from begging Seonghwa to make him come to, but recovers quickly and you feel his hand tighten up in your hair, “She’s been so good,” 

“Good enough for a treat?” Seonghwa asks. 

Yunho looks at you, his eyes soft, flicking between your eyes and the collar adorning your neck, “You know she has,” 

“Well,” Seonghwa sinks the head of the dildo inside you but no more, “if you ask Daddy nicely to help you come, maybe I can help,” 

The way the night has slingshotted between soft and hard has you spinning, but you decide not to think. With a whine you hold onto Yunho’s arm and comply, “Daddy?” 

Yunho shudders, nodding, “Yes, puppy?” 

“Please,” You moan, “please, daddy will you help me?” 

“Help you what?” He prompts you. 

“Come,” Your fingers tighten on him, nails digging into his bicep, “Daddy, I need it,” 

Yunho’s eyes break from yours and over your shoulder he meets Seonghwa’s gaze, “Fuck her,” he says, calm and cool, “hard.” 

The sharp press of the toy inside you knocks you forwards, but then Seonghwa holds it steady, “Fuck yourself,” he says, “I’m busy.” 

“What?” You twist around, feeling the dildo slip out of you a bit as his hand leaves.

“Don’t,” Seonghwa tuts, and his hand delivers a quick spank to your ass again, before he moves to brace himself over Yunho and resume his steady pace thrusting in and out of his tight, wet hole. 

Yunho groans, his head pressed back into the pillows, “Hwa, harder,” 

“Mm,” Seonghwa acknowledges softly, adjusting his pace. 

You’re at a loss, the teasing never being quite this direct, but you also know that not following instructions will leave you worse off later, so you settle next to Yunho, your head on the pillow next to him, and get comfortable. Reaching between your legs you secure the end of the toy, and start to work it inside you, as fast as you can without falling apart instantly. 

“Good girl,” Seonghwa says, pleased, “but you’ve come enough.” 

“Hwa?” You turn again, shocked at the sudden shift in him. 

“You’re not coming on that,” He reaches forwards, pulling the toy free and tossing it aside, “not tonight,” 

You feel dizzy, dazed and confused at the lack of direction, at the way he changes on a whim. Seonghwa pushes back, ending up on his knees, with Yunho propped in the perfect position for Seonghwa to continue fucking into him, and then you realize. 

“Take him in your mouth,” Seonghwa directs, “don’t stop until I tell you.” 

“Yes, sir,” You sigh, eager to be useful again, and you position yourself to take him in your mouth, sinking down over Yunho’s stiff aching cock until he connects with the deep back of your throat. 

Yunho moans, cursing and locking a hand down over your bare thigh, and you can feel how neglected he’s been. Seonghwa continues, moving steady, every thrust forcing Yunho’s thick cock deeper into your mouth. You can hear Yunho whining a little above you, cursing and fidgeting in the sheets, and you can’t help the way that your body jerks, attempting to grind into something, anything. 

Yunho’s hand coasts down your back, slips over the curve of your ass, and presses on the plug just enough to make you moan. 

Yunho’s tightening beneath you, the combined sensation of your tongue against his cock and Seonghwa filling him about to send him over the edge, when everything snaps and Seonghwa drags you back by your hair, disconnecting your mouth from Yunho. 

You gasp at the sharp pain of him tugging you by the scalp, and he drops you instantly, letting you fall back in the sheets by Yunho’s side. 

“Hwa,” Yunho shakes, “stop, stop, fuck,” 

Seonghwa pulls back, pulling his cock free and looking down at Yunho, waiting for the next step. 

“I need her,” Yunho confesses, “let me have her,” 

Seonghwa smiles, a little more gentle than before, and nods, moving back to let Yunho shift around in the bed and find you. 

Yunho descends on you then, hot kisses across your mouth, your cheeks, down your jaw and your chest, “I have to have you,” he groans. 

“Take me,” You widen your legs, tugging him forwards, feeling the head of his cock drag along your belly. 

“Tell me again,” Yunho pants in your ear, “say it again,” 

You’re not sure what he means at first, and you freeze, only a moan on your lips. 

Yunho leans back, brushing your lip with his fingertips, “Come on, babygirl, tell me again,” 

Your body flutters under his and you grip his shoulders, shifting under him to open yourself up, “Daddy,” you beg, “help me come,” 

Yunho groans, thrusting into you with one smooth downward strike of his hips. “You want to come so bad, puppy?” 

You whine, tightness building inside you again, and you let him maneuver your body, legs pressed back so far that you’re folded almost perfectly in half, hips up for him. The fill of the plug makes everything tight, and angles Yunho’s cock up into your g-spot. 

His thrusts change pace, instead of fast and full he adjusts to short and hard thrusts, fucking you deep and steady, “Come on my cock, puppy,” he groans, “make a mess for me,” 

You’re about to say something, anything, try to form coherent words, but Seonghwa’s hand slips between you both and starts to rub your clit at a fast, punishing pace. You keen, desperate and aching, and Yunho grips you tight in his hands while he fucks into you. 

“That’s it,” He croons, “let go,” 

The sensation you felt earlier is building again, and for the smallest of split seconds you wonder if once you come like that the first time, you can come like it whenever you like. Either way, the pointed pulse of Yunho’s cockhead on your g-spot combined with Seonghwa’s frantic rubbing on your swollen clit has you a second away. Pressure builds again, dropping the knot of your pleasure low and aching, and you cry out as you grip whatever pats of your boys you can hold onto, “I’m going to,” 

“Come, come,” Yunho chants. 

“I feel,” You’re close to babbling, thoughts disconnected and flickering in your brain, “I can’t, I’m, oh god, Yunho, oh god,” 

Seonghwa drops low and hums in your ear, “Come on Daddy’s cock, babygirl,” he nips at your breast, “I know you can,” 

Yunho’s hand drags up your chest, and you’re not sure exactly what triggers your orgasm, the way he tugs gently on the ring of your collar or the way he’s looking at you, or Seonghwa’s middle finger pressing perfectly down at the exact right time, but none of it matters. 

With an embarrassingly sobbing cry, the deep pressure unlocks and you feel the hot fluid erupt from your core once again. Yunho pulls out suddenly, and between both of their hands they stimulate you through the full extent of your orgasm, the splashing wetness making such a mess across all three of you. You’re shaking, the orgasm still heady and sharp, but Yunho’s hands move you fast. 

“Come here,” He rolls you onto your stomach, kicking your legs open wide, before he descends inside you again, moaning against you as he jerks his hips into you. 

“Yunho!” You gasp, finding his hand in the sheets and gripping it tight. 

He presses deep inside and leans up a bit, “Seonghwa,” you hear him say, “Please, can you try?”

In the haze of your orgasm, it doesn’t make perfect sense, but you feel the weight over you change, and when Yunho moans into space between your shoulder blades, one hand fisting the sheets by your head, you know that Seonghwa has taken up the spot behind him. 

You’re all frozen for a second, adjusting to the sensations, and where Yunho is shuddering between you both, fucked out and needy to come, Seonghwa still has some of his faculties. He leans to the side, searching for your face where it’s pressed into the mattress, “Are you okay? Can you breathe?” 

His concern for you warms you, his stress that both of them on top of you might be too much, but you shake your head, “I’m so, so good,” you assure. 

Seonghwa finds your hand and interlaces your fingers, “You squeeze my hand, okay?” 

“Mhm,” You manage, exhaustion pouring over you, “okay,” 

“Yunho,” Seonghwa says. 

Yunho dips low, kissing your cheek, “You with us?” 

“Yeah, yes,” You blink hard and surface. 

“Okay?” He checks. 

“Please,” You jerk your hips back and he groans. 

“So good,” Yunho sighs. 

The rest is desperate. Moaning, clawing at each other’s skin, gripping hard enough to leave bruises on hips. Yunho thrusts into you steadily, and Seonghwa follows suit, fucking into Yunho’s ass with tight curses on his lips. Seonghwa keeps his hand twined with yours, but you never need to use the lifeline he offers. 

“You’re our fucking girl,” Yunho chokes in your ear as he thrusts, “forever,” 

His hand winds around you, closing over your throat not to choke you, but to hold you where the collar nestles against your skin, and he melts down into you. Within a few thrusts he chokes, spilling himself hot and wet inside you, warmth filling your belly. You couldn’t come again if they tried, every inch of you feeling over-stimulated, but the heavy weight of his cock inside you as Seonghwa thrusts into him still feels pleasant and comforting. 

Yunho grips down on you, biting as gently as he can manage on your shoulder, and you know he’s feeling just as over-stimulated as you now that Seonghwa is working him still after he’s orgasmed. 

“Hwa,” Yunho moans, gathering you close in his arms as he rides it out, “I can’t,” 

“Shh,” Seonghwa hushes his husband, “I’m almost, I’m close,” 

Seonghwa thrusts steadily, and you feel his hand tighten hard on yours as he starts to come, groaning sharply and snapping his hips tight into Yunho as he spills his release deep inside. 

You’re all a shuddering mess, a mass of shaking damp limbs, and it takes a few minutes to recover. 

The weight of both of them on top of you finally starts to build, and you squeeze Seonghwa’s hand hard, “I need some air,”

Seonghwa pulls back first, dropping to your left side and looking about as blissed out as you’ve ever seen him. Yunho pulls away, his softening cock sliding free, but he stays braced on all fours over you for a few moments while he recovers before rolling over onto your right side. 

“Are you okay?” Seonghwa checks, rubbing your back, “It wasn’t too much at the end?” 

“Mm,” You shake your head, “never,” 

Yunho sildles close, pulling you into his arms in a spooning position, “My girl,” he sighs into your skin. 

“Am I?” You murmur, and you know it’s true but hearing it always fills you with delicious warmth and love, so you tease and grin against Seonghwa’s lips when he dives in to catch your mouth. 

“You know you are,” Yunho sighs, his fingers dancing over the collar, “always.” 

You rest in their arms a while, all three of you recovering your breath and easing into each other, sated and feeling delicious, until the chill of the room starts to raise goosebumps on your arms. 

“Cold,” You sigh, “someone tuck me in,” 

Seonghwa chuckles, and kisses your face, “We need a shower, and then we can sleep, okay?” 

“Okay,” You sigh, “I’m so tired though,” 

“We’ll just have to help you,” Seonghwa teases, “think you can handle that, Yun?” 

“Mhm,” Yunho presses a warm kiss to your shoulder, “I’ll get you squeaky clean,” 

It only takes twenty or thirty minutes to get cleaned up, but the boys are true to their word. Seonghwa showers quickly, leaving you and Yunho to finish out slowly. He helps you wash out your hair, remove the plug, and holds you against him in the hot spray to make sure you’re relaxed and ready for bed. 

Once you both make out to the main room, you can’t help but smile. Seonghwa has discarded the towels and remade the bed, one corner turned down to accept you into the plush cushions. Seonghwa himself is sitting on the bench at the foot of the bed waiting, dressed in his sleep pants and holding the red box in his hands. 

“Hi, baby,” You smile when you see him, Yunho wrapping his arms around you from behind as you wait for Seonghwa to respond. 

“We should sleep,” he finally says, “but before we do that I want to show you something.” 

“Okay,” Your eyebrows knit together, unsure of what he could possibly want to show you after all the  intimacy you shared tonight. 

“The key,” Seonghwa stands, and holds out the small locking mechanism for your necklace, “I want you to know where I’m going to keep it.” 

“Why?” You shake your head, “isn’t the point of this supposed the be unlimited trust?” 

Seonghwa smiles softly, and Yunho joins in, “Yes, but trust doesn’t have to mean blind trust.” 

“I don’t understand,” You admit, confused by both of their reactions. You thought you had understood what Yunho liked about the necklace, and accepting the risk that it was permanent was supposed to be a large part of your commitment to them. 

“We love you,” Seonghwa smiles, showing you the key between his fingers as he crosses the room to the bookshelf that lines one wall, “and you belong to us,” 

You nod, finding Yunho’s hand and holding it tight as you listen. 

“But you were right,” Seonghwa reaches for a small clay pot off the top shelf of the bookshelf and holds it out to you before dropping in the key, “we don’t own you.” 

“Hwa,” You breathe. 

“You’re with us by choice,” Yunho kisses your temple, “and for as long as you choose to stay, it would mean so much to me if you’d keep this,” he brushes his hand over the necklace, “but you always have a choice.” 

Your body softens against him and Seonghwa crosses to nestle close, cupping your cheek, “We chose you,” he murmurs, “and we hope you’ll always choose us.” 

Emotion wells in your chest and you blink back tears, “I can’t imagine being without you now,” 

“Then don’t,” Yunho hums in your ear, kissing you softly. He reaches for Seonghwa and tugs him in closer too, so that you’re gathered between them both. 

They wrap their arms around you. They hold you tenderly. Here, tucked close between them, you are forming a family. The collar around your throat means many things, but when you feel the weight of Yunho’s hand on your cheek you think of his ring, and when you press your cheek to Seonghwa’s chest, your fingers play with the delicate wrap of his chain. They don’t have to say a thing, and neither do you, but you all know what it means. 

You fall asleep in each other's arms. In your bed, in your room, in your apartment, your home. You can’t imagine what would be strong enough to pull you apart now, and even though they don't say it, neither can they.

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#yunho #jeong yunho #seonghwa #park seonghwa #yunhwa #yunho x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunhwa x reader #RETURN OF THE HUSBANDS #honeyhotteoks fics #kpop fic #ateez fic #ateez ff #ateez smut #ateez #yunho smut #seonghwa smut

[songmingisthighs]

[4.11] mafia!wooyoung × reader

⇀ you thought he didn't care, he was sure he doesn't, he had said it so himself to you. that was, until he almost lost the chance of being able to care for you.

⇁ tw : running away, mafia life (criminal/illegal acts)

⇁ part 1 / 2 / 3

⇁ disclaimer : the author does not support any and all criminal/illegal acts. the narrative written in this story is purely fiction out of the author's imagination. the things written here does not portray real mafia life nor is the author aware of how the mafia life is like. the author is a hermit loser.

At first, Wooyoung thought you had really ran away from him. After the fight you had the previous night, how could he not ?

"All I ask is a little bit of attention! I know you could spare some for me," you exclaimed, following after Wooyoung into the home office in his mansion. Yes, his, he never once said it was yours too so you treat it as such.

Wooyoung rolled his eyes at you, "and I ask you shut that big trap you called your mouth before I shut it for you, but we can't all get what we wanted now, can we ?" He spat.

You're used to his aggressive words, it used to hurt but now the pain just comes and goes. But you're at your wit's end, he was distant when you both were first forced into engagement but he was still polite so you thought that was just the shock, but now that you're married, things got worse.

"Wooyoung," you called, leaning both of your hands on his desk aa he sit on his office chair, "it's been 8 months since we got married," he glared at you when you said that, so you sighed and change your choice of words, "since we were force into marriage... But I've been trying so hard to make this less of a chore for both of us, I don't know what else I could do! You're not even bothering to hide the fact that you hate my guts to your very core even though it wasn't my fault that we got into this! Heck, you don't even bother to acknowledge that I exist!"

Wooyoung slammed his hands down on the table, standing face to face with you, "that's right," he chuckled darkly, "I don't even bother, you know why? Because you're nothing in my life, I never ask for you, I never wanted you, you're still here because your dad's business fell through with my dad and he used you as mean of escaping because that's all you are, princess," he leaned closer to your face and spoke through gritted teeth, "a worthless burden that people toss around,"

It would've been a lie if you said that his words doesn't affect you whatsoever. Because it does.

Maybe deep down that was one of your biggest fear and having someone confirmed that made you feel sick to your stomach. You recoiled from the table, as if having been struck across your face.

Though Wooyoung had a satisfied smirk on his face, "you should know I've been planning your assasination ever since you said 'I do', I would've made it look like an accident so that my dad wouldn't be up in my ass talking about losing his insurance of control over your dad, maybe I should move the schedule up so I can get rid of you quicker,"

You stared at him for a while, not knowing that he actually hated you that much. All this time you thought it was just petty reluctance of being tied to you, but this just brought things to a whole new level.

"No..." you choked out, trying to hold back tears, "I'll take care of it myself," and with that, you ran out of his office to pack all your belongings with tears streaming down your face.

And that was the last time Wooyoung had seen you. He had heard from one of his butlers that he had seen you running around the house retrieving your things where it supposedly was earlier, you looked frantic and you hadn't even taken a second to take a break.

"And did she got out of the house today?" Wooyoung asked from his position on the couch, loosening all of the buttons on his shirt. "No, master, not that any of us know of," said butler then leaned close to Wooyoung's ears, "the cctv has been cut off, her bodyguards are dismissed, no one has tended to her nor got close to her, and I personally see to it that all windows and doors are unlocked just as you had requested,"

Wooyoung couldn't believe that he's probably a free man now, that YOU had left him so that he wouldn't be in hot water with his father.

With a glass of whiskey in his hand, he decided to look around to see whether or not you had really left while telling his maid to prepare dinner for him.

True to what he expected, he made two laps around the mansion but not once did he find you. Not even in his office with a divorce paper, as dramatic as it sound.

He finally step into his shared bedroom with you to make his final confirmation.

At first he knocked on the door, not really knowing why he did that, but when no sound came from the room he simply opened the door and walked in. He hadn't returned the night before, spending half of his night in his home office before going out with San to a bar, not realizing that it was his guilt that drove him out to drink his memory away.

Looking around the room, he couldn't really tell whether or not you had ran away. The room looked like it had been slept in the night before, he could see the spot where you laid in comparison to his side that's perfectly neat.

When he stepped into the walk-in closet, he was quite surprised at the sheer contrast to the bedroom. Your clothes thrown haphazardly, it seems like you were urgently looking for things to pack, and the more he analyze the items on the floor, the more he realized that you hadn't taken anything that was bought with his money.

But that wasn't the thing that got his attention.

It was your wedding dress that had been taken out of its garment bag, across from it, an empty bottle of wine and a box of tissues with crumpled tissues surrounding it. It looked straight out of a movie.

He walked closer to the dress and trailed a hand down it.

He remembered seeing you wear it on your wedding day. He remembered being too pissed at his father to be able to fully appreciate how ethereal you looked. He remembered how when you looked at him, he could see the redness in your eyes, indicating that you had been crying.

But over all, he remembered how his heart skipped a beat when he saw you walking closer to him. Of course, he would never admit it outwardly.

His train of thought was broken when his butler knocked on his bedroom door, "master, dinner is served," he said.

Wooyoung cleared his throat and straighten out his posture, "yes, of course, I'll be there soon," he called out.

As the footsteps of his butler fade, he carefully zip your wedding dress back into its garment bag, making sure that the dress is stored perfectly.

After that, he went to the dining room to have his dinner.

Usually, you'd be seated in your seat, across from him at the other end of the table that seats 10 people. He'd have to admit that it feels weird not seeing you smile at him after a long day of working, but he forced himself to believe that it was a good kind of weird.

Strangely, as he eat his food he felt that it doesn't match his palate, that something feels off. So he called for his head butler and asked him about it.

"Did we change cooks? Why does today's dinner taste so bland?"

His butler seemed hesitant to answer him, looking at the head maid for a bit. The middle-aged woman stepped forward from her spot, bowing slightly to avoid Wooyoung's eyes, "we did not have any change in staffs, sir, it's just that the mistress used to prepare all of your meals and considering... the circumstances, she had not prepared anything for you," she said, not even bothering to hide her bitterness that he had drove you away.

Considerably, he was shocked that you had never brought the fact up to him. But as usual, he masked his true feelings and just nod at her, continuing with his meal even though he can't seem to enjoy it.

The shock didn't stop there, though.

Over the course of the first 5 days of you leaving him, he began noticing the things that indicate your presence in his house. Or used to indicate your presence.

He never knew that you were the one who always put flowers around the mansion. He noticed this when he passed by a vase of wilting aconite. It almost broke him when he see the maids cleared all flowers, leaving an empty vase that he now associate with your absence.

He never knew that you kept tabs on food he likes and dislikes. After 3 days, he gave up on eating the food his cook made for him, firing the poor man on the spot and resorting to take outs.

He never knew that you were the one who personally arrange his wardrobe. Usually, every morning he'd find his favorite shirts or favorite sets of clothes on the front, ready for him to pick out and wear. Now that you're not here, he had to spend extra time deciding what to wear.

And lastly, he was surprised at the fact that you had never made it to your hometown.

"What do you mean she's not with her parents?" He growled at his henchmen, making them visibly scared. "W-we tried looking for her, even asking around, but no one had seen her," he explained.

All Wooyoung wanted was to hear about how you're happier without him, how you've settled back to your life without him, how he'd be assured with the fact that you leaving him was the best thing that could ever happen to you two.

Feeling that he owed this for the sake of his own closure, he ordered everyone under him to find out your whereabouts.

The desperation suffocated him, he hated the feeling.

So he ran out of his office to his garden, going to the furthest side where it is practically abandoned so that he'd be all alone to calm his mind.

What he hadn't expect to see though, was several pieces of clothes on the ground. At first he just thought that the laundry might have flown away due to the wind, but when he inspected them closer, he recognized them as yours.

"Why would these be here?" He muttered to himself as he began picking up the scattered pieces of clothes one by one. When he picked up the last piece, he noticed your suitcase by the corner of the tall wall that surround his house for protection.

The sight that made his stomach drop was a rather huge hole that could fit a person.

Wooyoung's brain put 2 and 2 together and the only reasonable conclusion made him feel like blowing up.

You had been kidnapped.

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez scenario #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #wooyoung #jung wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #ateez au #ateez story #kpop scenario #kpop imagine #kpop imagines #ateez x reader #timestamp #ateez timestamp #kpop timestamps #smt timestamp

[idy-ll-ique]

His Lovely Girl.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x F!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Requested: nope

Warnings: insecurity

Summary: Sebastian spoils her all the time. What has she ever done for him? When someone leaves a rude comment under her Instagram post, she can't help but rethink her entire relationship with the handsome actor.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! We're back to Marvel lol, enjoy!

---

"I'll see you later, dove, have fun!" Y/N grinned when her boyfriend leaned over, pressing his lips to her forehead. "Bye, Seb, I'll miss you," she whispered and he looked down at her, his heart swelling in his chest, full of appreciation for her. He loved her so much. "I'll miss you too, Y/N, but I'll only be gone for around 6 hours." Y/N pouted and he couldn't help it.

He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers in a chaste kiss. "I know. Go now, I don't want to be the reason you're late." He laughed heartily when she pushed him away with a smile. "Oh, doll, everyone knows about us, they'll know anyway." With that, he waved at her and left the apartment they shared. Y/N had moved in with him 2 years into dating.

Sebastian Stan; let's just say, he was a busy man. Y/N sighed and got up from the bed, feeling hungry. They had started dating 4 years ago, and what years those were; the most blissful ones in both their lives. They loved each other to death, and they knew that. Y/N waddled into the kitchen and looked around the various cabinets, finding a box of Mac and Cheese.

It was a funny story, actually, how they met. Y/N, at the time, was working as a barista at Starbucks. One day, Sebastian had walked into the Starbucks where she worked, and she was the one who took his order. He was extremely polite, funny and a bit awkward and just like that, she fell in love with him all over again. Y/N was a Marvel geek and Sebastian had noticed.

"I really like your hoodie, doll, where'd you get it?" he had asked her after telling her his order. And she had looked down, seeing the custom-made hoodie she wore. It was black in colour, but one of the sleeves was silver and had a red star on the bicep, just like his arm from the movie Captain America: Winter Soldier.

Bucky's trigger words were printed on the front of the hoodie. She had blushed furiously, simultaneously cursing and thanking her fate and coincidence. "I had it custom made," she had told him at the time and he had grinned so wide he thought his mouth would tear open. That was the moment where he, too, realized that he was getting a crush on the pretty barista.

And he hadn't hesitated to ask her for her number. He had taken a tissue paper, scribbled his number down and had written what's yours? ;) underneath. When he went to pay for his coffee, he purposely made sure that he wasn't giving her any change. With his notes, he slid her the tissue and she took it, giving him a confused look.

When she read it, her breath hitched. While pulling out his change, she had discreetly written her number down on the tissue, saved his on her phone and had given the tissue back to him with the coins. Both of them had grinned widely at each other when he left. While walking home, he had taken out the tissue and had seen her number written neatly under his. And his heart raced, Y/N is worth it.

---

*@yn_yln posted a photo*

4,583 likes

yn_yln Mac and Cheese, anyone? :D

Y/N smiled and logged out of her Instagram account after posting the photo. She just couldn't resist; she looked good that day, one of those days where she felt confident enough to post a picture. She kept her phone away and sauntered into the sitting room to watch something on the television. An hour passed before she yawned, feeling tired.

2:05 pm, her watch displayed. Well, there's no harm in an afternoon nap, am I right? Sebastian wasn't home anyway, and it's not like she had anything to do. Grabbing her phone off the dining table, she walked into hers and Sebastian's shared bedroom, plopping down on the bed. She decided to check her Instagram before falling asleep and opened the said app.

She went through the page that displayed all the likes and comments, pausing at one comment. Her heart dropped as she clicked on the comment, her entire being filling with an uneasy feeling. You're only dating him for the money, admit it. Until then, she had never even thought… about that. Throwing her phone to the side she sat up, breathing heavily.

Y/N was currently jobless. After they started going out, she continued working at Starbucks until last year; Sebastian had suggested that she leave the job and work somewhere better, earn a higher salary. Y/N had discarded the idea at first, since the job paid enough for her to go about her daily things and where would she even find another job?

Starbucks was okay. But Sebastian wouldn't hear it. So she left the job, now jobless. She had applied to a few places but hadn't received any news as of yet. They're right. I'm living off of him. I don't even have a job. What does it look like? A broke woman dating a rich, handsome guy? Oh my God, am I leeching off his hard work? All those thoughts rushed through her head in a span of a few seconds.

The more she thought about it, the more she teared up. Blinking the tears away, she lay back down and curled up under the comfortable blankets. His blankets. She closed her eyes, trying her hardest to fall asleep but the tears were proving it to be difficult. Fortunately, she drifted off into an uneasy slumber 15 minutes later.

---

"Baby, I'm home!"

Silence. Sebastian frowned, carefully walking into the house. "Y/N?" he called out but there was no answer. Keeping the bag he was holding away, he walked further into the apartment, stopping at the doorway of their bedroom. "Aw," he whispered under his breath, smiling, stepping into the bedroom. He gently sat next to his sleeping girlfriend.

His knuckles traced her cheeks but he froze. Why is she so cold? His soft touch was enough to wake her up, because she stirred and blinked up at him. "Seb, hi, welcome back." Her voice was hoarse. "Y/N? Did you fall sick?" he asked worriedly as she sat up, distancing herself from him. "I'm not sick," she muttered but Sebastian wouldn't buy it.

He reached out to cup her cheek, feeling like he had been stabbed multiple times when she leaned away from his touch. "Y/N?" She shook her head and looked out of the window, bringing her knees to her chest. "Just wanna be alone right now." She didn't want to send him away. She wanted to sit in his lap, listen to him rambling about his day…

But she also didn't want to be near him. Do I even deserve him? "What happened?" he insisted, his eyes going wide when she glared at him. "Go. Away." He scrambled off the bed without another word, softly closing the door behind him as he walked into the sitting room, running a hand through his hair. He sat down on the couch and looked around.

What happened in those 6 hours that he was away? Sebastian knew she wasn't on her cycle, it still had another week to come. So it wasn't mood swings. His eyes landed on the empty bowl of Mac and Cheese sitting on the dining table but they skimmed right past it, not knowing that that bowl was the reason for Y/N's sadness. Then he stared at the designer handbag on the opposite couch.

Picking up the bag, he strode back to their room, knocking on the door. Maybe seeing a pretty purse would lighten her mood? "What?" Y/N called out from inside and he opened the door, holding the purse up. "I brought you a gift." Y/N's heart started thudding in her chest and tears glistened in her eyes anew as she stared at the bag with utmost resentment.

"I don't want it."

Sebastian went rigid. She never rejects my gifts. "Y/N—" She started shaking her head. "No. Return it. I'm not taking it. I don't want it," she repeated, her glare now directed at him. "But doll…" he tried, freezing when her jaw clenched. "Get out." Disheartened, he walked out once more, more confused than anything. Now I have to know what happened.

Inside the room, Y/N sobbed silently. The bag was so pretty, her favorite color, the sleek design… she wanted to keep it so bad, but she knew she wasn't worthy of it. Sebastian brought her gifts all the time. Most of them expensive as shit; he had the money to blow off. What had she done for him? Nothing, really. He spoiled her heartily, never once allowing her to do the same.

"You're mine, baby girl, mine to love, mine to cherish, mine to spoil."

She was definitely leeching off him. Outside the room, Sebastian took out his phone and texted Y/F/N, who was Y/N's closest friend. They rarely spoke, but Y/N told Y/F/N everything and he knew she'd have answers.

hey, do you know what's up with y/n

why what happened

she's in a really bad mood

she's angry at me and I brought her a gift but she won't take it

she usually loves them but today…

OH WAIT

I know what happened

she texted me in the afternoon

something about a comment on Instagram or something

ig that's why she's in a bad mood

oh

thanks

I'll check it out

He ended the conversation and opened Instagram, seeing a new post from his dear girlfriend. Sebastian couldn't help but smile as he liked the photo, commenting a heart emoji. There were only around 22 comments on the post, so he decided to go through them. Which comment had triggered her? He found it instantly and his nostrils flared.

Replying to the fairly rude comment, he typed, how about you fuck off and mind your own damn business? If you don't like her, unfollow and leave. There's literally nothing else you need to do. After hitting send, he kept his phone away and, determination shining in his eyes, ran back to the bedroom.

He threw open the door and a sob escaped the lips of the startled woman. He started taking off the annoying clothes he was wearing until he was just in his boxers, sliding into the bed next to her. She attempted to push him away but the strong man didn't budge, holding her on his lap as she thrashed. Soon, she gave up the fight and melted against him, crying her eyes out.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again and again, her breath hitching. "Hush, baby, it's okay, I'm not mad," he whispered, rubbing her back, helping her calm down. She rested her head on his shoulder, her arms tight around him. "Tell me the truth. What happened?" he asked even though he knew the answer. Tiredly, Y/N narrated everything; from the comment to all her insecurities.

Sebastian gently cupped her cheeks, wiping her tears off. "Y/N, you're mine. I love taking care of you, I love spoiling you, and I don't do it because I expect something in return, I do it because I love you. Don't listen to strangers on the internet, what better work do they have? Nothing but lowlifes. You don't have to do anything for me. I don't want you to do anything for me."

"But Seb…"

"No. No, you're my girlfriend and only the best for my girl. I love all the gifts you get me. I cherish them wholeheartedly. Just you being my girl is a gift better than anything else in the world, to be honest. But I'm going to continue looking after you whether you like it or not. You don't even have to go to work, I'm here for you. I love you." Y/N teared up again.

They were happy tears.

"I love you so much," she cried weakly and Sebastian pulled her to him, cradling her head, breathing her in. "I love you too, doll. Now will you take my gift, please?" She nodded against him and he gently lowered her on the bed, going outside to get the bag. Once back in their room he handed the bag to her, smiling at the way her eager hands reached up to accept the gift.

As he watched her admiring the bag, he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, till death do them part.

His girl, his lovely girl.

---

A/N: Leave a like if you enjoyed, thanks for reading!

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan characters #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

[egcdeath]

an apple a day

pairing: soft!ransom drysdale x reader

summary: it seems like an apple a day couldn’t keep the doctor or ransom away.

warnings: sickfic, a lot of fluff, brief mention of throwing up

word count: 2k

author’s note: join my taglist if you’d like! all feedback is appreciated <3

Ransom

U busy?

4:37 PM

Ransom

😏🍆😈

4:38 PM

Ransom

Wow ignoring me?????

5:24 PM

Ransom

Bitch

5:34 PM

Ransom

🙄

5:36 PM

A frantic pounding on your front door pulled you from a bizarre dream within your feverish slumber. You peeled the slightly damp cloth that rest upon your face from your sweaty skin, and lazily tossed it to the floor before audibly groaning. 

“Coming,” you whimpered out, hoping that it was loud enough for whomever was at the door.

“Fuckin’ better be,” a voice grumbled as a response.

You rolled over slightly, whole body sore from the sickness that was currently ailing you, and willed yourself to get off of your sofa. Swinging your legs over the left side of the piece of furniture you managed to get up, and sluggishly made your way to the door, ignoring the ache of your neck from resting it on an arm rest.

It seemed like with every step you took, your sinus headache throbbed harder between your eyes, and your fever cooked you a bit more from the inside out.

After what felt like a lifetime, you got to your door and opened it, only to be greeted by your… well, you didn’t really know what he was to you.

“Christ, Y/N. You look like shit,” Ransom commented, raising his brows. “Did you get hit by a car or something?”

You gave him a blank look, and said nothing. 

“Is this a bad time?”

“What do you think, dickhead?” 

“You’ve had better days,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

“Okay, goodbye,” you rolled your eyes and slammed the door on him, finding yourself slightly out of breath as you lethargically shuffled away.

You collapsed back onto the sofa, and reached for a blue tissue box that sat on your coffee table. Did that even happen? Did you imagine Ransom coming to your door? Or was that part of your fever dream?

Settling back, and pulling a wool blanket over yourself, you began to doze off once again, not really having the energy to do anything else.

Ransom

I’m s-word

6:12 PM

Ransom

I’m not gonna say it

6:13 PM

Ransom

But you know what I mean

6:15 PM

Ransom

I’m coming back over baby

6:17 PM

You hadn’t even noticed the vibrating of your phone, as it was currently lodged under a mountain of pillows and cushions. It also helped that you were asleep once again.

This time when you woke up, Ransom was in your apartment, rambling about some encounter he had while he was out dealing with the public for you.

How was he even in your apartment? You felt like you missed a few steps.

“Sit up,” he commanded, setting down a plastic take-out bag, along with the spare keys you kept under your welcome mat on top of your coffee table, before dragging a seat from your kitchen into your living room. 

The seat finally came to a stop in front of you, and you listlessly sat up. You watched as Ransom wordlessly opened the bag, revealing a massive container of a clear broth soup, and an equally large baguette.

“Am I dreaming?” You asked aloud.

“Why would you be dreaming? ‘Cause I did something nice? Or because I’m that hot?”

“Because I have a high fever that’s making me delusional,” you told him, and his brows furrowed once again. 

“Let me see,” he mumbled, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead, and humming in thought, “Yeah, you’re pretty hot,” he agreed.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” you mumbled, a random churn in your stomach suddenly taking a huge blow out of you. 

“Hey, I did a good thing for you. Don’t get bitchy with me now,” he snapped, narrowing his eyes slightly at you. 

You sighed as a response, and Ransom gave you a little smirk before going to open the lid of the soup container. 

“Open up wide, Beloved,” Ransom said in a playful tone. If you had the energy, you’d shoot something sassy back at him, but you were finding yourself in less of a state to do so with every passing moment. You simply followed along with his orders, opening your lips so Ransom could deliver a little spoonful of soup into your mouth. 

“Mm,” you audibly reacted to the liquid, “did you make this yourself?”

“Hm, you must be sicker than I thought,” he chuckled and dabbed the edge of your lip where a droplet of soup was left behind. “I picked it up on my way back over.”

“It’s really good,” you hummed, “feed me more.” 

Ransom scoffed fondly, “you’re lucky I like you.” He began, dishing out another spoonful to you.

You paused to chew on a softened carrot, “you should’ve known that sick me’s demands of you were gonna be a lot more.”

Ransom rolled his eyes, and went back to feeding you. You were both quiet for a moment, maintaining a heavy eye contact while he fed you, until out of the blue, your stomach turned. 

Your mouth filled with saliva as you realized what exactly was going on, and you rushed off of the couch with an obscene swiftness, just barely making it to your bathroom before you were emptying your stomach into it.

Ransom quickly showed up behind you, making his presence known by lifting your hair out of your face, and rubbing supportive circles onto your back. He cringed as he listened to you heave into the bowl, and when you finally leaned back, he used a thumb to wipe away the few tears that had begun to slip down your face. 

“You okay?” he questioned, squatting down to your level.

“Just peachy,” you choked out hoarsely.

“Maybe you’ll feel better after a shower?” he suggested, flushing your sickness down the toilet while you attempted to catch your breath.

“Okay, yeah,” you began hesitantly.

“I’ll stay in here if you want me to make sure nothing bad happens?”

“You just wanna be a perv,” you weakly giggled.

“I’m just trying to be a supportive… I’m trying to be supportive,” Ransom found his way back up, and turned on the shower’s nozzle.

“Mhm, I’m sure,” you began kicking off your sweatpants when you heard the water begin to putter down, and gestured for Ransom to help you lift off your sweatshirt once he was facing you once again. 

“I can’t believe you’re using up the last of that energy to have an attitude with me,” Ransom pulled you out of your shirt, then helped you up and began to direct you toward the shower. 

You were more or less silent from there on out, focusing on maintaining your balance in the slippery room. Your brain seemed to become increasingly cloudy with every extra puff of steam. You leaned against the slightly warm tiles of your wall as you attempted to get through the genuinely hellish shower for a few minutes before deciding it wasn’t really worth it, and stumbling back out. 

“Was I right? Did it help?” Ransom asked after your period of silence, handing you some fresh clothing that he’d grabbed from your closet sometime between the time you got in and out of the shower. 

You shook your head, “shower kinda made everything worse,” you muttered, pulling a new shirt over your head. “My head is killing me. I think I just need to be in a dark room, or go back to sleep, or something.”

You sluggishly pulled on the rest of your clothes, then sniffled as you walked out to your bedroom. As you made your way to your bed, you pushed aside a mountain of tissues from earlier in the… day? Week? With all the sleeping you’d been doing, you genuinely

couldn’t tell what time or day it was. You slipped into one side of the bed, and grabbed a pillow that you promptly hugged. 

Ransom slipped into bed beside you, a bottle of cold medicine in hand– when did he leave long enough to get you cold medicine?– and watched the tissues on your side of the bed fall onto the floor in a slightly disturbed manner. Yeah, he was definitely getting sick after this.

“Open,” he ordered, and you happily obliged, opening your mouth a bit so he could pour some medicine down your throat. You dramatically gagged, then wiped the corners of your lips.

“Gross, Ran,” you muttered, burying your face into a different pillow. 

“Well, it’ll probably make you feel better. I brought you water for a chaser if you’d like. You probably need to stay hydrated, or some shit like that.” 

When did he get water?? Probably when he was getting the medicine. But that would’ve taken him like, five minutes. And getting in bed didn’t take you that long. Right?

You were pulled out of your confused internal monologue by a pink plastic straw being brought to your lips, and you instinctively drank from it. You weren’t completely sure if it was all mental, or the medicine was kicking in extremely fast, but you were starting to feel a little loopy. Maybe time was being weird again because of your sickness. 

“I feel like I’m dying. You and your stupid showers made me die,” you whined, pushing away the straw.

“I was only trying to help,” he insisted as he set the drink down on your bedside table.

“I’m your second murder victim,” you continued.

Ransom paused and looked down at you with raised brows, “what?”

“Y’know, I saw what you did to that delivery girl who was bringing me soup. You better clean that body up before I get better, ‘cause ‘mgonna be pissed if I have to do that myself.”

“Okay, I don’t know if you’ve been seeing things the whole time, or if the medicine is rewriting your memories. Either way, I think it’s time for you to go to bed,” he chuckled.

“You’re right. Night,” you hummed before turning on your side and closing your eyes. It was pretty much lights out from there.

——

When you awoke, it was to the piercing bright light of a laptop screen that broke through the darkness of night. You had to blink a few times for your vision to focus, but… was Ransom in bed next to you? Looking at a WikiHow article? If you weren’t completely mistaken, you could make out a faint How to Help A Sick Person Feel Better: 8 Steps (with pictures).

You sleepily reached out and grabbed his wrist, letting him know that you were finally awake. He quickly clicked out of the tab, pulling up his Twitter feed instead. 

“Hi,” you greeted. “Why’re you being secretive?”

“I’m not,” he huffed.

“You are.”

“You’re still delusional from the medicine.”

“Probably. But you’re being secretive. And you’re bad at it.”

“Whatever,” you could practically hear the eye roll in his tone. 

“It’s late, Ran. Why’re you still up?” 

“I just wanted to, y’know…” he trailed off.

“To…?” you pressed.

“I wanted to make sure nothing would happen to you while you slept,” he rushed out. “Happy?”

You swooned aloud at this, “you are such a sucker. Put that laptop down and cuddle me.”

Ransom said nothing, but set the device into your night stand, and wrapped an arm around you, “‘re you feeling any better?” he mumbled as he relaxed into you. 

“Kinda. We’ll see in the morning,” you slipped your hand down on top of his, and Ransom promptly moved it.

“You’re already pushing it tonight.”

“You’re always such a dick,” you scoffed with a laugh. “Goodnight, asshat.”

“Goodnight, you sick bitch,” he quipped back.

——

When you awoke in the morning, you couldn’t help but to notice how much better you were feeling. No headache, no nausea, a little fatigue, but hey, you just woke up, and that was to be expected. 

As you sat up and glanced to your right, you found a pink-nosed Ransom with a box of empty Kleenex sat in his lap. 

“Oh great, you’re awake,” he began in a nasally tone. “Since you wanted to get me sick, it’s your turn to take care of me,” he tossed the empty box at you, the cardboard falling softly onto your lap. 

Something told you that this was going to be a long day. 

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom thrombey x you #knives out #knives out fanfic #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #ransom drysdale

[dreamescapeswriting]

BTS Reaction | Future Daughter Visits You [Request]

A/N: Follows alongside the first one I did where the son visits the member, you can find that HERE 

SEOKJIN:

"After all the lectures you've given me over the years," You heard someone scoff, you slowly lifted your head from your desk to look at whoever was sitting in your dorm room. There was a girl around your age sitting there with a bag of popcorn in her hands, 

"What?" You mumbled, wiping the drool off your cheek wondering who she was and why she looked strangely familiar to you as she continued to watch you. 

"Who are you?" You shook your head looking around to see if she was just one of your roommate's sisters or something but none of them appeared to be home, 

"Your daughter. My brother came to see dad and I decided I wanted to see you, I can't believe you lecture me for staying up late to study when you're doing the exact same thing," She scoffed but you only frowned more as she claimed to be your daughter and that she'd come to see you,

"I think you must be confused, I don't...I don't have a daughter," She started laughing while nodding her head, 

"Of course, not yet anyway. Not for another-" She looked over at the calendar and laughed, 

"Six years, then I'll be with you," She smirked looking at her watch as an alarm began to go off, 

"I've got to go but dad will be at the door in like four seconds so you might want to go and brush your teeth really quickly!" She yelled right before a flash of green light happened and she was gone, nothing but the bag of popcorn she'd been eating left behind as you tried to wrap your head around what just happened. 

"Y/n?" You jumped when you heard the door to your apartment open and Jin appeared holding snacks and drinks for you. Dad? Jin...You and Jin had a family in the future?

YOONGI:

Right as you were about to walk into Yoongi's studio there was a teenage girl standing outside the door looking around nervously, 

"Hi? Are you looking for someone?" You asked softly thinking she might have been lost but as soon as she looked at you she jumped, 

"No! Yes! No?" You frowned as she questioned herself, 

"Well, I can help you look if you want...Is it your dad? Brother? Uncle?" You glanced around to see if there were any staff members she could have been related to but she kept nervously looking back at the door behind her which was Yoongi's room, 

"Did you sneak in to meet Yoongi?" You laughed softly as she shook her head, 

"My brother is in there, I just- I wasn't expecting to meet you...I told him we didn't have to come but I just-" She stopped speaking as though she was taken back at the sight of you, 

"I never thought I would see you this young, mum it's great to meet you," She hugged you tightly as you frowned at the way she called you mum, you patted her back. 

"Did you hit your head? Do you want me to call a nurse?" She shook her head as she snuggled into your chest, 

"No, it's fine. It doesn't matter just...You and dad are so happy now and in the future, we wanted to come back and well...Dad grounded him so we used the time machine to come and see you guys," You blinked at her not knowing you were believing it or if you were just so sleep deprived you were seeing and hearing things. 

"Right...Well, I'm going to go into the room now," You mumbled opening the door to see a teenage boy with Yoongi,

"I didn't know you had a friend-" You were cut off when the boy turned to look at you, he was almost the spitting image of Yoongi,

"I was just leaving, have fun." The boy got up and headed to the door, you stared over at the girl who hit him over the back of the head, 

"That's dad," She mouthed before dragging her brother by his ear lobe out into the corridor, 

"Weird." You mumbled sitting down on the sofa.

HOSEOK:

After getting back from your date with Hoseok you smiled to yourself, falling down onto your sofa with a giant smile across your face. 

"Dad's right, that smile is contagious," You sat up and stared over at the kitchen to see a teenage girl pouring milk into a bowl, 

"How did you get into my apartment?" Your voice cracked and the girl smiled, 

"I know about the spare key under the frog outside, you told me it was where you kept money too, you should be careful what you tell your kids mum. I mean who knows when we're going to come back from the future to steal you cash," You blinked at her and then touched your head, maybe you'd bumped your head when you were ice skating on your date. 

"Don't worry, you and dad go on another date soon, it just takes him a week to call you because he's so worried, but don't give up on him." You tried to question what she was talking about when she mumbled a bunch of curse words, the next thing you knew was the bowl she was eating from was on the floor and the spoon was clanging around on the side, 

"What. The. Fuck." You mumbled as you got up to clean up the mess, wondering what had just happened.

NAMJOON:

"Careful! You might fall!" Someone yelled as they steadied the ladder that you were standing on, you looked down to see a teenage girl smiling up at you. 

"Hi, thanks." You laughed as you climbed down, holding a box of books you were attempting to unpack up onto the top shelves, 

"Maybe I should call my friend Namjoon to come and help me, it's too tall for me." You laughed nervously, taking the box over to the counter and asking if the girl needed anything but she was playing around with a watch on her wrist, 

"I put the stupid thing wrong, I meant to add another two years on." You frowned watching her struggling around with it before she smiled in achievement, 

"You're not going to remember a word of this so this doesn't matter, hi mum. You and dad will start dating in about six months so stop calling him your friend, Namjoon will walk through that door in like two seconds." The girl pressed something down on her watch and a flash of green happened in front of you before the bell above the door sounded, then everything was gone and you couldn't remember what you had just been doing, 

"Joonie? Here, can you help me?" You called out as your best friend walked into the shop.

JIMIN:

"Hey, Jimin didn't tell me he had a sister," The girl in front of you froze as she slowly put down the photograph she was holding and turned to look at you, no one was supposed to be home she'd come back to this date thinking it would be safe so she couldn't be seen. 

"Hi, I'm Y/n...Your brother's girlfriend, he said he introduced me to everyone but I guess he forgot you," The girl laughed nervously as she shook your head, not taking her eyes off you as she teared up a little. 

"Sorry...You're just...You're so beautiful, dad is always telling us how pretty you were." You frowned at her as she used past tense and mentioned her faster, 

"Your dad is too kind, I can't believe Jimin never introduced us-" You stopped speaking as she suddenly wrapped her arms around you, hugging you so tightly you couldn't move. 

"Oh, Hi." You laughed hugging her back as she cried against your arms. 

"Everything okay? Are you having boy troubles...I can beat them up if you want? Maybe you can talk to me about it?" She shook her head before glancing up at you, 

"I just...It's weird seeing you at this age, it's nice but weird." You frowned before nodding along with her, the front door to Jimin's house opening as he called out your name, 

"I'll be right there! Hey I just met your-" As you were about to say sister she was gone, leaving you alone with an empty head wondering what you had been doing on the landing.

TAEHYUNG:

Taehyung walked away after asking you out on a date and you couldn't help but smile uncontrollably, 

"You know he's always going to be crazy about you, it's quite cute to see how you guys interacted before you were my mum and dad," You turned to see a teenage girl watching you from the doorway of the studio you were standing in, 

"Mum and dad? What's this? A joke?" The girl shook her head, 

"My brother convinced Taehyung to finally talk to you so I decided I wanted to see your reaction in person, I've heard all the stories but having a front seat is so much better," It was hard to make sense of what she was saying, 

"What are you talking about?" 

"You're my mum, Taehyung is my dad...You guys end up together, live happily ever after and all that," A flash of green happened behind her and a teenage boy was standing there waving at you, 

"We have to go, dad found out we were using the machines again," 

"Bye mum," They said in unison before vanishing without another word, you stumbled backwards and leant against the desk you were near for support. 

"Mum?" You mumbled as you rubbed your temples.

JUNGKOOK: 

"This isn't going to last forever, Taehyung forgives you both." You stared over at the teenager that was sitting in your living room, you were surrounded by tissues and empty ice cream tubs having just cried your way through a breakup with Taehyung. You told him you were in love with his best friend and he didn't seem to take it so well, not that you blamed him. 

"Whoever you are, can you just leave?" She handed you a tissue and you took it, wiping your eyes as you thought back on everything that had happened that morning. 

"Just try to stay positive...Taehyung comes around to the idea of you guys and you and Jungkook end up very happy together, trust me." You had no idea why you were trusting someone who was in your house who you'd never seen before a day in your life but you nodded your head, thanking her for the tissue before thinking on the idea that you and Jungkook had a future together.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii @taestannie​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @sw33tnight​ @sweeneyblue1​ @innersooya​ @agustdjoon​ @jin-from-the-block​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​

#bts #bts x reader #bts x you #bts x y/n #bts reaction #bts reactions #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook #jeon jungkook #kim taehyung #taehyung #jimin #park jimin #kim namjoon #namjoon #jhope #jung hoseok #hoseok #yoongi #min yoongi #suga #seokjin #kim seokjin #jin

[kentos-filmcamera]

10 times, 1 occasion - Inumaki Toge

2. Gift

A/N: aaaaa i woke up to a lot of notifs, i’m so glad everyone is liking it so far! thank u sm for reading! just a quick clarification, I’m setting the reader as non binary; i will be using mostly they/them pronouns and sometimes she/her but i will avoid to do so. happy reading!

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“Megumi!” You called, waving to the underclass man. He offered you a tiny smile and a wave back. You let go of Toge’s hand to pull him into an embrace. “You’re taller! How much you’ve grown, my boy!” You’ve known him since forever, way before you met your fellow second years. And you always loved to pester him. 

“I’m the same exact way since you last saw me” He deadpanned as you pinched his cheeks, his voice as plain as you remembered it to be. You only laughed and ruffled his hair, earning a groan. 

“Where’s my hug?” You heard the voice of Gojo Satoru resonate through your ears for the first time in a while, and the most annoying phrase in existence was what he chose to say. 

You turned to look at him, unimpressed, your expression matching Fushiguro’s. You were met with his usual cheeky smile and raised brows. He extended his arms and did ‘grabby’ hands as children did. Oh my. This man was annoying; and to think you even considered you missed him in the first place. 

“Up your ass” You replied and moved his arms away from nearing your torso. He gasped dramatically and pouted like a wounded puppy. You only gave him a pat in his shoulder “Glad to see you’re...  Well, alive” 

“Don’t speak to Gojo-sensei like that!” You heard a foreign voice, the same one you heard from a far moments ago. You turn to look at the boy with the pink hair with a raised eyebrow. Something in your head clicked, as did your tongue. You pointed at him. 

“Sukuna’s vessel” You said. Even up in the mountains the hottest gossip was the kid that ate one of Sukuna’s fingers and actually withstanded to house the spirit inside him. It was the talk at the dinner table for weeks. Your sister was specifically interested in it one night, making her spill hot soup all over your lap when she was in charge of serving everyone that night. 

“Itadori Yuuji” He corrected. You stared at him up and down and gave a tiny smile and a nod. 

“And this is Nobara Kugisaki” Panda indicated to you, as you turned to face the ginger that looked at you with gleaming eyes. You waved shortly before introducing yourself to both. 

One of their faces lit up “You got attacked by a special cursed spirit last year right?” The boy you recognized as Itadori spoke. Your face blanked and drained of any color as you tensed. The only remedy you found was to nod, your jaw clenched shut as Inumaki reached in to rub his hand through your shoulders. It relaxed you, but you didn’t remember him being this touchy before. 

“Idiot! You don’t remind other people of their trauma!” Kugisaki hit him in the back of the head, noticing how your attitude shifted in seconds. 

“But! It was awesome! You were the first first year ever to expand a complete domain!” Itadori protested, but he slumped realizing how far you were. Your eyes looked as if they were in another galaxy, your mind taking them far as you spaced out. You hated doing it, but it came rather involuntarily when you were avoiding getting hurt. “You’re so skilled” 

“It wasn’t awesome. I—“ You sighed, and accepted the compliment, your mind returning back to the scene. “Thank you. I’ve been training since I saw my first curse” You gave a light thankful bow to him before turning to Toge “Walk me to my room?” 

“Sake” He nodded, and led you ahead. Panda passed onto you the duffle bag and gave Inumaki the remaining handbag as you two walked in silence towards the second year building. 

Your room was exactly as you left it, except for the made up bed. You remembered that morning clearly; you had always been an organized person, but when Maki pulled you out of your bed for what would be your last mission for a while, you didn’t have the time to fix it before leaving. As you looked around, you heard the sound of bags hitting the floor and the generic sound of typing on an electronic keyboard. Then your phone vibrated shortly on the pocket of your jacket. Taking it out, you read the new message. 

[ Inumaki Toge: i laid the bed after you left. i knew you wouldn’t like to find it all messy after all this time ] 

“Thank you” You spoke as a response. You stood in place, arms crossed and thought. Inumaki chuckled at your tongue poking out from the corner of your lips. “You’re right. I wouldn’t have liked to find the bed unmade after months” You smiled briefly at the warmth spreading through your chest, opened the windows and looked at your space. 

On the bed, your new uniform was laid down, awaiting your return. You asked for both the option of wearing pants and a skirt, depending on the type of mission, you settled with what seemed more comfortable. Your closet was empty, as you didn’t know for how much you were going to be away, except for a few pieces you stole from Maki’s closet. Everything Toge gave you, you took with you, and you wouldn’t take things from Yuta without his permission. You looked at the picture on your nightstand of the five of you, taken by Gojo as you exited a training session. You laughed with Panda as Maki, seemingly angry elbowed you in the ribs, Inumaki and Yuta enjoyed the moment quietly, both smiling. Fitted on the inside edge of that picture frame was a strip of pictures you took at a carnival, in a picture booth with Inumaki before exorcising a curse haunting the house of mirrors. One of the most difficult, terrifying missions you could have ever taken, in your first year nevertheless. But getting some Italian food sponsored by Gojo’s wallet at 2 AM on a Saturday was a great way to end the night. 

“Heh, look, you had spiky hair” You mentioned, taking the picture strip out of the frame and handing it over to the boy, who passed you another picture from your board by your desk in exchange. It was a selfie Gojo took with you and Maki, as he found you both sneaking in after getting piercings and tempura in Shibuya, taking Ijichi as hostage to drive you there. Remembering the event, you flipped down your septum, and checked for your five lobe piercings and your helix. Due to your family’s cursed technique, piercings were more than cliche, but on the ear, not on the nose. You opted for a septum for whenever you had to hide it. Your phone vibrated again. 

[ Inumaki Toge: i always liked that piercing on u. u look very cool ]

[ Inumaki Toge: you’ve always looked cool :)) ] 

“You flatter me too much, Toge, thank you” You turned away to hide the blush on your cheeks. Soon, you received a tap on your shoulder. You faced a flustered Inumaki with a dianty box in his hands. “Uh, you shouldn’t have, I—“ You were perplexed, trying to find the reason why he would give you a present. 

“Bonito Flakes” He insisted, shoving the gift into your hands and pointing to the door with his head. He wanted to give you some space, to read the letter and to change back into your uniform. 

“I’ll be quick, I promise” You gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek before he rushed to leave the room. 

You prioritized changing into your uniform, deciding for the navy high rise wide pants with slits on their outer sides going from your mid-upper thigh to the bottom of the piece, made for better movement in battle. You buttoned up and tucked the navy jujutsu high jacket, of which you wore a shorter version, with a classic white collar from your button up peeking out from underneath. You scouted your bag for the tiny chain you hung from the eyelet of the collar, it was a family heirloom, a protection chain; if anyone touched it in battle, your cursed technique of choice would come into effect. Besides, it made you look more classy. 

You fixed the puffy long sleeves, the form and the material more breathable, flexible and comfortable for you. You reached out to your closet and fitted the white patent ankle boots, almost tripping while doing so. 

“I’m okay!” You shouted back, responding to a soft knock on the door. They were similar to Inumaki’s own shoes, but more stylish. In general, you were more stylish than him; or anyone else in both campuses. You finally fitted your black arm band, which had strapped in a box of needles, a rather thin rope and some thread. 

You sat in your bed and took the box between your hands, circling around your fingertips. You removed the decorative bow and cut through the sealing tape with your fingernails. In between the folds of tissue paper, you found a golden ring. Your lost ring. It looked different, but you could recognize that oval shaped emerald anywhere. You touched it several times to check if it was real or not. And it was. You rushed to find an explanation to this, prying the letter open with your fingernails. 

“Hi,

As I’m writing this, I’m not sure when you’re coming back. Or if you’re even doing so. Writing this letter gives me hope for your return, as so did getting you this welcome back gift. It’s the ring you took so much pride in owning. Oh, well, part of it. I remember how you got rushed to the infirmary, wailing, touching your damaged hand to see if you had your ring.  But you didn’t. I went back to the scene myself that same day, and the next, and the one after the other to find your missing jewel. When I found it, it looked terrible. It was dirty, bent, and the emerald had a crack in one of its corners. It took me some work, but I found someone that could restore it. It’s the original stone, and the original material but it had to be reshaped. I know you like signets, so I hope you can find appreciation in this one too. 

You looked once more at the piece and let out a teary chuckle. You had suffered so much the loss of that ring. It was a present from your grandmother, now deceased. You hated yourself incessantly for losing it. But now, it was back in your grip. You slipped it into your ring finger and before continuing your lecture, you fanned your under eyes to avoid ruining the hint of makeup you currently wore. 

If you’re reading this, I am so glad you’re back. I missed you, so so much. I’m glad to see you in good health. And I’m sorry everything happened the way it did. You didn’t do anything wrong. I know how you feel. Please trust me. Thank you once more for allowing me to speak to you through written words. You’re the only one I want to write to, anyways. I don’t have the patience for anyone else. Welcome back, cookie. 

I love you. 

Yours, Toge” 

#jujutsu kaisen #inumaki #inumaki toge #jjk inumaki #toge inumaki #inumaki x reader #jjk fluff #10times1occ

[wizkiddx]

...surprise part 2

warnings: tw for miscarriage , mh and eating disorder(though more like just really poor relationship with food) - please don’t read if these are sensitive topics

There will be a part 3!! This is v sad, um but from experience a bit so I’ve tried to be as accurate as possible, if this offends anyone please message me and I will take it down if that’s what you want xx

(this is fictional, and everyone’s experiences are different)

[part 1]

By the time it came to dinner at his parents there was still very much an elephant in the room. Tom had sort of assumed that later in the morning you’d properly explain it, at least bring it up? But you’d skilfully managed to dance your way out of the conversation every time there was the opportunity to talk it out. For example, even though Tom was pretty sure you’d already washed you hair this morning apparently you had to take the worlds longest shower in the world in preparation for his parents roast. It also didn’t go unnoticed that you’d locked the ensuite door while you were in there.

Now this might not seem odd to most but Tom knew this wasn’t right. You were 3 years deep at this point and when Tom was home the two of you really used to make the most of it- barely leaving each others side. This meant brushing your teeth together, showering and bathing together - or at least one perched on the bathroom shower while the other was washing. Just doing the mundane together, that was the intimate thing- it didn’t have to be sexual or encroaching personal space. Clockwork, that’s what it was. It had taken a bit of time at the start for you to open up and be body confident in front of Tom, yet you were both long since past that point - or so you had been. With every ounce of your being, you knew that Tom loved you for you. Frankly though, that was the issue… you weren’t you. Your body had changed , or rather withered away and that was your fault. Yet another thing to add to the list. Being conciously aware of how unattractive you looked, literally a shell of yourself, there was only a wave of sad acceptance to surged through when you did lock the door.

Because in your head you. knew. This was the beginning of the end of your time with Tom and it was all your fault.

/////////////////////////

“I can help with that.” Y/n’s voice got Nikki turning away from the sink where she was attempting to make a dent in the huge pile of washing up Sam had accumulated - the boy could most definitely cook, but clean up? Not one bit.

“No no dear you go sit with them.” She shooed and smiled kindly at the girl she thought of as an adopted child herself. Because honestly? She looked like she could pass out at any point just from standing up. She clearly tried to hide it- wearing a baggy knitted sweater and mom jeans- but even just from her face, you could tell she was gaunt.

“I-no I’ll dry.” Y/n spoke very matter of factly , making Nikki just nod in agreement since this was probably the most conversation anyone had got out of Y/n since she arrived.

Tom had texted them all before hand, with the very unspecific message of ‘please don’t mention anything she’s just been ill and stressed’ and followed up with ‘I really mean it.’ Unsurprisingly, everyone had lots of questions given the ambiguity of the message, however these were all answered as soon as the door had opened to the couple. So dinner went down quieter than normal, everyone noticing how protective Tom was being of Y/n - who never ever normally needed protection, (in fact sometimes the other way round).

So Nikki and Y/n stood side by side, silently washing up. They must’ve stood that way for 10 or so minutes, Nikki hesitant to say something that was wrong, but desperately wanting to break the silence. But Y/n took that job out of your hands.

“How did you find out you were pregnant with Tom?”

“Oh god now your making me think” Nikki laughed, suddenly so relieved at an easy topic “um I think it was a bit of a shock you know? We had spoken about kids but weren’t actively trying for one and then all of a sudden I was sick and took a test.”

“So Dom was happy about it though?”

“Of course he was over the bloody moon. The man was meant to be a dad you know? At least I think he’s pretty good at it.” Y/n giggled lightly at the question and nodded vehemently.

“Yeh he is… I think all your boys are - when I brought my cousins.” Y/n smiled a little at the memory of bringing her two toddler cousins round to Tom’s family home. Safe to say that day the kids were spoilt with attention and food and had all the boys wrapped round there little fingers.

“You might just be right there. Are you and Tom trying?” Nikki probed, testing the waters a little.

“No.” Y/n closed that thought path down very very quickly. “I er… I was just wondering.”

“Sorry I didn’t mean to-“

“No no it’s fine.”

Back to the silence of the washing up, the occasional clink of ceramics and culterlry clanging together reverberating through the otherwise empty kitchen.

“So you never had….um any issues with kids. No…er no losses or scares?”

Nikki suddenly had a much better guess at what this whole situation was about.

“One…. I lost a baby girl between the twins and Paddy. It-it hurt a lot and you know I still wonder sometimes. We just never had a little girl and it well, it would have been amazing… but I’m a firm believer of everything happens and if we never had that angel we maybe wouldn’t have Pads…”

“I’m sorry” Y/n muttered, Nikki noticing how her eyes were absolutely fixed on the frying pan she was drying up.

“I don’t mind love, and I think she’s still with us in her own special way you know.” Nikki studied how Y/n silently nodded, thinking it were going to drift back to silence - yet instead she gulped before speaking.

“I don’t think I want kids now. I do- but not right now. Just Tom’s still so busy and we aren’t married but-“ Y/n’s pace of talking suddenly dramatically picked up and Nikki could hear a wobble in her voice “but… no-one does the sort of nuclear family anymore do they? I mean suppose I did want that and-…. I don’t know but it would’ve worked out right?Like-like if I… if we um“

“Y/n love, please I just need to ask because I care about you… Did you loose a pregnancy?” Nikki hit the metaphorical hole in one. Although she was pretty certain before she’d even asked, the way Y/n froze and fear took over her expression said it all.

“I-“ Y/n stammered before forcing a controlled breath out through her nose, still looking down, now on the cutlery drying process. “I- yeh. I couldn’t do it and they-“ Nikki interrupted her, the tears brimming to such an extent the started escaping over Y/n’s eyelashes as Nikki took both the tea towel and forks out her hand.

“Come with me.” Nikki whispered in Y/n’s ear, directing her out the kitchen - leading Y/n’s small frame into Dom’s office, mainly because it was the opposite side of the house to where everyone else was.

She got Y/n sat down on the small striped sofa and joined her after retrieving a box of tissues from the window sill. At this point Y/n was properly crying, no matter how much she tried to swallow back her feelings or wipe away her tears with shaking hands. Nikki read the girl like a book, watching her try to bite back the pain.

“Love, you take a breath and then tell me what you want to.” Y/n was the one that brought up the topic, Y/n was the one that searched Nikki out that evening. Nikki knew she needed to get this off her chest.

“I found out just after Tom left for Atlanta and-and I was… I was pretty late anyway at that point, I think like …like 9 weeks they said? And I was terrified because we weren’t ready and Tom said he wanted kids in the future but not now and then…then they happened. I hated them at the start. They’d ruined my life I’d have to quit work because lets face it Tom just wouldn’t be around and then…. But-but I don’t know… I was waiting till Tom was supposed to get back. Cos then I’d have the scan picture and you sort of can’t say ‘I’m pregnant’ over the phone so. So yeh.” Nikki nodded, squeezing Y/n’s had gently, encouraging her to continue. “But then I had the scan and they had a heartbeat you know? Suddenly I was so in love with the little blob in my stomach and I was like it will all work out, because it just would and-and Tom-“Her voice cracked again, Y/n bit back the sob though and continued “Tom would be the best dad anyone could ever imagine.” Nikki exhaled heavily, pulling Y/n into her chest as she cried a bit more. Giving her a chance to ground herself again. It took a moment or two but then Nikki pressed a little again.

“He doesn’t know about any of this… does he?” Nikki knew this was something more than just telling her almost mother-in-law. This was Y/n telling someone , anyone, else for the first time. Speaking the words the first time. Making it hurt all over again. The answer wasn’t really needed, but Y/n still shook her head against Nikki’s shoulder, confirming her suspicions.

And then Nikki waited, waited for her to speak again.

“And then it was two weeks ago and I-I was 14 weeks. I had a bump and everything! But I was at dinner with my friend and I got this horrid pain in my stomach. And I knew it. I knew I….I had wished my baby away for weeks and weeks and they’d given up. I ran home and bled my baby away into the drain. And…..” She took a shaky breath, attempting to steady herself. “And I I was grieving I think? Well I think I still am. But I couldn’t eat and it was just like I didn’t do enough for them? So-so I was supposed to be getting my life sorted and you know getting over it this week before Tom came back. But then he came home last night and I-I had a migraine so I didn’t notice him until this morning. He-he was never supposed to see me like-like this! So-so I shouted at him, I was really mean. Really really horrid to him which is stupid because I love him so much and….and I killed his baby.” Y/n’s voice was raised as it also got more fragile - completely synchronised with Y/n herself, who looked like she was going to crack and break at any point.

It was important that she went through the whole story. It was important the Nikki just listened as she recounted the traumatic, vulnerable and oh so personal loss she’d gone through. It was important she let it out into the world for the first time.

“Y/n… look… these things just happens sometimes right? It’s no ones fault and… I know that the day you are blessed with a little baby you will be an incredible mother. I’d love to say I could somehow make you feel better but I’m not sure I can… when this sort of thing happened to me I needed Dom. He held me together and then picked up the pieces and - well we slowly put them back together. So you know why I can’t really help, don’t you?” Y/n sniffed, her eyes closed, but eventually after letting Nikki let silence in the air she nodded minutely. Nikki squeezed her palms tightly, as she looked at the girl with such deep empathy and sympathy. She could only imagine how traumatic it must be tp have this happen with your first child - especially without anyone else to lean on.

“Because you’re not Tom?” With an agreeing nod, Nikki stood up , withdrawing her hands from Y/n’s grip; rubbed up and down Y/n’s back before finally offering a plan.

“Look, I’ll go get him and you tell him what you told me okay? He loves you and he’s worried.”

After a little more comvinving and encouragement, Y/n steeled her nerve as Nikki fetched Tom. The two woman had agreed that the couple would just go back to their home, where Y/n, in her own space would tell Tom. Here she didn’t feel as if she could - this was unequal territory, this was Tom’s childhood home. Nikki knew that this fact would really be irrelevant - it only mattered if the couple somehow called it quits… and she knew without doubt that’d never happen.

///////////////////////////

Tom walked in quietly, clearly having been briefed that something was going on, taking notice of the tear tracks Y/n’d tried to wipe away and just how small and vulnerable she looked. Wordlessly, Tom crouched in front of her, his deep brown eyes swimming with warmth as they met hers.

“Mum said you wanted to go home… is that still okay?” She nodded jerkily in agreement, wiping her eyes once again before taking Tom’s hand as he guided her to stand. Nikki gave her a sad smile as her son led the two of them out the room and forward the front door.

It was hard- no doubt- but she had absolute faith in the relationship between the two.

They’d be okay.

Tagging people who were interested : @vanillanestor @thevelvetseries @333dolans

#Tom Holland #Tom holland angst #tom holland #tom holland x reader #actors #tom holland x y/n

[annabethy]

under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow: day 2

Day 02/25 Days of Christmas: Character A’s best friend rigs the Secret Santa because they know Character A has a crush on Character B,, percabeth

Percy is so distracted that he almost doesn’t catch someone whispering his name across the room. When he realizes that it’s Leo calling his name, he wishes he hadn’t noticed because he knows that whatever is about to come out of that kid’s mouth is not going to be good.

“What?” Percy hisses when Leo doesn’t stop the rather obvious hissing.

Leo stands up from the table along the wall so that he can make his way across the dorm’s common room and plop down directly next to Percy. “So.”

When he says nothing else, Percy prompts, “So…?”

“You’re in love with Annabeth, yeah?”

“I’m sorry — what?”

“You, like, want to marry her.”

Percy swallows, eyes darting towards the girl that was only sitting a few feet away. “I don’t.”

“Yeah, okay big boy. Suuure you don’t want to marry her.”

“Maybe shut up, yeah?”

Leo gives his signature impish grin. “I’m just speaking the truth.”

“Yeah, well, your truth sucks.”

Percy wishes he could say that Leo was lying through his teeth like he usually does, but this one’s the painful reality. He was in love with his best friend, and Leo was shouting it out to the world, and also to Annabeth who was practically right next to him. For once, he’s glad that she can’t ever listen to people talking while she’s studying.

“Here’s the thing.” Leo pats Percy’s hand like he was consoling a child. “Secret Santa.”

“What about it?”

“You’re going to get Annabeth.”

The way that Leo whispers it is only mildly comical. It sounds more like he’s praying than telling, in Percy’s opinion. “What, are you manifesting it or something?”

“No. I’m rigging Secret Santa.”

“What!? No!”

“You want to date her, don’t you?” When Percy opens his mouth to disagree, Leo continues, “The answer is yes, you do. And to be honest, I’m sick of watching you two flounder around each other, so this is more for my benefit than yours.”

“You’re an ass.”

“You won’t be saying that when you get married, buddy.”

Percy gives him a scathing look as he pointedly turns his head away from Leo. Leo mutters something under his breath that Percy does not bother to decipher because it would probably make Percy want to stab someone in the name of Christmas spirit. He’s already mortified enough that everyone seems to know about his infatuation with his best friend, probably including Annabeth too, so he does not need Leo to rub it in even more.

“Percy,” Leo grunts as his fingers wrap around Percy’s neck and pull in an attempt to get Percy to face him again. He ends up choking for air as Leo cuts off his trachea, and Leo clambers to grab a fistful of hair instead. Percy lets out a strangled shriek as he is pulled off the couch sharply by his head.

“Stop it!”

“Listen to me,” Leo says, peering over the edge at where Percy is now laying on the floor, rubbing the back of his head. Percy ends up staying on the floor so that he’s out of Leo’s reach. “When we get together for Secret Santa, you’re going to pick first. Pick the one that has green marker on the outside.”

“And break the rules of the game?”

“It’s still a secret to her. Do it.”

Percy doesn’t plan on doing it. The few hours waiting for the rest of their friends to meet up are spent with him going back and forth in his own mind as to why he should definitely not pick her name. It defeats the whole purpose of the game, but at the same time, she won’t know that he purposely picked her. But on the other hand, if he somehow manages to win her over with whatever gift he picks out, he’ll have to admit it at some point. With his luck, they’d be married about to have a baby when he’s like oh yeah, by the way, I purposely got you because I’m a cheater, and she’ll be so offended, all oh yeah, by the way, I’m also a cheater and it’s not your baby, and his heart will shatter into a million pieces.

So perhaps he’s being a little dramatic, but he likes to think his concerns are at least somewhat legitimate. Like, maybe 43 percent valid.

In the end though, Percy catches sight of that green mark on a slip of paper, and his hand grabs it with a mind of its own. As he uncurls the paper, he traces over her writing with his finger. He swears he could pick her writing out of a line up, with the unique curves of her penmanship.

Percy pretends not to notice Leo’s mocking grin from across the circle, instead turning his attention towards Annabeth, watching her pick out his name.

For the next few days, Percy doesn’t think he’s ever been more stressed. It’s as though Percy doesn’t even know Annabeth anymore because he’s suddenly at a blank for anything that she likes. He can’t even remember her favorite color or lifelong dreams because he’s just that nervous. He’s beginning to wish that he hadn’t picked that green slip, but it was too late to go back now. He had no choice but to make an embarrassment of himself when he shows up with something awful, or nothing at all.

It comes unexpectedly when he finds the present. It’s a simple ring with a silver band and an emerald sitting in the center, and it practically has her name written on it. He imagines what it would look like sitting on her finger, the green gem gleaming in the sunlight, reminiscent of his eyes.

It’s not until after he makes the purchase that it dawns on him how much of a boyfriend thing it is to buy someone a ring. And, of course, Annabeth would say something about it being an engagement ring because that’s just what she does, and he would die on the spot. He loves her so much, but she doesn’t know that, and a ring would no doubt reveal at least some of what he was feeling if she somehow didn’t already know.

He dreads the day of Secret Santa.

All too soon, he is sitting in a circle with his friends, everyone holding a present in their hands. When it comes time to exchange the gifts, Percy hesitantly hands his to Annabeth. He can sense the shock on her face, and a warm sense fills him as he also senses the underlying excitement in her face.

“You got me something expensive, right?” she asks playfully.

“You wish,” is what he replies, but his painfully empty wallet disagrees.

Annabeth smiles at him, a cute dimple appearing on her cheek, as she pulls the tissue paper out of the present bag. She makes an offhanded comment about the Rudolph gift bag before she pulls out everything at once. He hadn’t wanted to just get her one thing, so he stuffed it with a few of her favorite snacks. Leo had called him a simp when he found out.

“Hurry up,” he chides. “Get off my ass, Percy,” she says, but she picks up the small box he knows contains the ring. The rest of the room seems to drown out as she flicks open the top. He catches sight of the ring in the box, and now he really wants to pass out, or throw up, or both.

Annabeth’s face is unreadable as she thumbs the gem. Then, her face breaks into a soft grin and he feels marginally better. “A ring?”

“I saw it and thought of you. I didn’t even realize what I was doing until it was paid for.” He bites his lip. “I can return it if you don’t want it. I know it might seem weird, but I just really wanted—“

Annabeth uses her socked foot to nudge his knee and get him to stop talking. “I really love it, Percy.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do,” she says, rolling her eyes. She slides it onto her left ring finger, holding it up for her own inspection. “It’s like an engagement ring!”

Percy cracks a grin. “I knew you’d say that.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” she adds. “I’d love being engaged to you. You’d be the world’s best husband.”

Percy’s heart nearly stops.

“God, I love you,” she groans, crawling over the floor so that she can collapse in his lap like a wet noodle. It’s not unusual for them. They’ve always been the two to cuddle platonically during a movie, or just take a nap together, but nothing more. Right now though, Percy feels like this is a lot more than usual as he wraps his arms around her in a hug.

Annabeth lifts herself back up, and he nearly whines at the loss of contact. That is quickly taken off his mind though as she turns around with a present in hand.

“Your turn,” she says, and Percy’s jaw drops open.

“You got me!” he exclaims excitedly, reaching for the present.

“I know,” she says teasingly. “I nearly gagged when I picked your name.”

“Nice to see that you care.”

She patters her feet against the floor excitedly. “Open it!”

And he does. The bag is slightly bigger than hers was, so he struggles a bit to get the item out. When he does though, he feels like crying. He’s met with a thin silver frame, but inside of it is what really gets him. It’s a painting of the two of them — a picture he thought he lost a long time ago. Her arms are thrown over his shoulders from behind as she gives him a kiss on the cheek, and Percy is staring directly into the camera, the biggest smile on his face. He remembers taking that years ago on a stranger’s polaroid. He carried it around forever, everywhere he went, until it just seemed to disappear one day. He was so distraught because it was the only copy, but he’s forgotten about it until now, and—

Percy’s eyes begin to brim with tears. “Where did you get this?”

“I took a picture of it,” she says gently. “There was someone on etsy that was painting pictures, and so I thought you’d like to have this one.”

“God.” Percy’s eyes trace over the image, trying to burn the picture into his mind, every single curve and color. “This is perfect. Thank you.”

“It’s no ring, but…”

“Annabeth,” Percy says, stopping her. “I love it.”

“And I love you.”

Something burns in Percy’s stomach. There’s something in the way that she’s looking at him that makes his breath stutter. It’s too soft and she’s too close to him. He wants so badly to pull her in close, to hug her and kiss her because she’s wearing his ring and a sweater she stole from his closet and she’s his best friend that he’s in love with.

Percy’s face is suddenly in front of Annabeth’s, and he can feel her breaths hitting his face. He doesn’t know if people are watching, but he can’t be bothered enough to check.

“Thank you,” Percy whispers. “It means a lot.”

“I’m sure it did.”

There’s a comfortable pause where Percy just looks at her, counts her eyelashes, appreciates the perfect curve of her nose before she says, “Are you going to kiss me or just stare?”

Percy smiles and takes that as an invitation. He wraps his fingers around the curve of her back, pulling her onto his lap and bringing her lips to his. It feels like he’s kissing his best friend, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s not a perfect kiss because she’s tangled awkwardly in his limbs, both of them sprawled on the floor, and there are people screaming around them, but it’s still everything he’s ever thought it would be.

When he finally pulls away, she’s looking at him with something akin to love. He smiles, and so does he, and Leo makes a snarky comment, and he never wants to leave this moment.

“So,” she says, breathless and happy, “I have something to tell you.”

“You love me?”

“That, and I may have purposely picked your name.”

Percy throw his head back and laughs, and he thinks that he’s met his soulmate.

#percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #pjo #Percy Jackson and the olympians #my writing

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part 24) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±9400 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part 24: John’s presence at the horse show flips Dean’s world upside down, sending him a tailspin that could have serious consequences. Will Y/N and his friends be able to get through to him? Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak, slowburn. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: How Do You Get ‘Em Back - David Ramirez. Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @atc74​​​​, and @winchest09​​​​ for helping me. Also a special thanks to @jules-1999​​​​, who has offered me her knowledge about rodeo events like these, and @squirrelnotsam​​​​, who knows Arizona like the back of her hand. Guys, this is going to be a heavy one. 9.3K of angst. If you are invested in this story, I suggest you’ll have the tissues ready before you start reading. Godspeed.

Ride With Me Masterlist

     “Hello, son.”

     Only two words, but it’s more than Dean has heard his father say in a long while. The simple greeting lingers between them, like smog polluting the air, stealing his breath. A force of habit the cowboy assumed was long forgotten has him square his shoulders. After all, if there’s anything John taught him it's that men can’t be weak.

     What does he call him? Dad? Sir? The cowboy isn’t even sure and so he decides to keep his mouth closed. Instead, he measures the man before him. He is but a ghost of the parent Dean remembers - or at least idolized for so long. His boots are dusty and worn, the leather tearing at the creases. His clothes are dirty, stains on the white t-shirt he’s wearing under a camel jacket. He grew a beard, the tough hairs grey now. A black cowboy hat hides most of his slick hair, but they don’t conceal the dark circles under his father’s eyes, nor the tale of pain and sorrow that are still apparent. Nothing has changed, really. He just got older.

     Dean can feel his knees weaken as his breaths come out shaky, but he is able to stand his ground. He sets his jaw, gritting away the frustration that continues to build, his fists clenched, nails digging into his palm. But it’s more than just aggravation that courses through him; it’s joined with an overwhelming sense of panic and fear. He wants to run, far away from confrontations and the dull blade that is tearing open old wounds. What he would give to go back in time, just an hour or so, to prevent this moment. What he would give to be able to live the life he naively pictured, with his family, with Y/N. 

     Meanwhile, John watches him, eyes glossed over and wearing a small smile. “It’s good to see you.”      Still, Dean can’t speak. He just stares at his father. Even the gentle words falling from John’s chapped lips don’t lift the tension. Where Dean was thankful that the stables were empty just a few minutes ago, he now wishes it was swarming with people, because being cut out from the public eye is not a position the cowboy wants his girlfriend to be in. When John steps closer hesitatingly, Dean moves in front of her, one hand back to make sure she stays behind him. It’s instinct, a reaction that is fed by years of doing the same for Sammy. He did everything possible to protect his brother then, and now he has to do the same for her. Dean has to get her out of here. Now.

     The cowboy turns his head slightly, addressing Y/N without letting his old man out of his sight. “You should get Joplin warmed up. I’ll be right there.”      “Dean? Are you s--”      “Go,” he insists, wincing at the strict tone of his own voice. 

     John has halted and watches the exchange, his gaze following the cowgirl who moves to the box on her right and takes off the halter of a black horse inside the stable. Without a word but with concern and confusion evident in her eyes - which flick to his before she averts them quickly - she takes the Quarter by the reins and guides the mare out of the stable. When she’s out of earshot, Dean’s father returns his focus to his son.      “That your girlfriend?” he wonders.      “No,” the wrangler claims, wanting to keep her out of this at all costs. John doesn’t have to know about his relationships with her or with his friends. It will make them vulnerable to his influence. “She’s just an intern,” he adds.

     Believing the statement to be true, he dips his chin, nodding slightly, and Dean is able to exhale. At least he got Y/N out of harm’s way, now he just needs to somehow prepare himself to take the fire. It’s been a long time coming, but it’s time to face the faults of the past. He  allowed the family to fall apart on that dreadful night when the bond between the Winchesters was shattered to pieces. Dean destroyed it all.

     Carefully, his old man moves closer once more, and involuntarily the young cowboy steps back. He doesn’t want to. He intends to stand tall and hold position, but trepidation has him back up before he can stop himself. Apparently aware of the effect he has on Dean, John ceases his attempt to close the unbreachable gap between father and son. 

     Leaving a safe distance between them, he speaks again. “You’ve grown up to be quite the man, Dean. Your aunt and uncle must have taken good care of you.”      More than you’ve ever done, Dean thinks to himself, but he doesn’t say it out loud, too apprehensive for the reaction it might trigger. “They have.”     “Well, I’m glad,” John smiles at the ground. “I’m glad you landed on your feet. Do you know if Sammy did too?”

     Dean’s eyes fill to the brim before he can blink. He doesn’t know. The big brother who was supposed to look out for him, who was supposed to give everything to provide his younger sibling the safety and care that he deserved, doesn’t know. The question is a punch in the gut, a verification of the fact that he has failed Sam like he has failed so many others.      “I don’t,” he admits, doing everything in his power to keep his voice steady. “I haven’t seen him since.”

     John sighs, sniffles slightly and glances up, as if he’s mad for a prayer that has been left unanswered. The news does a number on the old guy, and suddenly Dean feels sorry for the man standing before him. His father was already lost when their mother died, and it only got worse when Sam disappeared. The agony it triggered has never left him, just like it never left his son. That loss will always remain, a piece of their heart cut away violently, leaving a hole that bleeds to this day. They both had to settle for a life without Mary and the youngest Winchester in it. As much as Dean wants to hate his father, he simply can’t. He wouldn’t want to wish that kind of torture upon anyone, let alone his dad. It doesn’t matter how many mistakes he has made.

     “I’m sorry to hear that. I hoped that maybe…” John pauses, shaking his head slightly. “I hoped you boys at least found your way back to each other.” 

     Dean swallows with difficulty, his bottom lashes barely clinging to the tears that threaten to roll down his face, but he manages to keep it together. He wishes the same, because life without his sibling feels incomplete. God, he misses Sam. And all that guilt, the sorrow, and the uncertainty of his well-being come rushing back to him in a magnitude that he can’t cope with.

     John watches his son again, a grown man now, yet still his boy. “I was wondering if maybe we could sit down someday. Have a drink or something, y’know? Try and put this all behind us?”

     Astonished, Dean stares at him. A part of him wants to mend this broken relationship, but John must be aware that rekindling the father-son bond will never undo all the trauma their family endured. There’s no going back to how things were, there is no returning to the time the Winchesters were happy. Mom died, and her death set them on a course of total ruination. And yet, Dean can’t answer. He can’t tell his father ‘no’.

     “John Winchester!”      Hasty footsteps echo between the stable walls, and when the conflicted cowboy glances past his father, he notices Bobby, moving closer with determined strides. A shuddering sigh of relief escapes Dean, and he’s glad the man opposite of him turns around to face his former brother-in-law so that he doesn’t witness the sign of weakness. With his uncle here, he instantly feels safer, knowing that even if this conversation develops into an argument, he has back-up now. 

     The elder man holds a fury in his eyes that is visible even in the shadows of the worn ball cap he always wears. “You better walk away,” he warns.      “We were just talkin’,” John assures, calmly.      “I don’t care if you are holding a family reunion,” Bobby sneers. “If you don’t leave right now, I will get my gun and blast your sorry ass so full of buckshot that you will never sit in a saddle again without scratching the leather.”

     Dean’s gaze bounces between his father and his uncle, weary of the clash that is about to kick off, as the two older men keep their eyes locked on each other, tension rising by the second. But then, against his expectations, John gives in to Bobby’s request and steps aside. He glances back at his son one last time, giving him a sad smile, before he breaks away and strolls off, shoulders slumped and defeat obvious.

     Collecting himself by taking a breath and blowing it out as slowly as he can, the younger cowboy makes eye contact with his uncle, who approaches him until he’s in arm’s reach. He puts his hand on the back of Dean’s neck, gently encouraging the troubled young man to look at him, hoping the touch will ground his nephew.      “You alright?” Bobby asks, the lines in his forehead deepening as he frowns.      Dean swallows down the lump in his throat and nods, his lips pressed together in a firm line. He can’t speak and has to break away from his uncle’s observant gaze. Bobby’s grip loosens; he’s aware that Dean isn’t ready to expose his true feelings about this unfortunate run-in.      “I’m gonna make sure he leaves the premises,” he assures.      With those words, the man - who once again has provided him safety - turns away to follow John, committed to matching action with his words if the guy doesn’t take his threat seriously. 

     Finally alone, the unsettled cowboy tries to inhale again, but his diaphragm seems to have risen to chest height. He can feel anxiety like he has never experienced before in his adult life get a grip on him, and whatever he tries, he can’t stop it. Afraid that his legs might give way, he takes a step to the side and holds on to one of the stable bars, but he still can’t breathe. Unable to hold the frontline in the battle he’s fighting with the overwhelming sense of distress, the tears break through his defense, spilling down his cheeks. Suddenly, he feels sick. He needs to get out, he needs fresh air.

     Feeling the bile creeping up from deep inside him as he stumbles outside, he quickly turns the corner behind the tent before he heaves this morning’s partly digested breakfast into the grass. He throws up everything he has been holding, hoping the anguish will leave his body as well, but it doesn’t. When his stomach is empty, he is still left with the same misery.      “Fuck,” he chokes out, steadying himself against the steel corner pillar of the stable.      He wipes at his runny nose and his tears, sniffling. Get a hold of yourself, Dean, he lectures, you need to keep it together now. He straightens his back, looking down at the mess he made, closing his eyes for a second as he pulls in a careful breath. 

     “Dean?”      Recognizing his friend’s voice, the cowboy turns around. Benny stands behind him, worry in his clear blue eyes. Manning up and finding his footing again, Dean walks up to meet him. The Southerner hands him a bottle of water, and even though the receiver is thankful for having something to rinse his mouth with, he wishes it to be something a whole lot stronger.

     Taking a swig, he lets it wash away the sour taste before he spits it onto the ground. After another attempt he realizes that it’s no use and takes a careful sip this time, swallowing it down to put out the fire inside his chest. He glances at Benny, giving him a nod.      “I - I’m good,” he says, not just trying to convince his companion. “I’m good.”

     Knowing him well, his best friend doesn’t contradict him, even though it’s clear as day the statement is far from the truth. Dean’s eyes are bloodshot, his hand trembling when he moves the bottle to his mouth.      “You might wanna get to the warm-up,” Benny reminds him, handing him the headset.      The wrangler grimaces. “Shit, yeah. What time is it?”      “Two-thirty. Her starting time is in twenty-five minutes,” the Southerner says.      “I gotta get goin’,” Dean realizes after cursing again, moving past him to make his way to the arena. He holds up the water bottle as he jogs away. “Thanks.”

     Hoping his friend will understand that he’s thanking him for a lot more than just the drink, he hastens away. Right now, he has someone else who needs his support. Y/N has left the stables well over fifteen minutes ago, so he hopes she’s not nervous because of his late arrival. When he finally reaches the fence, he spots her amongst the other riders, warming up Joplin. He can tell she’s focused, or is she upset with him for not being on time? Finding it hard to read her from a distance, he sums it up to a mixture of both. Without disturbing the other competitors, he bends down to duck under the barrier, approaching her and her horse. But when she ignores him completely and continues to work the Quarter on a small circle, he hesitates. 

     “Y/N?” he calls out, not sure if she saw him from inside her bubble.      “What?” she snaps.      Taken aback by her reaction, he watches how she keeps circling, slowing down to a walk, but still not stopping to take the headset or even grant him a look.      “C’mon, let me help you,” he ushers, holding up the device for her.      But when she looks him in the eye, the coldness they behold frightens him. “Why do you even care?” she wonders. “I’m ‘just an intern’ anyway.”

     Like she just slapped him across the face, Dean stares at the cowgirl, the daggers she’s shooting at him with her powerful gaze stabbing him right in the heart. No no no, he thinks to himself as he closes his eyes. She wasn’t supposed to hear him say that to his father. He labeled her as an intern only to make sure John wouldn’t be able to get to Dean through his girlfriend. Of course he didn’t mean a word of it! He has to make her understand.      “Yankee, I’m sorry. I--”      “Forget it, Dean. I can handle myself,” she snarls. “Leave me alone.”

     With that, she moves away from her boyfriend, riding Joplin to the other side of the warm-up ring, as far from him as possible. Regretful, her trainer saunters back towards the fence, making his way out of the ring. When he straightens himself, he is met by Jo, who has her arms crossed in front of her chest as she narrows her eyes at her cousin. It’s clear as day that she’s about to rip him a new one as well.      “What did you do?” she demands to know, sternly.

     Dean looks at her, opening his mouth to answer, but unable to even utter a word. I fucked up, that’s what I did, he realizes. Like he has fucked up everything else that was ever good in his life. He doesn’t reply, though, and instead shakes his head, admitting his loss.      “Here.” Dean hands her the small device with a microphone attached to it, his fingers still trembling. “Help her if she needs assistance, alright?”      Perplexed, she watches him walk off. She at least expected a counter with a claim that he didn’t do anything wrong.      “You’re not gonna even watch her ride?” she asks before he’s too far gone.      “I’ll watch from the bleachers. I don’t wanna distract her,” he returns, sadly looking into her eyes before he carries on.

     Observing her cousin, an uneasy feeling settles in her stomach. The guilt is oozing from him in great amounts as he disappears in the crowd, his head hanging, the usual upbeat attitude nowhere to be found. What has gotten into him? Something must have happened, something bad. She can’t recall the last time she has seen him this troubled, not since… Jo’s eyes grow a little larger, her brows that were knitted together a moment ago now rising. Suddenly it dawns on her; she hasn’t seen him so thrown into disarray since he arrived at the ranch at fourteen years of age. She might have been only eight at the time, but those memories lingered. The sight of a kid so scared, so depressed, and so broken left an impression. Even as a little girl she knew he had been through hell, and by the looks of her cousin now, it seems like those dark days are catching up with him.

     Jo wants to go after the poor guy, but she knows she can’t abandon her best friend. When the steward calls out Y/N’s name, announcing she’s up next, she focuses on the rider again. Right now she is her main priority, because whatever happened between the intern and the wrangler, Jo knows she’s Dean’s priority too.

     “Ready?” she checks while quickly drying Joplin with a towel before they head towards the gate.      “Yeah, I am,” Y/N assures, pushing Dean from her thoughts.      “Remember that it’s fine to pick your first cow from the side of the herd, okay? Don’t set the bar too high. It’s your first time,” the blonde cowgirl offers.      “I know,” she assures, even though she’s not planning on playing it safe.

     The frustration has morphed into determination, a strong will to prove that she can manage just fine and that Bobby has every reason to dote on her. She much rather feels aggravated than insecure, so she allows the anger to flood the worry, shutting out her usual insecurity. She’s not going to let anyone down, especially not herself. 

     Concentrated, she goes to the gate, eye for the prize. Joplin already has her ears perked towards the cattle, knowing it’s game time. The clock starts to tick, and with confidence, she guides Joplin through the group of heifers, picking one dead in the middle to single out.

     She doesn’t know Dean is watching from the sidelines, and intense sadness filling his soul. She doesn’t know how proud he is when she makes two amazing cuts and she scores 73 points, outclassing him. She doesn’t know that he’s very much aware that his girl doesn’t need him anymore.

     Swift strokes brush the dirt out of Joplin’s dark coat. Dust particles dance in the air, illuminated by the orange rays of the setting sun that fall through the window of the stable. The mare allows the pampering, on hindleg resting on its toe, her head hanging low. Big, brown eyes are half closed, falling shut every once in a while. Sleep almost taking the normally feisty horse, the grooming having a relaxing effect on her. It’s almost as if she realizes she’s about to go on a new adventure, and she’s taking this moment to recharge after her run.

     Jody has matched Joplin with a great family. A sixteen-year-old girl will be riding her. The teenager and her parents came to meet her new horse right after the great performance, absolutely beaming, knowing this wonderful animal was now theirs. In about fifteen minutes, Joplin’s new owners will be here to take her to their farm in Alamo, New Mexico. The family promised to give the Quarter a forever home, and they showed Y/N pictures of the beautiful barn where the little dark horse is going to live. She’s going to a good place, but the farewell remains bittersweet.

     Once the Joplin is thoroughly cleaned, her rider takes her by the halter, raking her fingers through her mane. Y/N has never been good at saying goodbye, but it’s time now.      “Be good, okay?” she whispers, letting her hands gently run down the horse’s neck. “And don’t pin your ears back too much. People are gonna think you’re mean, but I know you’re a softy.”

     Joplin breathes out a sigh through her nose as if answering the person who has been her companion for the past month. It’s peculiar how fast a bond between human and animal can form. There has been a connection between them since the first time Y/N saddled her up for a trail. The thought of buying the beautiful Quarter herself has crossed the cowgirl’s mind ever since she learned Bobby planned to sell her, but no matter how difficult, this is also an aspect of the business that she needs to get used to. When she will finally have her own stables in a year's time, horses will come and go. She can’t keep every one of them, and so she needs to set Joplin free.

     Judging by the hollow sounds under the tent’s roof, the new owners are on their way. She can distinguish Jody’s voice, and Bobby’s too. A girl with long, brown hair and bright eyes peers over the stable door, already glancing at the beautiful horse lovingly.      “I bought her new transport boots,” she announces enthusiastically. “Wouldn’t want her to get hurt on the trailer. I also got a rug for when it gets a little colder during the night. Do you think she will like that?”      The teenager holds up a red, woolen rug, which matches the leg protection perfectly. Y/N chuckles at the sight. Joplin is going to get so spoiled.      “Those look amazing.” She reaches for one of the boots. “Here, let me help.”

     They strap on the protective wear together while Bobby, Jody, and the parents close the deal on the other side of the alleyway. After the money is counted, the ranch owner hands over the horse’s passport together with a certificate of ownership, shaking their hands once more. Y/N waits for her boss to look her way, wondering if he - as owner - should give Joplin away, but the old man gives her a friendly nod, telling her without words that she will have the honor.

     “Well, I guess this is it,” she says, fumbling with the leadrope. “She’s yours now.”      “Thank you,” the young cowgirl returns. “We will take good care of her. Promise.”      Not trusting her voice, the Y/N smiles warmly, but there isn’t a doubt in her mind that the family will. She doesn’t want to get emotional, it wouldn’t be professional after all. And so she does her very best to blink the mist from her eyes when she offers the leadrope, handing over Joplin to her new owner.

     The family who just gained an additional member exits the stables, heading to the trailers to start their journey home. The rider, the trader, and the rancher watch them leave, all with smiles on their faces. Everyone involved in this sale wins. Y/N can’t help it, though, and has to wipe a lonely tear from her cheek. Jody, who notices, wraps an arm around her shoulder, sheltering and comforting.      “Sorry,” the cowgirl excuses, a little embarrassed.      “Don’t be sorry, honey,” she dismisses sweetly. “Caring matters, especially when money comes into play. Someone who cares has far better judgment than someone who’s greedy. Remember that.”      Y/N smiles at the wise words, storing that piece of advice with all the others she has picked up along the way. 

     “Pretty good ride,” Bobby compliments his intern, in his own way trying to cheer her up. “Especially at your first cutting class.”      Jody glances aside at the ranch owner, not impressed with his choice of words, before pulling the cowgirl closer into a side hug. “Pretty good? Are you kidding me? You absolutely slayed it! If you’re not giving that girl a rider’s fee, I will.”      “Oh, that’s really not necessary,” Y/N objects.      “No, you deserve it,” he insists while leafing through the hundred dollar bills in a large envelope.      “Bobby, it’s okay. I am already super grateful for everything I’m learning and the experiences that I’m gaining. You have already given me a room and a stable, not to mention Ellen’s cooking. You really don’t have to pay me.” 

     Y/N shortly places her hand on her boss’s to seize his actions, wanting him to stop counting. The Gold Canyon Ranch might have made good money over the past three days, yet that doesn’t mean a financial disaster is avoided. She doesn’t want a share.      The old man holds her gaze and she can tell he’s wondering if either Dean or Jo have spilled a little too much information. Maybe it is because of that assumption that he settles and lets it go.     “At least lemme buy you a drink, huh?” he offers before he turns to his business partner. “I just have to round a few things up with Jody here.”      “Alright, see you in a bit,” Y/N returns.

     As the two business partners walk off to look for a private place where Bobby can give the woman who has made the sale possible her commissioner’s fee, the cowgirl slips into the tack room. She decides to start packing, since the crew presumingly will leave in a couple of hours. She has to keep busy, but Dean breaks into thoughts straight away. Sighing deeply, the cowgirl tries to wrap her head around her boyfriend’s reasoning. His words, which had her freeze to the ground for a second as she left him with his father, still ring in her ears. She’s just an intern. Why would he say such a thing? Why hadn’t he expressed that she is his girlfriend? Why did he never mention his father to her? And if he isn’t even able to talk to her about his family, what else is he hiding?

     Her train of thought is interrupted by Jo, who hastily rushes around the corner, her restless eyes searching the tack room before she checks the stables.      “Have you seen Dean?” she asks, concerned.      “No,” Y/N bitterly answers.      “Okay, enough.” Jo places her hands on her hips, shifting her weight to one leg. “What the hell is going on with you two?”      “You tell me,” her friend responds coldly. “I was under the impression we were doing just fine until Dean wasn’t even able to introduce me. Clearly, I value our relationship more than he does.”

     “What are you talking about? He’s crazy about you,” the blonde cowgirl reminds her.      “Is he?” Y/N spins on her heels, finally looking her in the eye. “Because for someone who claims to care about me, he sure keeps an awful lot of secrets.”      Jo sighs. “Look, I know Dean isn’t the guy who’s very chatty about those kinds of things, but what makes you say that he doesn’t care?”      “Because he couldn’t even tell his family - who he failed to tell me about, by the way - that I’m his girlfriend! He told his father that I am just an int--”      “Whoa whoa, wait. His father?” Her best friend stares at her bug-eyed, needing a moment to process the information. “His father is here?!”      “Yeah, he showed up in the stables earlier to visit him, before I got on Joplin,” she confirms, somewhat confused by her shocked expression.      Jo steps towards the intern, grabbing both her shoulders and looking at her intensely. “Are you absolutely sure?”      Y/N shrugs a little, not understanding the earnesty. “He looked a lot like Dean, and he called him his son, so I’m assuming.”

     Her best friend just gapes at her, her cousin’s demeanor by the warm-up ring suddenly making much more sense. If he had an encounter with his father, his entire world just got turned upside down. Judging by how messed up he was when his only living parent left him to rot when he was still a child, she can only imagine what his return after all that time has set in motion.

     “We need to find Dean, now,” she says, grabbing her friend by the wrist and pulling her out of the tack room. “I’ll explain along the way.”      Unsettled, Y/N fastens her pace to jog next to the ranch owner’s daughter. “Jo, what’s going on?”      “Dean didn’t lie to you when he said that he hadn’t seen his family in a while. In fact, the two haven’t been in contact for fifteen years,” she explains as they exit the stables.

     Stunned by the revelation, the cowgirl next to her tries to make sense of it all. Fifteen years? Why would he have cut all ties with his dad for fifteen years? She can’t possibly imagine doing such a thing. Something horrible must have happened, something beyond comprehension.      “That still doesn’t explain why he described me as anything else but his girlfriend,” Y/N  brings up.      “Listen, you don’t know John. He is a manipulative son of a bitch who has played dirty mind games before. If Dean let on that you were just someone working at the ranch, he was trying to protect you.”      Y/N stops dead in her tracks, her hand which is still entwined with Jo’s causing her friend to spin around. “He w - what?” 

     “You need to talk to him,” her friend insists, dragging her into motion again. “My guess is that he found a place to be alone or he’s liquoring up. Either way, your man is spiraling out of control and he's gonna need his girl in order to get out of that vicious circle.”      “He - he won’t talk to me,” she stammers. “Not after how I was with him before my run. God, I can’t believe I was so self-absorbed. I thought he didn’t want me there because he was embarrassed of me, and you’re telling me he was making sure I was safe?”

     Jo wishes her companion wouldn’t put herself down like that, because the blonde cowgirl honestly gets why she reacted the way she did, being unaware of the family drama. She never thought the day would come, but here she is, defending her cousin’s honor.

     “Like I said; he’s crazy about you, Sis. He has never been like this with somebody else, so if there’s anyone who can through to him it’s you. He might try to--”      “- push me away, I know. That’s kind of his thing. I won’t let him,” Y/N promises.      Jo nods at that, glad she was able to convince her. “Good, now we just have to find him.”

     They arrive at the square where all the shops are situated, most of the stand holders packing their unsold products into cars and onto trailers. The sun has disappeared behind the horizon, the skies painted with red. There are a few people around, music coming from the tent further up where the after-party is in full swing. They meet Benny at the crossing, though, who is looking for his friend as well.      “Have you seen him?” Y/N asks the farrier, who has the same worried frown on his face as the girls.      “I tried the trailers, but no luck,” Benny says. “Stables?”      But she shakes her head. “We were just there.”

     The three glance aside when a group of young guys stumbles out of the tent, alternated colored beams in their wake, coming from the disco lights inside. The concern that has Jo’s intestines in knots worsens, because if Dean has hit the bar, reasoning with him is going to be problematic. 

     Y/N enters the tent, backed up by the other two members of the Gold Canyon Ranch. The band plays a happy, upbeat country song that contradicts the alarming anxiety and dread that is riding her nerves like a racetrack. Frantically, she looks around, trying to identify her boyfriend amongst the crowd. She doesn’t see him in the booths on her right, nor around the dancefloor which she and Dean owned two nights prior. Once she convinces him that she understands why he said those things and that he did nothing wrong, she can wrap her arms around him again, comfort him with a kiss and ask him for another dance. He can continue to be the wonderful, supportive boyfriend, making her laugh and making her smile, lifting her up and making her feel appreciated. They can go back to how things were.

     Trying to convince herself that everything is going to be fine, she moves through the mass of people towards the beer taps, when she stops suddenly, the wind being knocked from her lungs by the sight in front of her. At the end of the bar, she finds Dean. Not nursing a beer, sad and alone like she expected to find him, but in company of the same girl who was all over him on Friday night as well; Jamie. The cowboy, already intoxicated, leaning into her when the blonde whispers something in his ear, touching his arm as she does. A blind man would be able to see the chemistry, their conversation easy and carefree. The beautiful girl seated on the stool next to her boyfriend doesn’t show a sign of insecurity, her cheerful and confident personality matching Dean’s perfectly. She is everything Y/N isn’t.

     Unable to move, she watches the film play out before her, a story of fun and romance that will push her story with Dean to a tragic end. Tears begin to fill her eyes, her breath hitching in her throat. A part of her hopes that he will turn around and see the devastation that his actions are causing, but he doesn’t, occupied by the gorgeous old flame which seems to have ignited something new. He doesn’t even see me, she realizes. He doesn’t see her, because once again it has been made perfectly clear she’s not worth holding on to. That has always been the case whenever it came to love, hasn’t it? So why on earth did she think that with Dean it was going to be any different? And just like that, she’s back to being invisible again. 

     Abruptly, Y/N turns around, desperately needing to get out of the buzzing atmosphere, but she collides with Jo the second she does.      “Woah! Where are you--” Jo steadies her friend when she almost falls over, holding her by her arms. Stunned, she stares into her eyes, noticing how they are glazed over with absolute heartbreak. “What’s going on?”

     But Y/N just shakes her head, moving past her hastily; she can’t stay here a second longer. The upset girl struggles towards the exit and ignores Benny, who watches her departure, perplexed. When he straightens himself again, he glances at Jo, as much confusion on his features as on hers. But when his focus locks on his buddy at the bar, his face falls.      “That son of a bitch,” he mutters, his remark triggering the blonde cowgirl before him to turn around as well.

     Jo’s jaw falls slack, observing as the two order another round of shots. She can’t believe what she’s seeing. She can’t believe she’s witnessing the man who she thought had made a change for the better, now making a turn for the worse. Frustration boils inside of the petite yet feisty woman, who is biting down hard on her bottom lip when she faces Benny again.      “You talk some sense into him before he really crosses the line,” she directs. “I’m gonna go after Y/N and see if I can repair the damage.”

     The broad-shouldered wrangler nods and watches Jo take off before he goes in the other direction. He pushes through the mass of people who are enjoying the last party of the event, all oblivious to the dramatic scene they are all a part of. He senses that the drama might become a whole lot worse if he doesn’t manage to pull Dean’s head off his ass.

     “What do you think you’re doin’, brother?” Benny claps his hand on his friend’s shoulder, interrupting him before he downs the shot waiting for him on the bar.      He scoffs. “What does it look like?”      “Seems to me you’re about to get a lil’ too friendly with a gal that ain’t yours,” the farrier says with a lowered voice, hoping it will enlighten him.      “We’re just having a drink,” Dean counters, annoyed, reaching for the glass in front of him, but Benny pushes it out of reach.      “Do you think that’s what Y/N saw too when she was here just now?”      Now he does get the cowboy’s attention, common sense finally pushing to the forefront. “She was here?” he questions, dumbfounded.      “Yep, and you’ve got somethin’ to fix. Let’s go,” Benny suggests, his large hand flat on his companion’s back calmly pushing him off the chair and onto his feet, both men giving Jamie a short nod before they leave the party.

     The fresh air slaps Dean in the face when he exits the tent, sobering him up enough to realize how bad he screwed up. He knew it was a horrible idea to do the one thing his dad always did when the pain got too much to bear; hit the alcohol and drown his sorrow. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? No matter how hard he fights, no matter how different he aspires to be, he will always be just like his father. The same ego-centric, selfish and spineless dick that breaks everything he touches. 

     When the two men stop in the middle of the square, Benny looks around, trying to find the girls. He doesn’t spot them sitting at any of the outside tables, nor by the restrooms.      “It don’t matter, I already fucked it up anyway,” Dean mutters when his friend glances between the market shops.      The farrier pauses his search and gazes at him superciliously through half-lidded eyes. “No disrespect, Chief, but what the hell is wrong with you?”      “You really want me to get started on that list? Because if so, we’re gonna be here for a while,” the wrangler returns snarky, avoiding his friend’s blue eyes, taking a few steps away with his hands on his hips.      “John showing up here is not y—”      “Don’t!” Dean interrupts with venom in his voice, spinning around and pointing a firm finger at Benny. “Don’t you dare bring up my father.”

     He’s trembling, the anger that ran in John’s blood for years now raging through his veins. Fire sets alight his insides, flames dancing in his pupils that glare at his comrade warningly. The Southerner takes a tentative step towards him, realizing he needs to get through to Dean, but has to handle the subject as carefully as possible.      “You are not him. I know this,” he speaks slow. “I know you love Y/N, too.”

     But Dean scoffs and shakes his head, not just denying that he does, but refusing to allow himself that kind of fulfillment. He was stupid to even think that he ever had a chance with her. It was just a matter of time before it all would come crashing down on him, ruining everything that he never deserved in the first place. He can’t love her, because if he does, she will fall victim to him, just like he did to his dad.

     “Listen, brother. You’re not seein’ straight right now, but you can still make this right,” Benny continues. “You care too much about her to just throw in the towel. Remember when she first came to the ranch? You were smitten the second she walked through those doors. You called dibs on her for a reason.”

     The cowboy’s shoulders rise as he inhales deeply and fall again when he blows out a breath. Of course he remembers. He remembers the first time he laid eyes on her over his poker cards, how she responded to him from across the saloon. He remembers how she gave him a run for his money when he came on too strong. He remembers how he panicked when she didn’t seem interested and the idea of her being with someone else had him strike an agreement with his best mate. He remembers the rides, their first kiss, the moment i--      “You called dibs on me?”

     Stunned by the unexpected voice, both men turn to where it came from. Benny gulps thickly when he notices Y/N stepping from under the awning of one of the food trucks, Jo in her shadow. Even in the dim glow from the overhanging strings of lightbulbs, he can see her eyes shimmer with despair.      “Y/N, it ain’t as bad as it s--”      But the cowgirl cuts him off immediately, shooting Benny a glare. “You can stop with the Southern smooth talk. I need to talk to Dean alone.”

     After exchanging looks over the course of several uncomfortable seconds, both Benny and Jo step aside, sauntering away from the couple. Once their friends have disappeared behind one of the trailers, Y/N returns her focus to her boyfriend again, her judgemental stare boring into his soul.      “I asked you a question,” she repeats, managing to prevent her voice from trembling. “Did you make some kind of pact with your buddies?”

     Dean doesn’t answer, but he sets his jaw, the muscles flexing under his stubble. He lifts his eyes from the ground for a moment, glancing over before he averts them again. The woman standing a few feet away from him chuckles cynically; she knows enough.

     “So what, women are like cattle to you? This is a funny bet?”      The cowboy frustratingly shakes his head once. “You know it’s not.”      “Do I?!” Y/N returns, her tone sharper and higher than anticipated. “Because if this isn’t just a game, then why did you shove me aside for some blonde broad--”      “For fuck’s sake, we were just having a drink! We had this argument already!” Dean snaps, throwing his arms to the side.

     Taken aback by the hostility, Y/N stares at him. She has seen this anger before, but just a glimpse of it. It was when Ash lost his job and blamed them, in particular Dean, who took the acquisitions hard. That evening it was mostly guilt that triggered the cowboy to lash out to her and the second he realized he had upset her, he apologized. But now an apology doesn’t even seem to cross his mind that is clouded by darkness far greater. At this point, she’s not sure if she would be able to accept it anyway.

     “Well, it didn’t make much of a difference, now did it?” she returns after using the dreadful silence to recover.      “Apparently not,” Dean scoffs, shifting his unfocused gaze aside.      Mulling over the chain of events that have led to this moment, he swallows with difficulty, indignation taking off the heat for a bit, stopping it from boiling over. The calm gives Y/N enough courage to step closer.      “Dean, I know today was a whirlwind. I know - I’m aware that what happened in the stables earlier has sent you into a tailspin,” she sympathizes, careful not to mention his father after witnessing his outburst with Benny when he did, “but this isn’t you.”

     The disheartened guy before her huffs again, sardonic and hopeless. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? Because it’s exactly who he is. This is who he was always destined to be. It’s how he was raised, it’s in his DNA. For two months he allowed himself to hope that maybe he could change, that maybe he could be better than the poor excuse of a man his father was. Y/N gave him that pipe dream, and even though it’s unreasonable to be upset with her for seeing the good in him, it’s amongst one of the many frustrations he’s experiencing. 

     “It is. This -” Dean points at himself, his upper lip twitching with disgust. “- this is who I am.”      She shakes her head, not ready to give up. “It’s not. You are kind, loving, your heart is--”      “You don’t know me!” He exclaims, running a hand through his hair and trapping the light-brown locks between his fingers before he gestures wildly. “You think you do, but you don’t have a fucking clue! I haven’t told you anything about my life--”      “Then talk to me!” Y/N yells back as he turns away from her.      “I CAN’T!!” 

     Dean is facing her again, vexation flaring in his emerald green eyes. His heart beats so vigorously that it has his entire body pulsating. He takes her in, the beautiful young woman who he fell for, and he can see that her hope is fading. It pains him to hurt her, but he’s left with no choice. Being angry with him will make things easier, though. It will help her move on. If she is going to feel sorry for him, the pity would only prompt the caring girl to hold on and try to piece the shattered shards back together, and he can’t let that happen, simply because it’s useless. He refuses to take her down with him, to burden her with the same demons that he has to live with. He can’t do that to her, not to the one he loves. She’s way too good for him, so pure, so selfless and gentle. She’s everything he shouldn’t have, everything he isn’t worthy of. It’s better this way, it’s better to end it now. 

     “I can’t. Who you think I am, it’s not me. I’ve been lying to you, pretending. I can’t be the person you need me to be,” he claims, calmer now that he knows what he has to do.

     Y/N’s breathing picks up slightly, the air leaving her with a shudder each time. His words seem so definite already, but he can’t possibly believe that they are not right for each other, can he? All those moments they shared, all the affection he offered; that was real. That was him. Why can’t he see he’s exactly the man she needs?      “And what person is that?” she questions, hoping that whatever argument he fires back, she can turn around.

     Dean is quiet for a few seconds, thinking about a fitting answer. The profound fondness he feels for her begins to resurface and it’s tearing him apart. She needs to understand that the fairytale they have been living is a facade he can’t continue to maintain. Dreams never last forever, this is where they wake up.      “You need a guy who is honest, who you can trust. Look at us; I can’t even bring myself to tell you about my family, my past, or anything for that matter,” he reminds her.      “I knew what I was in for, Dean. I don’t expect you to spill every dark secret you think you have. You don’t have to spell out everything to be with me. We can work it out!” she argues desperately.      But the cowboy shakes his head, feeling the sorrow brim in his eyes. He wants her to be right so bad, but he knows he can’t live a lie.      “You don’t get it, okay? I’m a fucking mess. I did things that are unforgivable. I don’t have my shit together, but you do,” he says, a sad smile barely pulling at the corner of his mouth. “You know exactly where you wanna go in life, what you want to achieve.”      She steps closer, praying that if he lets her, she can eventually bridge the space between them.      “We can do that together,” she pleads with all the hope she has left.      “We can’t,” he returns, having gathered every bit of strength to look at her before he pronounces the words who he knows are the truth. “This isn’t gonna work.” 

     The tears that have gathered become too much even for a dam to withhold roll down her cheeks now. An already unbearable ache gets worse, her heart physically hurting and taking up so much space that Y/N feels like she can’t breathe. He can’t be doing this. He can’t pull the plug, not after all the epic moments they shared. Every warm look, every gentle touch, every loving kiss; every blissful memory. How can he possibly let go of that?      Refusal has her reach out to him, one last attempt to repair what is already broken. “Dean, stop… Why are you hurting me like this?” she cries.

     The cowboy drops his gaze while fighting the tears and the grief for what he’s losing. He wants to reach out too, take her hand in his, but he can’t cave now, he can’t be selfish. He has to do this for her.      “Because if I don’t, if I allow this to go any further, it’s gonna hurt a lot more.”      Dean fixates on anything but Y/N, no longer able to endure the sight of her falling apart in front of him. It’s dreadfully quiet as if the world stopped turning, and in a way, for the two individuals in the middle of the square, it just did.      “So - so what? This is it?” she stammers, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re breaking up with me?”      Biting his lip now, he focuses on what this decision will offer the woman at arm’s reach. An uncomplicated life in which she can pursue her dreams without having to worry about someone dragging her down. She can be free to do whatever she wishes and that’s all he can ask for. But in order to provide her with that opportunity, he has to let her go.      “Yeah. We’re over.”

     Like a bullet fired from a gun, the defining words rip through her chest and pierce her heart. The silence after the shot is deafening, canceling out the sounds of their surroundings. The streaming pathways of desolation gather at the end of her chin and drip down on the dry soil, enough to darken the dust. Her eyes are glued on him, though, but he doesn’t return her gaze. The conclusion of their relationship sinks in with every passing second, leaving her soul in ruins. It’s over. They are over. And there is nothing she can do to change the course of history.

     Unable to be in his presence, she forces her feet to move, turning away from the man she is no longer with. Dean can’t watch her leave, fixed on the dark earth where her tears fell just moments ago. From his peripheral vision, he notices Jo rushing by to go after her friend. Good, he thinks to himself, she’ll have someone to lean on. 

     After standing there for what feels like an hour, he takes a few hesitant steps towards one of the trailers, placing both hands flat on the metal, searching for something to ground him while he closes his eyes and lets his head hang. He can’t find it, though, not in the cold steel, not in his reasoning behind this brutal decision. The resentment builds again, and Dean pulls his right hand back, balls his fist, and almost puts a dent into the barrier before him. The action only confirms what he deep down knew to be true all along. All that rage, the self-hatred; he can’t bottle it up forever, so it’s for the best that Y/N will no longer be there to witness it. 

     Dean bends his elbows, his forearms now pressed against the iron and his forehead resting between his clenching fists, as he struggles to pull in a shaky breath. He feels like he’s imploding, the outer frame of his structure caving in on itself. His mouth falls open, his bottom lip trembling, then he allows the tears to cascade down his face. 

     He can sense Benny by his side, but Dean is too wrapped up in his own destruction to really acknowledge him. The comforting hand on his shoulder is a touch he barely registers, his body is already rebuilding its emotional walls, caging away his ability to feel and casting it in a permanent shadow. That’s where it will remain, encapsulated in darkness, cut out from the light that his girl had to give. Benny stays by his side, though, letting him know that he is there for his friend, as much as Jo is there for hers. 

     “Sis, wait,” the ranch owner’s daughter tries desperately, following the woman who just had her heart broken into the stables.      Her request remains unanswered, Y/N only stopping when she has reached Meadow’s box, her hands shaking while she tries to unlock the door. When she’s unable to, Jo quickly steps in and opens the gate, holding it for her companion. The bay horse has lifted her head, alerted by the commotion in the alley, but clearly recognizes the person stepping inside. She seems confused by her owner’s frail state of mind, though, pricked ears and concerned eyes taking in the situation. 

     The cowgirl folds an arm around Meadow’s neck while she buries her face in the Quarter’s brown coat, then she breaks. She breaks into a million segments, lost in the mixture of wood shavings and straw underneath their feet. The air is too thin to breathe and sobs wreck her entire form. 

     Never in her life has she felt so unwanted, purposeless, and vulnerable as she’s feeling now. Dean let her in and she trusted him to handle her with grace, yet the second she was comfortable with this new way of being, he pushed her out. She thought she knew the man she felt such a strong connection with. Yes, she realized very early on that it was going to be difficult to get through to him. The soldier with thick armor had stacked the barricades high, but that never intimidated her. After all, she had climbed mountains before. 

     She gave Dean her all, but in the end, it turns out it was useless. Y/N isn’t even sure what’s real and what’s not, if the cowboy has been wearing a mask all along, or just now turned into someone that he isn’t. It doesn’t matter, though. He has made himself perfectly clear; she is not the girl he wants to be with.

     The only one stopping her from collapsing is Meadow, who holds still like a statue, aware that if she moves, her owner will fall to the ground and might never be able to get up again. The horse senses exactly how to handle Y/N, the usually so spirited mare now timid and calm, picking up on the despairing energy. 

     Jo, who had silently slipped into the tack box to get a bottle of water and some tissues, comes back into the stable, tearing up at the sight of the two who have such a strong bond. The thousand-pound animal has curved her neck around her human, resting her large head on the cowgirl’s shoulder. As if trying to comfort her, Meadow twitches her lips, gently rubbing them against her owner’s back, her way of showing affection. People can be cruel sometimes, to others, to horses. Jo has witnessed it, and she knows Dean has too, which has ultimately led to his dreadful decision to cut Y/N loose, and by doing so he has hurt her in terrible ways himself. But at least the girl has her horse.

     Meadow, who is oblivious to the reason behind her owner’s sorrow, offers solace nonetheless. Quietly, she waits until the cries die down and the tears begin to dry, and even then she stays close to her person, having a better sense of direction than most humans do. Y/N’s four-legged friend is honest, treats her with kindness, and loves her unconditionally. It’s a special connection no man can ever steal away, yet many can learn from. This incredible being is her soul horse, a term Dean has taught her, the one who she thought was going to be her partner in life until he decided otherwise. He is right, though; it is over between them. She has lost Dean’s heart, but at the end of the day, no matter what happens, she will always have Meadow.

That’s that then. They are over...

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part twenty-five here

#Ride With Me #Dean x Reader #Cowboy!Dean x Reader #Dean angst #Dean Winchester x Reader #Dean x Y/N #Dean x you #Cowboy!Dean #cowboy!dean au #Cowboy Dean x reader #Cowboy Dean AU #Cowboy Dean series #Cowboy!Dean series #Dean fluff #dean winchester angst #Supernatural AU #Supernatural reader insert #Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Kate Huntington

[phis-corner]

demon’s daughter

I decided to re-open the taglist for this fic because I am sometimes a pushover, so now you can either ask or comment to be on the fic’s taglist or the permanent taglist! 

Additionally, I have no consistent update schedule. My first draft is written by hand- I always like to stay two chapters ahead, so I posted this chapter when I finished copying chapter 5 into a Google Doc and proofreading.

Also, fun fact: I hate chocolate. My senses just do not like it at all. I also have a very sensitive tongue and can taste the barest hint of spiciness in foods, which also means I have zero spice tolerance whatsoever. As a Chinese-American with family in Sichuan, this means I get force-fed a lot of extremely spicy foods anyway.

Masterlist Chapter 1 Chapter 2 [Chapter 3] Chapter 4

“Why are you letting them stay? He tried to kill Dick!” Timothy points at Damian, who glowers at him from across the cave as Alfred stitches Richard’s cuts.

Marinette sighs. “Akhi was not trying to murder Richard. If you paid more attention, you would notice that all of Richard’s wounds are carefully placed in non-lethal areas meant to slow him down instead of severely injuring him.”

Batman does not say a word. He hasn’t spoken since Richard called him to verify their claims.

“They were raised as assassins, Timmy. It’s normal that they’d feel threatened a lot, and act accordingly. They’re family now. Give them a chance.” Richard replies, and Marinette blinks. She did not expect to have Richard defend them so easily.

“Pardon me,” She pipes up. “But ‘they’ are currently present.”

“Right. Sorry.” Richard has the sense to look guilty. Timothy just glares.

Damian squeezes her hand three times, their signal for I would like to leave. Marinette sighs as she exits the Batcave. Being accepted into the family is… a work in progress.

.o0o.

Slade is put into Blackgate not long after with the information Ubu gave after being interrogated by the Bats. Damian and Marinette were not allowed to go. 

Too young, Richard had said. They had interpreted that as You cannot be trusted to keep him alive. He did make the right call though. Damian would have tried extremely hard had he gotten the chance.

Of course, the League did dispose of him not long after anyway, but it was the thought that counted.

Damian and Marinette spent their days in the Manor sparring, reading, or practicing their instruments. Richard, who seemed determined to bond with them, bought them both new sketchbooks, for Damian’s drawings and Marinette’s designs. She had discovered an affinity for clothing design while undercover on a mission, and had been designing ever since.

Cass (she insisted that they call her that instead of Cassandra,) was always happy to spar when asked, and although nobody ever defeated her, it was a welcomed challenge to fight someone who knew your every move, sometimes even before you did. Damian grudgingly admits she is a worthy sister, which makes Marinette smile and Cass beam.

Jason had his own home and only visited every once in a while, and Timothy was rarely seen. It didn’t help that Damian continued to make snarky comments whenever they did see him, but if Timothy was scarce, Father was practically nonexistent.

Since they came to the Manor, their father has said a total of two words to the both of them, and that was just their names when he exited his study as they passed by.

Marinette is determined to make her new family work, and so when she finds Timothy completely by accident, typing away on a laptop in one of the less-used rooms in the Manor, she takes a chance.

“You do know we are not trying to replace you, right?” She asks softly, sitting down in an armchair and deliberately not making eye contact with him. 

Timothy snorts. “But is that not what you’re doing? Bruce chose to take in everyone else. I had to blackmail him into letting me be Robin. And then the biological kids show up, born and raised like fucking royalty, so who would care about Tim Drake? The little kid whose parents didn’t even want him and his neighbor only adopted him because he knew his most well-kept secret.”

“We have more in common than you think.” Marinette says quietly.

“Yeah, right.” Timothy laughs bitterly. “The Princess of the League-”

“I wasn’t.” Marinette interrupts.

“Huh? But-”

“I wasn’t the Princess.” Marinette keeps her voice calm with considerable effort. “As soon as I was born, Ra’s gave me over to Lady Shiva. He declared me unworthy because I was a girl, and I was raised as the lowest-ranked assassin. I may have been Shiva’s protege, but that just meant she went even harder on me. I did not know even my last name until after my first death when I was five. I did not properly meet my brother until last year. Ra’s decided that I could be acknowledged, but maintained his stance on feminine inferiority.”

She chuckles hollowly. “You fear being replaced by your father figure’s biological children, Timothy. But your fear is unwarranted. Bruce Wayne chose to adopt you, because he is a good man with copious amounts of generosity. However, it evidently does not extend to his biological children. Talia dumped us at Batman’s feet and left without another word, without looking back. And Father? We may have been a complete surprise, but he has said two words in total to us since that first night- our names. You need not worry, Timothy. You shall not be replaced.”

Marinette stands, her message conveyed, and pauses in the doorway of the room. 

“Have a good afternoon, Timothy.”

The next day, Marinette and Damian watch on live television as their father is killed by Darkseid.

.o0o.

The funeral for Batman is somber. Everyone cries except for Marinette and Damian.

She thinks they should be crying, but Marinette simply didn’t know her father well enough to really mourn him. Damian squeezes her hand, and she squeezes back. The twins stand, faces carefully blank, shoulders straight and unmoving, like rocks in an ocean of tears.

Crime in Gotham runs rampant when they think Batman is gone, and so Richard becomes Batman out of necessity- and chooses her twin brother as his Robin.

Nobody else sees how it crushes Timothy, because Cass has left for Hong Kong, abandoning Batgirl and making her own identity as Black Bat. Jason is holed up in a safehouse somewhere, Richard and Damian are in their own little world as they prepare for their first patrol together, and Alfred needs time to mourn too.

So she finds herself knocking on the door to Timothy’s room, one hand holding a plate of sandwiches and a freshly brewed coffee because he hasn’t left his room since the funeral. Marinette quietly enters upon his muffled “Come in” and sets the plate down next to Timothy, whose eyes are red-rimmed and have even larger bags than normal, and yet he continues to work.

“I… noticed you have not come out to eat, so I brought some food and fresh coffee. Black.” She adds, after a moment of hesitation.

“Thanks.” Timothy mumbles, immediately going for the coffee. “Why are you doing this?”

Marinette shrugs. “Everyone else was caught up in their own situation and had issues to work through too. I am relatively unaffected by the circumstances and therefore my observation skills have not declined.” She says simply. “You should also eat. I will not stop you from drinking the coffee, but you cannot work on an empty stomach, either.”

He begrudgingly eats a sandwich, still typing away at his laptop all the while. Marinette notes the tension in his frame.

“Would you like to talk about it? I have read that venting is significantly better for one’s mental health than keeping it bottled up.” She offers.

Timothy suddenly slams the laptop shut, hard, but Marinette doesn’t flinch. The reaction was trained out of her a long time ago. 

“It’s not- it’s- my entire life, I’ve been trying to prove myself. Robin was- Robin was special. I wasn’t the first Robin, but it was a reminder that I was worth something to someone, that I could do good and be useful. And then Bruce dies, Dick becomes Batman, and he just names Damian as his Robin like my opinion on the matter meant nothing, booting me out of the position, without any semblance of an explanation and-” He breaks off into sobs.

The sight of somebody crying makes Marinette more than a little awkward, because what is she doing? She doesn’t know how to comfort a crying person, but she does know that Timothy was touch-starved as a child. However, she isn’t the most touchy-feely person on the planet either, so she just settles for rubbing his back as he lets it all out.

Once he’s run out of tears, she silently hands him the tissue box she plucked from his desk. 

“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, you are not worthless.” Marinette says sternly. “Nobody is worthless, and you are far from being anywhere near so. You are the cleverest and most intelligent of us all, a capable, quick-thinking strategist, and you have detective skills that rivaled Father’s. I believe Richard chose Damian as Robin because Robin is always supposed to be Batman’s sidekick. He is always taken under Batman’s wing because there are things he hasn’t learned, that Batman can teach him. Richard sees you as an equal, and therefore cannot keep you as his Robin because you have graduated the mantle. It is time you created a new identity and moved on. Do you have anything in mind?”

Timothy sniffs once. “Thank you. I really needed that. And as for the ideas,” He reaches over and pulls out a sketchbook, a smile spreading across his face. “I’ve got a few.”

.o0o.

They brainstorm ideas for almost three hours before Timothy falls asleep. Marinette easily carries his light frame to his bed and drapes a blanket over his shoulders before quietly exiting his room.

Thankfully, she managed to convince Timothy that the cowl was a terrible idea. Marinette returns to her own room for her sketchbook. Batman and Robin will have each other’s backs. But Red Hood works alone, leaving Red Robin with nobody to watch his back.

Timothy is Marinette’s brother too, and everyone else is headed into the field anyway. She, like Damian, also had the phrase ‘justice, not vengeance’ drilled into her head, and Richard had made sure to remind them daily to aim for non-lethal spots. Not that she planned on taking a life ever again anyway.

Marinette flips open her sketchbook to a bookmarked page and smiles. It seems that Starling would be making an appearance very soon.

.o0o.

It is almost time for Richard and Damian’s first patrol as Batman and Robin. Marinette heads downstairs to wish them well, but freezes at the sight of her twin in Timothy’s old suit.

“This is unacceptable!” She screeches, hurrying forward and looking pleadingly at Richard. “You cannot let akhi out into Gotham looking like a traffic light!”

Richard frowns, as does Damian. “But you never had a problem with Tim wearing it.”

“Tt. Timothy had little to no prior experience in combat before being trained as Robin. Damian has been trained to utilize the shadows in combat since birth. Wearing those bright colors will make him stand out and put him at a disadvantage.” Marinette tuts, already scribbling out a new design in her sketchbook.

“Then what do you suggest, ukhti?” Damian asks.

“I have a design in mind. The colors will stay, but the yellow and green will have to be significantly darker, and the red should be dulled as well. Sadly, you will have to wear that monstrosity tonight, but I can have the suit finished in time for patrol tomorrow, as will mine and Timothy’s new suits.” She replies, not glancing up from her book.

“What do you mean, Marinette?” Richard questions, and Marinette feels a tiny twinge of annoyance at how he handled telling Timothy about Robin.

“I mean that Timothy and I have crafted new identities as well. You did not expect him to just stop fighting crime, or for me to just sit at home while everyone else carried out Father’s mission, did you?”

Damian nods, a small smile pulling at his lips. “It will be nice to see you in the field too, ukhti.”

“What will your names be?” Richard prods curiously.

“I will not tell you just yet.” Marinette smirks. She shows her twin the finished design. “Does this look alright, akhi?”

“It looks wonderful, ukhti.” Damian replies. “Thank you.”

She sniffs. “Well, somebody had to fix the lack of fashion sense in this household eventually.”

.o0o.

Everyone else in the family may use capes, but Marinette decided that Richard’s Nightwing suit was by far the best because of its lack of one. Capes were long, heavy, a waste of fabric, and overall useless.

The Starling suit was primarily black, with a dark emerald mask covering the lower half of her face (because why carry a gas mask and rebreather when it can be built in?) with gloves and boots in the same color. A single silver star with curved sides was splayed on her chest, and a dark green utility belt rested on her waist. Her steel war fans had holsters strapped to her thighs.

All in all, the suit was built for the shadows. Marinette had learned to master slipping through the dark, unseen, and Gotham was the perfect place to utilize that. Starling would be nothing more than a ghost, a legend, if she had her way. After all, the less citizens knew, the less likely the information would hit the underworld, and that way, the vigilantes wouldn’t have all their cards out in the open.

Damian looks much better in his new suit as well, and Timothy is also grinning when he steps out of the male’s changing room. (A/N: the new 52 suit. I’m not letting him out of the Cave with that ugly cowl, or the traffic light costume with an extra R. Don’t even get me started on the Drake one.)

Richard, cowl still down, smiles as bright as the sun itself. “Good to see you, Robin. Tim, Marinette, can I ask your names?”

Timothy fastens his domino. “Red Robin.”

Marinette pulls her face mask up and curtsies with perfect posture. “Starling. I wish to work in the shadows, if that is alright.”

Richard puts on the cowl and becomes Batman. “You guys all look amazing.” He grins, and it is unsettling to see Batman smile. Oracle logs into the comms from the Clocktower.

“You all ready?”

They split the city in half. Red Robin and Starling take the North while Batman & Robin will cover the South. 

Starling trails Red Robin from afar, leaping from building to building and only using her grappling hook when the distance is too great to close by foot. They stop four muggings and two attempted assaults, all without Starling being spotted. The criminals think they hit their head on the alley walls or each other instead of her fist from behind.

It’s almost three in the morning when Batman calls it quits and they return to the Cave, changing out of their suits and showering. They are somehow all unharmed, so Alfred sends them up to bed.

Damian and Marinette brush their teeth before climbing into bed and flipping off the lights.

“Tonight was actually quite enjoyable.” Marinette remarks. “It is a nice feeling, to know that you are helping people.”

Damian hums sleepily. “It is good to know that we are continuing Father’s legacy.”

Marinette smiles. “Yes, I suppose so.” She burrows deeper into her blankets. “Sleep well, akhi.”

“The same goes for you, ukhti.”

For once, Marinette doesn’t have a nightmare.

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#maribat #mlb x dc #demon's daughter au #my writing

[rubysunnday]

Photos

A/N: inspired by my latest trip to the dark room at college (which has a really cool spinny door) and the fact i’m now obsessed with film cameras, lol

For Y/N’s 14th birthday, Arthur bought her a camera. She was slightly underwhelmed by it - she’d been hoping for a new jacket or something she actually wanted - but thanked her brother for it anyway.

And didn’t touch it for six years.

She found it again when she was packing her things to move from Watery Lane to John’s house. It hadn’t been touched - still in its box, tucked in with numerous layers tissue - and still had all the film in it. Y/N lifted the camera out the box, gently throwing the box to the side. She wasn’t sure how many photos she could get out of it - there was a random number on the back that said 20 so she assumed it was that - but she suddenly had an urge to use it.

“Oi, Y/N, come on!” John yelled.

Y/N sighed, shaking her head with a smile as she heard her brother come up the stairs, the wood creaking loudly underneath him as he took them two at a time. She leant her head back as her bedroom door opened and John appeared, looking down at her.

“What are you doing?” John asked, frowning at the camera in her hands and the numerous empty boxes - that were meant to be full of her belongings.

“Remember my 14th?” Y/N asked, still looking at John upside down. “Arthur bought me a camera.”

John nodded once, still frowning. “Yeah and you looked disgusted by it and never used it.”

“14 year old me was a bitch, we know this,” Y/N replied, sitting back up as John stepped over her legs and perched himself on the end of her bed. “I was thinking about bringing it with me tonight, get some nice photos... if that’s possible at a Shelby family dinner.”

John chuckled. “Depends who gets drunk first,” he said, shrugging. “If you did get some, I know someone who has a photography shop - they’d let you in the dark room.”

“A what?” Y/N asked, raising her eyebrows. “What the fuck is a dark room?”

John groaned slightly. “Oh, Jesus Christ. It’s where you develop the photos you idiot. Look, my mate will teach you and you can be in charge of the family album.”

“Oh, no, that’s far too much grief,” Y/N replied, shaking her head as she packed the camera back into its tissue. “Tonight only - for now,” she added quickly, catching John’s slightly disappointed expression. “Just don’t let Finn near it,” she added. “He’ll fill all the film up with shitty photos of himself.”

/

Y/N had kept to her word and brought the camera with her. But she’d been so caught up in chatting with Esme and Lizzie and avoiding Arthur’s numerous attempts to get her to chuck an entire bottle of whiskey, she hadn’t touched it.

But now everything was calming down. 

Finn was slowly falling asleep on Ada’s shoulder, merely half aware of what was happening around him. Ada was quietly talking with Polly about, presumably, politics or whatever they usually discussed that wasn't Tommy.

Y/N was curled up on the booth in-between John and Michael. She had a bottle of champagne in her hand and was quietly sipping on it as she listened to John recount his stories of France to Michael. Y/N reached forward and grabbed the camera off the table, placing it in her lap. 

She looked up as Tommy hugged Lizzie - a rare sight these days - and she quickly picked up her camera and snapped a photo of the oblivious pair.

“Sneaky,” John said, sipping his whiskey.

Y/N smiled tiredly, setting the camera back down and curling up against Michael who silently lifted his arm up so that she could get comfier. She raise her camera up again and took a photo of john as he burst out laughing at Finn falling off his chair. 

John whipped his head around and glared at her. Y/N shrugged, giving him a cheeky wink in return. 

She continued to snap random photos over the next few hours. They were far more intimate than they would’ve been a few hours before, but Y/N preferred it that way. She caught Ada and Finn slowly falling asleep on one another and grabbed a picture before either one realised. She got another one of Tommy, Arthur and John having a moment and another one of Michael and Polly.

Y/N looked at her camera and saw she had one photo left. She smiled, happy she’d finally used her present, and set it back down on the table. Arthur had sat down next to her, taking Michael’s place, and she curled up against his side, resting her head on his lap as she stretched her legs out across Tommy’s lap. 

Tommy smiled at her and chucked his coat in her vague direction, letting her wrap it around herself as she dozed off.

John looked over and smiled at his sister and older brothers. Spying her camera on the table, he quickly snatched it up and used the final photo, snapping one of them both without any of them realising. 

/

Y/N groaned a she walked into the table again. 

The red light of the dark room made things incredibly difficult to see. 

She had developed almost all of the photos and had set them out on a rack to dry. She’d just exposed the last one and placed it in the develop, submerging it with a peg.

Y/N paused as the photo suddenly appeared. A slight smile graced her face as she realised it was of her, Arthur and Tommy. She chuckled as she picked it out of the developer and put it into the fixer.

“John, you soft idiot,” she muttered, shaking her head fondly at the photo. 

She hung all the photos up on a line, letting the drip dry in the dark room. She had a photo album lined up ready to put them in, but there were two she wasn’t going to put in there.

The one John had taken of her with her brothers was going in a frame in her bedroom. 

And there was another one she was framing too. 

Y/N assumed Tommy or Arthur had taken it, because she didn’t know who else had been around at the time. 

John had snuck up behind Y/N and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up off the ground and spinning her around because - and Y/N denied all knowledge of this - she’d stolen his hat. 

Someone, either Tommy or Arthur, had captured it in a near perfect photo. Y/N was smiling broadly, hand over John’s as he lifted her up, a laugh lighting up his face.

Y/N unpegged the photo - which was practically dry - and carefully put it in the frame she’d bought. She smiled at it, knowing that those moments didn’t happen too often anymore. 

It sat on the cabinet opposite her bed, along with the photo of her, Tommy and Arthur and she never put it away. 

#peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #Peaky Blinders #sister shelby #shelby sis #sister!reader

[ellewords]

you know those posts of people saying to send a wedding invitation to celebrities because sometimes they’ll send gifts congratulating the couple? and you know how sometimes the celebrity will actually show up? this is my head cannon of who would end up showing up just because.

(little bit of a warning: these are very half-baked and mostly just stream of consciousness because my brain is fried and i’m in need of a distraction from writing essays, but the thought hasn’t left my head, so now you have to deal with my brainrot, mwahahaha!)

i think oikawa would show up to a bunch of weddings for he people he doesn’t know. it starts in argentina when a fan sends him an invite, and he’s stupid happy about it and no one really knows why. he just really enjoys weddings, they suppose. it’s in the area, too, so he buys a gift for the happy couple and he shows up. he genuinely tries to be really low key because he doesn’t want to ruin their big day, so he stays in the back for the ceremony and he is the perfect wedding-goer. at the ceremony, though, he has a much harder time remaining out of the spotlight. when the bride and groom notice that there’s a tiny bit of a commotion happening, they lose their minds when they realize that it’s because oikawa actually showed up!!! they thought he was kidding when he accepted the invite, or maybe that he’d send an assistant or something!!! but nope, there he is, looking both enthused at being the center of attention but also kind of uncomfortable. when the couple lose their minds in front of him, though, being utter fanatics and hyping him up, he eases up and finally begins to have fun, dancing on the dance floor with different people, drinking responsibly, talking to people, bashfully signing autographs. he doesn’t lose steam for even a second, and when the party seems to lull just a little bit too long, he goes out of his way to make sure everyone gets back to enjoying themselves to the fullest (which the bride and groom appreciate). nearly everyone in attendance gets his attention for a short portion of time, and if they don’t, he tries to snag a picture with everyone on the way out. at the very end of the night, he records a short video for the couple telling them how lovely they are, thanking them for the invite and the great time, and wishing them the absolute best. it’s the highlight of their lives, besides, y’know, the whole getting married thing.

it’s gets out that oikawa actually went to a wedding he was invited to by strangers when someone posts a picture of the wedding online and he was spotted in the background, so now he gets invites all the time. he doesn’t go to all of them because he’s busy and some of the places he gets invites from are across the world, but if the location intrigues him and he has the time, he’ll usually be there.

kageyama would definitely go, too! but it would be mostly because he can’t remember for the life of him if he knows the couple, and it stresses him the hell out. he’s definitely gotten a lot more confident since he was in school, but at the root of him is still an awkward kid who questions everything about himself if it’s not volleyball. so he panics about it for weeks before the wedding, wondering what they’ll want as a gift, accidentally tricking himself into believing that he does in fact know the couple and buying a gift that he assumes they’ll like based off of thinking it’s one of his old classmates from school and buying something that they’d like. and when he doesn’t recognize either of them at the ceremony, he gets so distracted trying to place anyone’s face as someone he knows and he just can’t for the life of him figure it out. he’s half a beat behind everyone when they start cheering for the couple as the kiss and leave because he’s so deep in thought. it isn’t until the reception that he finds out that he doesn’t actually know anyone and he gets so pouty about having stressed over it for so long that he broods in a corner, trying to avoid everyone. he doesn’t start to enjoy himself until someone recognizes him and rambles for nearly ten minutes about how amazing he is and about this one play that he did that they practiced for weeks after seeing it but they still couldn’t nail and that he was their inspiration. imagine everyone’s surprise when they find them in the hallway of the reception hall with a volleyball kageyama had in his car, kageyama teaching the person how he did it. a small game breaks out in the obnoxiously big hallway with a scrappy set up of chairs precariously piled on top of each other until they were high enough and a bunch of coat jackets tied together along the top and bottom of where a net would be so they can see through. the noise is just barely softer than the music, but they gather a bit of a crowd until the game is over, and as much as kageyama enjoyed it, he apologizes to the bride and groom afterwards for feeling like he took away their spotlight. they laugh and say they don’t mind as long as the groom can play the next match.

a picture of kageyama smiling and cheering as his impromptu teammate makes a good play goes viral days later and kageyama does everything in his power to get the pictures taken at the wedding so he has the memories of that night forever. he even sends an awkward thank you card to the couple after.

ushijima accepts an invite, too; mostly because he feels it would be rude not to accept when they spent the time and money going out of their way to send him one. he spends a lot of money getting them a gift, and he cleans up super nicely, and he’s almost distracting for the entire ceremony. the quiet mysterious type suits him well, and everyone notices as he stays in the back, politely applauding when necessary and offering tissue to anyone crying and helping when it’s needed. at the reception, he mostly stays in his seat, but he stops to have conversations with anyone that comes by. most of them are very to the point, and don’t get longer than a few minutes because ushijima doesn’t beat around the bush much, but as off-putting as it sounds, everyone absolutely adores him. some people are trying to size him up, but he’s just too straightforward about how they are perfectly good on their own without having to compare themselves that they wander off shocked that he was so... nice? no, he is, but that’s not quite it... honest? about it all that they feel validated and off-kilter by the time they walk away. others come over to ask him to dance, which he politely accepts and he’s just so earnest in his attempt that they can’t even be upset that he’s a little stiff and bumbling. if anything, they fall for his charm even more. as he leaves, everyone insists that he take a few plates to-go and that if he ever needed anything, all he had to do was ask. he was very confused by this proclamation as he didn’t know anyone well enough. in his bag of to-go boxes, however, he finds a ton of business cards and stuff that he stores away just in case he does need any of their services.

at his next interview, he gets asked about the entire experience, and as always, he’s super honest: “i had a wonderful time. everyone was very kind. that being said, i felt as if i was intruding on a very personal moment meant to be shared by those you hold dearest, so as much as i appreciate the sentiment, i do not plan to attend anymore weddings if i don’t know someone involved. it should be their big day, after all, and i would hate to distract from it.” if he gets anymore invites, he politely declines and instead sends them a gift and his congratulations.

i’ve been gone for a few days because of school, but i’ve been itching to send something in ever since i saw the wedding prompt. plus, all of the hc coming in from it have been so good! you have so many talented followers, and your additions are great as always, elle!

anyway, i have to get back to school. hope school is going well for you, elle! and make sure you’re taking care of yourself! -🌙

— from elle ! wait, hold on i love this >_< but hello moon anon !! i hope all those essays are working out well for you and i hope you’re able to take breaks in between :) anyways, this definitely made me love and i like that it’s true to the characters (esp. kags). my quick lil scenarios (under the cut as usual) is kind of an amalgamation of what you sent in because i'm just thinking of what would happen if the couple took a shot in the dark and invited all three of them. and they all attend :>> thank you for this and i hope you are having a wonderful day ! <3 

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

“yohoo, tobio-chan!” kageyama heard, a figure sliding into the empty seat next to him. the voice is airy, familiar, one that he had heard several times in the past. the ceremony was due to start in five minutes, everyone from the guests to the wedding party already taking their respective place.

he narrows his eyes towards the figure, recognising the man just after a couple of quick beats, “oikawa-san?”

“ah! i'm glad you could still recognise me.” oikawa grinned, squinting his eyes at the vast amounts of sunlight that entered through the windows, “too bright in here, isn’t it?” 

“what are you doing back in japan?” he asked, eyes growing wide as he’s unsure if the sight in front of him was actually real. 

 “visiting family, taking a little vacation.” oikawa replied, leaning back in his seat, “so how do you know the happy couple?”

“i...i'm not sure.” kageyama admitted, looking down at his lap in embarrassment.

“can you keep a secret tobio?” oikawa leaned in to whisper, waiting for him to nod before continuing, “i don’t think i know them either.”

__

it was about halfway through the ceremony and oikawa was getting just a little bit restless; he loved weddings, truly, but this one was dragging on much longer than the ones he previously attended. his gaze was lingering everywhere — from the loved-up gazes of the couple, the flowers that lined the aisles, to the guests who hung onto every word of the vows. one of the guests in particular was more familiar than most.

“pst, tobio.” he spoke, nudging kageyama’s shoulder, “doesn’t that guy look familiar?” 

he tilted his head towards the man who sat at the very back row, trying his best to keep a relatively low profile. kageyama followed with his eyes, attempting to be as discreet as he could. he recognised the man immediately, “that’s ushijima-san!”

maybe kageyama had exclaimed a little too loudly, earning himself a few shhhhs from the people who sat around him. he bows his head slightly as an apology while oikawa bites his lip to hold in his laughter.

__

the three of them were able to meet up during the reception, opting to sit at the same table — the one farthest away from everyone as to not draw any attention to themselves. well, oikawa insisted that they did and kageyama and ushijima didn’t really know anyone else to be comfortable enough to sit with them.

“what did you both get the bride and groom?” oikawa asked as an attempt to make conversation, taking a sip from the glass in front of them.

ushijima was one to spare no expense when it came to gifts, but he wasn’t one to brag about the cost of it either, “just a simple tea set. nothing much.”

what he failed to mention was that simple tea set cost several thousands of yen. but of course, oikawa took it as a bit of an opportunity to one-up ushijima and brags about his gifts. yes, gifts. plural.

__

ushijima was in the bathroom and oikawa had gotten the attention of a couple of bridesmaids — flirting with him while he tried his best to subtly deflect their advances — leaving kageyama all alone at the table.

he felt a hand tap on his shoulder, soft and hesitant, “kageyama tobio?”

“yes?” kageyama asked, turning to face the source of the voice. he’s met with a teenage boy, possibly not older than sixteen, looking at him with complete nervousness in his eyes.  

“i'm sorry to bother you. but i've just been such a huge fan of yours for the longest time and i wasn’t even sure if i should approach you but i really needed to let you know how much you have inspired me and i still have so much to learn but...uh, yeah.” the boy finished, looking at everything but kageyama at that point.

and a light flush colors kageyama’s cheeks, completely flustered. it was the first time anyone had approached him like that before, and he’s unsure how exactly to take the compliments. but he noticed the way the fan’s hands trembled, and he recalls all the times he’s approached the players he was a fan of when he was his age. “is there anything you need help with?”

__

needless to say, oikawa and ushijima were surprised when they found their table completely devoid of kageyama’s presence; only to find him in the incredibly large hallways with a makeshift volleyball court with chairs haphazardly stacked on top one another.

“where did you get that?” ushijima asked, pointing towards the volleyball that kageyama held in his hands.

“my car.” he replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“well then,” oikawa smirked, eyes lighting up as he looked around the halls, especially at the gathering crowd, “how about a friendly little match?”

kageyama and the fan he was meant to be teaching stood on one side of the makeshift court while oikawa and ushijima stood opposite them, getting into position. most of the guests had their phones out, recording everything and posting it on social media.

“at least i will finally know what it’s like to finally play with you in a team instead of against you.” ushijima commented, briefly glancing at his teammate for the night.

oikawa choked on air, taking a few seconds to compose himself before responding, “should have come to shiratorizawa, huh?”

it was barely even noticeable, barely lasted a few seconds, but ushijima cracked a smile. 

__

the night ends with the newlyweds approaching the three of them, expressing their gratefulness for their invitations but also apologising for stealing their thunder on their wedding, going so far as to offering to pay for their honeymoon.

“as tempting as that may be,” the bride smiled, “it really is no problem. we’re surprised that you even attended in the first place.

the groom nodded in agreement, “we had a lot of fun watching you play tonight, so we feel like we should be thanking you more. you didn’t have to bring gifts too.”

oikawa waved a hand as if to say it’s nothing, while kageyama and ushijima offer tickets to their next match in exchange for photos from the wedding — particularly that of their little volleyball match.

the three of them finally make their way out into the night and into their respective cars, but not before oikawa lets out one more question.

“the three of us should hang out more,” oikawa smiled, not a trace of teasing or malice in his tone, just a genuine offer, “at least once before i get back to argentina.”

years ago, none of them would even consider such a thing, but all three liked to think that they moved past such trivial things.

kageyama gave him a small smile, “alright.”

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

a question: what would the hq characters be like at a wedding?  |  written on the margins masterlist

taglist : @haikyuutothetop @crystal-lilac @tobioespresso @sushijimawakatoshi @itsmeaudrieee @pantherhappy @jesssobs @mysticstrawberryballoon @cloudedsky_29 @sakusasimpbot​

join my hq taglist here. <3

#didn’t think i’d be thinking about timeskip!oikawa-kageyama-ushijima dynamics tonight #but here i am and i loved writing these lil scenarios #written on the margins 🔖 #oikawa headcanons #kageyama headcanons #ushijima headcanons #oikawa scenarios #kageyama scenarios #ushijima scenarios #🎐 — 🌙anon! <3

[writtenonreceipts]

Will you write a part 2 of a chain, a box, a lie where they get back together?

Fixed it for you, sorry to leave you hanging for so long.  Part One is here.

May still be a bit angsty. I’m not sure how I feel about this one but oh well….at least I didn’t go with the version where someone had to die to get them back together.  Seriously, I wrote three different versions of how this would go aaaaand still not satisfied with it... enjoy?

#

Fools in Love

The bed was too large. Too large, too cold, too empty.

Aelin rolled onto her side and glanced at the alarm clock barely visible amid a pile of books, chocolate wrappers, and tissues.  Cold red letters blared back at her.  

7:54 am.

It took her a few minutes to orientate herself and try to remember what had woken her up.  It wasn’t until her phone gave a second loud chirp that she realized some idiot was texting her so early on a Saturday.

Groaning, Aelin fumbled for her phone.  Unfortunately, her morning coordination was crap and she ended up knocking it to the ground with a clatter.

At her feet, Fleetfoot gave a loud huff and shifted until her paws were digging into Aelin’s calves. The puppy behaved like a temperamental teenager more often than not.  

By the time she found her phone on the ground, Aelin knew she wasn’t going back to bed.  Instead, she rubbed her eyes and stuffed her feet in her slippers.  Fleetfoot remained blissfully asleep as Aelin shuffled into the kitchen.

Damn dog.

Aelin stretched as she put on the tea pot for some tea and was about to open her phone to read the texts when someone knocked at her door.  She froze.  Who the hell?

She had a pistol stashed in a safe in her room, but that seemed too far away.  Aelin did the only logical thing she could think of grabbed her cast iron skillet settled on the kitchen counter.  No one she knew would be up this early.  Not even her landlord.  

Aelin opened her phone ready to dial the police when she saw the texts.

>>Can we talk?

>>Please?

Another knock came at the door.  

Aelin cursed as she kept her grip on the skillet.  Even if she hadn’t seen the texts or seen his name, she should have known.  Just to be safe she looked through the peephole. Once again, standing just outside her door was Rowan.  Once again, looking like hell.

She knew she would regret it, but Aelin locked her phone and slid the chain from off the door.  As she eased the door open, Aelin could see the surprise register on Rowans face that she’d actually woken up to his texts. Let alone come and open the door to him. But that wasn’t what surprised her. It was how bloodshot his eyes were. It was the circles brewing beneath those eyes and how that intensely passionate gleam had been snuffed out.

“Rowan,” she whispered. His name on her lips was hard to hear. She felt her heart cinch painfully at it, but figured cursing at him wouldn’t be helpful.

The man merely stared at her as he leaned against the door jam.  It wasn’t raining, which was a small blessing, so he was dry this time.  But his hair was still a mess, his clothes still rumpled.

He merely stared at her with tired eyes and a tired body.  It seemed to be a miracle that he was still standing.

“I didn’t text you back.” She couldn’t keep her own exhaustion from her voice as she spoke.

Rowan exhaled sharply and cursed. “I know.  I’m sorry, I was already on my way over here and I wasn’t thinking and—” He let himself trail off.  A small spark of hope flickered in his eyes. “You can tell me to get out when ever and I’ll listen.”

It took her a moment, but Aelin finally nodded and stepped aside. “Come in.”

Rowan did.  And as he stepped around her, he noticed the skillet she still held.

“Are you going to beat me with that?” he asked.

She scowled at the amusement in his voice. “I’m thinking of it, considering you woke me up at eight in the morning.  On a Saturday.”

He at least at the decency to look abashed.  

A part of her wondered if she was being stupid to let this happen.  To let him in and either talk or stare or yell.  Whatever they ended up doing it was stupid.  But then…they were adults.  She was twenty-five and he was twenty-eight.  They could be in the same room together.  They needed to be in the same room together.  Their friend group had merged into one giant conglomerate that they had to get used to one another again.

The apartment was silent as she shut and locked the door behind him.  Aelin didn’t bother looking at him as she headed back to the kitchen and set the skillet back on the counter.  The tea pot began to sputter but Aelin was feeling like she needed something far stronger now.

Running a hand through her hair she looked back to Rowan.  He was still standing in the middle of the entry way hands in his pockets. His leather jacket was open displaying a graphic t-shirt from some grunge band they’d discovered together.

Despite everything, he still looked good.  Aelin hated him for it.  She turned away and started her coffee machine.  Tea would wait for another time.

“What do you want to talk about Rowan?” she asked.  Steeling herself, Aelin turned back to face him.  She leaned against the kitchen counter, ready to lunge for the skillet if need be.  She knew however Rowan wouldn’t hurt her.  She just wanted to make sure she would be able to cause some damage if he pissed her off enough.

He ran a hand through his hair and looked anywhere but at her.

It stung.  That reaction.  She knew she’d broken his heart.  She’d broken her own too.  But it was better.  It was better to walk away from those feelings because honestly, who the hell would want her around for so long?  It was only a matter of time before the ball would drop and they would both realize how strange and deranged their relationship was.  Ten months be damned.

“We never talked about what happened, Aelin,” he said.  Finally, he locked eyes with her.  Aelin looked away quickly.  She still got shivers hearing him say her name.  So carefully, so gently.

“We did—” she tried to speak, but Rowan cut her off.

“And I don’t mean the fight we had and the words we threw at each other,” he said.  His words cut right over hers with some of the same passion he’d once had.  Aelin couldn’t bare to see if his eyes were just as bright. “I mean about what happened with us.”

It was Aelin’s turn to look anywhere but him.  She focused on the space behind him, to the wall where she used to keep a framed picture of them together.  It was tucked beneath her bed because she’d been up most of last night crying over it. But she would not admit to that. It was her fault after all that they’d broken up.

“I just want to talk.” He sounded helpless enough that Aelin had to look at him.  His eyes were desperate, almost pleading as he looked at her.  The usual short hair cut he had was growing out enough that his bangs flopped in his face making him appear younger than he really was.

“We did talk,” Aelin said. She ran a hand through her hair and silently cursed herself.  She was wearing his damned shirt like an idiot.  Hell, she couldn’t have put on a sweatshirt?

“Aelin,” Rowan said exasperated.  Whenever he got frustrated like this he began pacing and today was no exception.  He didn’t walk towards her, but rather to the couch and back, his footsteps heavy on the floor. “I want to talk about us. I want to talk about how you told me that you could do this anymore and that it was over.  And nothing else.  What am I supposed to do with that?  How am I supposed to get over you based on that?”

The back of her eyes burned, but Aelin wouldn’t let him see her tears.  She’d cried enough over this the past several weeks.  Talking about it wouldn’t help.  Talking about it would only reveal the truth and the truth was an ugly, wretched thing.

“I need coffee,” she muttered.  

Without looking up, she went to the coffee pot and pulled a cup to the brim.  She took a long sip without her usual additives.  All she really needed was the rush of caffeine.  Something to clear her head and help her think. The bitter roast of the coffee beans certainly helped with that.  Who the hell drank a blend this dark?

As soon as she had the thought, she realized that this must have been left over from Rowan’s stash that he’d kept here.

Aelin cursed and set the cup aside. “So, I’m supposed to be responsible for why you can’t move on?  I’m responsible for your own misery?”

She knew of course that it was her fault.  She loved him and still ended it.  She loved him and still walked away.  

“Ten months together Aelin,” Rowan said.  He stopped pacing now and stepped toward her. “I deserve more than that.  We deserve more than a few sentences and shouted words. I have to believe that.”

There was too much Aelin wanted to say.  Too much she could say.  But saying it wouldn’t make any of this better.

Scrubbing a hand over her eyes and the tears forming there, Aelin faced him full on. “We were working so much, too far apart and…and I just couldn’t…we just—”

“We just weren’t good together?” he finished for her, a disbelieving sort of smile on his mouth.

Even though he didn’t know those were the same words she’d pretended she would say to him—it still cut her to the core to hear them.  We’re just too good together.

Her lip wobbled.

“You were never good at being honest with me,” Rowan observed, “even at our best, I always knew you were holding something back.  Keeping something hidden.”

Aelin had to bite down on her lower lip, but she knew it was too late, knew he could already see her breaking.  

In the living room, the infomercials continued to play.  Aelin could think back to one day early on in their relationship when she’d taken a sick day because her period had been miserable and she could barely move. Rowan had come over as soon as she’d texted him that she wasn’t feeling well.  He’d come fully prepared with a heating pad, chocolate, and ice cream. They spent the day on her couch watching these same stupid infomercials.  Laughing over the poor acting, the strange products.  Simply together.

Aelin swallowed stiffly. “Rowan,” she began, her voice sounding wounded to her own ears that she needed to pause.  Because how could any of this be made better?  How could she take back what she said?  How could they come back from this?

“Can you blame me for being scared?” she finally said.  The words weren’t the ones she really wanted to say but as soon as they were out, she couldn’t stop. “Scared of everything about us, about you?  I’m terrified by how I feel about you, how I’ve always felt about you.  Because I’ve never…I don’t…”

Aelin trailed off uselessly. There was no stopping the tears in her eyes, falling down her cheeks.  Between Sam and Chaol and a brief interlude with Dorian—the raw all-consuming emotions that she had with Rowan were utterly new and different. And she wasn’t lying when she said she was terrified of it.  She was so, so tired of lying.  Even if it led to more misery.

Aelin didn’t notice when he came towards her.  She barely registered it through her tears until he was right before her, his hands ghosting trails up her arms, slow and careful.  When he began wiping the tears from her cheeks, Aelin nearly yanked away from him.  Or fell into his arms.  She didn’t know which.  

Which was worse?  The weakness of him seeing her like this? Or the weakness of being a sobbing wreck?

“Fireheart,” Rowan whispered.  So close. He was close enough that she could smell him.  That glorious scent of pine and snow mixed with the fresh tang of sunlight.  One of his hands moved to cup her chin, tilting her face up just enough to look directly into her eyes.

Through her tears, Aelin could make out the concern on his face.  She could just see the twisted frown of his lips, the pained look of his eyes.  That look sent a pulse of her own pain through ever nerve in her body.  Aelin shivered and squeezed her eyes shut.

“I’ve never been more scared in my life,” Rowan said to her silence.  Her eyes flew open at the words and locked onto his gaze. “Everything about you, Fireheart, terrifies me.  I keep finding another reason to fall in love with you.  I keep finding another reason to want to be with you.  And I know enough about you past and the other men in your life to get why you’re scared.”

He paused, his eyes flicking away from hers for just a moment.

“But,” he continued, “I’m not them.  And I don’t want to leave you.  I don’t want to run when things get hard.  I’ve always loved you.  And I always will.”

The admission sent a rush of warmth through Aelin.  Damn him. Damn this man before her who knew everything about her and loved her still for it.  She could hear it in his words, the tremble of his voice.  How sincere he was.

His hands still cupped her face and Aelin reached up to grip his wrists with her hands, desperate to keep him there.  Releasing a shaky breath, Aelin, bowed her head and stepped closer until her forehead bumped into his chest.  

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She looked up at him ready again to apologize and say something else about what an idiot she was.

Rowan however, kissed her.

His lips were soft, a whisper against hers.  And much like his words from when he first came in, the touch echoed the same sentiment. I’ll leave if you ask.

Screw that.

Aelin surged on her toes and kissed him with greater force.  She ran her hands up his arms, cupping his neck and pulling him closer, closer.  Because really, she was a fool to have let him go in the first place.

When Rowan pulled back, Aelin was more than ready to follow him, the heady need in her body not yet satiated.  The cocky smile growing on Rowan’s mouth though almost had her smacking him.

He sobered though. “I’m sorry, too.”  She furrowed her brow at him and he continued. “For throwing too much at you, for not talking sooner and making sure you were okay with what I was asking.”

Aelin curled her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.  She pressed her forehead against his and breathed deeply.  The words were on the tip of tongue.  Words that had felt like acid on her tongue for weeks now.

“Rowan,” she said, enunciating ever syllable, “I love you.”

He smiled a heart-breaking smile as he looked down at her.  He paused a moment, his hands running down to the hem of the shirt she wore.

“Is this my shirt?”

Aelin gave him a blank look. “You’re still not getting it back.”

“That’s fine by me,” he said and kissed her again.

#

Gah. Hope this heals your wounded hearts, dears.  Not my fave, but oh well…

I’ve got another ask that is giving me a hard time, but I promise to the anon who sent it in, I am working on it.  I’m going to work on my Cursebreaker fic next and hopefully have something ready soon.

As always, my ask box and messages are always open for whatever, prompts or just to talk. Thanks y’all.

tags:

@tottenhamboys20 @morganofthewildfire  @aelinchocolatelover @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx @bamchickawowow @ladywitchling @ireallyshouldsleeprn @courtofjurdan @sassys-world @sleeping-and-books @superspiritfestival @chieflemming @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

#aelin and rowan #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin au #aelin galathynius #rowaelin #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass au #fanfiction #prompts #asked #asnwered #anon

[peaceoutofthepieces]

meet me in another universe

I wasn’t entirely sure whether to post this or not (and I had some trouble getting it finished), but in honour of ‘meeting’ @dreamy-slytherin a year ago, here’s a fic about five ways VDS could have met, and one way they do :)

~^~

1. Evak/Davenzi Style

Jens is only sitting on the toilet for about two minutes when he hears the footsteps and quiet cursing as someone rattles the door of his stall. He freezes, looking up from his phone with wide eyes. He supposes it’s someone looking to use the bathroom, but then he hears the ruffle of the tissue dispenser on the wall rather than the door in the stall next to him. 

He hesitates for a moment, then stands, stuffing his phone in his pocket and opening the door carefully. 

Surely enough, there’s a boy standing by the sinks, fiddling futilely at the empty box. Jens only has time to take in ratty converse, light-wash blue jeans and a matching denim jacket before the boy is turning and glancing at him. Jens’s breath gets caught up in his throat at the sight of striking blue eyes and bronze curls. 

He’s seen this boy, once. He had passed him in the courtyard earlier in the week, and the boy had met his gaze and continued walking, and Jens was left looking over his shoulder after him and wondering why. He thought it was the unfamiliar face. That could be the reason, now, that something curious and excited flutters in his stomach and urges him, this time, to interact. 

“Fuck, sorry, you’re looking for tissues,” he says. 

The boy only looks at him as Jens retreats into the stall long enough to tear off a strip of toilet paper. He comes out and hands it to the boy now stood stock still in the dim fluorescent lights, who takes it from him hesitantly. Jens only then notices the damp drips drying into the boy’s pink sweater. The weight of his eyes on the spot seems to be what snaps the other boy into motion, as he immediately begins dabbing at his clothes in an attempt to sop up the water. 

“Fountain mishap, or something more embarrassing?” Jens finds himself asking, leaning back against the sinks. 

“Uhm.” The boy glances up at him, cheeks tinted red. It’s cute. “Fountain. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

Jens shakes his head, smiling, ignoring that this is his first time hearing the boy’s voice and that it’s accented and pretty. “Nah, I’ve been using it for years and it still acts up on me, don’t stress. You’re new.”

It isn’t a question, because now that Jens has heard him speak and the boy had admitted his confusion, it’s obvious. 

“That’s why I was supposed to be going to the group thing, but this didn’t feel like the best first impression.” He gestures at his sweater, where the stain has faded slightly but also spread in retaliation. 

Jens shrugs. “I wouldn’t go in there, if I were you. They’re doing trust circles. Hand holding and all.”

When the boy looks at him curiously, Jens explains, “Whatever they’re doing in there is the reason I was in here.”

This earns him a huff of laughter, as the boy tosses his wad of tissue in the bin and glances at the door, then back at Jens. Jens pulls the joint from behind his ear and holds it up for the boy to see, raising his brows. There’s a moment of hesitation, and then Jens simply heads out the door and nods for the boy to follow him. 

He leads them outside, and finally settles atop one of the tables in the courtyard with his feet on the bench. By the time the boy joins him, Jens has already lit the joint and taken a drag. The boy accepts it when Jens offers it to him and climbs up onto the table himself, shoulders curling against the cold as he brings the joint to his lips. 

“What’s your name?” 

The boy looks at him and passes the joint back, cheeks and nose red now. “Lucas.”

Lucas, Lucas, Lucas.

Jens lets the name settle for a second and then says, “I’m Jens.”

Lucas simply nods, but he’s smiling as he tucks his hands into his pockets and hugs his jacket tighter around himself. It’s obvious, looking at him, that he’s cold, but he radiates warmth all along Jens’s side. Jens allows himself to shift just an inch closer, imperceptibly, stretching a leg out as he does it in the hope that Lucas won’t notice. But Lucas remains unphased and silent, and Jens misses his gaze and his voice. 

“So, who roped you into Amber’s cult?” Jens asks. 

This time, Lucas’s laugh is full-bodied and beautiful, paired with a small but brilliant smile as he looks at Jens incredulously. “That would‘ve been Amber herself, but Luca was oddly more convincing. You know them well?”

Jens hums in confirmation, but doesn’t bother offering the story. Instead he says, “It only took me about thirty seconds to realise that’s why I should’ve known better.”

“Okay,” Lucas laughs again. “I feel kind of bad for skipping out. They’ve been very welcoming.”

“Are you in our year?” Jens questions. 

Lucas shakes his head. “Sixth.”

Jens furrows his brows, suddenly intrigued. “Transferring in your last year?”

Lucas simply shrugs. 

“From Amsterdam?” Jens guesses. 

“Utrecht,” Lucas corrects. Then, with a glint to his smile, “I’m on the run.”

Jens whistles. “Amber would’ve loved you sharing that in her party games. She’s gonna be so jealous I got the gossip first.”

Lucas heaves a sigh. “And, test failed. Now I’m going to have to kill you too and hide somewhere else.”

Jens starts laughing in the middle of a drag and chokes slightly, but it doesn’t deter him. He just coughs into his fist and lets his laughter continue, loud in his surprise, smile stretched so wide his cheeks might split. He shakes his head in amusement while Lucas tries to keep his expression stoic, though his lips twitch at the corners. “Come on, if I’d known it was a test I would’ve passed,” Jens protests. “Give me a second chance.”

After an intense staring contest, in which Lucas slowly loses his unimpressed gaze and Jens does his best to look pleading, Lucas is the one to cave. He looks away from Jens with another sigh, smile finally breaking out. “Fine. Since you shared.” Lucas gestures to the joint, and Jens grins and offers it to him again. 

Jens thinks the meeting might have been a good idea after all. 

2. Elu Style

Lucas shakes his head at Kes and Jayden’s antics, stretching his legs out in front of him and reclining back in the chair, meeting Liv’s pointed look and resisting the urge to offer her a mocking salute. He does, however, allow a smug smile, and Liv simply rolls her eyes and tunes back into the conversation between the girls. Lucas has already blocked them out, and Kes and Jayden gave up their complaining after a mere few minutes, so he hasn’t had to listen to them either. Instead he lets them all fade into a buzz, and only curiously looks around when the door opens again and more students trickle in. 

His heart jumps up and lodges itself in his throat. 

Amidst the miniature crowd is a tall boy with raven hair and bright brown eyes, whom Lucas has definitely never seen before at this school but is possibly the most beautiful person he’s ever laid his eyes on. 

The boy sits at the edge of the row behind Lucas, caught in conversation with the girl sitting next to him. However, as he settles, he glances around. It’s possible this description of his actions is inaccurate, because in fact his eyes seem to go straight to Lucas’s without taking in any other aspect of the room. Lucas freezes as the boy’s smile seems to grow just slightly, and quickly looks away, focusing his attention back on Engel, who has now begun giving some sort of introduction. 

Lucas would be dishonest if he said he took in a word, but he hadn’t planned on it to begin with. He’d just thought it would be due to zoning out rather than an unexpected distraction. 

But he’s raptly focused on the rapid beat of his heart, and he can’t help throwing another glance over his shoulder. 

Throughout the whole meeting, it’s a repetitive process. Lucas glances over his shoulder and then away again, every time the boy meets his eyes and smiles wider and doesn’t avert his own gaze. Lucas’s cheeks are warm, the heat having crawled slowly up his neck and continuing to spread. He’s glad of the light tan he’d earned over the summer, hoping that it keeps the blush mostly secret. He doubts it, however, especially when he looks back to find the boy’s eyes already on him and his pulse rockets to a worrying speed. 

“—cas?” 

Lucas tunes back in as Kes elbows him, willing his blush down and letting out a hum. Jayden huffs a laugh, shaking his head, but the furrow of Kes’s brow belies his smile. “The girl, last night. What happened?”

“Yeah,” Lucas says, making Kes’s brows raise and Jayden make another noise of exasperation. “I mean, yeah, it was cool.”

Jayden leans in as Kes nods, expectant. “Did you get her number?”

Lucas murmurs a confirmation, and mostly blocks out their cheers and praises. He keeps his gaze on the girls, but still doesn’t know what they’re talking about, still only has one image fixed in his mind and his heartbeat loud in his ears. He glances over his shoulder one more time and the boy is no longer looking at him. 

He avoids glancing back for the rest of the meeting and is dismayed to realise the boy has already left by the time he shuffles out with Kes and Jayden. The only saving grace is that they seem not to have minded the meeting much, and don’t give Lucas any shit on their way to the gate, rather talking idly amidst themselves and leaving Lucas lost in his own head. They depart once they make it onto the dark street, both offering him their traditional handshake and a wave, and Lucas turns towards the bus-stop on his own. 

Lucas instantly recognises the lone figure beyond the stop, poised in front of the vending machine with his back to the street. The same boy from the meeting. He hesitates as he bypasses the bench and hovers a few feet away, leaving himself with a view of the boy’s side profile and the anxious tap of his fingers over his bag strap. He’s gazing at the vending machine in deep concentration, contemplating his options with more seriousness than Lucas has ever witnessed. 

After a moment, in which the boy fails to acknowledge him, Lucas clears his throat. “Twenty-one is the best, in my opinion,” he offers. 

He politely ignores the way the boy jumps, though has to purse his lips to stop a smile. The boy looks him over consideringly, then shrugs and slots some coins into the machine before pressing the buttons. The bar falls from the twenty-one rack and the boy repeats the process, watching the one remaining snack fall and then ducking down to dig them both out. 

Lucas watches the whole affair in awe and mild offence. 

Then the boy turns to him and raises one of the bars and his brows; a silent offering. Lucas simply stares at him, and the boy tosses him the chocolate without a word, and then nods towards the bench. 

There’s no reason not to, so Lucas follows with the bar clutched in his hands. 

They settle onto opposite ends of the cool seat. Lucas watches as the boy tears the wrapper and takes an experimental bite. He chews, looking out at the street rather than at Lucas, until he swallows and allows a nod. Then he turns to Lucas with the same smile as earlier and simply says, “Not bad.”

Lucas shrugs, letting a smile of his own surface and cataloguing the accent, rather than allowing himself to focus on the boy’s lips. He holds up his own bar and gives it a little wave. “When it’s free, it’s easy to enjoy even more.”

The boy huffs, accepting this with an amused nod before popping another square of chocolate in his mouth. The silence stretches in the time it takes him to swallow, and then he looks at Lucas with a squinty smile and says, “The meeting was kind of weird.”

“Yeah.” It’s Lucas’s turn to huff, his smile growing. “You’ll learn to expect that from Engel. Did you understand what the survey was about?”

“No,” the boy admits with a laugh. He tears the wrapper of his bar a little further and Lucas’s gaze is drawn to his hands. He shrugs and looks back up at Lucas. “Still, it’s cool.”

“The survey?” Lucas raises a brow. 

The boy huffs another laugh. “No, but the common room. It’s a good way to meet new people.”

Lucas absorbs this, then tests out his earlier deduction. “You’re new?”

“Started a couple of weeks ago,” the boy confirms. 

“Isn’t that a little weird?” Lucas asks. “Transferring a few months before graduation?”

The boy looks at him again, now with raised brows. “Do you just find everything weird?”

Lucas huffs, feeling some of his flush return, but he mimics the other’s expression. “Wasn’t it you calling the meeting weird first?”

The boy accepts this loss with a shrug, smiling at Lucas before setting a square of chocolate between his teeth. “I must be weird too, then.”

“I didn’t mean—“ Lucas begins the protest, but falters when he notices the amused glimmer in the boy’s gaze. Then he closes his eyes and lets out a breath, poking his tongue into his cheek in an attempt to control his smile. The boy laughs, and Lucas shakes his head. “No, I’m sure you’re great…”

He trails off, realising he hasn’t asked for the other’s name. Thankfully, the boy seems to understand, and simply says, “Jens.” He sets his now empty wrapper in his lap and brushes his hands off on his jeans, then holds one out towards Lucas. “I’m Jens.”

Lucas takes his hand somewhat cautiously, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat kick up again. He stashes the name away alongside the smile and the eyes and the accent. Then he returns, “Lucas.”

3. Crisana Style

Jens weaves his way through the crowd and towards the front door, where he’s immediately stopped by the bouncer. Jens holds up his free hand and whirls around to abandon his mostly-empty beer bottle on the nearest flat surface, then finally makes his way into the cooler air. He sucks in a breath and releases it on a sigh, moving along the side of the building to collapse on one of the benches. He leans back against the wall and lets out another sigh, closing his eyes in contentment as he enjoys the relatively silent surroundings. 

Then someone says, “Hey.”

Jens starts, blinking his eyes open and turning his head to the left to find a boy sitting next to him. At first, Jens is slightly dubious, because meeting a stranger sitting outside a club in the dark isn’t often a good outcome. But the boy is young, at least, around Jens’s own age as far as he can tell. His eyes are clear, not bloodshot or misty, though he does have a joint between his fingers. There’s an amused, curious curve to his lips as he watches Jens. Jens swallows down the sudden lump in his throat and manages, “Hey.”

The boy raises his brows at him, and Jens swallows and blinks all over again. “I’m Lucas,” the boy says, still watching Jens closely. Jens just keeps staring. “We have literature together?”

Jens’s lips part, and then recognition shines through the alcohol-induced haze. “Fuck, sorry, you’re the new guy.” Lucas huffs, but he’s still smiling and he nods in acknowledgment, flicking some ash off the end of the joint. Jens follows the movement, then returns to gazing at Lucas’s face, and he finds that he’s smiling back. It’s not that he’s been waiting for this opportunity, but, well, he might have spent some time those first few days staring across the room at the back of Lucas’s head and the occasional tilt of his side profile. He hasn’t made any attempts at connecting with Lucas himself, but he’d heard all the stories and felt all the same curiosity. He can’t deny that he’s a little excited, now, to get the opportunity to interact. “I’m Jens.”

Lucas simply raises his brows, his smile widening. “I know.”

It doesn’t make it easy to continue the conversation, but it sends a few rivulets of warmth flowing through Jens’s chest. It’s a curious feeling, and one that he doesn’t want to think much about. Instead he keeps staring at Lucas and watches as he brings the joint back to his lips, taking another drag. Lucas is dressed much more stylishly and a lot less conveniently than Jens. He’s shivering in his dark button-down and jeans, and his hair attempts to flutter out of the neat waves he has lain over his forehead. Jens compares it to his own usual hoodie while realising he’s staring, and then quickly looks away. 

He pats down his pockets, eventually finding the small bag in his jeans and pulling it out only to realise it’s empty. He blows out a sigh and stows the plastic away and hears another huff next to him. Lucas’s hand comes into his line of sight, joint held out in offering. “Here.”

Jens takes it gratefully, drawing a long inhale and then stiffening at Lucas’s sound of protest. 

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Lucas orders. “That’s the last of my home stash.”

Jens huffs in understanding, passing the joint back and ignoring the sparks of heat as Lucas’s fingers brush his. “And where’s that? You’re Dutch, right?”

Lucas nods. “I moved from Utrecht.” He flicks some more ash off the joint then hands it to Jens. 

This time, Jens takes a small puff and blows the smoke upward, letting it curl into the space between them. Now Lucas’s eyes appear hazy. Pretty. Jens rolls the joint between his fingers and takes another drag when Lucas simply leans back and watches him. Jens looks at him curiously. “Why’d you do that? Move in the middle of the year? It’s a little weird, no?”

He waits for an answer, but Lucas has already lost interest in him, diverting his gaze past Jens with a raised hand. “Wait, this song.”

He looks at Jens excitedly. Jens looks back, listening. He can faintly hear the music filtering through the open doorway, but he doesn’t recognise it. He purses his lips and shakes his head, admitting his confusion. Lucas’s jaw drops and he nudges his shoulder. “Come on. From Romeo and Juliet?” 

Jens slowly shakes his head again, biting down a smile as Lucas scoffs and snatches the joint back out of his hand. 

“Seriously? You’ve never seen it?” At Jens’s denial, Lucas’s smile turns teasing. “I can’t believe you take literature and you’re this uncultured.”

“Hey,” Jens protests, laughing slightly. Lucas’s eyes are very blue. He’s got a ring on the index finger of his right hand. Jens watches it glimmer as Lucas lifts his hand to his mouth for another drag. The joint has dwindled down so far his fingers are almost brushing his lips. “I’ve read Romeo and Juliet.” Plus, he knows Robbe has watched it, and he had sat through a scene or two, but he’d never felt a desire to watch the whole thing. It didn’t feel like his kind of film. He hadn’t thought it would be Lucas’s, either, but he doesn’t know how he’d know that in the first place. 

“Yeah, but everyone knows the Baz Luhrmann production is the best version.” Lucas points at him, both brows raised. “You have to watch it before you’re allowed to watch any other new film. Even just for this soundtrack. Look.”

Before Jens knows what’s happening, Lucas is grabbing his hand with the one still holding the joint and pulling it towards himself, pressing Jens’s palm to his own chest, over his heartbeat. Jens sucks in a breath. 

Lucas doesn’t notice, eyes bright as he continues speaking. “Do you ever get songs like that? Ones that just move you and you can’t even explain why?”

Jens can’t answer, simply watching Lucas with rapt attention. He’s focused on the soft fabric of Lucas’s shirt crinkling between his fingers, and the thump of Lucas’s heart against his hand, quick but not overly so. He’s focused on the sturdy plane of Lucas’s chest and the soft touch of Lucas’s hand. His own heartbeat is loud in his ears. 

Then Lucas lays his free hand over Jens’s chest, in the open gap of his hoodie, splaying slowly over his thin t-shirt. Jens holds his breath and looks up at Lucas’s smile. 

“See,” Lucas says softly. Jens half expects him to sound smug, but he doesn’t. He’s just quietly pleased, eyes flicking between Jens’s as if he’s searching for something. “It’s not just me. Your heart’s going faster than mine.”

Jens feels like he should protest. He can’t lie about his heartbeat, because it speeds up even further at Lucas’s touch, but he can explain that it isn’t about the music. He can’t even hear it any more. It has all whited out in favour of the sound of Lucas’s voice and his own pulse. Maybe he had drunk more than he’d thought, or Dutch weed is stronger, but he feels lightheaded and loose. Floaty. Still, he has enough sense to know he can’t tell Lucas the truth. That it has nothing to do with the music and everything to do with him, and his proximity, much closer than it had been when Jens first sat down. 

Instead of telling him any of this, Jens simply huffs again, but he’s unable to hide his grin. 

4. Nicotino Style

Lucas drums his fingers over his knee and glances away from Engel to his phone. The boy in his peripheral laughs at whatever Janna says, and Lucas purposefully doesn’t look at him, swallowing the desire and getting to his feet. He holds up his phone to the girls in apology and points towards the door, putting the phone to his ear and uttering a greeting. He keeps it up as he wanders down the hallway, trailing his fingers along the wall as he goes, talking nonsense until he makes it into the small radio room and gets the door closed behind him. Then he mutters a curse as a ‘goodbye’ and drops into the lone swivel chair, setting his phone on the table next to the microphone. 

He does a few slow rotations, taking in the small recording space with faint intrigue. He glances over the various buttons and tools as he completes his round, leaning forward and hovering his fingers over a few. He looks at the microphone in front of him and then picks up the headphones next to it, settling them over his ears. He leans forward hesitantly and speaks into the mic. “Testing, testing, one, two, three.”

As expected, nothing happens. He clears his throat and settles his arms across the tabletop. “Hallo,” he continues, smiling now. “This broadcast is coming to you from Radio Lieve. Today’s talk will be a lesson on how to grow weed from your closet, a highly recommended practice by our very own Engel Beekman, whom we thank. To start—“

He cuts himself off abruptly as the light flicks on across the window and he sees the boy from the meeting through the glass. He’s all dark hair and contrasting features; sharp jaw and nose, soft eyes and lips. They all morph with his smile, as he leans forward and raises his brows at Lucas. “Why did you stop?”

“Uhm,” Lucas says. His mind has gone blank. “I wasn’t recording, just...messing around.”

“Pity,” the boy sighs, sitting back. “I really wanted to see where that was going.” 

Lucas can’t help but respond to his smile. His lips curl up involuntarily even in his surprise. He has seen the boy around, but only once or twice, all within the past week. He doesn’t know why he’s never seen him before that, because he’s sure he would have noticed. Now, though, the accent feels like a hint. 

Lucas looks at the boy and the boy looks around the small space. “This place is actually kind of cool,” he admits. 

“Yeah, well, the place isn’t the problem,” Lucas explains. 

The boy laughs quietly. “What is, then?”

Lucas shrugs, slumping back and swiveling side to side in his chair as he thinks, letting his smile slip into a smirk. “Well, the food for one thing. I’m always up for something sweet, but that cake…” he trails off, grimacing, and earns himself a louder bout of laughter. 

“And the discipline guide,” the boy points out. “Scheduled bathroom breaks and a dress code? It’s a radio show.”

This time Lucas is the one who laughs. He doesn’t know why he expected to feel nerves. They are present, faintly, but only as a mild flutter in his stomach and sweat on his palms. Overall, he feels pleasantly surprised and mostly relaxed. He’d half thought someone so pretty would be more intimidating, but the boy looks the exact opposite in his cuffed jeans and worn-out hoodie. Especially with the grin on his face. 

He turns it past Lucas all of a sudden and brightens. “Is that the balcony?”

Lucas turns around and glances out the window behind him. “Uh, yeah, but I think it’s closed.”

The boy hums, pursing his lips and tilting his head to the side. “Do you think it also shows you how to break into that in this video they talked about?”

Lucas huffs as his smile spreads again. “Probably, but the wifi is terrible here.”

“My phone’s dead,” the boy admits, sighing. Then he raises his brows at Lucas, and holds up a blunt. “Shall we try anyway?”

Lucas raises his brows back and grins. 

There are more obstacles than he expects, but the most difficult part is definitely climbing through the broken gate. There’s only one bar taken out, and Lucas thinks if they both weren’t quite as thin, there’s no way they’d make it through. It’s a tight squeeze for the other boy purely due to his height, though he manages with considerably more grace than Lucas. Once they’re finally through, it’s only a matter of trekking up the stairwell and walking out onto the balcony with ease. 

The boy whistles as Lucas follows a few steps behind him, looking out at the view. “Damn, this is a pretty nice city.”

“Yeah,” Lucas agrees, vaguely impressed himself. “It’s probably better from up here.”

The boy shrugs and settles himself on the ground, reproducing his blunt and a lighter along with it. Lucas watches as he places the blunt between his lips and lights up, flame illuminating his face in a soft glow for just a second. He looks at Lucas as he’s tucking his lighter back into his pocket, blowing smoke out the corner of his mouth. “Do you already know Engel, then?”

“Kind of,” Lucas shrugs. “Mostly through my friend, Isa.”

The boy nods and passes him the blunt, which Lucas accepts with a quiet thanks. “You don’t seem overly excited about this radio thing, though.”

“It’s complicated,” Lucas admits. He takes a drag and it settles his racing heart a bit, but it can only help so much with the boy’s eyes still on him. “You can’t be that into it, either, if you’re hanging out here with me instead of in there.”

“Blame your friend, Isa,” the boy says with a laugh, before groaning as he tilts his head back. “I needed an extra-curricular and there wasn’t too many options. I figured if I could post dumb vlogs on YouTube I could speak on a school radio show.”

Lucas raises his brows and his eyes widen. He’s sure he looks ridiculous, can see it in the boy’s amused expression, but he can’t quite contain his shock or his desire to know more. “You post vlogs on YouTube? Who the hell are you and why don’t I know already?”

The boy laughs again. It’s an unfairly pretty sound. This time, Lucas thinks there’s a faint blush accompanying it. “I’m Jens,” he offers. “I lived in Belgium until a few weeks ago, so I wouldn’t expect you to know me.”

Lucas blinks. He’d already guessed as much, but it’s still strange to hear. “You moved mid-semester?”

“Yep,” Jens says. He steals the blunt out of Lucas’s hand. “I’m the talk of the town. Gotta say it’s a little disappointing you don’t know me, actually.”

“Plus you’re apparently internet famous,” Lucas says, lingering on Jens’s lips as he wraps them around the blunt. He wouldn’t be entirely surprised. That kind of beauty must have garnered some popularity, somewhere. 

Jens shakes his head, amused. “I wouldn’t say that,” he dismisses. “But you’re probably going to stalk me anyway now.”

“Absolutely,” Lucas confirms. Jens shakes his head again, laughs again, and Lucas feels the nerves dissipate into an old, familiar warmth, and instead of squashing it down, lets it spread along with his smile. 

5. Sobbe Style

Jens walks back towards the house and catches his first glimpse of the boy through the windows. He glances at Jens briefly through the glass, but doesn’t linger like Jens does. Jens keeps looking over his shoulder until he makes it to the door, and then he steps in just in time for the boy to turn around and look at him. They’d come back to the house Amber had rented previously for break, all the same crew with the addition of Senne, but definitely not this boy. This boy is unfamiliar and pretty and Jens would definitely have noticed if he was supposed to be standing in their kitchen. 

“Hey,” Jens says curiously. 

“Do you know where the sugar is?” the boy asks, ignoring him. “Or the coffee itself?”

Jens blinks. “Uhm.”

“Any food?” The boy huffs when Jens simply continues to stare at him. “Seriously, are you the manager or what?”

Jens is baffled, and he has no hope of hiding it. “What?”

The boy waves a hand, brows high on his forehead. “I made sure this place was a B&B. Honestly, how hard is it to stock a fridge at least? And what about the little free soaps?”

“Sorry—“ Jens starts. 

“Are you so careless of your guests that you don’t even provide bottled water?” the boy cuts him off, seeming genuinely incredulous. “Well?”

Jens parts his lips a few times before actually managing to speak, entirely confused and slightly irritated. “Sorry,” he repeats, “but who actually are you?”

The boy holds his stare for another minute and then breaks into a laugh, covering his face with his hand. He peeks at Jens through his fingers. “Oh my god, sorry.” He chuckles. “You really should’ve seen your face, though.” 

When Jens only continues to stare blankly, the boy sobers slightly and offers a hand. “Sorry. I’m Lucas.”

Jens carefully takes his hand and gives one shake, still feeling lost. “Jens.”

“Yeah,” Lucas smiles, then laughs again. “You probably forgot. I’m Sander’s friend. He told me he did this to Robbe last year, made a bet with me that I couldn’t pull it off with one of you guys, too.” Lucas shrugs. His grin appears only faintly apologetic. “So, sorry, you were just the unlucky target.”

Finally, the name rings a bell. Jens had forgotten that Sander invited anyone on this trip, because in his experience it was odd that Sander had any sort of attention span for anyone other than Robbe. But as Jens skims his gaze over Lucas, takes in the artfully ruffled hair and paint-stained clothing and old-fashioned converse, he kind of understands. 

“What makes you think Sander will believe you?” Jens finds himself asking, narrowing his eyes at Lucas in a somewhat teasing gesture. It’s the best way he knows to gain back some traction, here, and settle more firmly on his feet. 

Lucas is unfazed. “I have a trustworthy witness,” he says easily. 

Jens holds his challenging gaze for only a few seconds before relenting, tucking his hands into his pockets and matching Lucas’s leaning pose against the wall. “Your little act was weirdly convincing, I admit.”

Lucas offers a small smile and bow. Jens doesn’t think he has quite the dramatic flair of his friend, but he has some of the cheekiness, the sparkle and the daunting aura. There’s something inexplicably cool and instantly likable—qualities Jens himself has always envied. Lucas had seemed a little embarrassed after his stunt, but he doesn’t appear shy, instead holding a quiet confidence not unlike Robbe’s. 

“How do you know Sander?” Jens decides to question, because he really does get it but he also really doesn’t. 

He’s surprised when Lucas simply answers, “The Academy.”

Jens raises his brows. He hadn’t thought Lucas was older than him. “You’re in college?”

“Yeah,” Lucas says, faintly amused. “Not just any college, though. Art college.”

“Yeah,” Jens muses, “that’s much better.”

Lucas instantly flips him off, and Jens laughs and instantly decides that he likes this stranger. He supposes that’s a good thing, considering Lucas is to spend the next week with them, and Robbe would probably be pissed if Jens decided not to get along with Sander’s friends. He can’t help thinking none of them have to worry. He’s actually a little awed by Lucas’s small prank and the guts he had to break it out immediately. 

“I thought that meant I was supposed to be the pretentious one, but your hospitality is shit,” Lucas informs him. But he’s still grinning, so Jens thinks they’re probably okay. 

“Your little joke was very pretentious, don’t worry,” Jens reassures, although he’s not sure he means it. Nothing about Lucas seems overly cocky or irritating. Pretentious isn’t quite a word that fits. 

Lucas simply huffs another laugh and then makes his way around him. He grabs a denim jacket from the sofa and then opens the front door, beckoning Jens after him. “Alright, come on.”

Jens blinks, instantly falling back to his confused state. “Huh?” When Lucas simply raises his brows expectantly, Jens clarifies, “Where are we going?”

“You actually don’t have any sugar. Or water,” Lucas says. “We’re going to buy some.”

“But Sander—“

“Is still locked in that room and probably won’t be out for a while.” Lucas raises his brows pointedly as Jens tamps down a grimace. “Do you have anything better to do? Unless you want to stay around and listen, which,” Lucas pulls a face, and the start of a laugh bubbles out of Jens again. 

“Robbe’s my best friend, so, no thanks,” Jens explains, mimicking his expression. “I’m in the same boat as you.”

Lucas nods, pleased, like this is information he already knew. Jens supposes he probably did. “So?” Lucas presses. “You coming?”

Jens glances at the sofa, where he could spend the morning lazing around on his own until all the couples emerge and let Lucas wander about the town on his own. Then he looks back at Lucas and the stark blue of his eyes now paired with his denim jacket, still watching Jens back expectantly. 

Jens follows him out the door without another word. 

+1

Lucas is too lost in his own head to notice the person coming towards him until he collides with them. 

The breath is knocked out of him and he stumbles off his skateboard with a curse. Another low voice accompanies him, and the owner’s quick reflexes are the only thing that stops him from tumbling out into the street. A hand grips onto his shoulder and steadies him, and Lucas lets the weight ground him until gravity regains its hold on him.

“Shit, sorry,” Lucas says, finally looking up at the person he’d barelled into. His breath escapes him again at the sight. It’s a boy roughly his age, but with a few inches on him, as well as an overwhelming amount of beauty. There’s no other way to put it—Lucas has long ago begun to acknowledge the attractiveness of every male he meets, and he has no doubt that this boy is utterly gorgeous. 

It complicates all of his already messy thoughts. Especially since the boy still hasn’t released Lucas’s shoulder. 

He’s staring back at Lucas, skimming his gaze down his frame as if checking for injury. “I think neither of us were watching where we were going there,” the boy admits, laughing slightly as he meets Lucas’s eyes. “You okay?”

Lucas has to take a moment to gather his words. “Yeah,” he breathes. Then he clears his throat. “Thanks.”

The boy huffs and finally (sadly) drops his hand. “What, for almost running you over?” 

“No.” Lucas blinks, managing to shake himself out of it enough to smile. “No, I mean, for the hand.”

The boy nods, then tucks those hands in his pockets and curiously tilts his head. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Lucas nods, but the boy immediately continues, “I can’t find a way to make it up to you?”

“I thought it was a mutual collision,” Lucas points out, then immediately wants to smack himself. It’s not every day he sees a gorgeous boy, never mind bumps into one. Beyond that, this boy hadn’t immediately left, when he could have easily cursed Lucas out and left it at that. Instead he’s still talking, and offering more, and Lucas is stupid. He should not be trying to put the boy off. He has no idea what he is supposed to do. 

It doesn’t seem to matter, because the boy merely shrugs. “Yeah, but you looked more in need of a hand than me.”

Even Lucas isn’t stupid enough to argue with that. 

“Can I ask your name, at least?” the boy tries. 

That’s usually a good place to start, Lucas thinks. “Yeah, sorry. Lucas. You?”

“Jens.” 

Lucas tucks the information away with a nod. He almost expects Jens to offer his hand again, this time to shake, but instead he gets another curious tilt of the head. 

“Where were you headed?” Jens questions. 

“Uhm.” Lucas blanks. He isn’t out with a destination in mind—only the departure had felt necessary. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I’m not familiar with anywhere yet.”

“You’re not from here?” Jens questions. He doesn’t seem surprised, though, as if the answer is already obvious, which it probably is. Lucas shakes his head anyway. Jens actually seems pleased with the information. “Let me show you around a bit, then. Might at least stop you from taking down anyone else.”

Lucas thinks he should feel mildly offended, but he can only smile in response. “If you can show me somewhere with good desserts, I’ll fully consider you a life-saver.”

Jens accepts this challenge with a small laugh, and turns around on the street to face the way Lucas had been heading. He leans down to pick up his board and collects Lucas’s while he’s at it, passing it over to him after a brief damage check. “No bodies or boards seem to have been injured, so that’s something.”

“Internal damage, though,” Lucas finds himself arguing. “Wounded pride that can only be healed by the unhealthiest mound of ice cream.”

“Seriously?” Jens laughs again. “Okay, I can manage that.” 

They start down the street, and Lucas wonders if this is weird. He’d just crashed into Jens, and the boy is apparently taking him for ice cream. That’s not something strangers do, is it? Not even strangers in Belgium. Not anyone without an ulterior motive. He glances at Jens out of the side of his eye and tries a subtle examination, but it’s not as if he thinks Jens is dangerous. 

He honestly just can’t quite believe his luck. 

“Don’t freak out,” Jens huffs, and Lucas does his best not to blush. “I’ve seen you at school.”

Oh. “You have?”

Jens hums. “You’re in class with Robbe, right?”

Lucas is. The name instantly rings a bell, because Robbe is one of the few people that had bothered to introduce himself to Lucas over the past week. His first week adjusting to Antwerp. He nods. 

“He mentioned you,” Jens informs him. “Pointed you out one day by he lockers, but you disappeared before we could talk to you.” Jens smiles over at him. “I was hoping I’d get another opportunity.”

“You were?” Lucas asks, disbelieving. “Why?”

“Well, I can’t have Robbe having first access to all the gossip,” Jens laments. “That’s supposed to be my job.”

Lucas still doesn’t quite understand, but he knows how to joke. “So you’re inviting me for ice cream because you’re nosy?”

Jens nods seriously. “That is exactly it.”

They look at each other for a minute, walking slower, before they both crack up in a laugh. Lucas wonders if Jens is actually telling the truth and it just happens to be funny, or if he knows how to work a conversation to alleviate all awkwardness and tension. Either way, Lucas is grateful. He’s also slightly disappointed in himself, for being so unsure of his new surroundings that he’d prevented Jens from being able to meet him sooner. 

“I haven’t seen you around,” Lucas admits. He knows it’s the truth, because he would have remembered. “But I haven’t spoken to all that many people yet.”

Jens hums, frowning slightly. “It’s hard, moving this late, and especially after missing the first few weeks of the year. I’m sorry no one’s tried to make it easier for you.”

Lucas doesn’t bother mentioning that it’s probably his own fault. “Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “I guess now someone is.” 

At this Jens grins, nodding in acknowledgement or acceptance; it might as well be admittance. Lucas decides that he doesn’t care, as long as it’s accompanied by that smile and Jens’s continued presence. 

#van der stoffels #vds #wtfock #skam nl #vds fic #my fic

[prolestariwrites]

Triple Play

➔Fandom: Resident Evil ➔Rating: Explicit ➔Characters: Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, Carlos Oliveira

➔Summary: Chris and Jill have been partners for years, but he never actually considered her a woman before. When he finds out more about her dating life than he ever wanted to know, it starts to make him re-evaluate his own (lack of) love life. Beta read by @solynacea. 

My first RE fic, and of course it’s a smut oneshot! Hope you all like it. It’s also on AO3, so visit me there!

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Chris remembers that Jill is a woman about two years after Raccoon City. They are finishing up a briefing and looking forward to a few days off when Capriotti makes a joke about Jill wearing lipstick. He hadn’t noticed himself, and turns his head to see that she is, indeed, wearing some color of pink on her lips. She’s also wearing eye makeup, subtle but there, and a shimmering top under her jacket. He guesses he didn’t pay close enough attention earlier, just acknowledging her when she arrived and launching into the gains they’d made until the meeting wrapped up.

Capriotti cracks a joke about a hot date, and Jill replies slyly, “Don’t you know it.”

Chris frowns as the others guys laugh. “Who is it?” Capriotti pushes.

“Yeah, I asked you out like five times,” Sami complains.

Jill makes a face. “How do you know it’s a guy?”

“It’s not?” Capriotti howls, half laughing and half in shock. “You’re not serious!”

“You afraid I’m getting more pussy than you?” she jokes.

The group continues to laugh but Chris tunes out. Jill is…? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but how didn’t he know? Should he have known? He wishes he didn’t know now.

He gives her a little signal as the group heads out and she walks over to where he stands at the head of the table. “What’s up?” she asks.

“Uh…” Chris clears his throat, looking up to check and make sure the rest are gone. “I was just wondering… I mean, I didn’t know you were a lesbian.”

Jill’s eyes go wide and then she bursts out laughing. “Are you kidding me? I was just messing with those guys.”

“Okay. Not that you couldn’t be. I was just surprised you hadn’t mentioned it.”

Chris’s face is hot but Jill just shrugs. “Not like we have time to date. Or talk about dating. I guess it never came up.” She laughs again and shakes her head. “But no, I’m not a lesbian. If I change my mind, though, you’ll be the first to know.”

She’s teasing him, he can tell that much, but he stammers a bit as he asks, “So, who are you seeing? Someone I know?”

“Yes, actually,” she replies, with a little grin. “Carlos Oliveira.”

“Oliveira?” Chris repeats, his brows drawing together. “The guy from Raccoon City? The Umbrella guy?”

“He’s not the Umbrella guy,” Jill corrects. “But yes, him. He’s with the UN now doing anti-terrorism work. And we actually both have time off together for once, so I’m spending it with him.”

Chris nods, still trying to wrap his mind around the idea. “Didn’t realize you had stayed in touch.”

She gives a shrug. “We see each other when we can. I like him. He’s not at all like most of the guys I meet. They either want to see Miss Badass become their sex slave or want me to step on their balls.”

He goes red again at the idea. “What?”

“You know what I mean. But Carlos just wants me. It’s refreshing.” She tilts her head for a second, considering him. “You should have some fun while we have a few days off. Go out on a date or something.”

“I date,” he argues. Jill gives him a look that shows she definitely doesn’t believe that at all, so he hurries to clarify, “Plus, like you said, we don’t have time for it.”

She pats him on the arm and turns for the door. “Anything else? I have reservations.”

“No, but does that mean we’re not meeting Tuesday?” he asks.

Jill shoots him a look over her shoulder. “No, we’re not meeting on Tuesday. I’m on vacation. As are you. So no check-in this week. Plus,” she adds with a grin, “if I’m lucky, I won’t be able to walk by then.”

He makes a face, and she laughs as she heads out the door. The room is blessedly silent, but that leaves Chris with his thoughts, which are now filled with Jill on a date and that is just too weird for him. So he picks up his stuff and heads out, hurrying back to his apartment.

Yet all the way up the elevator his brain can’t stop thinking. Jill, and that guy? His partner Jill, Jill who could shoot a zombie right between the eyes at twenty yards, Jill who was the only one on the team who didn’t throw up in the sewer when they were chasing a monster that had been mutated with three different virus strains? Jill. Dating Carlos.

Chris had met him, of course, after Raccoon City. The second he had gotten word of what went down, he caught the first flight back to the States to find the rest of S.T.A.R.S. Hearing that his sister had headed that way only made his panic worse, so when he arrived at the Red Cross encampment, he was only able to stay long enough to find out that almost everyone was dead before he was getting pulled to go work. Jill had seemed fine, shaken and exhausted but okay, and she had introduced him to Carlos, saying he had saved her. But Chris’ eyes went immediately to the red and white emblem on his shoulder, and barely heard another word as he promised to check in once he got a hold of Claire.

That guy? It’s so hard to picture. He’s not even Jill’s type. Jill’s type is…

Chris draws a blank. She’s mentioned dating before, right? He frowns as the elevator slows. Maybe, maybe not? But he knows for sure she’d never go for that type, the tall-dark-and-handsome or whatever. Too cliche.

Why do you care? his brain scoffs. Not like he’s interested, which he is not. Chris clears his throat, thinking that’s even weirder. Jill is… Jill. Not a sister really, not like Claire, because he doesn’t have the undeniable instinct to protect her at any cost. He doesn’t need to, because Jill can do fine on her own. Jill is his buddy. His partner. His pal. So why do you care?

“I don’t,” he says aloud, as the elevator doors open.

There are two agents on the other side who give him a funny look, and he sheepishly steps around them. He heads to his apartment in the officers’ building, relieved when he’s finally inside. Almost two weeks off, maybe a bit more if the world doesn’t end and they aren’t needed back immediately, and Chris decides he’s going to enjoy it. He’s going to relax and do some reading and… something. He’s got two weeks to figure it out.

Go out on a date or something.

He huffs at that as he moves around his kitchen, making some pasta. Date who? Nobody on the team, and everyone else is either under him or over him, so it’s all too awkward. There is the staff at the agency who keep the machine working, and he remembers Lisa from lab reception. “See? I date,” he says to the empty apartment. He had taken Lisa out to dinner after she had dropped some subtle hints at being interested, like “Do you want to get dinner sometime?” Chris grins smugly at himself as he stirs macaroni. The relationship didn’t really go anywhere after a few months; too hard to be away for days or weeks at a time, even though Lisa was good-natured about it. She was sweet in bed too, but not exactly his style. “I date,” he says again, as if to confirm.

The pasta and sauce are ready so he takes his bowl to the living room to find a game to watch. This is how you enjoy a vacation, he decides. Feet up, comfort food, America’s pastime on television. He sinks into the cushions as the third inning starts, feeling satisfied. Better this than getting all dolled up to go out, get sweaty, and meet someone for a night that goes nowhere.

Yet all that thinking about Jill and Carlos and Lisa has made him realize it has been a while. A real long while, and when he puts aside his empty bowl his mind starts to wander. His hand rubs against his crotch, soothing the erection growing underneath his sweats, and he thinks about Lisa. Lisa with the blond curls and the little dimple on her left ass cheek. She liked him on top, but he pictures her on his lap, dragging her fingers through his hair. It’s her hand that is fisting his cock, and Chris lets go a grunt as he lifts his hips to tug the waistband down enough to free it, giving in to the fantasy.

He sighs and tilts his head back, almost feeling her hair brushing his face as she strokes him boldly. But Lisa was never exactly bold in bed, so when he opens his mind’s eye it’s not her, but Jill on his lap. She’s wearing a t-shirt pulled too tight over her chest, and when his free hand reaches out to grab onto her hip, he realizes she’s wearing nothing else.

Jill says his name with her signature smirk before kissing him, and in his confusion he accepts. His hand moves faster, the end inevitable now, and he wonders how her lean body would feel against his, so much tighter and stronger than Lisa’s soft little self. His fingers dig into his thigh just as they would dig into her hip and he comes, pleasure sharp and intense and unexpected as it runs down his fingers.

Chris opens his eyes, breathing heavily as he shakes himself back to reality. “What the fuck?” he laughs, sitting up slowly to reach for the box of tissues. He might as well be in goddamn eighth grade, getting lost in a vivid daydream like that and not having the sense to prep for cleanup. What the hell is wrong with him?

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Four days later, Chris is bored. A guy like him who is used to action doesn’t do well without anything to keep him occupied. He works out and goes shopping and works out some more, but after going down to the bar around the corner for a drink and dinner, he realizes that vacation isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. And it’s too late now to call Claire and invite her somewhere, especially since she’s in California or something.

He needs to get out of this rut, so Chris makes a decision. He sends an email to the team and invites everyone over for poker the next night. He grins as one acceptance after another comes through, jokes ranging from Captain? You dying or something? to Get your money ready, making him chuckle. But then he is surprised when Jill emails him too: I’d love to come, alright if I bring Carlos?

It’s fine, he answers back, but what happened to not being able to walk?

It takes a full five minutes to get an answer back, and Chris smirks to himself at being able to surprise Jill Valentine. But eventually she does answer: I’m a girl of many talents. Damn her.

The next night is plenty fun. He splurges on the good beer and even an excellent bottle of bourbon, figuring if he can’t spend his salary on booze, what else is there? Peterson brings cigars and there are eight of them that wind up playing, including Carlos, who fits right in with the group well enough that Chris can pretty much ignore him and the way his hand sits on Jill’s thigh.

They play a few rounds but they end up talking more than looking at cards, so the game evolves into a proper party of drinking and stories. Chris orders pizza and when it arrives, the crowd gathers in his kitchen to eat and he realizes Jill is missing. He heads down the hallway to check the bathroom but finds it empty. So is his office, and curious, he pokes his head into the bedroom. That’s also empty, but he hears something in the master bath, and without even thinking he walks through the room and opens the door.

Chris finds them alright. Carlos is fucking her against his sink, their arms locked around one another, her shirt pushed up and her jeans dangling from one knee and his jeans in a puddle around his ankles. He comes to a stop as his eyes go wide, watching in a weird moment of frozen time, noticing how they’ve knocked over his little container of cotton swabs and that the mirror is steamed up from their breath. Then Jill gives a yelp that shakes him back to present, and he gets a quick glance of Carlos’ dick pulling out of her flushed folds before yelling, “Shit, sorry!” and promptly closing the door.

He is sure his face is red when he returns to the others, but they must assume it’s the alcohol because no one says anything. Jill and Carlos join them a few minutes later, and he feels distracted, not because of what they were doing, but because he is oddly curious if they finished or not.

The evening winds down and everyone helps clean up a bit before they say their goodbyes, and somehow he ends up alone with Jill and Carlos as the only ones left. “Let me help you with this stuff,” she says, and he notes the blush on her cheeks as she fills her arms with empty bottles and cups and walks to the kitchen.

Chris is about to go after her when Carlos pats him on the arm. “Hey, man,” he says. “Sorry about earlier.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s fine.”

“I’m so embarrassed.” Jill reappears, laughing and shaking her head. “That was not the right place or time.”

“Didn’t think anyone would catch us if we snuck off,” Carlos offers, laughing too. “You scared the hell out of us though.”

“Sorry.” Chris chuckles, thinking that this should be awkward and glad that it’s not. “Hey, at least the place saw some action. Not like there’s a lot going on in that department.”

He gives another laugh, but the other two don’t find the humor. “Don’t say that,” Carlos replies. “Guy like you is probably beating the girls off with a stick.”

“Not exactly,” Chris says. He pushes a chair under the table to cover his embarrassment. “But really, it’s fine.”

“I take full responsibility.” Carlos puts a hand up as if swearing an oath. “It was all my idea. I just can’t keep my hands off her.”

“Carlos!” Jill scolds, holding her forehead in her hand.

He points at her with a grin. “Hey, it’s not my fault. You’re fucking gorgeous. And your ass in those jeans? I mean what is a man supposed to do with that?” He turns to Chris with a smile. “I mean, you know what I mean, right man?”

“Chris doesn’t think like that,” Jill teases. “He is too respectful.”

“Well you’re disrespectful in those jeans.”

“Carlos.”

“I don’t,” Chris interjects. They both turn from their fun to look at him, and he hurries on, “I mean, think that way about Jill.”

Carlos makes a face. “What? Are you telling me you two never…?”

“Never!” laughs Jill.

“I’m surprised,” he says. “I wouldn’t be able to do a thing if I looked at her all day.”

Chris shrugs. “Sorry. I just never thought of her like that.” He glances over, surprised that she is frowning. “What? Are you mad or something?”

“No,” she protests. “But you didn’t have to be so adamant about it.”

He opens his mouth to argue before he remembers that he did, in fact, think of Jill that way, just the other day, not three feet from where they were all standing. “So you want me to then?” he laughs.

Jill rolls her eyes. “I don’t care if you do or not. All I’m saying is that if you did, you wouldn’t have to be ashamed of it.”

Chris clears his throat. “We’re partners. Not exactly appropriate.”

She sighs and walks towards him, her arms folded. “Chris, when are you gonna get over bullshit like what’s appropriate? We spend our whole lives fighting biological weapons, killing monsters, saving people. Every single day. We leave here on each mission not knowing if we’re coming back. Not knowing who is going to get infected or shot or bitten, if you’re going to have to pull the trigger or if I am.” Jill is standing in front of him now, barely an inch away, and he searches her face, wondering when this turned serious. “So when I’m not killing monsters and hunting people who want to see me dead or worse, I’m going to do what I want. I’m not spending the time I do have worrying about what’s appropriate. And if I want to have sex with someone, then I’m going to fucking have sex.”

He gives a huff, not quite a laugh, not sure what she’s trying to say. “I understand,” he replies.

“Do you?”

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes. “Yes. As a matter of fact, I did think about you like that. Jerked off to it too.”

The words are out before he can stuff them back in, and his eyes go wide the second they are released. Panic rises in his throat for the longest second of his life as Jill’s mouth opens in an O of surprise; but then she smiles and presses her palms to his chest. “Did you really?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he chokes out.

Jill then does the last thing he expects. She leans up and kisses him, pressing her mouth firmly on his, one of her hands moving to cup the back of his neck. She should be slapping him or something, calling their supervisor, maybe shooting him? But instead she tilts her head and gives his lower lip a little bite, and a split second later he puts his arms around her waist and pulls her against him.

Her mouth opens and his follows suit. Her tongue rolls into his mouth, sliding along his, sending a little thrill up his spine. Chris realizes he had been right; she feels nothing like anyone else, her body somehow both solid and light as he presses her firmly to him.

Jill breaks the kiss suddenly, and he stares at her in shock as she blinks up at him. “Is this okay?” she asks.

Chris is about to answer when she looks to the side, and he realizes she’s talking to Carlos. He gives a start, releasing his grip; how did he forget Carlos was standing there and watching? The guy will deck him for sure.

Carlos nods, a little smile on his face. “Yeah. It’s all good.”

A million and one questions instantly flood his mind but her mouth is on his again, and Chris can’t deny the absolutely undeniable pull she has. Jill has always been like this, hasn’t she? Like a rocket, or an anchor, or a little beacon that pulses and makes people shut up and listen.

Which is what he should be doing now instead of listing adjectives in his head. “Sit,” she says, and Chris realizes she’s pulled him to the couch. Her hands push his shirt up and he helps her remove it before he sits, and Jill steps between his legs, leaning down to slide her touch along his arms.

“You good?” she asks, and her concern is almost touching.

“Yeah,” he replies.

He watches with great interest as she unbuttons her jeans and shimmies out of them, pulling her underwear down with them. Chris’ heart beats faster to see her slim thighs that curve up into perfect hips, his favorite part of a woman. Her stomach is flat with the hint of muscle underneath, her waist tiny and trim and making him start to get hard before his eyes even fall to the place between her thighs. As if she knows, Jill presses her hand against her sex, rubbing herself as she climbs onto his lap.

Her knees straddle him and she reaches for her shirt, but Chris stops her. This is it, his fantasy that he had conjured, and he takes a minute to just enjoy Jill Valentine half naked on his lap and the tight anticipation of what her chest is going to look like bare and what she is going to feel like sliding onto his dick. His hands press against her thighs and he slides them up, tracing the path his eyes took over hips and stomach and waist until he grazes the underside of her bra.

Jill shifts on his lap and Chris catches sight of Carlos. He is leaning against the table where they played cards on the other side of the room, just watching, his hand rubbing himself on the outside of his jeans. And fuck is that hot, knowing he’s watching and enjoying as he gets ready to fuck his girlfriend—what the fuck is wrong with him? He’s not this kind of guy, he doesn’t do kinky shit like this, he doesn’t get off on having sex in front of people or fucking his partner or having sex without at least buying dinner first and the pizza didn’t count at all.

“Hey,” Jill murmurs, tilting his chin up. “You still with me?”

“We really doing this?” he asks stupidly.

She snorts. “Yeah. If you want to.”

Fuck-shit-damn yes he wants to, his cock is like steel now at the very idea. He wants to do this. He wants to give up control and hand it over, stop playing by rules that don’t work and write some of his own. He wants to stop being in charge for one night and let someone else make decisions, wants to follow instead of lead, wants to be anyone other than Chris Redfield, special agent. He wants to fuck the girl every man wants as her boyfriend watches, and that nearly short circuits his thinking.

So maybe it’s not such a surprise that he says the dumbest sentence ever uttered, one that later he’ll think about and want to kick his own ass. “But you’ve already had sex tonight.”

Carlos chuckles from where he stands and Jill laughs along, stroking his cheek. “I got a special dispensation from the president,” she says, before sealing her mouth on his in a kiss.

She is cool and light against him, and Carlos was right, her ass is perfect. He grips her backside and squeezes as she grinds on his lap. Jill groans into his mouth and Chris realizes it’s because she’s rubbing herself against his erection, pressing up in a hard tent at the front of his jeans. Her fingers stroke against his shoulders and down his chest, running through the hair there and tracing along his pecs until they move lower, outlining his abdominals. She rolls her hips again and again and he can feel her getting his jeans wet, or maybe that’s him? Either way, he lets go of her long enough to open them, needing the relief more than ever.

Jill moves up on her knees to let him slide his pants down his hips, and she uses the opportunity to pull her t-shirt off over her head. Now she is left in only her bra, a lacy red thing that is so opposite of everything he knows about her that he can only stop and stare. He reaches up to carefully pull one cup down to expose her pink nipple, rubbing his thumb against the hard bud.

There is moisture leaking from the tip of his cock, and Jill uses it to stroke him, her hand tight as she pumps his length with quick, firm movements. Chris leans forward to lick her nipple, then presses his lips to her body, sucking lightly. Someone like her, would she even like the normal stuff? But she sighs in response, her other hand pressing to the back of his head to keep him there, and Chris uses his teeth and tongue to tease her until she is rubbing her sex against his.

Jill gives a groan, and he looks up to see that Carlos has moved behind her. He cups her chin up and to the side, his curls falling a bit to cover their kiss. Chris freezes momentarily, but then Carlos pulls away with a playful bite to her lip. “Does he feel good?” he murmurs.

“I can’t wait anymore,” Jill pants.

Carlos reaches into his pocket and pulls out a condom, handing it to her between two fingers. Jill snatches it and smiles at Chris as she tears it open, and he leans back on the couch, pressing his hands to the cushion. He watches in a sort of daze as she rolls it down his length, anticipation tightening his stomach as she leans up and angles him against her body before finally sinking down around him.

Chris lets out a hiss of pleasure as he throws his head back. Jill’s mouth is hot on his neck as she works to take him in, but with her slick body and the lubricated condom he slips inside with little trouble. She squeezes tightly around him, nearly taking his ability to breathe, before she pulls back and braces her hands on his shoulders.

When she starts to move, he risks a peek, groaning as the sight of her sends a jolt of excitement straight through his cock. Carlos is kissing her shoulder, undoing her bra and pulling it down her arms to toss it away before he grabs her bare breasts. She reaches up one arm to wrap around his neck as the other digs hard into Chris’ shoulder, and he watches in rapt attention as she fucks him while Carlos fondles her chest, delivering open mouthed kisses along her neck. Chris reaches up and presses his hands to her waist, dragging them over her hips as his eyes go downwards and giving another groan when his gaze falls on where they are joined, his cock disappearing in between her lips.

Jill stops the roll of her hips momentarily, keeping him buried inside of her, and he can feel her nearly pulsing around him. “She’s close,” Carlos says roughly, and Chris’ eyes snap up to his when he realizes he’s talking to him.

“Already?” he pants. Carlos nods, and Chris huffs a laugh. “So am I.”

Jill grins, opening her eyes as she bites her lower lip. “Can’t let this end too fast.”

She pushes off of him to stand, and Chris swallows a protest, his cock bobbing when it is released. But Jill grabs his pants and pulls them down his legs, and once they are removed she kneels on the carpet, carefully pulling the condom away. “I bet you taste delicious,” she says, and his eyes nearly roll back into his head when she lowers her lips onto his length.

Jill sucks him hungrily, making his head spin. Chris jerks upwards into her mouth, but fists his hands into the couch to let her work. Behind her, Carlos has pulled out his own cock and is stroking it freely, watching with dark, hooded eyes. “You’re so beautiful,” he groans before going down on his knees.

As Carlos pushes her thighs apart and pulls her hips upwards, her moan vibrates along his cock as she swallows him completely. Her eyes squeeze shut as she sucks for as long as she can before coming up for breath, panting against his wet length as Carlos starts to fuck her from behind. “Slow,” she pants, and Carlos instantly eases his pace. Her eyes meet Chris’ and stay there as she rolls her tongue around the head of his cock; then she is swallowing him again, the sensation nearly driving him mad with desire. It strikes him that he never understood before why someone would want it like this, least of all a woman, finding porn like this vulgar and strange: but now he realizes that it’s because she’s in control, with two men ready to worship her body, and Chris is willing to give her anything in this moment.

Soon he is close again, and he hisses her name. Jill pulls off and grips his cock, stroking him quickly as her mouth drops down to press her tongue against his sac. Carlos starts to move faster, drawing a whine from Jill’s throat, and when she shudders against him, Chris realizes she’s coming. It sends him right over the edge, his body tightening almost painfully before his seed spills out in a great spurt that she quickly moves her mouth to swallow. Carlos holds her firmly by the waist as she trembles, but Chris can only focus on her lips sliding along his cock in time with the pulsing that rocks deeply through him. He lifts his hips to push in further with the final waves of pleasure, and Jill swallows him with a sigh that she releases when he finally slides his cock from her mouth.

Carlos pulls her closer to him, and he muffles a groan against her shoulder as he jerks his hips. Jill looks up at Chris, their eyes locking as she licks her lips, and Chris swallows thickly, knowing Carlos is finishing inside of her. His erection is softening, but not nearly as fast as it usually does, and when she turns her face to kiss Carlos and he watches her tongue slide into his mouth, his cock jerks uncomfortably.

She laughs a bit when Carlos finally releases her. “Damn,” Carlos sighs, rubbing her arms. “So fucking hot. Told ya, man.”

He is grinning at Chris, who nods, rubbing the palm of his hand on his forehead. “Yeah,” he agrees lamely.

It feels so damn awkward now, but the other two don’t seem fazed, climbing to their feet as they chuckle together. Carlos yanks up his jeans before grabbing Jill, pulling her into a deep kiss as Chris looks up and watches. He remembers how he couldn’t believe they’d be together just days ago, and now he knows what an absolute idiot he is.

“Carlos and I are driving down the coast tomorrow,” Jill says, turning to look at him as Carlos kisses her neck. “Do you want to come? Spend a few days on the beach?”

“With you two?” he asks stupidly. Carlos lifts his head and Chris holds up a hand. “Yeah. Dumb question. Sorry.”

He stands awkwardly, wanting to put on some clothes, but Jill slides her hand over his hip. “Well? Do you want to come?”

The question makes his neck heat, and he nods. “Sure. Why not.”

“Good,” Carlos says.

They banter a bit as they get dressed, Chris just listening as he tries to figure out what to say. He spots the condom on the floor and quickly picks it up, and when he returns from throwing it away Carlos is at the door, grabbing his jacket. “Hey,” Jill says, stepping up to press her hand on his chest, just like she had before. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Chris answers. “I’m fine.”

“Be ready by ten.” Then she gives him a wink and they head out the door, Carlos slinging his arm around her shoulder as he gives a wave.

The door shuts behind them, leaving the apartment in silence and Chris standing with his pants half undone. “See? I have sex,” he says to the room.

#resident evil #chris redfield #jill valentine #carlos oliveira #re #fanfiction #re fanfic