#Tails wheezing on the couch: 'He actually thought i was serious!' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crown-anon · 3 years

Note

aah i thought of a req!!!!! could i maybe request one shots or hcs (separate) w dream, sapnap, n wilbur with a s/o (preferred he/him!!) who draws a whole lot,, n one day they catch him drawing him?? tysm :]

@ghcstbnr asked

gn i just realized i made a typo i meant cc catching reader drawing them- but ty again :)

of course! it's kind of long, sorry about that

I took a little creative liberty with the notion of "catching you drawing." also Sapnap's looks kind of long but it's also dialogue heavy. if you want me to redo it, I will. hope you like it 💗

& a note to everyone else, I don't write for Wilbur yet! I only write for the dream team at this time. sorry about that! this will probably change in the future, though, so look out 👀

CW: swearing

format: one-shot

people: dreamwastaken, Sapnap

pronouns: dreamwastaken's piece is ambiguous, Sapnap's piece uses he/him

edited 27 April 2021

—

dreamwastaken

since he doesn't use his camera, you find yourself with your boyfriend in the studio more often than not. when he's gaming casually, you play together, or one of you will cheer the other one on. when he's streaming, sometimes you interact with the viewers, or read donations for him; sometimes you just sit next to him, soaking up his energy and warmth. when he's working long days and long nights to edit videos, you're content with just relaxing together in the same space. at times you have to drag him out to the kitchen to eat, or help him to bed if he passes out, but…he's really cute when he's focused. (and you're starting to think he does it on purpose just so you can dote on him.)

today is a little different. he's recording for a manhunt that's meant to drop in a couple days. you're quiet, trying to avoid disrupting them. you're perched up on the loveseat, staring fondly at him across the room. he's so animated, the way his eyes shine when he talks to his friends, how he tears up when he laughs…

Patches mews at you from the arm of the couch, as if to say, disapprovingly, I cannot believe how sickeningly sweet your inner monologue is.

and you try to understand where she's coming from, you really do, but the sun's starting to set, and the gentle rays slotting through the blinds are shifting from white to gold.

he looks so divine, you decide. it's unfair. how could I not love him? he's seriously pretty. and before you can stop yourself, you're sketching him out on your tablet. you glance up at him fast to get the details right, and look away just as quickly. he never meets your eyes. soon your whole page is covered in little Clays, capturing the way he feels, the way he acts, the way you feel about him. Patches jumps off the chair, with all the moving. and before you know it, you've drawn up a whole page of concept art of your unfairly beautiful boyfriend. Patches was right about me, you muse to yourself.

fuck. Patches. the same Patches who's been meowing at you for the better part of an hour, now sitting patiently at the door? there's no way Clay didn't pick up on all that noise, you fret. but he's still playing, looking intense as ever. relief washes over you, replacing the guilt.

come here, girl, you think to yourself, knowing Patches wouldn't have even understood you if you spoke. sorry to keep you waiting. and you rise, slipping quietly out the door with his cat in your train.

—

you're coming back to the studio. Patches, fed and sated, is napping in another room. opening the door, you have to stop yourself, you freeze. your boyfriend's kneeling on the ground, sitting on his heels, right next to the door—you'd have hit him if it opened any further.

"baby, what are you…" the words die on your tongue.

my book. my sketchbook. my sketchbook full of drawings of him. shit, he's gonna think I'm such a simp! the embarrassment, the shame, the fear, it's overwhelming you.

you hear your voice break. "…what happened to recording…?"

"finished half an hour ago," he says simply.

and that was that. for the first time in ages, the silence hanging between you was thick and heavy with tension. you wait. and wait. and wait. you wait for the criticism, the hate, the argument that never comes.

suddenly, he seems content with what he's seen, when he looks up at you adoringly, and takes one of your hands, giving it a soft squeeze. "is that…me?"

you've lost your voice, all you can do is nod.

"you…you think I'm beautiful?" he glows.

ah, I suppose I did write that, somewhere in there. you look away. all the things I've said…

he brings your hand up to his lips and leaves kisses on your knuckles.

you sound small. "do I not tell you that enough?" you pause. "that you're beautiful? that I love you?"

and just like that, his nervousness dissolves into euphoria. you both start laughing at the same time.

"oh my god—" he wheezes. "—you're so sappy."

"only for you," you blurt out, and start laughing harder. but he quiets, he hesitates.

"only for me," he repeats.

you sink down onto the floor next to him. he's staring so fondly at you, you can't help but smile back.

"only for you," you affirm.

he rests his hands on your knees, pulling himself closer to you. he's so close to you, you can feel his blush. you let your eyes close, softly.

but the kiss never comes. instead, you're met with a "then what about all those drawings of Patches?"

laying on the floor, tangled up in each other, in hysterics, you distantly think I hope he remembered to leave the call from recording earlier.

—

over dinner, you meet his gaze, and he gives you that look. that stupid, handsome look; the one with the smile and the danger behind his eyes. he makes a point of pausing mid-bite, but it takes you a minute to notice that he's stopped eating.

"what's up, honey?" you ask, sounding a little more concerned than you should have been.

he shrugs dramatically. "oh, nothing…just figured you'd appreciate a muse." there it was. the teasing. you knew it would happen eventually. but the tone, it's kind, it's tempting; gentle, unlike a serious jab.

so all you do is roll your eyes, but you can't help the way your mouth quirks into a smile. "you're so dumb," you murmur with affection, and shake your head at nothing in particular.

Patches curls her tail around your ankle as she passes you by.

—

on the couch hours later for movie night, you're the last one up. Patches is curled up in Clay's lap, purring. Clay, in turn, sleeps soundly in your lap. (you think if he could purr, he would, but he settles for humming softly when you play with his hair.) you might think it's funny looking back on it later, but it feels so tender and vulnerable now. you like calm evenings like this one. Studio Ghibli plays quietly on the flatscreen; you don't know which one, you're not really paying attention anymore.

you're busy tracing the contours of Clay's skin, feeling more than seeing his shape in the dark room. mapping him out in your mind, learning his figure like you're seeing him for the first time again. you think you understand him a little bit better, every day you spend together. and with confidence, you make your first stroke, illuminated by the moon.

—

Sapnap

you only barely stop yourself from drawing a big "X" across your paper. exhale, and start erasing furiously. don't rip the paper—well, we didn't need that sheet anyway. ball it up and throw it at the dark, cobwebbed corner of the room. along with the rest of your mistakes.

you're trying. you're really trying. but those lips. his fucking lips. fuck.

your boyfriend smiles at the camera as he gets a donation with a sweet message on it. it should be so easy. he's right there. right here.

you check the time. it's been an hour. you've been trying, and miserably failing, to get his lips right for an entire hour. today, at least. you scoff at yourself, your misery, and pinch the bridge of your nose. it isn't fair.

his camera's on, and he's live, so you know you can't be in there with him. nobody knows you're together, and you don't want know what kind of backlash to expect if people found out. so you've been avoiding his streams…the whole room where he streams, really.

you've kept yourself busy by drawing. and you've cycled through many subjects in your life, and eventually, been able to draw whatever you put your mind to with enough time and effort. the problem is, your sights have been set on Sapnap, even for months before you got together. okay, maybe that isn't the problem. the actual problem is that you fucking suck at drawing him.

you get going, start it out, do an okay job, but midway through screw it all up somehow. to make things worse, your reference is his 2D image. he doesn't…know that you draw him. you're terrified to say. so you can't use the real life Sapnap as a reference, like you would prefer.

ugh, and this one's ruined too. you rip it up and throw it at your growing pile of paper balls, but being tiny confetti-sized pieces of paper, they don't make it very far. great, something else to clean up later, you huff at your own thoughts. it isn't fair.

—

"[name]?" he calls for you. you're one step ahead, already opening the door. you can't remember when you got here and decided to brood outside his room.

"hey, do you think you can—" he tears his eyes from his camera, his waiting audience, to look up at you expectantly. when he sees you he stops immediately, looking concerned, standing to meet you.

"what is it?" your voice is flat.

out of view of the camera, he mouths, are you okay? you only shrug and avert your eyes.

he falters, contemplates, sits back down at his desk and starts to talk to his viewers. "hey guys, I'm sorry for the short notice, but I gotta cut this stream short. my…" he glances at you for approval, only to see you motioning with your hands as if to say, no, don't.

(you yourself don't really know what for. no, don't end the stream for me? no, don't out us like this?)

he looks back. "…my friend…something came up with my friend. I have to take care of it. it's really important." you can tell he has trouble finding the right words. you can tell it throws him off, he's acting out of character for his internet personality. do you blame him? isn't this your fault? "sorry again. bye guys!"

the second he made the last click, he gets up and pulls you into a hug. it's unexpected, it knocks the wind out of you. you're certain he feels the tension.

"babe…what's wrong?" it's muffled by your neck and the sweater you're wearing. you just hold him, saying nothing.

he pulls away and holds you by the shoulders. "look at me. what's wrong?"

you feel all the more embarrassed. it's so silly to be upset about. "I…I…well, it's a lot."

he shakes his head, to say I'm not going anywhere, but his expression softens, his grip loosens. "do you want to talk about it?"

you sigh. "it started as 'I can't draw for shit', then it became 'why am I afraid of asking you for help?', and finally, worst of all, 'why the fuck can't we be seen together?' it isn't fair. it's never been fair. I'm sorry."

he thinks about it for a second. "okay, what makes you feel like we can't be seen together?"

"are you joking?" you snap. "we're two fucking boyfriends. in this society." he didn't look hurt by the outburst, but the guilt crept in anyway. "…I'm sorry."

he shakes his head, "do you really think I'd let that happen? I wouldn't ever let anyone hurt you, darling. remember that."

"I know, I know…" you don't know what to say. "it's easy to forget, I guess."

"what are you afraid to ask me for help about?"

"I…" shit, you guess you have to tell him. close your eyes, breathe, "I've been drawing you. trying to draw you. but I can't, it never turns out right."

you peek, and he's red in the face, stuttering. "me? you draw me? of all the hot people out there?"

you furrow your eyebrows at him. "don't give me that shit. you know you're cute."

he shakes his head incredulously. "are we talking about the same person here?"

"dude, your smile is literally the most radiant fucking force of nature I have ever seen."

"you're hot too! why are you coming after me?"

"I'm not 'coming after you', you're being defensive about your looks, when you shouldn't be! you're gorgeous, baby."

you're both giggling like girls at a sleepover, the anger and frustration long forgotten. now it's a war of who can be more grossly in-love with the other.

"what part of me," he manages between laughs. "are you having trouble drawing?"

"oh god," you groan, remembering yourself and your dilemma. "your lips."

"my fucking lips? you would think that—"

"no," you warn. "shut up. don't say it. don't you dare say it."

he leans in close, his hands have moved up to cup your face. you shiver.

"don't worry," he grins. "I won't."

the kiss is long and sweet, nothing like the ones you've shared in the past. he takes his time, you savor each other. you feel time stop ticking, you feel your heart stop beating, you feel the way he tilts his head. you grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him in. and when you part, you're breathing heavy, in tandem.

"thanks," you manage. "but I needed to see your lips, not kiss you into next saturday."

"nah," he laughs. "I think you needed that too."

you choose your words thoughtfully. "do you need me, too?"

he hums, and—

ding!

dreamwastaken donated $69!

you could die. you could really, seriously die.

the response is instant. you don't even see Sapnap move from you to the PC, flushed down to his neck, apologizing, apologizing, and apologizing again. "change of plans, guys, we're doing an art stream!"

the chat is filled with "huh?"s and "what?"s.

"huh? what?" you didn't have the time to process what just happened.

karljacobs: I thought we were doing a make-out-with-our-secret-boyfriends stream :(

he smiled warmly at you. "yeah. my lovely boyfriend is going to draw me! he's been wanting to for a really long time, and his art is really good. let's go get your stuff."

you're in so much shock that he makes it past you and out of the room, while you stand there waiting. after a pause much longer than you intended, you hurry after him.

—

down the hall, in your room, he's got your sketchbook tucked under his arm, closed. you're sure you left it open when you came out.

you only barely get the words out. "um, did you…go through it? please don't laugh."

your heart sinks when he laughs heartily, but he grabs your hand, resting it on your book, about to hand it off. but he holds you there for a second. "of course not. I respect your privacy." he ponders for a moment. "I respect you."

you can feel the sigh of relief when you let it out. "I…love you."

your holding your book now, as he moves to collect the boxes containing your pens and pencils and colors. he gets them all together, but before he picks them up to head back, he turns around to face you. "is this too much?"

you absently reach for a hand, tracing over the lines on his palms. and you think about it. am I okay? is this too much?

"I don't think so. not with you. I'm okay."

he moves to open the door and grab the rest of your things. "well then, let's not keep them waiting!"

—

edited 27 April 2021

#dreamwastaken x reader #dream x reader #clay x reader #sapnap x reader

158 notes · View notes

junicai · 3 years

Text

blue shell.

| summary | Things get serious in the Dreamies dorm when Mark brings over Mario Kart.

| word count | 1.3k

| warnings | not serious contemplation of murder(s)

| era | circa. April 2018

Aria wondered how long she’d go away for if she committed a septuple homicide.

The idea had taken root in the back of her mind several months ago, what with Chenle’s unfortunate habit of rolling while asleep and kicking her off (a) a couch, (b) a bed, and on one miraculous occasion, even a table.

Don’t ask how he managed to get his leg up that high - not even Aria knows. All she remembers is sitting on the edge of the table, perfectly content and minding her own business, before there was a foot being unceremoniously shoved into her back, and then she was on the floor.

The tiles are rather unforgiving, she discovered, when you face plant into them with no chance of stopping yourself from doing so, because you were pre-occupied with trying to not spill hot coffee over yourself and your companion, who had just veritably kicked her out of her sitting position moments beforehand.

Aria ended up with a bruised cheek, for her attempts, and Chenle still wouldn’t admit that he’d done it - claiming that she must have just fallen off herself. If she didn’t know any better, Aria would claim that Chenle had done it while he was awake, just out of spite.

He has resided at the bottom of her “Rescue In Case Of Fire” list ever since.

Donghyuck let out a great whoop of victory from his position in the middle of the living room floor, as his character - Baby Yoshi, in the tall booster seat car that he insisted didn’t give him an advantage, but Aria could swear that thing had a smaller turning circle than the rest of them - crossed the finish line, a large gold 1st coming to hang over Yoshi’s head.

He sat back in his seat, looking altogether too smug for someone who had just cheated his way into a victory. His remote dangling from the wrist-strap that Jeno insisted they all used for the WII remotes (there was an incident, Aria knows, with one of the remotes and a now-broken vase), Donghyuck’s little half smirk had never been more infuriating to Aria.

She had been leading the race for the better part of two laps, racing around Shy Guy Beach with a banana trailing behind Toad’s little cart in reserve. The finish line had been within her sights, and she was already beginning to settle back into the cushions, prepared to royally gloat her way through the rest of the evening before the unimaginable happened.

Renjun, steadily clinging onto 4th place but encroaching on Jeno’s 3rd, gave a cry of excitement. There was a whooshing sound -

And then Toad exploded in a cloud of blue.

Spinning out of control, Aria fumbled with the buttons uselessly, knowing there was nothing she could do to salvage her position but trying fruitlessly anyway.

She sat back, stunned and betrayed, as Donghyuck brushed past her and crossed the finish line smoothly - avoiding the loose banana peel that Toad had lost during his spin-out. The dust of the beach was kicked up by Yoshi’s booster kart wheels, and Aria found herself cursing the animators as Toad literally coughed in the cloud.

Was there much more in the world that could humiliate her so?

Perhaps that thought in itself, had been the tipping point of Aria’s spectacular downfall.

With her mouth dropped open, she watched as Renjun and Jeno passed - neck and neck - Jisung bringing up the tail end before Toad finally got himself under control again and pushed himself off into motion again. His kart was slow - slower than she wanted it to be, but they were moving and picking up speed.

He barely made it two feet.

A green shell crashed into the back of Aria’s cart, Toad flipping forward and stopping again, waving his hands around in protest. Mark flashed a cheeky grin at Aria from where he was perched on the edge of the coffee table in the centre of the room, zooming past Toad with Daisy snatching 5th place from beneath Aria’s nose.

She let out an aggrieved shout, dropping her controller in her dismay. “Mark!”

He couldn’t even have afforded her the dignity of being taken out by a red shell? No! He had to use the green ones, the ones you can actually escape if you have the speed and space to do so.

“Sorry,” He apologized, looking distinctly un-sorry.

Mark moved down the “Fire Save” list to just above Chenle.

With her controller on the floor, slid somewhere in between the throw pillows that had been kicked off by Chenle an hour earlier, Aria was forced to sit back and watch as Chenle chased Peach over the finish line, Bowser letting out a commiserating roar as he secured 7th place after Jaemin who took 6th with Princess Peach at the helm.

The race ended, 7 out of 8 players having crossed the finish line and one remaining stationary - 2.3 seconds away from the finish line.

With the sweet dulcet sounds of too-peppy Mario Kart music that was really beginning to give Aria a headache playing through the speakers; pandemonium broke out.

“You cheat!”

“It wasn’t me! That was hyung!” An incriminating finger was pointed at Renjun, who in turn threw a betrayed hand to his chest. “Sung! I thought we had a pact!”

“A pact?!” Aria’s voice grew in both volume and pitch. “So it’s true!” She spun to face the others, all who had been tossing the blame back and forth, while rolling about in fits of laughter. “You’ve all been plotting against me!”

“Never!”

“NO!”

“How could you accuse us of such a heinous crime?”

Their protests were heavily undermined by the fact that they were all holding their sides in pain from laughing too hard, and each of them wore a face-splitting grin. Aria narrowed her eyes at them all, glaring.

“Come on, noona!” Chenle goaded, straightening up momentarily only to flop back down onto Aria, bringing her into the impromptu cuddle pile that the others were forming on the floor.

She landed with an oof, and was going to apologize before realizing that it was, in fact, landed on Donghyuck. She only felt slightly bad for the elbow that landed in his stomach, then.

“You promised us dinner.” Donghyuck wheezed out, clutching at his ribs.

Scrap that. Aria didn’t feel bad at all.

“Wh-”

“’Loser buys dinner.’ I believe those were your words, Riri.” Jaemin grinned at her from his horizontal position stretched out over both Mark and Jeno.

Aria sighed a long suffering sigh, pinching the bridge off her nose. Muttering underneath her breath, she began attempting to extract her arm from Chenle’s vicious grip, before she was stopped by Renjun’s hand on her wrist.

“Or,” He began, and honestly Aria should have known better than to trust the mischievous twinkle in his eye but goddamnit she only had so much in her bank account at the moment. “We could go best out of three, and loser gets dinner tonight and tomorrow.”

Her credit score begged her to take the deal. She could feel her credit card crying out for her to accept, and to form an alliance with one of the conniving devils that she calls groupmates.

Aria wondered, again, how long was the jail time for multiple homicides.

Not long at all, if she didn’t get caught, she supposed.

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angelicyoongie · 4 years

Text

desolate (6)

— summary: you just wanted a cute little normal cat to keep you company. so, you're not really sure how you ended up with the grumpiest hybrid on earth that seems hellbent on making your life difficult.

— pairing: cat hybrid yoongi x human reader

— genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut

— word count: 5.3k

— tag list: @mrcleanheichou @ladymidnightt @cheese123344 @xanny91 @dinorahrodriguez @best-space-boy @dulcaet @moccahobi @keijaycreates @staytrillswag @xsmilebitesx @serendipityoreuphoria @jiminot7 @beyond-the-swag @nananaum1 @mult1wh0re @ditttiii @faithsummers11 @twomilkmen-gocomedy @theonewholovestoread @karissassirak @veryuniquenamegoeshere @hd-junglebook @yourlipssoirresistible @ayoo-bangtan @murderyoursoul @btsxdoll @see3milyblog @gukiyi @officialcarly9701 @mtgforall @narcissism-iskey @sp3ak-yours3lf @cesthoney @imluckybitches @sugarrimajins @multifandomgirl29 @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @bangtansleftnut @theresa-nam-nam-me @angeltothecore @ghostkat23 @deathkat657 @awixxx @httpmedxsa @veronawrites @bubbletae7 @serious-addiction @chogiyeol-utopia

Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five Part seven Part eight Part nine Part ten (M) Part eleven Part twelve Part thirteen Part fourteen (M)

You can only see a swirling mass of black and gray in front of you, the hues moving so fast it’s hard to get a grip on what’s happening. Your whole body feels heavy, and you find that it’s impossible to move no matter how hard you try to.

You try to call out for help, but no sound leaves your lips. There’s a sudden weight on your chest, the pressure knocking the air out of you as it grows heavier and heavier for each passing second. Your lungs are burning, and just as you think you can’t handle it anymore, your eyes snap open into the darkness of your room.

You take in a shuddering breath, your body hot and overheated. You can feel the hairs around your face clinging to your skin, and judging by your still racing heartbeat – you just had a nightmare. Although it’s much lighter than in your dream, you can still feel a pressure on your chest as you gulp down air. You peek down, breath getting caught in your throat as you find golden eyes staring right back at you.

Yoongi is lying down on your chest; tail flicking back and forth quickly behind him. The moment he realizes you’re awake, you feel his head bump against your skin, soft fur tickling your chin as he rubs his head back and forth. He doesn’t let up until you pet him in return, your fingers running down his back as you wait for your terrible feeling in your stomach to lessen up a bit.

The shrill sound of your alarm makes you jump, and Yoongi makes a low grumbling sound as you pick him up and place him down beside you on the bed. You curse under you breath as you realize you must’ve slept through the first two alarms. You’re running late, and you know your boss won’t take kindly to that.

You quickly snatch up some clothes from your closet and bring them to the bathroom; trying to clean up the best you can while not making yourself even more behind on time. You stumble into the kitchen still half-asleep, making sure to prepare breakfast for your Yoongi before you leave. You snatch up a few granola bars for yourself, hoping that it will be enough until lunchtime.

You’re about to run out the door when you pause, quickly turning back to the bedroom and peeking your head in through the door.

“Yoongi, I’m going to work now. See you later tonight!” You don’t hear any response, but you see something twitch in the darkness, and that will have to be good enough.

By the time you make it to the bus you’re wheezing, and it’s not until you’re halfway to work that it slows down enough for the morning to fully hit you. Yoongi must’ve realized you slept through the first alarms, and that’s why he had tried to wake you up. Resting your head against the cool window, you stare mindlessly at the passing stores and people. You try to reason with the fluttering in your stomach that he probably only woke you up to make sure he got food before you left, not because he was worried about you showing up late.

You sigh as you step off the bus, hurried steps carrying you into the high-rise building you work in. Your plan had been to talk to him before you left for work, but with how the morning played out, you suppose it will just have to wait until later. You can feel the tense atmosphere the moment you step out from the elevator and onto your floor, hushed whispers carrying through the hallway. You can’t see your boss anywhere, and so you barely manage to sneak into your seat unseen before you hear raised voices coming from an office.

“Thank god you’re here,” Jihyo shoots you a look over her computer.

“What’s going on?” You whisper back as you shrug off your coat. You see your other coworkers muttering quietly between themselves around the office with grim expressions on their faces.

“Some files had been breached yesterday,” You suck in a breath. This is really bad. Even if it’s an old case, it could put the hybrids involved severely at risk.

“Which ones?”

“I’m not sure, but I think one of them might be an older high-profile case,” You wince. This might get really bad for the company if the perpetrator isn’t found and punished for it. While your company is private, it’s still closely linked to the official sector in providing guidance and research for when they’re understaffed or need extra hands on a case. While you love your job and have never been in it for the money, you surely thought the pay would have been a little better based on the amount of work you do. But alas, you can't find it yourself to leave either.

You feel like your shoulders are touching your ears by the time it’s lunch. Your stomach has been growling on and off for the last hour, and it’s with pink cheeks that you and Jihyo hurry out of the building to find some food.

“So, how’s the kitty doing?” Jihyo asks as you walk down the street, carefully avoiding bumping into other people milling around. Coming from a smaller town, you don’t think you’ll ever quite get used to the hustle and bustle of living in such a large city.

“Oh uhm, Yoongi is doing okay,” You wince, quickly adverting your eyes down to the ground as you realize the name slipped out.

“Yoongi?” Jihyo’s eyes are burning into the side of your face.

“Oh, I did one of those .. name generators! Yeah, I used a name generator to find something to call him. It was totally random,” You laugh nervously.

“Okay,” Jihyo drags out the word, obviously not quite believing your little lie.

“Either way, do you mind if me and Sana stop by tonight to hang out a little? She has been nagging me to see you again, and you know I don’t mind hanging out with you one bit,” She bumps her hip into yours.

You’re about to nod when you remember why you absolutely can’t. Sana knows Yoongi is a hybrid, and you’re sure she won’t let it go if she comes over one more time. You feel bad for keeping it secret, but Yoongi was adamant about you keeping it for yourself, and you don’t want to say anything until you know what to do.

“No!” You blurt out, Jihyo sending you a weird look at the outburst.

“I mean, I think Yoongi was really shaken up last time and I think it would be best if she doesn’t come over for a while,” You give her a faint smile.

Jihyo stares at you for a second before she gives you a nod, a small sigh leaving her lips, “I guess you’re right. It’s probably not the best idea.”

You continue walking in a comfortable silence down the street, sparing a moment to admire the vibrant colours that have started to spread through the trees. It probably won’t be long until everything is painted permanently in yellows and red, and you’re definitely looking forward to it.

“How about I come visit you instead?” You offer as you step into a quaint cafe, mouth watering at the sugary smells that hits your nose.

“That’s a great idea!” Jihyo grins. “You can come home with me after work tomorrow!” You hope she doesn’t hear the soft sigh of relief that brushes past your lips.

“Sounds good,” You give her a grin of your own as you start picking out the pastries you want. Crisis adverted, for now.

It still takes your brain a while to catch up when you walk into the living room and find a very human Yoongi sprawled out over your couch. He’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday, but you have no idea just how long he’s actually been using it. Despite the lightness in your wallet, you decide you’ll need to go out and pick up some stuff for him soon.

You watch him for a second as he sleeps. His lips are parted in a soft pout and he has an arm thrown over his eyes, blocking out the setting sunlight through the windows. You would’ve figure he would have preferred to sleep on your bed while you were gone, but as you reach out a hand into a sliver of light, you can feel the warmth on your skin.

It’s obvious that he enjoys snuggling up in the sunlight in either form, and you hate to admit that you find it all kinds of adorable.

“Yoongi?” He doesn’t stir when you call out for him. You walk over to the couch, hesitantly laying your hand on his arm to make him wake up. You give it a little shake, and Yoongi grumbles in his sleep as he finally removes it. You see his eyes dilate much more than a normal human’s would when he opens them, a shift of gold passing through them as he blinks sleepily up at you.

“Oh, you’re home?” His voice is husky but soft, cheeks a little puffed out as he reaches up to scratch his ear.

“I just came back,” You resist the urge to coo at how endearing he looks. It doesn’t matter how cute Yoongi looks though, you still need to have the talk that’s been weighing on your mind for the whole day.

“Do you mind if we talk?” Yoongi watches you silently for a few seconds before he shifts on the couch, giving you room to sit down. You collapse against the pillows, reveling in how nice it feels on your back compared to the stiff office chairs.

“First of all, I’m not kicking you out,” You ignore the tiny voice that whispers not yet in the back of your mind. Yoongi tries to give you a disinterested look, but you can see the tension drain out of his shoulders at your words.

“But if you are going to keep living here, we’ll need some rules,” You tuck your knees up to your chest, picking at a loose thread. This is the part you’ve been dreading all day.

“Rules?” Yoongi’s tail flicks irritably, obviously not pleased at the direction the conversation’s going.

“Yes, rules. Just .. I don’t know, clean up after yourself. Let’s give each other some personal space. And tell me if there’s anything you need,” Yoongi tilts his head, the corner of his lips twitching.

“Those are rules?” He snickers. To be honest, you had no idea what you were going to say. You had hoped you would come up with something great, but this is why you never improvise anything. It doesn’t end well.

“Oh!” You suddenly remember the most important part, the rule he already broke yesterday.

“You have to sleep on the couch when I’m in bed.” Yoongi’s laughter stops abruptly.

“Why? It’s big enough for the both of us,” Yoongi glares at you, ears nearly hidden by his hair by how low they are against his head.

“What?! It’s not!” It really isn’t.

Your bed is only slightly bigger than a twin sized bed, and it’s definitely not big enough for you to sleep at a comfortable distance. The only way it would work would be if you were, well, cuddling. You shake off the mental image as soon as it arrives, but the idea is enough to make a pink flush rise in your cheeks.

“So you’re saying I can’t?” Yoongi asks again, a displeased frown on his lips when you shake your head.

“Yes Yoongi, you,” you gesture to the man in front of you, “can’t sleep on my bed when I’m in it. You can use it when I’m at work, but otherwise you’ll have to stay on the couch.” His ears suddenly perk up again; the low annoyed rumbling sound that was slowly building his chest disappearing completely.

“Fine,” He grumbles, but you notice the way his dark eyes seem to glimmer with the same mischief you’ve seen in videos, when cats purposefully knocks something off a table. You’re not sure you’re going to like whatever he’s thinking about.

“Oh right, before I forget! I’m heading back to Jihyo’s tomorrow after work. I won’t stay very long, but I wanted to let you know,” You smile gently.

You understand that he might not like the dog hybrid considering she did run into the apartment barking and snarling at him, but what you don’t understand is why his whole body stiffens up so much at the mention.

“Okay. I don’t care,” Yoongi snaps at you before you can ask, a harsh glare settling on your face. You feel yourself shrink from the look before you catch yourself. If Yoongi wants to be unfair and mean, then that’s on him, you’ve done nothing wrong.

It stings of course, when he’s so back and fourth and acts like he would much rather be anywhere else but here. But, you know there is more to it than that, so for now, you just bury down your hurt feelings and move on.

“Are you hungry?” You clear your throat at the awkward mood in the room.

The narrowing of Yoongi’s eyes tells you all you need to know, and you find yourself dishing up a quick dinner in no time.

You do make sure to make a little extra, putting it away in the fridge with a note explaining that he can have it for dinner tomorrow while you’re gone. He might be a little mean, but you’ll never let him go hungry if you can help it.

“Sana was so excited last night, she could barely sleep!” Jihyo laughs as you slip on your coat. You wrap one of your older scarves around your neck as you follow her outside. The edges are a little tattered, but it’s one of the softest scarfs you own, and you’re struggling to just throw it away.

“She’s so cute,” You grin.

Truth be told, you had considered cancelling tonight’s plans. Yoongi had been acting ever more distant yesterday after you told him you would be coming home late, and when you found him curled up on the couch this morning, you felt bad.

It’s obvious that he doesn’t like the dog hybrid, and you don’t want to push him away even more by meeting up with her. But at the same time – you want to be able to hang out with Sana and Jihyo, and you can’t just cut off the only friend you have because Yoongi got off on the wrong foot with them.

You quickly climb into the car that’s waiting for you, sinking into the expensive seats with a soft sigh. Your feet have been aching for days from all the extra walking, and getting to rest them for a little while is heavenly. Even though the break is nice, you can’t help but feel a little misplaced in Jihyo’s pricey car. The difference between you is staggering, and you always feel like someone will pop out of thin air and tell you off for enjoying something you obviously don’t have the money for.

Your eyes can’t help but grow little big every time you pull up to Jihyo’s house, the pristine white building probably more of a mansion than anything else. You can see something moving by the front door through the tinted windows, the car pulling to a stop in front of the stairs leading up to it.

The moment Jihyo steps out of the car, Sana is wrapped around her like a koala.

“You’re home!” She squeals, burying her face in Jihyo’s neck while your friend pats her back lovingly. You swallow down the lump in your throat, tearing your eyes away from the display of affection as you climb out of the car on the other side.

The moment you round the black vehicle Sana collects you into a tight hug too, tail wagging furiously behind her.

“I’m so glad you came to see me!” She rubs her head along your chin, the furry ears tickling your skin as she tries to bury down into your neck like she had with Jihyo. She whines when the scarf is the in way, and Jihyo playfully rolls her eyes at the hybrid’s pout when she pulls back.

“Come on girls, I’m starving,” Jihyo takes a step towards the house, and Sana quickly follows her, tugging you along.

The food is delicious, but of course, you didn’t expect anything less from the chefs Jihyo has working in her kitchen. You eat until you’re full and then some, the savory dishes better than anything you’ve had in months.

“I’ll have the them wrap some up so you can bring it home,” Jihyo hurries out of the dining room before you can protest.

Normally, you would refuse to bring home anything, but now .. Now you have another mouth to feed at home. You know Yoongi would love the chicken dish that even made your own mouth water, and you don’t have the heart to deny him that experience. Especially not since you know the fridge is starting to become awfully empty, and there’s still a week until your next paycheck. You feel awful for accepting the food, but you would also feel awful if you didn’t. Mostly, you just feel like you’ve .. failed.

“Do you wanna see my room?” Sana jumps up from her chair the moment you put down your fork, her fluffy ears standing up straight in excitement.

“Sure, I would love to,” You smile and Sana doesn’t waste any time before she grabs your hand, leading you up the stairs to the second floor.

You’ve been to Jihyo’s house many times before, but not after Sana moved in. You’re surprised when you see Sana leading you towards what used to be Jihyo’s art room, but as she pushes the door open, you can see that it has been converted into a beautiful bedroom instead.

“Sit here,” Sana steers you towards her bed, gesturing for you to move to the middle of it. It’s soft and bouncy, and you’re pretty sure your mattress at home would feel like rocks in comparison. The dog hybrid shuffles close, her knees knocking into yours as she sits crossed legged in front of you.

You see her nose twitch repeatedly, her eyebrows furrowing in concentration as she leans in closer.

“Is he still at your apartment?” Her normally soft voice sounds vaguely like a growl as she locks eyes with you.

“W-who?” You stutter. Of course, you know she means Yoongi, but you didn’t realize she would smell him on you. You didn’t even touch him yesterday!

“The cat – the hybrid,” She snarls, the hairs on her tail rising as she sniffs out the mixed scents.

“Yes, my cat is still at home. But he’s not a hybrid!” You honestly feel silly fighting with Sana when you both know he isone, but you promised Yoongi you wouldn’t expose him.

“We went out for lunch today, I probably bumped into a hybrid while we were out,” You pat her hand, trying to settle her growing uneasiness.

You can tell Sana doesn’t believe you, her keen scene of smell telling her otherwise, but you just need her to get off your back for a little while, just until you know what to do.

“There you are!” Jihyo enters the room just as Sana is about to say something, her lips falling shut with a cute pout at Jihyo’s interruption.

“Where did all your art supplies go?” You ask Jihyo as she climbs onto the bed too. Sana scoots over until she’s cuddled around her, arms around her waist and head resting on her shoulder. You ignore the upset glare Sana is giving you. You can’t really say anything to make it better without exposing yourself and Yoongi.

“Oh, my dad built me a little gallery out in the garden instead!” Jihyo rambles excitedly about her new supplies, and you try your best to follow along even though you don’t really understand much of what she’s talking about. You watch Sana look up at Jihyo with such open fondness that you almost feel like you’re intruding. It’s not hard to see that both of them are just as infatuated with each other as the other, and it makes your heart ache with want.

The whole reason you wanted a pet was to come home to someone who actually wanted you there – someone that would be excited to see you after a long day at work and give you some companionship. With Yoongi however, you’re not sure if you can even refer to him as an acquaintance. To think of him as a friend seems way too farfetched.

“- right?” Jihyo looks at you with a big grin, and you shake yourself out of the thoughts you got lost in.

“Right,” You confirm with a nod, desperately trying to figure out what you actually agreed on. Sana whines as you take Jihyo’s side, and it isn’t until five minutes later that you find out that you actually agreed with Jihyo that chasing squirrels isn’t a fun hobby.

The girls keep bickering for a while, and you resign to leaning back on the bed and watching them until they’re done. The atmosphere at Jihyo’s house just feels so lively compared to your own, and you hate that you don’t know how to make it better. You feel your smile slipping as you watch Sana cling to Jihyo, the hybrid using her puppy dog eyes to win argument.

You love spending time with your friends, but lately, all it seems to be doing is reminding you of what you don’t have, and what you can’t provide for the cat hybrid waiting for you at home.

You clear your throat; the guilt that’s building up in your stomach is making you feel a little sick. Jihyo and Sana stop their little play fight immediately, turning to you with big smiles.

“You guys, I think it’s time for me to go home. I’m still exhausted after Sunday,” It’s technically not a lie, you are tired, but you still feel bad for cutting the night so short.

“Of course! I’ll go get the food, I’ll meet you downstairs in a minute!” Jihyo calls over her shoulder as she hurries out of the room.

You feel a hand on your shoulder stop you as you’re about to follow her, Sana’s big eyes looking at you uncertainly.

“Are you okay?” Her nose twitches, and you see her ears flop down, “you smell sad.”

“I’m okay,” You reach up to pat her head, forcing through the best smile you can muster. You’re only being upset over things you can’t change, there’s no reason to make the hybrid feel bad because of it.

It’s still a little weird that certain predator hybrids can faintly smell your emotions, but you’ve encountered it enough through your work that it doesn’t throw you off too much when you’re reminded of it.

Sana frowns, shaking her head as she moves closer.

“You’re not. I’m gonna cuddle you until you feel better,” The dog hybrid wraps herself around you much like she did with Jihyo earlier, shoving her face into your neck and rubbing her head under your jaw. You chuckle as her breath tickles your neck, and although you feel like it’s probably more for her than it actually is for you, you still welcome the hug. You only extract yourself from her grasp when Jihyo calls out for you, Sana whining as she loses her cuddle buddy.

“I’ll see you soon okay?” You give her nose an affectionate bop.

“You better.”

Your arms are shaking as you finally make it inside your apartment, the bags of food Jihyo gave you weighing far more than you ever anticipated.

“You’re back,” You startle when you turn around and find Yoongi standing there, arms hanging loosely by his sides as he watches you. His voice sounds bored and disinterested, but the small twinkle in his eyes at your return gives him away. Maybe he is a little excited that you’re back after all.

“Help,” You grunt out as you try to slip off your shoes, trying your best to not fall over.

Yoongi takes a step forward to help you before he freezes, eyes narrowing in you as he inhales. His delicate features twists into disgust as he takes in the smell, his nostrils flaring as he glares at you.

“You stink,” He hisses as he quickly scoops the bags away from you, stalking into the kitchen before you can even make a sound. You feel a little dumbstruck by the interaction, leaning down to get a whiff of your coat and the sweater underneath it. You don’t smell anything out of the ordinary, but maybe you should change just in case.

You end up quickly changing into something else; joining Yoongi in the kitchen to help him put away the food you got from Jihyo. You can see that the food you prepared for him last night is gone, and you’re sure he must be hungry by now.

Yoongi shoots you another disgruntled look as you come up next to him, his tail flicking back and forth behind him. You focus on folding and putting away the bags you got the food in, ignoring the annoyed puffs of air coming from Yoongi every other second.

He suddenly takes a step around you to grab another bag, his chest rubbing up against your back as he grab the handles. You suck in a breath in surprise, unconsciously holding it until Yoongi returns to his spot. You can still feel the phantom warmth cling to the back of your shirt, your heartbeat speeding up from the sudden contact.

Yoongi’s irritation seems to calm down a bit after that, but your heart surely doesn’t. The cat hybrid keeps randomly brushing up against you as you move around the kitchen, hands grazing your arms and shoulders as he reaches for something above you, or a firm grip on your waist to move you out of the way.

You finally usher him into the living room to get some space, confused by the unusual amount of contact when he normally wants you to stay out of his way.

You take a deep breath before you bring the heated chicken dish into the living room, placing it on the table in front of Yoongi.

“Jihyo gave us some leftovers,” You explain, and he only raises an eyebrow in return. You know it’s definitely not just leftovers, but you’re too tired get into it, the whole day a whirlwind of different emotions.

“Just eat,” You mumble as you sit down next to him on the couch, reaching for the remote to turn to the TV on.

“Wait,“ Yoongi’s pale hand shoots out to wrap around your wrist. Your eyes snap up to his face in shock. His jaw is clenched, ears flat against his head as he looks down at you.

“I just .. It wasn’t enough – You still stink,” He hisses and you barely see his eyes narrow in on your neck before he pulls you close. Your words get caught in your throat as you feel Yoongi’s nose rubbing along the skin, his harsh breath making goosebumps rise all over your body.

His arms are locked around your back, gluing your arms to your side as he moves his face all over your exposed skin. You hear a low rumbling sound coming from his chest, and it reminds you of those broken purrs he made the evening Sana and Jihyo came over.

“Yoongi?” You squeak as the shock finally settles. You can feel his soft locks brushing against your face as he moves to the other side, hands digging into your back to pull you closer.

“You still reek of her,” His fangs lightly scrape against your shoulder as he hisses out the words, and you bite down harshly on your lips to hold back a gasp. Sure, maybe you’re a little touch starved, but this is Yoongi. Weird thoughts aren’t allowed.

“Her?” Your mind feels muddled as the sounds from his chest grows louder. You can almost feel his body vibrating from the force of it from where you’re pressed up against his chest.

“The dog,” He growls.

Sana.

You want to smack yourself. Of course Yoongi would think you smelled bad after Sana had been all over you with hugs and close proximity. Her scent was probably still lingering strongly on you. He most likely didn’t want the smell in his territory, and that why he’s .. scenting you.

If there was something you never expected that would happen between yourself and Yoongi, it was this. Territory and scenting goes hand in hand, and the fact that he was scenting you? He was practically marking you as his. The realization makes you blush, your face growing redder and redder for each broken purr that sounds from Yoongi’s body.

You try to reel in your thoughts. This is Yoongi. He’s definitely not marking you or claiming you in any way, he’s just getting rid of what he deems a foul smell that’s lingering on your skin. You’re sure of it.

Yoongi’s purrs suddenly stop, his face freezing against your skin as it finally smells like it’s supposed to do. He abruptly pulls back, and you almost tumble of the couch with the force he pushes you away with. He practically runs to the bathroom with small curses muttered under his breath.

You fan your face, the cold evening air outside suddenly sounding very tempting in comparison to the stifling heat inside your living room. When Yoongi doesn’t emerge after five minutes, you realize he’s probably as embarrassed as you are. It was most likely his instincts that made him scent you, and based on the hot and cold attitude he’s been giving you, you’re sure this is a blow to his pride.

A glance down at the table reminds you that he hasn’t eaten yet, and you doubt he will if you stay on the couch. You decide to sneak away into your room, not minding going to bed a little early.

As you settle into bed, you hear soft footsteps out in the hallway fading away into the living room. After some mindless scrolling on your phone, you hear those same footsteps moving into the kitchen.

You make sure to set your alarms, snuggling down under your covers as you stare up at the dark ceiling. Your chest flutters as nothing in the darkness can distract you from the memory of Yoongi’s skin against yours, and his surprisingly strong arms caging you in.

It felt .. nice, and the realizing that you wouldn’t mind if it happened again makes you quickly hide away under your comforter.

Go to bed, you scold yourself, quickly blocking out any thoughts that reminds you of golden eyes and slender fingers.

It definitely takes longer than normal to fall asleep, and you barely have even a thread of consciousness left when you hear your door creak open.

It’s silent for so long that you think you’ve dreamt it, but slowly but surely you feel the side of the bed facing the door dipping as another weight settles on top of it. The presence next to you feels bigger than the nights before, and you swear you feel another persons’ heat seep through the covers.

Again, everything grows so quiet and still that you don’t think much off it, sleep pulling you under quickly.

You dream of silky hair brushing against your cheek and strong arms wrapped around your waist, the soft echo of a husky voice whispering Mine burying itself deep in your heart.

- - - -

Hello! Hope you enjoyed the sixth chapter of desolate! I mean .. we're getting there lmao 👀 IMPORTANT: I have three big papers due at the end of May, and while I've been distracting myself nicely from writing them so far, I've reached a point where I can't ignore them anymore if I want to actually pass my classes lol. Therefore, I won't be updating this story weekly anymore. I will be updating this bi-weekly, so that means that Abundance will be updated the weeks when this is not. This will also give me some time to make the chapters longer and I'll get the chance to plan more ahead, so it's honestly for the best! The faster I'll be able to finish my papers, the faster I can go back to updating both stories weekly. :) Hope you understand, and thank you all so much for the support so far, it makes me so happy! <3 I have a posting schedule on my page that will be updated as soon as I figure out the best day for updating, but I'm guessing it might end up being tuesdays or wednesdays. I will also post small sneak peaks of coming chapters as a little something extra. Hope you’re all well and my inbox is always open if you want to chat about the story or just fics or life in general! See you all soon! <3

#yoongi #cat hybrid yoongi #hybrid au #hybrid bts #bts au #suga #bts fanfic #hybrid!bts #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #fluff #smut #scenting #angst #romance #min yoongi #jihyo #sana

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malecsecretsanta · 3 years

Text

Merry Christmas, arialerendeair!

For @arialerendeair, I hope you like it; I tried to put as many of your favorite things!

Read On AO3

*****

Whose Eyes See All and Still Gazes in Earnest

The day Alec gets his first few gray hairs, Magnus sighs happily.

“Finally,” he grins, “I’ve always thought you’d look good a silver fox.”

Alec rolls his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips as Magnus crawls onto his lap. “Didn’t know you had a thing for old men,” he quips.

“Three gray hairs do not make an old man, Alexander,” Magnus chuckles as he noses into Alec’s neck, “Take it from someone who’s actually an old man.”

Alec looks at Magnus, his gaze pointed. “You say that as if you didn’t go ballistic at the sight of one gray hair on your head.”

Magnus remembers when the memory gave him merciless pain. Nowadays, he lets himself chuckle at the thought. “Was admittedly not my best self that night.”

Alec’s palms press against Magnus’ side, comforting. “Understandably,” he murmurs, before asking, “Can you promise me one thing?”

Alec’s tone is suddenly serious as he looks imploringly into Magnus’ eyes. Magnus sits back onto Alec’s thighs, concerned. “Of course, darling. Anything.”

Alec grasps Magnus’ shoulders, forlorn. “If it comes down to it,” he draws in a staggering breath, “Magic my bald spot away.”

Magnus blinks, watching as Alec loses his cool and finally erupts into a side-splitting laugh. Alec throws his head back until it butts against the back of the couch, a palm pressed against the spot where his heart rests. The lines around his eyes crease beautifully, now a little bit more pronounced than before.

“You’re a little shit,” Magnus complains, and Alec takes Magnus’ face within his hands and presses a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Don’t let me end up looking like my dad,” he wheezes, “God, please don’t.”

Magnus ends up laughing too, kissing the lines around Alec’s eyes.

“Fine,” Magnus says, “Now fuck me before the kids get home. Or do you need help with your back too?”

A smirk grows on Alec’s mouth, the same mouth that swallows Magnus’ yell as Alec flips both of them onto the couch.

They have an hour before a portal from the academy materializes inside their living room.

*****

Magnus sighs, his brow scrunched in annoyance. He takes a big breath and yells up the flight of stairs, “Max Michael Lightwood-Bane, Raphael Santiago Lightwood-Bane!”

Magnus waits, fingers impatiently drumming against the wooden railing, as a muffled mess of a response echoes from behind closed doors. He hears one door being thrown open.

“Dad, I’m still trying to figure out this suit,” Rafe yells, “How are there three pieces?!”

Magnus calls out, “Max, help your brother!”

One room down, Magnus hears his other son snort.

“If he’s twenty-three years old and still doesn’t know how a suit works, that’s on him,” Max sneers, which earns him an irate suck my dick, asshole from his older brother. A loud scuffling ensues, and even without seeing it, Magnus knows they’re trying to punch at each other’s private parts.

Magnus sighs exasperatedly. These boys are in their early twenties, and they’re trying to ball-tap each other into submission. Magnus wonders if all this tomfoolery would have been circumvented by having girls instead.

“By Lucifer’s light, if you both don’t get down from there, I will lose it!” Magnus nearly bellows, and the threat successfully brings his two sons thundering down the stairs.

“We’re here,” Max pants, hands held out in placation, “Don’t get mad.”

“A little too late for that,” Magnus huffs in front of a mirror as he smoothens the creases on his jacket, staring down his reflection with a frown.

“We’re sorry, dad,” Max nearly pouts as he lays his head against Magnus’ shoulder, “We were just messing around. It’s those childhood bedrooms, it brings us back, you know?”

Rafe presses his palms over Magnus’ shoulders. “I know you’re stressed,” he says, “It’s dad’s fiftieth, after all.”

Magnus sighs as he reaches back to ruffle both Max and Rafe’s hair. He pats the back of Max’s hand.

“I just want it to be perfect,” Magnus admits.

“It will be,” Rafe presses, “We planned this thing down to those little things of food that goes on trays.”

Max rolls his eyes – it’s called hors d'oeuvres stupid – looking like the spitting image of a younger Alec as he does. He definitely got his sass from his other father, Magnus affectionately thinks.

“Dad will love it,” Max assures, “I promise.”

Magnus smiles at his two boys, perfect in their formal clothes. Max has hidden away his warlock’s mark, and Rafe’s runes peek slightly from underneath his sleeves. Magnus remembers when they were just little children, running around the living room with their small feet padding against the wooden floor. Now, Magnus has to look up at them.

Magnus remembers mournfully telling Alec about being the shortest person in the family, who only chuckles in response as he plants a kiss on Magnus’ cheek. Magnus realizes he misses his husband terribly already.

“We gotta move,” Rafe says as he scrolls through his phone, “Uncle Jace says he’s taking dad to the New York Institute soon.”

“Let me,” Max says, “I’ve been practicing.”

“You better not singe my hair,” Rafe warns.

Max retorts, “It’ll be a great improvement.”

“Boys,” Magnus says before they delve into yet another scuffle. It effectively silences them both.

Max goes through the motions of creating a portal. A golden, circular rift erupts in the middle of the living room, the air around it distorting the fabric of reality. With a careful step, Rafe speedily enters. Magnus follows with Max quick on his tail, and before they know it, the darkness winks away into the grand hall of the New York Institute.

*****

“Happy birthday, Consul Lightwood,” Alicante’s weapon’s master greets him as she passes by the open door of his office.

Alec peers over his reading glasses, smiling. “Thanks, Margo. Just Alec, remember?”

Margo turns a soft pink, chuckling. “Ah, yes. I always forget. I’ll leave you to your work.”

“Grab some cake on your way out,” Alec says, motioning towards the open box on the coffee table, “The students from the Academy sent it over.”

Margo’s brows rise in interest as she cautiously crosses the room and takes a peek into the box. Alec knows she has a sweet tooth.

“The students sent it?” she asks, “They must like you a lot. Most trainees are scared of their Consuls.”

“I do guest lectures on Nephilim-Down World Relations when I have the time,” Alec says as he scribbles something down on the document before him. He adds with a smile, “I give them archery pointers too.”

Margo ahhs, nodding with understanding. She picks up a paper plate and eyes the cake with interest.

“Take as much as you want,” Alec smirks to himself, “My husband’s on a warpath against processed sugar and will have a coronary if he sees me take all of this home.”

“Diabetes?” Margo asks with humor, as to which Alec laughs.

“Pre,” he points out.

“How is Magnus, by the way?” Margo asks.

The ease of Magnus’ name coming out of her mouth is a testament to his personability. Everybody likes Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Alicante. That and the fact that he has extended his services free of charge to Margo when he heard about her wish to transition. Alec and Magnus welcome Margo into their home every month for what Magnus calls ‘rebalancing appointments’.

“He’s alright,” Alec answers, “Meeting the whole family for dinner tonight. Rafe and Max portalled in this morning.”

Margo notes through a forkful of icing, “Must be something big.”

Alec chuckles, flipping to the next page of the document. “I have a feeling it might be bigger than what he lets on.”

“Well, good luck,” Margo grins as she slips out the door, “Hope you have a good birthday, Alec. And thanks for the cake.”

“Thanks and you’re welcome,” Alec says before reminding her, “Tomorrow, general assembly.”

“See you then,” Margo says before disappearing into the hallway.

Alec sighs, leaning back onto his chair that creaks under the shift of his weight. He takes his phone and opens the many birthday greetings that have trickled into his message box the past few hours, taking note to reply to all of them at the end of the day. He pulls up his conversation with Magnus and sees a reply from his last text.

Remember, 8 PM tonight. Love you :)

Alec can’t help but smile. He shoots a quick reply that consists of an I love you too that makes his heart flutter in his chest even to this day. He figures he should at least get to a bathroom and see if he needs to make himself more presentable after a twelve-hour workday.

Alec rises from his chair and maneuvers through a moderately busy hallway. He returns all the birthday greetings with a polite expression of gratitude until he slips into the private bathroom reserved only for him. The door closes with a click, and with that, he takes in his reflection in the mirror. He takes off his reading glasses and tucks them into the pocket of his jacket.

“Happy fiftieth birthday, old man,” he says under his breath.

Alec takes stock of himself. He still stands tall even after fifty years of being alive. Despite the deep-seated aches in his muscles, his body can still withstand an interdimensional battle or two. His hair is more gray than black now, and every day, he discovers new lines on his face that weren’t there before. He doesn’t need to smile for his eye lines to show; it’s the most pronounced its ever been.

I like them, Magnus would always say with fondness, I used to have to wait until you smiled to see these lines. Now, you look like you’re happy all the time.

For a long time, Magnus’ immortality had long been the crack on the floor Alec chose to cover up instead of addressing. It was easy – so painfully easy – to forget the years of existence Magnus has in his back pocket when the only villainous things on the horizon were hell spawns and the madmen. Alec tended to forget that Magnus will be immortalized like this; smooth skin, shining eyes, for the rest of his life as Alec aged around him. But with Valentine gone and Edom in ruins, the battles Alec fought for the first few years of their marriage were the ones he was the most terrified of confronting.

Now, Alec believes he has grappled with the worst of it all. The fights he and Magnus used to have were agonizing; an exchange of caustic words that sometimes, despite their best efforts, were meant to maim. Hurting someone as steadfast as Alec Lightwood is a highly specialized skill, one only a few people truly possess. After all, it is the people who you love most who hurt you best.

Nowadays, a hard-fought acceptance is sheathed where helplessness used to be. At almost half-a-century old, Alec fights the fatalistic monster of his mortality differently.

He touches first. His fingers, aching at the joints, find Magnus’ sides like they always do. Magnus knowingly turns away from his work – potions, spells, politics – without a second thought, spinning easily on his heels, before gently culling Alec into his arms. Alec sinks into the crook of Magnus’ neck, breathing the scent of sage and castor oil deep into his lungs, a memory to keep.

There you are, Magnus would say, his mouth against Alec’s neck.

And like clockwork, Alec would say, there you are.

It doesn’t alleviate the ache, but it helps.

“Chop chop, old man,” Jace’s unmistakable voice calls, “We’re supposed to be meeting the family for your birthday dinner!”

The knock on the door wrenches Alec away from his thoughts, which is admittedly a welcome intrusion. With a thorough scrub of his hands under running water, Alec rolls his eyes. “I’m only two years older than you,” he calls back.

Jace teases from behind the door, “Still the first to hit fifty though. How does it feel to be decrepit?”

After drying his hands with a paper towel and a quick combing of his fingers through his hair, Alec emerges from the bathroom.

“I don’t know, how does it feel to have a bald spot?” Alec wonders with a smirk.

“Fucking rude,” Jace laughs as they both make their way through the hall, “Just because you have Magnus giving you magical hair plugs.”

“I’m married to a guy who will never age out of his hotness,” Alec says, “A full head of hair is non-negotiable. Also, this is all mine.”

“Bullshit,” Jace retorts, “You’re too old to lie about your looks, Alec.”

“I’m not lying,” Alec smirks, “Ask Magnus.”

“Sure, let me just ask the least biased guy in the world,” Jace scoffs before saying defensively, “Clary still finds me hot, I’ll have you know.”

Alec winces in disgust. “Did you really need to have me know?”

This earns Alec a kick on the shin, one that causes him to stumble. He snickers as he easily catches himself. They step out the ornate, arching door that opens into the courtyard where one of Alicante’s warlock mission specialists awaits.

“Anyway,” Jace says, his tone suddenly somber, “How are you feeling? This is a lot. With Magnus’ immortality and all.”

Alec doesn’t look at Jace as they cross the courtyard. Age has brought more than aching muscles and gray hair to their relationship. It has also gifted them with an openness that their younger selves were too stubborn to afford. Sometimes, Alec wonders what kinds of pain they would’ve been able to spare each other if they had learned to talk a lot sooner.

“I’m fine,” Alec says, instead, looking down momentarily at his hands. He sees the slight sag of skin there, as well as the softening callouses brought about by years of consul work.

“Be honest,” Jace says, and Alec feels his lips upturn into a small smile.

“I am,” Alec says gently, “I’ve thought about this. Tortured myself with it even, back when it all seemed too big to grasp.”

“And?” Jace prods.

“We’re happy,” Alec says, “That’s all that matters.”

“That simple, huh?” Jace says with wonder in his voice.

Alec shrugs. “We had to make it simple or else we’d lose our minds.”

“I miss being young,” Jace sighs as he follows suit, “Don’t you miss it?”

“I do miss waking up with my back not aching,” Alec admits.

They both settle to a stop. Alec nods politely at the warlock and a portal erupts before them, its edges tugging at the fabric of this dimension. Before stepping in, Jace places a sympathetic hand on Alec’s shoulder.

“There’s a stretch I do to loosen my back muscles,” Jace says, “It’s called sex. You’ve probably forgotten what that’s like.”

Jace looks immensely proud of himself.

“No,” Alec hums, “I got a pretty good reminder this morning.”

Jace’s deep laugh carries into the portal as they both step in. The last thing they hear from Alicante is the choking noise that comes out of the young warlock that closes the portal behind them.

Alec makes it a point to apologize to him the moment he gets back to Idris.

*****

Oh, darling, Magnus murmurs, fingers spreading oil over the swollen knuckles of Alec’s hands.

Winter always does this to Alec’s bones. The chill seeps in deeply. All those years spent gripping seraph blades and drawing bows have worn down the cartilage in Alec’s joints. The arthritis gets exceptionally bad first thing in the morning.

Alec watches as Magnus kneads the stiffness away, the pads of his thumb circling the meeting points of his brittle bones. There's magic in the oil that no angelic rune or mundane remedy could match. Magnus wakes up early in the morning to brew it, just so he can ease Alec’s body into the day. Every stiff spot, every stubborn knot – Magnus knows them all by heart now.

Sorry, Alec whispers.

Magnus wonders, whatever for?

I don’t know, Alec admits.

Magnus digs his thumbs across the palm of Alec’s hand, releasing the tension that grips the muscles and tendons.

I’m happiest like this, Magnus says simply, nothing more.

By the time Magnus finishes, he presses a kiss onto the back of Alec’s hand. Magnus rises from the bed, muttering something about portalling to Rome for a cappuccino. He waits for Alec to ease himself off the bed and onto his feet. He takes Alec’s hand as they pad out of the bedroom.

From then on, Alec tries his hardest not to apologize anymore.

*****

A chorus of happy birthday erupts the moment Alec sets foot onto the Grand Hall of the New York Institute.

Alec’s suspicion of the event, surprisingly, couldn’t dampen the grin that spreads over his face. Jace laughs beside him, palming his shoulder merrily. Izzy is the first to get to him with a tight hug that makes his bones ache. Unlike Alec and Jace, Izzy’s hair remains sleek-black and tied up in a ponytail. She is as young as the day she chose immortality.

“Happy birthday, Alec,” she says before looking up at him with a teasing grin, “You old fart.”

“Shut up,” Alec says fondly. He presses a kiss on her head because it’s hard not to when she looks so young. “Thank you. Where’s Simon?”

Izzy laughs. “Bathroom.”

“Typical,” Jace smirks.

“Alec!” Clary exclaims, taking Izzy’s place in his arms, “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks, Clary,” Alec smiles, “And how long were you in on this?”

“Too long,” Clary sighs, “I was in charge of the guest list.”

Alec looks around, surprised at the volume of friends and family within the spacious hall.

“Don’t worry,” Clary whispers knowingly, “I didn’t invite the Pearlhearts.”

Alec squeezes Clary’s shoulder in gratitude. “Good.”

Alec finally makes his way through the crowd. He smiles at his guests, shaking the hands of those he recognizes and embracing those who he hasn’t seen in a very long time. Maia, who is with Izzy and Simon, gives Alec a kiss on the cheek when he gets close enough. She apologizes for not being able to stay for long; alpha business, she says. Aline and Helen, who now oversees the entirety of the European Institutes as Idris delegates to Europe, have portalled in from Switzerland for the occasion. Lydia waves at Alec from where she and Catarina are chatting. Alec hasn’t seen them both in so long. Catarina spent years with Nursing Without Borders in typhoon-ravaged parts of South East Asia, while Lydia, who elected to leave Shadowhunter politics entirely, is now an educator in Shadowhunter Academies all over the world.

It’s an overwhelming sight to see, but in a good way.

Inevitably, Alec’s gaze is caught by the soft tangle flowers that spread over the ceiling. Yellow blooms dangle over their heads, surrounded by lush foliage of leaves and dotted with twinkling lights. It speaks of Magnus’ meticulous design.

Alec walks along the sprawling, meticulously set table, his steps calm but quick. Everything thrums of Magnus’ intricate handiwork, from the table settings to the sprigs of rosemary and sage pinned onto the folded napkin. Like a treasure at the end of a rainbow, he finds his family at the table’s end. They wait for him patiently.

I love them, Alec thinks, just because.

“Small dinner?” Alec laughs as he corrals his two boys into his arms, “I raised liars!”

“It’s all dad’s idea! We did it under duress,” Max grins with a kiss to Alec’s cheek, “Happy birthday, dad.”

“Happy birthday, dad,” Rafe greets with a smile, his arm winding around Alec’s back.

“Thank you,” Alec murmurs, his palms brushing against his sons’ shoulders. They both slip out of his embrace as if in anticipation. They stand by Alec’s side, watching affectionately as Alec finally finds his husband’s gaze.

“Well?” Alec asks mirthfully. Magnus, looking as beautiful as ever, saunters towards Alec with a teasing smile on his lips. Alec’s hand rests onto Magnus’ hip as he asks, “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“It’s your birthday, darling,” Magus grins, “I should be asking you that.”

Kiss him, someone from the back howls – no doubt Jace – and if there’s anything Jace can do with the utmost skill, it’s riling people up. Magnus and Alec’s spectators hoot and clap as if it’s the reception to their wedding and not a birthday. It’s Max and Rafe’s defeated sighs that make Alec want to sweep Magnus off his feet and into his arms for maximum carnage.

Alec rolls his eyes instead, visibly fighting a smile. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Magnus raises a brow. “So you won’t kiss your husband of more than twenty years?”

“Now, now, I didn’t say that,” Alec hums as he guides Magnus into his arms and grinning into a chaste kiss that they waste no time sharing. Magnus laughs as the crowd around them swells with applause, and finally, he wraps Alec into a comfortable embrace.

“Happy birthday, Alexander,” Magnus says.

Alec kisses the shoulder of Magnus’ jacket. “Thank you, Magnus,” he murmurs, “I love you.”

Magnus kisses his I love you too onto Alec’s cheek as he peels himself out of Alec’s arms.

“Dinner first, dancing later!” Magnus calls out, and with a graceful flick of the wrist, the table is magicked with fancy food from end to end.

As their guests happily settle into their seats, Alec whispers, “Dancing?”

“Don’t make excuses because I won’t take them,” Magnus says with a tone of finality.

Alec laughs. He’s learned a lot in the past twenty or so years.

“Wasn’t gonna,” Alec whispers.

Alec takes a flute of champagne from one of the servers and takes a sip. From the head of the table, he sees every person who has mattered to him in the entirety of his life.

“Darling,” Magnus says, tugging at his hand.

Alec smiles. “Coming.”

*****

Magnus laughs as he is swept off his feet and into Alec’s arms. He locks his legs around Alec’s torso, his ankles hooking against each other as Alec kisses a trail down his neck. Magnus is pressed against the wall of their foyer, gasping as Alec’s teeth sink softly into his skin.

It has been three minutes since Alec and Magnus closed the door behind their youngest who had just moved out.

Magnus grins as he lazily rolls his hips against Alec’s. “If I knew an empty nest turned you on this much,” he teases, “I would’ve kicked Max out a long time ago.”

“Liar,” Alec laughs, fumbling with the clasp of Magnus’ intricate vintage belt, “You would’ve kept at least one of them here five more years if you had it your way.”

“I’m a softie, Alexander,” Magnus whines. His head butts back onto the wall as Alec outlines Magnus’ cock through his underwear. “Fuck.. Let me down, darling..”

Alec lets Magnus dismount, and with one snap of Magnus’ fingers, he is naked under Alec’s touch. Alec sighs blissfully as he takes Magnus’ lips back against his, tongue licking into Magnus’ mouth, fingernails scratching lines over smooth skin. Magnus doesn’t magic away Alec’s clothes; he has always found satisfaction in peeling every layer with his own hands. It’s a pleasure he indulges in no matter how strung tight they both are.

Alec kneels, ignoring the ache it brings as his knees kiss the wooden floor. Instead, he loses himself in pressing his mouth and lapping his tongue over every inch of skin he meets on his way down. Magnus’ body, untouched by time, undulates under Alec’s hands. Alec pins Magnus’ hips against the wall, a silent command that brings a haze of pleasure over Magnus’ eyes. Alec springs Magnus’ cock from his underwear, lips gently dragging over the sensitive nerve endings at the head.

“Alexander,” Magnus nearly pleads, his fingers threading through Alec’s salt-and-pepper hair.

“Patience,” Alec murmurs, to which Magnus huffs no. Alec chuckles, barely kissing the crown of Magnus’ cock in admonishment.

“If you don’t fuck me now –” Magnus’ threat crumbles on the tip of his tongue as Alec sinks down onto his cock with no preamble. His words escape him in a full-body shudder.

“Alexander, fuck,” Magnus gasps, watching as Alec languidly drags the warmth of his mouth back onto the head of Magnus’ cock before engulfing it again down to the hilt. Magnus clips a leg over Alec’s shoulder, drawing him even closer.

The fixture above their heads casts a brightness over their fucking like a spotlight onto a painting. Magnus’ moans hang in the air as Alec sucks him off with a skill that came to fruition after years of repetition. Every crest Magnus hits with every brush of Alec’s lips and every stroke of Alec’s tongue is its own masterpiece to behold. Just as Magnus knows every arthritic swell on Alec’s bones, Alec knows all the ways Magnus’ body likes to be praised. Alec kisses Magnus’ shaft and gently presses a thumb against Magnus’ hole. By the time Alec has palmed Magnus’ tightened sac, Magnus is already fucking into his mouth uncontrollably.

“Yes, darling, just like that,” Magnus whispers, urgently rutting into the wet heat of Alec’s mouth, “Look at you.. Just as beautiful as the day I first saw you..”

Surprising wetness lines Alec’s eyes, growing heavily at the corners.

Magnus’ breath hitches, his muscles clenching and unclenching as his orgasm builds with turbulence that makes the rhythm of his fucking falter. “I could find you in a crowded room, Alexander,” he says, “I could find you even if you were a dot in the universe.”

Alec palms his own cock as he blinks away tears that cling onto his lashes. He could feel the pads of Magnus’ fingers pressed against his scalp as if his nerves have taken hold of the sensation and refuse to let go.

“I’m gonna come,” Magnus gasps. Alec nods, his other hand gripping the firm muscle of Magnus’ ass.

Magnus hits his crest with Alec’s name on his tongue. He curls over Alec with Alec’s head cradled within his arms, a near recreation of the golden embrace of a Gustav Klimt. Magnus breathes deeply, pressing his lips against Alec’s hair as Alec releases Magnus’ spent cock. Alec swallows the spunk that sits on his tongue, and it tastes like the Magnus he knows and loves.

Magnus tips Alec’s chin to meet his gaze. He asks softly, “Have I made you cry?”

Alec sniffs, joking, “What’s new?” He wipes his cheeks with the back of his hand.

“I didn’t mean to,” Magnus murmurs, “I love you.”

Alec kisses Magnus; deeply, longingly. He rises to his feet. “I know,” he says when he pulls away, “Of course I know.”

“Let’s go to the bed,” Magnus says cheekily, “Your turn.”

Alec shakes his head, pressing his palm against Magnus’ jaw. “I didn’t take my pill,” he murmurs, “I think that’s it for me tonight. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Magnus leans into Alec’s touch, “No apologies, remember?”

Magnus walks backward towards their bedroom, pulling Alec by the hand. Alec lets himself be led into the bedroom and out of his remaining clothes.

“Besides,” Magnus winks, “You know I love a challenge.”

Alec rolls his eyes. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling if he wanted to.

*****

“Dad can’t be hot,” Max protests, “He’s dad.”

Magnus laughs, limbs all loose, his head tossed back. Alec snorts as he takes the martini glass from Magnus’ hand before the contents find themselves all over Magnus’ trousers. The family sits in a loose circle at the end of the table; Jace, Clary, Simon, and Izzy had all pulled their chairs closer fifteen minutes ago. The rest of their guests have elected to fill the dancefloor.

“Your father wasn’t always the silver fox that he is now,” Magnus says, “You were too young to remember. Rafe does though, right?”

Rafe nods. “Dad’s right,” he says, hands up in the air in defeat, “Dad was pretty good looking.”

Alec raises a brow at his eldest. “Excuse me? Was?”

“Gross Rafe,” Max exclaims, “Take it back! I don’t want that idea in my brain!”

“Look, I’m not one to compliment the guy,” Jace says, “But Alec was a total looker. Not as much as I was, but a close second.”

Clary giggles into her drink, mumbling under her breath. It sounded something along the lines of pretty boy, to which Jace gives her a snickering shh. Izzy, however, has already caught it with her ridiculously acute hearing.

“Oh my god,” Izzy says, “Pretty boy.”

Magnus laughs again, eyes scrunched close as he leans his head against the bulk of Alec’s shoulder. Alec grins into Magnus’ martini as he takes a sip.

“What’s pretty boy?” Rafe asks.

Izzy bounces on her seat with excitement.

“Easy,” Simon laughs, but Izzy still delves into the story with the same high-level gusto.

“The first time your dads met, we were in the middle of some kind of mission.”

“Unsanctioned, by the way,” Alec points out, which causes the circle to boo him mercilessly. He snickers, taking another sip from Magnus’ drink.

“There was so much flirting,” Izzy groans, fingers pressed into her temples, “An insane amount.”

“Ugh, what’s new?” Max asks, which earns him a pinch in the side from Magnus.

“Kids, this is how your dad,” Izzy looks pointedly at Magnus and then at Alec, “Reeled in your dad.”

Everybody else watches in anticipation, grinning from ear to ear while Magnus and Alec curl into each other comfortably.

“We needed to summon a memory demon that night. So your dad goes,” Izzy then says in her best impersonation of Magnus, “Pretty boy, get your team ready.”

Magnus looks impressed.

Izzy continues. “And your Uncle Jace, because he thinks the entire world wants to sleep with him, goes I know what to do, like an idiot.”

Clary giggles even louder, hiding her eyes behind her hand. Jace, pink in the face at the memory, cringes. He receives a sympathetic pat on the shoulder from Simon.

“But then your dad rolls his eyes, holds out his hand, and says, I’m not talking you,” Izzy continues, her own arm barricading Simon by the chest, who affectionately squeezes her wrist. Grinning, she gracefully points a finger towards Alec’s direction, the perfect imitation of Magnus’ gesture.

“I’m talking to you.”

The circle howls, bursting into applause as if they just sealed yet another rift from yet another circle of hell. Magnus collapses against Alec, completely bereft of air as laughter consumes him from head to toe. Alec snickers, hand smoothing the fabric of Magnus’ jacket.

“I still hate that I wasn’t there for that,” Simon sighs.

“God, dad’s got game,” Max says, appalled, “By the damn angel.”

“It’s only good if it actually worked,” Rafe corrects, turning to Izzy, “Aunt Iz, what happened next?”

Izzy melts, pressing her hands to her heart. “Oh, Rafe. Your dad had the biggest, softest smile. I hadn’t seen him smile like that, ever.”

She turns to Magnus and Alec, eyes glassy. “It’s the smile of someone who finally felt seen.”

The corner of Alec’s mouth quirks upwards. Magnus burrows deeper into the crook of Alec’s neck, a reminiscent smile curling the edges of his lips. Magnus touches his temple with two fingers, and with a flash of magic, he plucks a memory from his mind.

He presents it to Alec.

“You looked beautiful, love,” Magnus says, threading his fingers against Alec’s. “So beautiful.”

Alec smudges something invisible on the surface of the photograph. He sees his younger self look up at him as if to ask, why are you so happy?

Just you wait, Alec thinks, you haven’t seen nothing yet.

Rafe and Max take the photo, looking at it with absolute wonder. Izzy’s hand finds her trembling mouth, and Clary holds Izzy’s hand soothingly. Magnus presses a kiss onto Alec’s lips.

“Love you,” Magnus says.

Fondly, Alec answers, “Love you too.”

*****

Alec, with his head thrown back in mid-laugh, is watching Magnus spin Izzy on the dancefloor when someone offers him a well-manicured hand.

“Care to dance, Consul Lightwood?”

Alec abruptly looks up, mildly surprised, until he realizes who he’s talking to. He rolls his eyes, ones that dance with mirth at the sight of an old friend.

Alec smirks. “Told you not to call me that, Professor Branwell.”

“Touché,” Lydia laughs. She motions her outstretched hand towards Alec again. “Well? Are you going to keep a lady waiting?”

“You don’t get to dip me, Branwell,” Alec jokes as he rises to his feet.

Lydia snorts. “Don’t worry, Lightwood,” she says, “I know you’re too old to bend your spine more than forty-five degrees.”

“Speaking from experience, I see,” Alec quips, which rewards him a teasing elbow in the side.

Alec moves them deeper into the dancefloor in a little a maneuver he learned from many nights in small, dimly-lit Cuban salsa clubs with Magnus and Izzy. Lydia is impressed as she steps into Alec’s arms with easy grace. With Alec’s hand on Lydia’s waist and hers on his shoulder, they sway to the music’s languid tempo.

“I heard you can add ‘professor’ to your long list of achievements,” Lydia teases, “Alicante’s Shadowhunter trainees just can’t seem to stop gushing over you.”

Alec schools the grin on his mouth. “Are they, now?”

“Oh, please,” Lydia accuses with a laugh, “You so like it!”

Alec chuckles, “It’s just a couple of guest lectures.” He leans in, whispering, “Admittedly, it is a bit of an ego boost.”

“Oh, it’s absolute confidence fuel,” Lydia agrees. She smiles up at Alec, looking at him like she can’t believe how much time has passed since their last meeting.

“How are you?” she asks, and coming from her, it’s a loaded question.

Alec and Lydia know each other in such a distinct, irreplicable manner, one that stems from their commonalities as people and their shared experiences. It’s a special understanding that even Magnus can’t duplicate, and that understanding steadily grew into friendship. Alec and Magnus were even guests at Lydia’s wedding to her recently late husband.

“I’m okay, Lyds. You?” Alec asks gently, “It’s been way too long.”

Lydia presses her lips together in a small, sad smile. “It has been,” she says, “I needed some time to be alone for a while. Far away.”

Alec’s hand squeezes comfortingly against Lydia’s. “Did you find some peace?”

“Found some in the English countryside,” Lydia chuckles, “Farm animals are oddly therapeutic.”

“That’s where you’ve been?” Alec asks in disbelief, “By the angel, I was asking them to check as far as Jaipur!”

Lydia laughs fully now. “You didn’t have to keep tabs on me, you loon.”

“Of course I had to,” Alec mumbles, “How can I not?”

Lydia places a hand to her heart, grinning. “Well, I’m touched. To think that this friendship started from our aborted wedding – who would’ve thought?”

The memory makes Alec cringe. “Oh, god,” he begs, “Please don’t remind me.”

Lydia giggles, “What, that you left me at the altar to make out with the love of your life?”

Alec groans. “Enough.”

“Not quite the right tone,” Lydia teases, “Less whiney, more commanding. Like you’re about to stick it to your parents.”

“You’re impossible,” Alec complains, and Lydia throws her head back in laughter. Magnus catches Alec’s eyes from across the dancefloor, exquisitely amused, and Alec rolls his eyes in fond resignation.

Lydia settles down to a grin. “Do you ever wonder where we would all be if Magnus didn’t storm into that chapel that night?”

The mere notion makes Alec think. “I don’t know,” he admits.

“By the angel, Alec,” Lydia says in disbelief, “Would you have actually married me?”

Alec raises a brow at her. “Would you?”

Lydia presses her lips together. “I don’t know. It all made sense in our heads back then. It seemed like a plausible idea.” She shakes her head. “That’s terrifying. To know that even the most rational thing could still be wrong.”

Alec smiles, his gaze mildly cautious. “Is that why you left politics for education?”

Lydia angles her head in thought. “That, and more.”

Alec doesn’t know what these other reasons are. Knowing Lydia, if she hasn’t told him yet, she never will.

His expertise of Lydia as a person came to him late. It took three years into his and Magnus’ marriage for her to be reintegrated back into their lives. The day Lydia handed in her resignation from her Council position to pursue a career in education was the day she became a steady fixture in his life. Alec regrets letting an exorbitant amount of time pass before they became friends.

“Was there something I could’ve done that would’ve made you stay?” Alec asks.

Lydia gazes at Alec as if she knows exactly what he means to ask. Did I not do enough as Consul? As a friend?

“Oh, Alec,” she says softly, “I would’ve left either way. Despite all the great work you've done and still do.”

Alec exhales. “It’s hard to feel that way nowadays,” he mutters, “Not with the Pearlhearts and their constituents blocking my every movement.”

“Screw the Pearlhearts,” Lydia says bluntly, and Alec laughs. “Do you even remember the things you’ve done the past fifteen years as Consul?”

Alec doesn’t. Everything has been a blur.

“Then let me remind you that you were handed a Shadow World that was burning when you took the office,” Lydia says, “Iterations of The Circle persisting everywhere you look, mutinies from the Europen vampire clans, power plays from the new Seelie Queen. You put out all these fires within three years of your leadership because unlike every other Consul that came before you, you were the first to have the Downworld’s trust. Trust that you built not as an afterthought, but as the cornerstone of your consulship. Your cabinet was used as the blueprint for fostering transparency between Institutes and the Downworld all over the world.”

“I can’t take credit for that,” Alec says, “I was only one piece on that intricate chessboard.”

“And the changes you instituted after?” Lydia asks, “You restructured the entire government system to focus on service, not control. You reformed the council to integrate Downworld representatives, and most importantly, you dismantled The Gard and its ancient doctrines that center on maximum brutality. ”

Alec shakes his head. “I had a lot of help, Lyds.”

“Still,” Lydia insists, “Someone had to start. Someone actually had to care enough to ask for help in the first place.”

Alec has forgotten how good of a speaker Lydia is. He would mourn the loss of such a great political comrade if he isn't so busy celebrating the achievement of having such an amazing educator within the walls of Shadowhunter Academies all over the world.

Lydia is somber when she speaks again. “The Clave will never outlive the evils of its past. But this work, from the big battles to the small, from the demons we slay to the signatures on report documents.. it’s change. Small, tedious, continuous change.” Lydia presses a warm hand against Alec’s cheek, just like she did at the altar when she gave him her blessing to go. “The one thing I do regret about leaving Clave politics is not being by your side as you changed it for the better.”

Alec smiles into Lydia’s palm. “Thank you, Lyds.”

“Anytime,” Lydia says, “I met Henry because of you, did you know?”

Alec raises a brow, curious. “Me?”

“By opening Idris to the Down World,” she says, a reminiscent smile on her lips, “He was on his way to applying to be a werewolf mission specialist when I bumped into him on my way back from handing in my resignation. Whatever amount of time we had with each other – our walks through Brocelind, our dates by Lake Lynn, our wedding in Alicante.. we owe it to you.”

“I’m glad that I helped,” Alec says.

Lydia looks up at Alec, her head shaking in wonder. “Where did you get the will to do all that, Alec?” she asks, “Who were you changing the whole world for?”

From afar, Alec hears an unmistakable laugh, one he knows the sound of as it echoes from across the room or rumbling sleepily against the shell of his ear.

Alec smiles.

*****

“Blue, no flying! Mijito, don’t you run away with your brother!”

Alec laughs as he watches Magnus run across the grass in pursuit of their two boys. Max, in his bat form, flaps away with his older brother giggling behind him in a chase that would have ended a long time ago if Magnus simply magicked on a pair of sneakers.

I don’t do active-wear, Alexander, Magnus had scoffed with an offended look on his face, Not in public.

So, Alec sits back on the picnic blanket, legs kicked out. He contentedly digests his afternoon snack under the same tree that he sat under as a child when he wants a moment to himself. The green hills that overlook the entirety of Alicante sprawl before him, the view only made better by his family running across it.

The memories that accompany this spot weren’t always happy.

He hated himself under this tree. He asked all the divinities in the universe if who he is – how he is – is wrong. He climbed onto the branches, clinging onto it for hours; he punished his muscles and tendons for the missed shots and longing thoughts. He remembers the many cliff-edges he’s had to talk himself off of because no one else would.

He remembers wondering for how long he could do this for.

From afar, Magnus throws his hands in the air in surrender. Max flaps circles around his head in jest while Rafe jogs circles around Magnus’ feet.

Magnus, with a great, heavy sigh, snaps his fingers. Sparkly runners replace his fancy dress shoes, and Alec finally tips over in unabashed laughter. Magnus notices this, and in an act of pure vengeance, sics their children onto Alec. Alec realizes the velocity of their approach too late.

Alec groans, clutching his stomach as Rafe tumbles into him, all sharp elbows. Max flaps his wings across Alec’s forehead, displacing his hair all over.

“I deserved that,” Alec breathes out as Magnus topples onto the spot beside him.

Magnus smirks. “Yes, you do.” He collapses onto the blanket, exhausted. “Your turn, darling. I’m going to nap.”

Alec laughs. “Fine.” He turns to their children. “Who wants to do cartwheels?”

Max plops onto Alec’s lap with a shrill meee, accompanied by Rafe’s monstrous shout. Alec scoops both in his arms and runs, leaving shrieks of happiness in their wake. Magnus’ laugh carries beautifully from where he is sprawled under Alec’s tree.

Another sad tree memory dispels in Alec’s mind.

*****

Alec opens presents.

Jace and Clary gift Alec with a quiver of special arrows, a set of ten crafted by the Iron Sisters themselves. Vessels within the arrowheads were made to hold Magnus’ magic within its core. It is common knowledge that every single weapon in the Consul’s personal arsenal is imbued with electric blues and golden yellows. Like urban legend, it is whispered among throngs of young Shadowhunters that seeing the Lightwood-Banes in battle is like watching a roiling thunderstorm – it’s a kind of devastation from which you cannot look away.

Izzy and Simon’s gift is a rare tome they tracked down in a small European town called Arnis. It dates back to the years of the first community Shadowhunters that took root in New York, and how it ended up in rural Germany, nobody truly knows. Alec leafs through some pages and already found references to their early ancestors. My, my, Adette, Magnus murmurs, his chin propped against Alec’s shoulder. Alec hums in agreement; Adette Lightwood’s a looker.

The remaining presents sit on a hill on Alec’s left, and he is left to apologize to his guests. He promises to open them all at home, joking that the New York Institute probably needs their space back. He is presented with one last gift to open, one that he doesn’t hesitate to take in his hands.

“Here, dad,” Rafe says, handing Alec a small envelope.

Max offers a disclaimer. “This is last minute,” he says, “We were gonna give you something dumb.”

Alec hooks a finger into the envelope and rips it open. Within it, he pulls out two photographs. Alec looks at both of them with wonder.

One is slightly hazy. It bears the image of a man looking down at the camera, and even with the blurriness of it, Alec could see the smile spreads across his face. The other photograph, clearer than the first, unmistakably bears Alec’s likeness. It looks like a picture taken from behind a wooden cart of some kind as if the photographer was peeking from a hiding spot. Alec is squinting under the brightness of the sun, donned in battle-wear with an arrow drawn. He stands side-by-side with Lily Chen, the current head of the New York Vampire Clan.

Alec looks up in realization. “This is Buenos Aires. And this..”

Max shrugs. “Mine’s a bit faint, but I was a baby. Now you have all three of ours.”

Rafe smiles, reminiscing. “It’s our first memories of you, Dad.”

Magnus looks at Max. “When did you learn how to do this, Blue?”

“What, like it’s hard?” Max grins, “Figured it out from when you did it earlier.”

“You okay, dad?” Rafe asks.

Alec brushes his fingers over his nose, sniffing. He blinks furiously down at his hands, ones that hold memories of himself through the eyes of his family. They feel heavier than paper, weighted with love and gratitude built over time. He feels Rafe’s hand on his back and Max’s chin on his shoulder.

“You changed our lives, Dad,” Max murmurs, “Thank you for that.”

Alec gingerly rises to his feet, pulling his sons into his arms. He reaches out for Magnus’ hand, gripping it tightly within his. Magnus thumbs the tears from Alec’s eyes. His touch lingers on the lines at its corners.

The photographs don’t leave Alec’s hands the entire night.

*****

“Don’t, Alexander,” Magnus commands through teary eyes and gritted teeth, “Don’t you dare.”

Alec stumbles, taken aback. He watches as Magnus strides away from him, his hands curled into fists. Alec follows suit with long loping steps across their living room.

“Magnus,” Alec calls out, confused, “What the hell are you talking about?”

Magnus turns to Alec, his gaze accusing. “You don’t want immortality. You never have, Alexander, so why are you asking for it now?”

“Despite popular belief, Magnus,” Alec grits out, his tone acidic, “People’s minds do change.”

Magnus scoffs. “And what a lovely coincidence that it changed right after Izzy chose to turn.”

Alec blinks in disbelief. “Why does it matter, why are you picking a fight?!” he asks, voice rising, “Do you think I’m lying? Is this what this is?”

Magnus spins on his heels, angrily busying himself with reshelving the open tomes that lay on his desk. “Typical Nephilim,” he mutters, “No insight, whatsoever.”

“Hey, if you’re itching for an argument, at least have the decency to at least look at me,” Alec demands, “Or at least tell me what the fuck I did wrong by telling you I want to spend an eternity with you!”

“You get to pick, Alexander!” Magnus shouts.

“How can you fault me for having a choice?” Alec yells, “You don’t want me forever, is that it? You’ll move on the moment I hit the ground?”

Pain twists Magnus’ face as he whispers hollowly, “How can you even say that?”

Alec shakes his head, lost. His hands falter to his sides. “Then what is it?” he asks, his words coming out of him in twisted sobs, “Why won’t you want me for more years than I can give?”

Magnus falls silent. He shakes his head too as he leans onto the bookshelf. For a moment, he doesn’t know what to say. Alec’s gaze is pleading when Magnus finally meets it.

“Two years ago, we got married,” Magnus mutters, “Do you know what I dream of since then?”

Alec shakes his head despite knowing the question doesn’t need an answer.

“I dream of us in five hundred years,” Magnus says. He wraps his arms around himself.

“We’re in Budapest, watching a particularly beautiful sunrise,” he murmurs, “Or in Paris, recreating our honeymoon. Or in Indonesia, by the beach, with everyone ogling you. I get to glare them all away.”

Alec closes his eyes momentarily. He almost smiles.

Magnus sounds broken when he speaks again. “But then I remember what that means. It means you’ve watched your family die. Everybody that is precious to you, you’ve outlived. You’ve buried your mother, your father, your siblings, your future children. You’re now burdened with sorrow your shoulders weren’t built to carry.”

Alec steadily cuts away the distance between him and Magnus. Rivulets roll down Magnus’ cheek as he stubbornly wipes them away.

Magnus sniffs and then exhales. “I know you love me very much, Alexander, but you don’t love me blindly,” he says, head shaking, “And I don’t want you to. I’ve made peace with my impending solitude a long time ago.”

“Magnus,” Alec reaches for him, but Magnus shakes his head again, openly weeping now. Magnus holds his hands out before him; he keeps Alec at bay like it’s his final line of defense.

“I’ve accepted it,” Magnus says shakily, “So please don’t tell me you want to be with me forever as if you’ve thought about it for a split-second, not when this thought has plagued me for hundreds of years –” Magnus’ breath hitches, “I can’t have false hopes, Alexander, please –”

Alec pulls Magnus into his arms and there, the earth finally collapses under them both. Magnus sobs unapologetically within the tight cradle of Alec's arms as Alec wipes the tears from his own face. Growing wetness seeps through the shoulder of his shirt. He presses his mouth against the side Magnus’ head, murmuring his quiet apologies and declarations of love. They hold onto each other like hands clasped in prayer.

Alec ushers them both to bed. Alec takes off Magnus’ shoes and socks, and Magnus, exhausted beyond measure, curls into Alec and closes his tired eyes. They shelve whatever they have to say to each other for the morning.

Alec wakes up to the sensation of bare feet against his.

“Sorry,” Magnus whispers, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay,” Alec mumbles. He yawns, blinking himself to full consciousness. When he settles, he asks, “How are you feeling?”

“Dismal,” Magnus admits, “I'm sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Alec mutters, brow furrowed so early in the morning, “I didn’t think of it that way. I hurt you.”

“It’s okay,” Magnus says, fingers to Alec’s cheek, “I shouldn’t have yelled.”

Alec exhales as he threads his fingers against Magnus. “I hate that you think that me being with you is an afterthought.”

Magnus’ smile is pained when he imparts it. His fingers tighten against Alec’s. “Old habits die hard, I suppose.”

Alec shakes his head. “You will never be an afterthought,” he says, “You’re all I think about, Magnus. In my past, in this present, and in our future. You’re my stream of consciousness.”

“Sweet,” Magnus murmurs fondly.

Alec chuckles. “Unsurprisingly, I hope.”

Magnus presses into his husband, imparting a gentle kiss on his lips. Alec palms Magnus’ cheek softly.

When they falter apart, Alec says, “I still think some things are lightbulb moments.. But I promise to think about it.”

Magnus nods. “Okay.”

Alec’s thumb draws circles over Magnus’ knuckle.

“Okay.”

*****

Alec leans over the balcony of the New York Institute, fingers twined around his glass.

Below him is a meticulously kept courtyard with an aged oak standing proudly in its center. He sees Helen and Aline sitting in one of the stone benches, looking up at the tree’s encompassing foliage. Behind him, Magnus and Max are magically sweeping away the remnants of Alec’s fiftieth birthday party.

“Nightcap?” Izzy asks as she settles beside Alec.

Alec takes a gulp from his glass. “Just water,” he says with humor, “Some of us actually have to think about our livers.”

Izzy laughs. She spins on her heels, her back pressed against the stone railing. “I’m not gonna lie, I miss drinking actual alcohol.”

Alec cringes. “Is it the viscosity?”

“Yes,” Izzy gushes, “Plasma’s a party starter, but by the angel. It’s like chugging molasses.”

“God, I didn’t need to hear that,” Alec groans. He finishes off his glass of water.

Izzy smiles at Alec, peering into his eyes. She looks so young, Alec thinks. She still looks like the little sister he would sacrifice everything for.

“Did you have fun, Alec?” she asks, but he knows what she means. Are you happy?

“Yes. I thought it was going to be a lot harder,” Alec admits. Below them, Aline leans her head onto Helen’s shoulder. The gray of their hair shines under the moonlight.

“It’s because you’re brave, Alec,” Izzy says, “To choose this for yourself and for Magnus – it’s exceptionally brave.”

“I would argue it makes me a coward,” Alec answers matter-of-factly, straightening, “I’m not brave enough to watch everyone I love die.”

Izzy actually laughs. She shakes her head. “Alec, I chose immortality because I was scared.”

Alec watches as Izzy sighs, her head tipped back in thought. “I couldn’t bear the thought of growing old while Simon’s body stayed in stasis,” she mutters, “I think of the things I will miss, moments that I won’t get to experience with the person that I love – and it’s like I couldn’t breathe.”

She sighs. “We’re all differently but just as equally scared. And it really never goes away.”

Alec turns his glass within his palms. “Does Simon know this?” he asks.

Izzy nods. “Simon knows,” she says, “Mammoth things like immortality.. the only way to make it easier to bear is if you parse through it with brutal honesty.”

Izzy turns to Alec. With her fingers curled around his arms, she murmurs, “I know it brought you a lot of unspoken grief when I decided to turn, and not just because of the obvious reasons. It was supposed to be your thing, the immortality debacle.”

Alec shakes his head. “Look, Iz, I don’t get to monopolize problems –”

“No, Alec,” Izzy presses, her grip tightening, “You and Magnus were figuring it out. My hasty decision threw a wrench in the works, I know it. I’m so sorry.”

Alec’s mouth quirks at one corner. He squeezes Izzy’s hand affectionately. “Don’t be,” he says gently, “Magnus has five hundred years in his back pocket and I’m stubborn. Our experience with immortality was always going to be different.”

“You could’ve started early,” Izzy mourns, “You could’ve been younger.”

Alec looks down onto the courtyard again, smiling. “I don’t care about that anymore.”

Izzy has always had the special skill of knowing exactly what Alec means. She gazes at him, eyes soft.

“When did you know you wanted to turn for Simon?” Alec asks simply. Izzy’s gaze turns calculating, which he decides to dispel right away. “I’m just curious.”

Izzy presses her lips together in thought. “It just.. happened,” she says, “A lightbulb moment.”

Alec smiles.

“You don’t say.”

*****

“Be safe,” Magnus says, pressing kisses onto Max and Rafe’s cheeks, “Call frequently.”

Rafe pins Magnus against him in a brief embrace. “Will do.”

“Max, no more unnecessary magic,” Magnus warns, “If I get another call from the head of the Paris Institute –”

“Okay, okay, I promise,” Max sighs before blurting out, “Rafe went on an unsanctioned mission in Barcelona, by the way.”

Rafe scrambles to grab anything of Max, only to snatch a handful of air. “You little –”

Magnus’ jaw grows slack. “Raphael, you did what?”

“Go,” Alec urges with a laugh, snaking an arm around Magnus’ waist, “I got it.”

Max whips up a portal so fast Alec swears he feels a gust of wind sweep through the apartment. The gateway winks out of existence alongside their boys.

Magnus moans, fingers pressed against his temples. “Your children will be the death of me.”

“So they’re only mine when they mess up?” Alec smirks. He plants a kiss on Magnus’ cheek before pulling away. He pulls open a cabinet door and reaches for his pillbox before another bottle catches his attention.

Alec turns to Magnus, pill bottle in hand. “Did you plan birthday sex for me?” he bluntly asks, “Not that I’m demanding it, but if you are and you want my cock’s participation, I better take one of these now.”

Magnus chuckles. “Oh, I definitely planned birthday sex for you,” he drawls, “But you won’t be needing pharmaceutical help.”

Alec raises a brow. “You might want to adjust those expectations, Magnus. I just hit half a century, after all.”

Magnus’ cheeky grin is suddenly softened by hesitance, and for a moment, Alec worries. Alec places the bottle on the counter before taking a few tentative steps towards his husband.

“I’ve been working on this for the past year,” Magnus says, the pads of his fingers rubbing together just like it would in times of reluctance, “And last month, I finally figured out the right magic.”

Magnus fingers flutter in the air in an unsure gesture. “My gift is a memory,” he says, “One we can relive. It doesn’t meddle with time; it’s a projection of a recollection. Like a photograph pulled from my mind.”

Alec wonders why Magnus is so nervous about his gift; it sounds lovely.

“If you would have it,” Magnus hesitates, “You get to be young again for a night.”

Ah.

Alec gazes affectionately at Magnus as he stands before him, fiddling with his hands. It’s a fine line of a gift, Alec realizes, one that could clearly offend if given to the wrong person, in the wrong context. Alec could see how it could potentially hurt him.

But of course, it doesn’t. It’s Magnus, whose eyes see all of Alec and still chooses to gaze in earnest. He who knows every swollen knot in Alec’s body. The person who could hurt him most, but also love him best.

Alec dispels the distance between them. He reaches out, the pads of his fingers sinking into the well of Magnus’ palm.

With utmost affection, Alec says, “Show me.”

A relieved exhale leaves Magnus’ lips. With Alec’s hand in his, Magnus faces the empty expanse of their living room. He draws a circle in the air the same way he does when he creates portals, but instead of a golden swirl of magic, a tunnel of white light erupts before them. Magnus presses his fingers to his temples again, pulling another photograph from his mind. This one he throws into the brightness.

Magnus turns to Alec, his grip tightening. “Ready, darling?” he asks, but Alec knows he means are you sure?

“Lead the way,” Alec says, except he means with you, always.

They walk into the light.

*****

It’s glaringly bright, Alec thinks.

The light feels like mist to Alec’s touch, the coolness brushing over his skin. It wafts over his face as the brightness swells around him even more, making him squint. Magnus is nothing but a faint silhouette before him as he drowns in the light of the magic he has summoned.

And then, it starts at his fingertips.

The temperature suddenly shifts, comfortably warm like a thermostat perfectly tuned to Alec’s preference. The more steps Alec takes, the farther the warmth spreads; up to his arms, to his shoulder, until it kisses the line of his jaw. The brightness dulls too; his eyes regain the image of Magnus walking backward as he leads him out of the portal and into this small fragment of his mind. Alec tightens his grasp and finds hardened callouses on the spots where office work has softened them. Alec’s arthritic joints are quiet where they would usually creak.

Alec finally emerges, his feet sinking into carpeting that feels familiar against the soles of his bare feet. His toes curl into the wool fibers.

Alec looks up at Magnus, who looks the same, but somehow inexplicably young. Behind him, Magnus is backdropped by golden sheets. Alec couldn’t help but toy at the necklaces that hang from Magnus’ neck in layers.

“Hi,” Magnus whispers.

When Alec speaks, his voice is strong. He gently tugs Magnus closer by the chain of his jewelry. “Hi,” he whispers back, “How do I look?”

“Like you haven’t aged a day,” Magnus jokes.

Alec chuckles, as if to say, funny. He turns to where he knows Magnus’ mirror stands, unsurprised by the young man that meets him. Instead, he beholds the image with affection. As much as he misses this Alec, he doesn’t envy him. This Alec has yet to experience the kinds of happiness he doesn’t even know he gets to have.

“Forgot I had these,” Alec mutters, looking down at himself as he smooths a hand over his abdomen. He peeks into his shirt and then laughs. “Magnus, your favorite part of my body’s back for a one-night encore.”

Magnus laughs too. He pulls Alec by the buckle of his belt. “Then we best not keep the audience waiting.”

With the gentle press of Magnus’ lips on his, Alec’s laugh settles to a small smile. Alec tries to lift his shirt from his body, but Magnus gently knocks Alec’s hands away as if to say that’s for me to do. Alec’s chuckle huffs out of his nose; two can play this game. He peels off Magnus’ pesky jacket, unearthing a black, form-fitting sweater that Alec still thinks about to this day.

Just like before, Alec still fumbles horribly with his pants, and Magnus still tries to catch his lips as he does. Magnus still laughs, and Alec still swallows the laughter from Magnus’ mouth with a kiss that shifts the earth under their feet.

Magnus puts them both to bed, nearly gymnastic, the way he does it. That was graceful.

Alec pulls the shirt of Magnus’ back, refusing to break their kiss until absolutely necessary. Shadowhunter.

Magnus draws away momentarily as he casts his shirt onto the floor. He gently rakes through the thick smattering of hair across Alec’s chest, now black instead of gray. Magnus’ touch lingers, and so does Alec’s thoughts.

Alec’s chest rises to meet Magnus’ mouth as he plants a kiss at the valley of Alec’s chest. Magnus thumbs a nipple before taking it gently between his teeth.

“Magnus,” Alec sighs.

Alec’s body sinks into the mattress as Magnus lavishes over the puckered bud. Alec cups Magnus’ neck, holding him in place, and there Magnus gladly stays. This was once Alec’s favorite things in bed, something time changed in the most unusual ways. Once-dull nerve endings muted by age jolts back to life with every nip of Magnus’ teeth and swirl of his tongue. Alec savors every bolt of warm electricity that crackles down his spine as if it’s something he won’t get to have tomorrow.

Magnus presses a final kiss on Alec’s chest before making his way down Alec’s body. He palms Alec’s cock through his unzipped trousers; he noses the shaft, outlining its shape.

Alec whispers, “Suck me off, Magnus. Please.”

“Of course, love,” Magnus says, hands working to release Alec’s cock from his underwear, “Anything you want. Everything.”

Alec’s hardness stands tall and proud with ease, hefty against Magnus’ palm. Magnus kisses Alec once at the base before dragging his lips up the shaft. Alec plays with the short buzz of hair in Magnus’ neck, entranced by the texture, and his grip tightens when Magnus mouths along the crown and finally engulfs Alec whole.

Alec swears the ceiling flushes pink. “Fuck, Magnus..”

Magnus relishes in coaxing every helpless moan and hitched whimper out of Alec’s lips. Every flick of the tongue, gulp of the throat, hollowing of the cheeks - Magnus sucks Alec’s cock in the ways he likes the most, gleaned from years and years of learning Alec down to his very bones. All Alec could do is watch through pleasure-hazed eyes and thick lashes as Magnus tells him, in yet another way, how much he is thoroughly known.

How much he is thoroughly loved.

Alec caresses Magnus’ cheek, thumb pressing onto the corner of Magnus’ stretched mouth. “You’re everything to me,” Alec whispers, rolling his hips gently as if to seek permission. Magnus thrums around Alec as he moans his enthusiastic yes.

Alec fucks into Magnus’ mouth ardently, his young body arching off the bed and into the warm tightness that is provided to him. This ageless body he wears feels old but new at the same time; it feels every undulation of Magnus’ tongue against his shaft, responds vigorously to Magnus’ every touch. Alec feels so absolutely himself but, at the same time, inexplicably not. Magnus reaches back and sinks lube-slicked fingers into his own ass, and seeing Magnus spread himself open before him with unfettered pleasure surprisingly moves Alec’s heart.

With a final roll of the hip, Alec gasps, planting both his palms against Magnus’ jaw. He quietly urges Magnus off him before he fully topples off the edge. Magnus crawls the length of Alec’s body, only stopping when Alec is within kissing distance again. With the press of Magnus’ tongue against his, Alec suddenly finds a profound ache blooming in his chest, beautiful but wistful. Dazed.

“Do you prefer me like this?” Alec murmurs, “Young?”

He asks the question with no malice. Nothing but a simple curiosity, and after twenty years of marriage, Magnus doesn’t misconstrue.

Magnus kisses the corner of Alec’s mouth. Straddling Alec’s hips, he answers, “I simply prefer you.”

Alec chuckles. “Sweet.”

The lopsided smile that grows on Alec’s mouth is short-lived as it is soon replaced by another shuddering exhale. Magnus palms Alec’s cock, thumbing the slit.

“You forget how utterly enraptured I am of you, Alexander,” Magnus whispers, “Did you think that enchantment would simply go away with time?”

Alec’s breath hitches on his throat as he feels his cockhead kiss Magnus’ puckered ring. “Yes,” he admits.

Magnus caresses Alec’s cheek. “Oh, darling,” he says, his smile forlorn, “You’ve never been more wrong.” With that, he sinks down onto Alec’s cock.

“Gods,” Alec hisses as Magnus shudders a breathy moan as he inches himself down Alec’s length. Alec palms Magnus’ ass, kneading the firm muscle underneath.

“Darling, you feel divine,” Magnus gasps. He bottoms out, ass cheeks nestled into the nest of Alec’s pubic hair.

Alec scrambles for Magnus’ face, kissing him deeply. Magnus holds onto Alec’s wrists as he rocks forward, his hips curling commas in the air as he sets a steady pace for them both. Magnus fucks himself onto Alec’s cock with vigor that mirrors the adamancy of his words, every high whine and deep-seated groan presenting Alec with the eloquence Magnus, at the moment, does not have.

“God you feel so good,” Alec groans, fucking up into Magnus who rides him with equal urgency.

“Just like that, darling,” Magnus whimpers, eyes screwed shut as he presses their foreheads together, “Oh, angel, how I love you.. do you know that?”

I do, Alec thinks through the haze of his pleasure.

“Alexander,” Magnus whispers desperately, “I was so unbearably lonely.”

Alec’s gaze blurs.

Magnus cradles Alec’s head, fingers curled tightly into his hair. “And I am unfathomably changed because of you.”

Alec breathlessly sits up, culling Magnus tightly within his arms as he ruts deeper and deeper. Their once steady rhythm becomes more volatile, their orgasms mercurial within their cores as it spits and bubbles like a mixture about to explode. The bed squeaks and groans under them.

Magnus’s body tightens against Alec’s as he throatily begs, “Oh, darling, don’t stop –”

Alec buries his face against the crook of Magnus’ neck, and if he embraces Magnus any tighter he might disappear within his grasp.

“Right there, right there, please – ”

They come together, Magnus untouched and gasping, Alec in a dizzying, blinding mixture of white-hot pleasure and unbridled happiness. His orgasm flushes through every winding vein, his muscles clenching and unclenching in an attempt to wring every droplet of pleasure out of his body. Magnus shudders around him in boneless satiation, thighs shaking around Alec’s hips. They breathe for what it feels like a long time. When Alec finally blinks up from Magnus’ neck, he is teary-eyed and breathless.

“I love you, Alexander,” Magnus whispers, breathless with affection, and he says it again just because. “I love you.”

Alec thumbs Magnus’ cheek.

“I love you too, Magnus,” he musters through the ache of his throat, “More than you could ever know.”

Magnus presses their foreheads together. “I know, darling,” he murmurs, “Don’t worry. I know.”

Alec doesn’t say anything as he buries Magnus into the mattress, fisting Magnus’ half-hard cock in his hand. Alec presses a sinking kiss into Magnus’ mouth, one that is telling of the things left unsaid.

They don’t leave the memory until the morning.

*****

When Alec wakes up, Magnus is gazing at him, fingers combing through his scalp.

Alec shifts in bed, and when he does, his bones ache. His hand joins Magnus’ and finds grainy and fragile hair between the pads of his fingers. His skin wrinkles, and his body sags. The lines of his eyes are the most pronounced it’s ever been.

Despite all of it, Magnus still looks at him. Magnus, whose eyes see all of Alec and still chooses to gaze in earnest.

“There you are,” Magnus murmurs, full of affection.

Alec’s mouth quirks into a smile. He blinks the sleep from his eyes and holds Magnus’ wandering hand within his. Alec’s thumb draws circles over Magnus’ knuckle.

“There you are.”

*****

Epilogue

“Do you need the machine?”

Magnus reaches into his coat pocket and magics some bills between his fingers. “No, thank you,” he answers in his well-practiced French, “Keep the change.”

The café owner, usually a touch ornery, takes the bill from the counter with a thoroughly impressed expression on his face. “Much appreciated. ”

“Can I sit here for a moment? ” Magnus asks, motioning to the empty patio chairs.

The man waves a dismissive hand in the air. “With the tip you gave me, you can do whatever you want.”

It makes Magnus laugh. He places his paper bag of fresh croissants and a cup of to-go cappuccino onto the table before gracefully depositing himself onto an empty chair. The nearby chapel rings its early morning call for its parishioners, and Magnus watches people ascend the steps to its gigantic, arched doors.

Early morning Paris is quiet, and early morning Paris in a café tucked away from its busier streets is quieter. After his three-hundredth-fifty-sixth visit to the French capital, Magnus has chosen to forgo his home away from home; usually, a penthouse overlooking an essential Parisian monument. This time, he ventures deeper into a small residential area a handful of metro stops away from the city center. When he looks out of his balcony, he sees his temporary neighbors: a chain-smoking woman in her forties and a college student whose head is consistently buried into a three-inch-thick textbook. He hasn’t waved at them in greeting; he knows better than to engage.

It’s been five hundred years.

Magnus is still quietly floored as to how little has changed in the world. New York still has the best pizza, Paris is still somewhat pretentious. Magnus still wears a goatee, and he still loves his martinis dearly.

Magnus doesn’t deign try to recount the many ways his life has arched in highs and lows, coiling within itself in the five centuries that had passed. He is no longer the High Warlock of anything; only surfacing when his help is direly needed. His brownstone in Brooklyn and home in Alicante is resided by strangers now. He has diminished his treasured things into a small ornate box, and the rest of his possessions are tucked away in a pocket of the twelfth dimension.

He has welcomed people in his arms just as much as he has buried his friends and family into the ground. He eats croissants and drinks coffee. He remembers the people he loved – still loves.

He breathes in and out, the air heavy in his lungs as he does. The sun filters through the shelled border of Le Pavillon’s awning and onto the back of his hand, warm and temperate.

Sometimes, Magnus wonders for how long he could do this.

A touch alights onto his shoulder, squeezing gently.

Magnus, just as he has for the past five hundred years, despite the tragic losses and unfathomable despair, smiles. He threads his fingers through arthritic hands of which he knows every painful swell. He looks back and sees eyes that see all, but still gazes in earnest.

“There you are,” Alec says.

And Magnus, just as he has for the past five hundred years, answers.

“There you are.”

#arialerendeair #malecsanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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crystalirises · 3 years

Text

The Final Answer (36 Question AU 4/13)

Fourth part.

IT’S YOU, DREAM

Thick dark smoke curled around the small room, gray ash twirling in the air as a bit of soot landed on the top of Fundy’s sensitive nose. He let out a soft sneeze, snapping out of the momentary euphoria that he had felt just a few seconds ago. He began to cough, waving a hand around his face as he backed away from the burning bucket. He could hear muffled wheezing beside him, a harrowing and horrible reminder that his estranged husband was still in the same house as him and that they just burnt their wedding rings, in a rusty old bucket.

Fundy held back the urge to slam his head on the wall, regret at falling into an old habit racing through his veins. He couldn’t believe he’d just done that. He couldn’t believe Dream had made him do it. He gripped the sides of his head, pulling at his ginger strands. His hair would smell of smoke for days, and he hated the smell of smoke, hated the way that it would cling to everything.

Smoke reminded him of an era of mistakes and misery. Dream had forced his hand. He knew. Of course he knew. Dream may be an idiot at times but he wasn’t stupid.

“Wow. That thing’s really roaring.” Fundy winced, gaze snapping towards the black that stained his fingertips. His hair now smelled of smoke and had ash residue on it. GREAT. Dream had adjusted his mask, a hand over his mouth as they both stared at what they had done. Guilt gnawed within his chest. Dream said they needed to move on, but as he glanced at the remains of their rings, he wasn’t sure if they made the right choice.

“Not a single trace left, but that’s what fire does, right? We couldn’t have thrown them in a lake or buried them. You just had to choose this particular form of goodbye. You know, how I get around fire, Dream.” Fundy sniffed, a hollow ache in his chest.

“I… I didn’t really think about that. I’m sorry.” Fundy held back a scoff. Dream didn’t think? Wow, that was a first, and it was probably a lie! Fundy looked at the bucket, watching as the flames began to die down. He felt a pang of hunger at the sight, a damning need to rekindle the fire once more. He had tossed the flint and steel into the bucket, their remains mixing in with the rings’. It seemed almost poetic.

“Yeah, I… that’s what happens when you decide to toss both the flint and the steel! Is that smoke gonna be a problem?” Dream glanced down at the bucket, wincing as smoke continued to trail up from it.

“No. None of the fire alarms work.” He meant to fix them yesterday, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so, terrified that his interference would feed the growing list of problems he already had. He walked to the window, gripping the metal handle in his hands as he pushed. The tell-tale sound of glass cracking and scattering to the ground made him groan. Great. Dream made a move towards him, but he held up a hand.

“No. No. All of the shards fell outside… Which I’ll have to clean up tomorrow…” This was fine.

“Okay.” He watched as Dream nodded his head, the man’s hands clutching the edges of his lime-green sweater, as if he didn’t know what to do with them. Fundy tore his gaze away, the awful and putrid smell of the room sneaking back into his senses. He needed to get rid of the smell, at least before Niki and Ranboo came back. He didn’t want to see their disappointed faces the moment they stepped in and smelt the strong scent of smoke, and he certainly didn’t want to explain why the house smelt as if it was on fire.

“Can you bring me the bucket?” Enough time had passed, right? The bucket was safe to touch, wasn’t it? He waited for the scream, the yelp of pain, but it didn’t come. The bucket came into view, scarred hands holding it up to him as if in offering. He gripped the metal edges, flinching as he felt the scorching heat spread down his fingertips. He backs off, ignoring the ache on his palms as he looked up into Dream’s mask.

“How―? You know what? I don’t care. Just… Can you toss the bucket out of the window, please?” Fundy didn’t have time to wonder how the hell Dream was holding the bucket with his bare hands.

“Sure thing.” He watched as Dream turned to the window, the bucket in his hands as he looked out into the dark sky above. The rain had lulled to a slow drizzle, though Fundy knew the sand was still wet. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about cleaning the ashes of his old life in the morning. If he was lucky, they’ll mix into the sand and be lost to time forever. He took a cautious step towards Dream, noticing his hesitation as he refused to throw the bucket out. Was he trembling?

“Are we scattering our old life into the wind?” Dream quirked a brow, glancing down at Fundy with amusement in his eyes. Not that Fundy could see it.

“It would be great not to have this place reek of smoke when Niki and Ranboo come back.” Fundy’s eyes narrowed into slits as Dream flinched at Ranboo’s name. Suspicious. Dream let out a quiet sigh, grasping the bucket tightly until his knuckles turned white. Then the bucket was gone, clanging against the ground as it was tossed out into the night. Fundy closed his eyes, collapsing to the floor as exhaustion seeped into his aching bones. They’d done it. But did it help? ‘Cause it didn’t feel like anything’s changed.

“Thanks…” Fundy looked away, hugging his knees to his chest.

He felt a presence sit down beside him, the edges of their fingertips touching one another’s. Fundy wished he could lean his head on someone’s shoulders. He needed some semblance of comfort right now. Unfortunately, the only person within a mile radius just so happened to be the man who was his ex-husband. Fundy let out a low growl. He wished it were somebody else. Fuck, he’d rather have Schlatt haunt him for the rest of his life if it meant he’d never have to see Dream again.

“How do you feel?” Dream didn’t miss the frown on Fundy’s face, the stiffness in the fox hybrid’s shoulders.

“Sad…” Fundy busied himself with his inventory, arranging and rearranging the few items he had. He could feel Dream’s heated gaze on the back of his head, an unrelenting force that pleaded with him to look back. Fundy kept his attention on his inventory. It was a mess. He was a mess.

“…and stupid.” Fundy let out an empty chuckle, shaking his head at his own admission.

“Me too.” He nodded along, though he doubted that. Dream never felt stupid. At least, he never admitted to being stupid. Even though he was. A nagging and chilling feeling tugged across his chest. A finality that left him breathless as he realized one crucial detail about this whole encounter.

“Particularly, because I just realized that you won’t be leaving this place anytime soon, right?” He began to tug at his ears, not missing the way Dream tried to reach out to grab his wrist. He was beginning to get irritated and if something didn’t change soon, he was going to start biting his own tail.

“Fuck.” Fundy groaned, running a hand through his unkempt hair.

“What do you mean?” Fundy stopped, choosing to run a hand through his disheveled and dirt-caked hair instead. He looked down at his nearly empty inventory, taking note of the yellow flowers he had taken from the small garden Niki had set up. On any other day, he would be eating his dinner at this particular time. New L’Manburg and the Essempy could destroy themselves for all he cared… but he should’ve known that Dream would drag him back. He could never truly run away from his problems, could he?

“You came over here with a purpose, right? You want me back, right? If there’s anything that I truly know about you, Dream, is that you’re persistent. You won’t be leaving until I go back with you, or forgive you, or…” Fundy trailed off, barely registering the fact that he had stood up from where he was sitting and was currently placing the bundle of yellow flowers on the table. His heart was hammering painfully in his chest, losing the words he had wanted to say. What did he want to say?

“Hey… Batry, eat some flowers.” Fundy waved at the bat on the ceiling, smiling despite himself.

“I… I could leave.” The words hung over the air, the room turning colder as Fundy finally forced himself to turn around. He sucked in a breath as dazzling forest green eyes peered up at him with fondness. When was the last time Dream had taken off his mask in front of him?

There were dark rings under the man’s eyes, his usual grin or smirk was gone, replaced by a frown that Fundy rarely ever saw. For once, Dream tore his gaze away, fixing it to the side as if that one particular piece of dirt was very intriguing to look at.

“Really?” He wasn’t hearing things, right? Dream said that, right? Fundy shook away his nervous thoughts. He needed to be sure. Was this some trick? Some new… reverse psychology gimmick the man made up?

“Yeah. If you want me to. Do you… want me to leave?”

“You’re… You’re actually serious?” He couldn’t believe it. He felt bamboozled, scammed even. It was that easy? Fundy blinked, wondering if he had accidentally knocked his head on something while getting up.

“Yes. Fundy, I wouldn’t―” The fur on his tail bristled as Dream paused, both of them knowing that ending that sentence was not a good idea. Fundy kept his breath steady. He could do this. He could tell him to leave, and they’d never see each other again. It was that simple. He opened his mouth. Then he closed it. WHY COULDN’T HE SAY IT? DAMMIT. He wrapped his arms around his chest, he needed time to think this through, but they didn’t have that time.

“I don’t know, Dream… I need to think.” He felt himself collapse onto the couch, his head a whirlwind of thoughts. It should be easy. All he needed to say was, ‘okay, get out and never come back into my life because if you do, I won’t hesitate to burn you alive.’ Simple, right? He groaned, placing his hands on his face. He didn’t have the time to think. After a few seconds, he came to a decision. He sat up, finding that Dream didn’t move a single inch. Probably didn’t even look at him as he threw his little fit.

“Dream…”

“Yes? Do you want me to leave, Fundy?” Dream stood, his knees shaking despite the blank look in his eyes. Fundy couldn’t tell if he was nervous or if he was tired from sitting. He heard the thump of footsteps approach him, saw the shadow that blanketed his form. Dream was staring down at him, his porcelain mask in his hands as they both waited for Fundy’s response. Fundy stood up, heading towards the door of the living room. He had his answer. He just had to say it.

“Or do you want to meet the real Dream?”

“I think it would be best if I accompanied you out of Drywaters territory.” Fundy opened the door, a draft of wind caressing his cheek as he stepped into the hallway. He waited for Dream who was putting his mask back on. Maybe he didn’t want Fundy to see his face. Good. Fundy didn’t want to see his face.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He tries not to hear the quiver in Dream’s voice as the man walked past him, pretending he didn’t see the way his shoulders were shaking. Fundy looked up towards his pet bat, Batry seemingly energized from the drama they had just bore witness to. They were living their best life. Good for them.

“Okay, Batry we’re stepping out, just for a second. Try not to tear the place apart.” Because Fundy might just lose it if he came back to scratches on the walls. He followed after Dream who was waiting at the front door, then a crack of thunder shook the house, causing them to jump.

“Woah, did you hear that?”

“Yeah.” Dream let out an empty chuckle as Fundy opened the door, the night wind hitting them full force as they went out of the house. It was dark, the lanterns Fundy had placed around the perimeter were out, the rain having damaged them.

Great, another thing to add to his list of tasks. Fundy scowled, pushing forward even as the sand threatened to give way beneath him. Dream trailed after him slowly, as if he wanted to savor the moment. Well, Fundy wanted to go to bed. They both couldn’t have what they wanted.

“I can’t believe you came here. I can’t believe I have to do this.” Fundy never thought he’d ever be forced to escort Dream out of any place. Not Pogtopia. Not New L’Manburg. Not even Drywaters. Dream was never meant to find this place. He shouldn’t have ever found him, and how Dream even found him was a whole issue in and of itself. Fundy wished he could turn around and just… just… No. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt his Dream. He could never do that.

“I should have never entertained this. I knew that.”

“Why do you know that?” Fundy wished that Dream didn’t make it feel so easy, though. With every second that passed, he was beginning to lose the last threads of his patience. Fundy nearly tripped on a rock at the question, grumbling beneath his breath as they reached the border of Drywaters.

This was where they parted. Dream should be off on his merry way now, but he didn’t make a move to leave. The palpable silence made it harder to think rationally. Dream wanted an answer. Fine! He’ll give him a damn answer!

“Because it’s pointless.” Fundy kicked at the air, willing that the sand on his boots would fall off. He watched as the clump of wet sand landed on top of Dream’s boots. That made him feel a bit better.

“Okay, it’s pointless. How is it pointless?”

“It’s pointless because…” Because you’ve hurt me too many times. Because we can’t fix this. Because you said you didn’t care about me at all.

“Okay, I’m going to ask you a question. Is Dream your actual name?”

“Yes.” He nearly screams at the amused tone in Dream’s voice. Granted it was a ridiculous question… but could Dream blame him for being a bit cautious? Who knows what else Dream had lied about? Maybe those rumors that his real name was ‘Dre’ were true! Fundy shook his head, he needed answers. He needed so many answers and he wanted to ask so many questions. Could he leave it at this? Could he really let this man walk away without trying to understand? Fundy didn’t know. He really didn’t know.

“Did you marry me for some political reason?”

“No. Fundy―”

“Hmmmmmm… If I let you stay… I’m gonna see proof that you are who you say you are, and then what?”

“Then we get to know each other again.” Getting to fall in love all over again was left unsaid. Fundy picked at the edges of his sleeves. Could he bring himself to do it? He regretted that Dream had placed his mask back on, regretted that he said he didn’t want to see the man’s face. ‘Cause right now he just wanted to see Dream’s eyes. Was he hurt? Was he lying through his teeth? UGHHHHHHHHH. This was so difficult.

“So… can we do the 36 questions? Do you want to do the 36 questions? We could answer them, Fundy.”

“Like a couple of strangers?! Hit reset?! Act like you didn’t lie to me this whole time?!”

“We don’t need to act like anything if you do the 36 questions with me, you’ll meet the real Dream―”

“I don’t have 36 questions, Dream! I have one important question. Why did you do it? Why?!”

“And that one question has a thousand answers. You’re… you’re asking me why I fell in love with you?” Fundy stepped back… was Dream crying? He could hear him sobbing.

“I loved our old life, Fundy. That was me. That was the real me. Nice to meet you… Now… would you like to do the 36 questions with me?”

“That was you. That was all you?” Fundy kept his own tears unshed, they both didn’t need to cry right now. Guilt clawed at his heart. Was he being too harsh? Was he wrong? Fundy placed a hand on Dream’s shoulder. His hand felt as if it was burning.

“You… you loved me? You actually loved me?”

“Yes. I still do, Fundy.” He felt Dream’s hand on top of his, a gesture that almost made him melt. He almost gave in right then and there, but he remembered what Dream had taken away from him. This was the man who ruined his country and led his father to his death. This was the tyrant who took one of his lives!

He pulled away just as quickly as he approached.

“You’re confusing me. Can I really trust you? Should I trust you? Are you actually telling me the truth right now or am I just that gullible enough to believe you?”

“Okay, okay, okay. Wait. Wait. Let’s stay on task here, sta― Fundy.”

“What… What do you mean?”

“Fundy Wastaken-Soot. Answer me honestly.” Oh, he didn’t like the sound of that. Fundy waited for the ball to drop. He felt nauseous. He wished the sand would swallow him whole. But… maybe the question wouldn’t be that bad. It certainly wasn’t going to ruin his already wrecked life. He felt the seconds tick by, almost as if Dream himself was hesitating to speak. Fundy wished he’d just leave… but did he really want that?

“Right now, given the choice of anyone in the world, who would you want as a dinner guest?”

Oh. OH. He did not. Fundy kept his hands on the ends of his sleeves, lest he do something he’ll deeply regret.

“You’re trying to trick me.” Fundy let out a growl, his entire body tensing up as he realized what Dream just tried to do. He wanted one decent conversation. But no. Absolutely not, because fuck him.

“You tried to trick me. Wow. I shouldn’t be surprised. This isn’t exactly the first time you’ve done that.”

“I just asked you a question.”

“No. You asked me the question. The first question of 36! It doesn’t matter I’m not answering it―”

“Why not?”

Fundy looked up into his ex-husband’s masked face. He was joking. He was actually joking. Why? WHY?! Fundy nearly screamed, rubbing his hands on his face. He wanted to resolve this. He really did. But Dream was making it really hard for him to keep his calm.

“Wha― You know perfectly well why I don’t want to answer your question!”

“Because you don’t want me to tell the truth? Because you don’t want to find out the real me?” Dream moved closer, though his hands stayed tucked into his sweater pockets. Fundy edged away, realizing how close they had gotten to one another. He dug the heels of his feet into the sand, willing for some divine intervention to take him right then and there… which was ridiculous since… He kept his gaze on Dream.

“Because you don’t want us to solve this? However it ends, I at least want us to try and work this out!”

“I…” Fundy sucked in a shaky breath. He began to walk away. He didn’t get that far before he felt a hand lightly grasp his wrist. He looked back, watching as Dream’s free hand reached up to pull his mask off his face. He sees the tear tracks that stained the man’s cheeks, mixing in with those beautiful freckles that Fundy adored so much. Dream’s eyes were nearly shut tight, those green eyes held so much pain in them. They were both suffering. They really were.

“I… Dream… I’m not really sure… I don’t think I can…”

“Anyone in the world. Your house. Dinner.” Fundy wished he could disappear… because he already knew his answer to the question. But could he say it?

“Get to know each other. Spill it all. Who would it be?”

“I don’t have to answer this.” He scratched at his shirt, hearing the rip of cloth as he tore through his sleeve. Dream winced, reaching out a hand before retracting it… at least he tried. Fundy took another long exhale. He could do this. Just… 36 questions. He only had to answer 36 Questions. 36 Questions. Simple. No. No. No. He couldn’t do this. He shouldn’t do this.

“I really don’t have to answer this…”

“You’re already telling me.” He flinched. His answer was still the same as the one he had said on their first date. Oh, if he could build a time machine to tell his younger self of the misery his future held. He could avoid this. Maybe he would have run away sooner.

“Who do you want over for dinner, Funds?”

“Technoblade.”

“Wrong. Who would it be, Fundy? Anyone in the world.” He felt Dream’s grip fall and he walked off. Oh, he really had to do this, didn’t he? He let out a chuckle, one that quickly evolved into manic laughter. One answer, but it meant something. It always meant something. He gripped his knees, letting the tears fall from his eyes. Fine. FINE! He’ll answer the fucking questions. His laughter turned into a guttural and anguished scream, echoing throughout the desolate badlands as he violently fell to his knees.

“Fundy―!”

“I would have dinner with you, Dream. Okay?” He buried his face into his hands, scrambling away from those clingy hands that tried to reach down for him. Dream wanted his answer? Then he could have it. Fundy screamed out the words, his throat aching from the sudden outburst. He couldn’t remember the last time he screamed or shouted at someone.

“If I could have anyone over, it would be you, Dream…”

Fundy trembled, “…as much as it pains me to say. I wish it were somebody else.” He’d even take Technoblade.

“But given the choice of anyone in the world, the only person I'd want over for dinner is you.” Fundy bit his bottom lip, chest aching as his fingers began to tremble.

He sighed. His younger self had been so excited when Dream said yes. He hated dinners now… Dream ruined them for him.

“Yes, I'd have dinner with you, Dream. So, I could ask questions, or maybe one question.” Those damning questions that had circled his mind. They had haunted him even as he founded Drywaters,

“Who are you? And why were you living a lie?”

“It would probably end in a fight.” Dream wished it didn’t have to end like that. Not them. Not in that way.

“But once I knew the truth, the real truth, maybe I could stay strong…” Fundy knew it would end in a fight, or at least it would end with explosions. That’s how conflicts in this world ended. Their old life and relationship wouldn’t be the exception. Fundy just hoped that it’s not his country that gets destroyed. He could afford to lose a life…

“And politely send you, Dream, out into the night. That'd be nice.”

He felt the hunger in his stomach. He really was hungry.

“Yes, I would break bread with my husband who lied to my face.” He also wanted answers and maybe he could get both. Maybe. The world has never been kind to his needs before.

“Because in my head I've been wondering, how he kept up the pace?” Had Fundy been so blinded that he allowed himself to love a man who could never do the same for him?

He gripped at his chest, at his bruised and broken heart. He danced to the tune of a madman for so long… He believed Dream for so long. He could never get those years back.

“To live in a lie for so long, to string his husband along.” He looked up, the world a kaleidoscope of color as his tears ruined his vision. Still, he managed to find those familiar green eyes.

“How in the hell could he think that was okay?” Fundy laughed, a bitter and horrible laugh that tore at Dream’s heartstrings.

He curled closer into himself, wiping his nose at his newly torn sleeve. The drizzle of rain had begun to seep into clothes, drenching him with their melancholic sorrow,

“I'd choose dinner with you, Dream. Over Xisuma and over Awesamdude.” Dream nearly fell over, his eyes widening as the mention of those names. Fundy had heard of these people. They were legends in their own respective fields… but he’d choose Dream over them any day.

“And even my own parents… Sally… Wilbur…” He’d choose Dream over anyone.

“I would die to dine with all four, but if I'm being real, and I want to be real.” Being real was all he had, and it was something Dream would never understand. Fundy knew what he was, and he owned it. He lived up to others’ expectations.

“In a world full of people, the only person I'd want over for dinner is you.”

He wanted to please everyone… he tried to be happy. He wanted to be happy for once.

“Yes, in a world full of people who all haven't hurt me…” He watched his home get destroyed over and over. He watched his grandfather kill his father in front of him. He watched the only family he’s ever known tear itself from the inside.

“…the way that you hurt me the only person I'd want over for dinner is you.” He was pathetic.

“That's the truth.” He wished it wasn’t.

“That's the truth.” He didn’t want it to be.

He felt Dream’s arms wrap around him. He leaned into the touch. He was so pathetic.

“That's the truth…”

------------------------

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#fundywastaken #fundy #dream mcyt #mcyt

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youarejesting · 4 years

Text

BTS Seoul mates: Flower Couple.4

[MASTERLIST]

Pairing: Jin x Reader

Summary: Jin has always had the words written on his wrist and when the fans found out they all took turns claiming to be his one and only. However, after a tiring fanmeet and greet Jin finds His Destiny. His Seoul mate.

Announcement:

I am sorry I have failed you.

I was planning on writing a fair amount tonight but I actually think I have a cold my throat has seriously started to burn, I might take some medicine and sleep it off if I can otherwise I might make it worse I am so sorry.

Jin looked beautiful as ever. However, he felt like a wreck. They had performed on stage at the Melon Music Awards. It was an elaborate work of art that had taken weeks to prepare training gruelling hours to perform perfectly and it all paid off. Except for the minor setback to Namjoon’s package, but he was hearing about it now.

“I swear I was going to die, I was changing a new timing belt, and you decided it was a good time to hit yourself in the balls, I have never received a hit to the vagina before. Hell, I was crying on the repair and service floor. How are your balls?”

Jhope and Jungkook broke out in laughter. They had never heard anyone outright ask such a personal and hilarious question. They knew he would never be able to live it down.

Namjoon blushed quietly trying to answer, “they are fine, we have to go, so I will call you when we get back to the hotel”

Jimin turned to Jin and grabbed his shoulder, looking seriously concerned. “Jin, How are your balls”

“What’s wrong with your balls?” You said walking into the dressing room with the other soulmates who stopped looking serious. The room fell silent at your words for a mere second before the boys erupted in laughter, Namjoon’s face turned bright red.

Jimin laughed with his whole body and slipped off the arm of the couch, falling onto his plump backside. Aster rushed to his side lifting him bending him over the arm “Jiminie your poor Jibooty” Giggling and practically laying over him Aster rubbed Jimin’s butt making sure he didn’t break his tail bone. Well, that’s what Jin thought she was doing until she gasped looking Jin dead in the eyes. “Oh no Jimin your butt, it’s cracked in two”

The band members and their soulmates were hysterically falling over one another at the jokes and they took two large Starex vans back to Hannam The Hill. They passed through the security and parked in the lock-up garage. Namjoon Groaned getting out of the van still a little tender. They all headed up to their adjacent apartments in the elevator. The group separated and Jin went to his room and showered, scrubbing the sweat and fine dust from his skin.

He didn’t want to leave the shower, his muscles in his hips and shoulder alluding to his hard work on stage. After finally leaving the shower, he dried his hair and felt a warm feeling on his rest. The link between you and Jin was still strong. When Jin or yourself touched the words on your wrists, the other was always able to feel it. It was a warm tingle like a secure hand wrapping around your wrist.

He placed his lips to the mark and walked out to his room. There you sat on his bed fresh from a shower and your hair dry, you were wearing an oversized RJ shirt and underwear with RJ on the back, but you knew he didn’t know this because you were tucked under the blankets.

“I am so tired, my beautiful blossom” He sighed pulling back the blankets, he saw a small splash of colour on your shirt and moved the blanket back entirely. “Ah, my son”

“Yeah, I ordered some stuff I thought you might like”

“I love it,” he said staring at the ceiling, “I would kiss you but I am exhausted my sweetpea”

“It’s okay, I understand, you get some beauty sleep, but not too much I can only fight off so many girls”

“come here, my flower and lay in my arms”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, but can roll me to face you and move my arms around you”

“You're so tired” cooing as you turned him onto his side and lifted his arm and wrapped it around your waist pressing your lips to his sharing a sweet and slow kiss.

He whispered against your lips, “I keep falling in love with you over and over again”

You gently massaged his shoulders and chest trying to relieve the muscles he had exerted on stage. All while sharing sweet kisses that tasted like the strawberry champagne they had all been drinking at the MMA’s.

Waking early, all the Soulmates had decided to make the boys some pancakes as their own celebratory gift. They had snuck out of their rooms and Beau was laughing silently holding her side. She tried to explain between fits of silent laughter and wheezing that she had to tie Jungkook to the bed so he would follow and they all giggled getting to work.

Each taking care to make their own personal pancakes, Beau and Iris made extra for Namjoon and Hoseok who were texted to stay in bed when they work. Delivering the trays to Namjoon and Hoseok first, they congratulated them and move on to their rooms to spoil their men. Stepping inside you smiled at Jin who was laying in bed awake.

“Can you take the tray honey,” Watching him eating happily was a blessing, you turned and slipped off the pants so you could be comfortable in shirt and underwear once more. Jin coughed a piece of pancake from his trachea.

“You have RJ on your panties” he shouted laughing loudly, and you heard laughing from the next room.

“Babe, can you wear, Chimmy underwear?” Jimin’s voice was muffled through the wall and Aster couldn’t stop laughing. “I won’t accept anything less than Chimmy underwear”

“What about if Aster wore no underwear Jimin?” Melody called from across the hall. Jin looked at you. His mouth fell open. You both covered your mouths laughing at the trouble you had started.

“I believe you would prefer my love when you aren’t wearing any underwear, my beautiful melody,” Yoongi’s voice could just be heard followed by a squeal.

“Yoongi you just got golden syrup on my elbow”

“Let me get that for you”

“Can you guys get a room?” Jhope groaned, “Why are all of you in our apartment, anyway”

“Because Jungkook is in the other apartment and well, we can’t deal with the commotion”

It was late in the morning when the two of you emerged from the bed the boys had free time on their schedule until just after Jin’s birthday. Where they were heading to Japan for the magic shop Fanmeet. And for the first time ever you would go on stage and introduce yourselves to the fans and be included in some activities.

You were a little nervous; you had learnt Korean when you realized the first words your soulmate said to you were in Korean. But you didn’t know Japanese. All the girls seemed nervous about this, except Aster who had actually learnt Japanese before Korean and would often mix her languages together.

Iris was still learning Korean and was slowly getting closer with the other soulmates and band members. Beau being smart like Namjoon was picking up the concepts of speech quite easily. Jin couldn’t wait to show the army their soul mates.

He walked into the room to hear you practising your speech. “Hello Army, My name is y/n. I am so happy to be here in Japan and I have had so many wonderful and unique experiences since arriving,” The smile that formed on Jin’s face was pure. He really loved you.

If you want to join the tags just send an ask:@latina-nerd

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diningpageantry · 5 years

Text

Guess I’m Clueless

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18320510

Word Count: 1906

Summary: Baz wakes up in the most horrendously terrifying world imaginable--one where he's somehow straight. Or, at least, that's what Penny and Simon try to convince him.

Note: happy april fools everyone!!! thank you to everyone who did my survey, and i hope you enjoy this silly lil fic!

“Good morning, sweet pea.”

My first thought as I wake up is “Why is it so cold in here?”, followed by “Wait, is that Bunce's voice?”, with a close third of “Why the ever living fuck is Bunce calling me sweet pea?!” This, of course, lasts the course of a few seconds before my eyes flick open to see none other than Penelope Bunce lounging in bed beside me. She's in full pajamas, and so am I, but I don't recall a slumber party.

“Where's Snow?” I demand, borderline pouting.

“Why would Simon be in our bed, silly?”

Automatically, I snort in her face. “Okay. Really funny, truly is. I'm in hysterics. Now, tell me where'd he go?”

She looks exaggeratedly stunned, jaw falling open as her hair falls into her face. “Baz… are you okay?” Her hand falls onto my cheek, and it takes all the impulse control in my body to not smack it off. Instead, I wrap my index and thumb around her wrist and pluck it away from my skin, watching it drop back onto the bed.

“He must think he's a goddamn trickster,” I grumble, throwing off the sheets and standing myself up. Replacing his picture frames of us is various pictures of Bunce. Well, all but the one of me at graduation. That one's still in its frame, sat up on the dresser.

Bunce doesn't follow me as I stalk into the hall, partially half asleep but still not in the mood for whatever this prank is. To my relief, Simon's stood up against the stove, shoveling spoonfuls of half-soggy frosted corn flakes into his mouth. He barely acknowledges me, just jutting his chin up to my general direction.

“Okay, fine. Haha. It's hilarious, dear. Now drop the act.”

He turns to me, eyebrows narrowed as he frowns. “What the fuck are you going on about?”

“Bunce? In the bed?”

He blinks at me slowly, and I swear I could slap the bowl out of his hands, then kiss his smug look goodbye. “You mean, you and Penny in your shared bed?”

Reeling at the possibility of me being heterosexual, I look back at the hallway then at him. “You can't be serious, Snow. Really? It isn't even clever.”

He does that I'm-Mocking-Your-Eyebrow-Lift-But-I-Can't-Do-It-Right-So-It-Looks-Like-I'm-Having-A-Stroke thing before lifting the milk to his lips, sipping it away. “Look, mate, I don't know what's going on in your relationship, and I support Penny or whatever, but leave me out of it.”

At this point, I don't even know what's a joke or not. Did I hit my head and imagine my entire life? Or wake up in a different dimension?

Or, better yet, is this the absolute worst nightmare possible--one where I'm straight?

I'm too stunned to move, even when Bunce walks into the kitchen and runs her hand over my forearm. “Shouldn't you be getting ready?” She hums cheerfully. Where the fuck is Micah?! “You have classes in half an hour, babe.”

I swear to Merlin, if this is how Bunce genuinely is in relationships, then I give my condolences to the American. “I… yes. I do.” This is fucking weird.

They both stare at me, looking a bit crosseyed in confusion as I must look equally as so, shaking my head and stomping back to the bedroom--Simon's bedroom.

Searching through the drawers, I see that my clothes are where I left them, but all of Snow's wears are replaced by Bunce's. Whatever I'm missing here is absolutely bloody baffling.

As I'm buttoning up my shirt, I take closer notice to my surroundings. Perfume bottles next to my cologne. An actual hairbrush (Snow likes to say that his fingers work just fine, “Thank you very much”). The bedside that Snow usually sleeps on is occupied by an actual book now, instead of the usual gag coffee table flip through.

Dare I say it's neater too. I'll need to give Snow a mouthful of how easy it would be to pick up after himself--wait what the ever living fuck is going on?

I still look the same in the mirror, and everyone else seems visually equal to how I last saw them. Even Snow's wings are to their usual state, as well as the tail that brushes the floor.

When I'm back in the hallway, messenger bag over my shoulder, I take a second to look around the flat. It's all the same, except Snow's belongings are strewn about what was Bunce's room haphazardly. It's not unexpected to see them so jumbled, yet still a tad excessive.

They're both sitting in the living room as I step in, glancing up at me together as I squint at them. “Okay…” I say slowly, testing their reactions. “Bye… love?”

Bunce smiles at me, her eyes closing as she sing-speaks back. “See you for lunch, darling.” I want to gag.

I look at Snow one last time, squinting more aggressively and waving a hand slightly. He doesn't react--like I'm barely there. I sigh exasperatedly before heading off, walking to class with my earbuds in. This… is awful.

On the walk, I try to think of the catalyst to this. It was a typical evening last night. End of March, but relatively nice. Actually, so nice that Snow and I went on a walk, and stopped for ice cream on the way back. We shared a strawberry scoop.

I grab my wallet from my bag, pulling out the receipt and there it is--strawberry ice cream. Which would be strange, given Bunce loathes strawberry ice cream.

Or maybe she doesn't in this alternate universe? Oh Crowley, I'm giving myself a headache. I hope ibuprofen still exists in this world.

What else happened? We got home, then we went to bed. That's all. That is all. Nothing that would warrant a life change--no sacrificial ceremony (neither of us are virgins now, anyway), no killing our headmaster. Just us sharing a bed.

Strange.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary when I get to class either. It's the usual lecture, and I'm out by 11. I suppose it's time to get lunch with Bunce, now. In fact, I don't even have to check my mobile, as she's standing outside the building waiting for me beside a seemingly unamused Snow. Whatever act this is, it proves neither of them should try out for the theatre.

Bunce wraps her arm around mine, and I impulsively jerk away. She frowns until I feel too guilty to not let her, keeping a good distance while she holds. “How was class, sweetheart?”

Fucking hell. “Erm… okay…” I say slowly, trying to get a good eyeful of Snow. He's face-forward, locked ahead as we stroll towards the usual sandwich shop. “As it is everyday, I suppose.”

Bunce's other hand rests on my arm as well, making my face go sour. Dear Merlin, I'm sorry for what I've done to deserve this hell on Earth.

She thankfully breaks away at the shop, leaving enough room for me to slide in next to Snow. He gives me an odd once over, then straightens his shoulders and looks back ahead. That bastard.

After we order and sit, an awkward silence washes over us. I sort of stare down at my meal, hand resting casually over my face.

“Afternoon plans for you two?” Snow asks gruffly, picking at his chips. Maybe I'll fuck with him.

Oh, I’ll definitely fuck with him. “Perhaps I'll get a tramp stamp in the shape of Sweden,” I shrug. “Or maybe I'll just go drain the Queen.”

He doesn't bat an eye, which sends me pouting.

Bunce shrugs her shoulders. “Whatever Bazzy wants, I want too.”

“Oh for Merlin's sake!” I snap, hands flying up as I gawk forward at the empty space in front of me.

They both turn to me, Bunce frowning and Snow looking a tad amused before he wipes it off with an almost confusion.

“What's gotten into you, mate?” He asks.

“Are you okay, love?” Bunce adds.

For a full few seconds, I just stare forward, blinking blankly as I wear a distressed-bordering shock on my face. “Aleister Crowley, what the fuck is going on,” I mumble, exhaling slowly. I don't even pay attention to them, closing my eyes as I breathe.

I swear I hear snickering, but as my eyes flutter back open, they're silent.

I pick at my food, then wrap it back up in the bag I got it in. That's it. Not hungry anymore. “I'm going to class,” I mumble, picking up and going without another word. This day is a nightmare come alive.

I get there about 20 minutes early, sitting in my seat and staring blankly at the wall. I just want someone to tell me I don't have to snog Bunce.

Okay, I want that and to have my boyfriend back, but the former is at the forefront of my mind.

I space out for most of class, and the walk back isn't much better. I plug back into my music and check my phone for what feels like the first time today.

Actually, I think it is the first time today, given I'm just seeing the date now. “Oh those little pricks,” I say aloud, sliding my mobile back into my pocket and taking the walk at twice my usual speed.

After climbing the stairs two at a time, I practically slam the front door open, making Snow jump in his spot on the couch. “You little…”

He looks innocent, a tiny smile creeping onto his cheeks. “Morgana, what's got you in a huff?” He says, raising his hands up. I take off my bag, tossing it onto the armchair as I cross my arms.

“Really? April fucking fools?”

He starts grinning, then laughing, staring up at me as I fume.

“Oh fuck you, you spineless little bastard. Wasn't even funny.”

“You should've seen yourself today!” He wheezes, face in full smile as he scoots over to let me beside him. “Fucking hell, your face at lunch!”

“That was awful,” I grumble, aggressively flopping down beside him while immediately latching onto him, circling his waist with my arms as I tug him close. I just need a proper hug.

“In our defense,” he add, starting to come down from his amusement, “we thought you'd see the date much earlier. When you didn't say anything this morning, Penn and I figured we'd let it go on for as long as we could.”

My face buries into his shoulder, nose scrunching as I feel his arms loop around me, holding me closer. I should be pissed, and deep down I am, but Crowley, I don't want to let go. “You're a little prick and I hope you know that.” I inhale slowly, squeezing my eyes shut. “You really are awful, and I hate you with every fiber of my being.”

“Oh yeah?” He teases, smiling. “Prove it.”

I pull back carefully, wrinkling my nose at him before quickly pressing a kiss to his lips. His hands slide down, holding my hips even as I pull back.

“You're the worst human I've ever met,” I continue. He leans back in for a kiss. I let him, pouting against his lips and speaking once we break again. “Absolute travesty that I have to put up with you.”

“Oh yeah, baby, talk dirty to me,” he teases, smirking as I grab his face and go to snog him breathless.

#carry on #snowbaz #april fools day #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #mine #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm-pitch #baz pitch #simon #baz #thank u again to everyone! the results are really helpful and i'm v grateful for everyone's help

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izukillme-moved · 5 years

Text

Double Dates

For the FTLGBTales 300 Followers raffle, first prize winner @fading-away-today! I’m so sorry it took so long :( I hope you enjoy it!

Word Count: 3943

Pairing: Fraxus, Gratsu

“Why are we even here?” Laxus grumbled quietly to Freed, who elbowed him painfully in the gut. The Lightning Dragon Slayer screeched loudly, jumping about a mile high. “Ouch! That hurt!”

“It was supposed to,” replied Freed, cool as a cucumber, and continued his conversation with Natsu about why scarves were such an essential part of fashion.

Laxus raised his gaze from his plate to look at Gray, who seemed as interested in Freed and Natsu’s discussion as he would be in a cement brick. Which is to say, not at all.

I feel you, man, Gray mouthed at him when he caught him staring. Laxus nodded slightly, not wanting Freed to notice.

What are we even doing here? he mouthed back discreetly.

Gray lifted his shoulders a fraction of an inch. No idea.

“Cut it out, you two!” Freed shouted threateningly, slamming his hands down on the table. Laxus shivered a little, blood draining from his cheeks (and rushing promptly to another place which he prefers not be mentioned here, thank you very much).

Gray, however, wasn’t prudent enough to keep his mouth shut. “Yes, Mom,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

Freed leaned down so his face was level with the Ice Wizard’s. “Care to repeat that?” he asked dangerously.

Gray gulped and paled. “N – no, sir,” he said with a salute.

Freed grinned like a shark. “It must have just been the wind.”

“Y – yes sir,” Gray stuttered.

Freed finally sat down and continued to sip at his no-sugar latte, whereas Gray just stared into his black coffee, looking like he’d seen a ghost.

That boyfriend of yours is something else, he mouthed at Laxus.

Laxus smiled a little. He really is.

Freed turned a death glare on both of them.

Cut to about an hour later and even the discussion between Freed and Natsu, which had seemed like it was never going to end, had finally fizzled out. All of them sat staring at their respective beverages, which had gone cold a long time ago (except for Natsu, who was staring into an empty cup because he’d swallowed down his mocha nearly the minute it arrived).

“So,” Laxus started lamely, attempting to spark some kind of conversation and break the uncomfortable silence. Gray and Freed were both history geeks, and Igneel had taught Natsu a lot of dragon history – maybe he could bring up some random war to start a debate.

“The Battle of Fairy Tail was a brutal war, wasn’t it?” he blurted, and they all stared at him in complete disbelief.

Laxus wanted to hide. He wished the ground would open up and swallow him, just like it had the Queen Sita in the legends Makarov used to tell him.

Why, oh why did he have to say ‘Fairy Tail’? WHY?!

Then Natsu burst into laughter, and Gray followed suit.

“Laxus-” wheezed the Fire Dragon Slayer, “You caused that war, and you’re asking if it was brutal?”

Laxus felt a little stung. They still blamed him for it – well, it was natural, seeing as he’d pretty much wrecked Magnolia – but it hurt a little. His brows creased slightly.

“It wasn’t that bad,” added Gray quickly, apparently sensing something. “It’s just over-exaggerated because you were – are – a member of Fairy Tail, and that sudden betrayal made things go out of proportion. You’ve atoned enough, and you’re back with us. That’s the best result we could have gotten out of that war.”

Freed put a comforting hand on his boyfriend’s large back, rubbing small circles on it. “I was a part of all that destruction, too,” he whispered so only Laxus could hear. “It was my runes that forced guild members to fight one another. My runes that hurt everyone so badly. It wasn’t just you – I share that guilt, that burden. You’re not alone. But, we’re a part of the guild, we always will be. That’s the important thing. Not the mistakes you made, but the lessons you learned from them.”

Laxus smiled and kissed the top of Freed’s head. “Thank you,” he murmured softly.

Meanwhile, Natsu was staring at them with a mix of confusion and joy. “I didn’t know Freed was so sappy,” he declared.

Freed went a million shades of red and screeched, “Sappy?!” He lunged for Natsu. “Why you little-”

Natsu’s face turned blank. “I’m over eighty, your runes said so,” he retorted.

Freed turned purple and went for Natsu’s neck, hands making to strangle him.

Gray laughed. “All right, let’s all calm down here,” he said, flapping his hands in a placatory gesture. “Freed, relax. It was just a joke, you know he didn’t mean it. Natsu has a horrible case of foot-in-the-mouth disease,” he added, throwing a pointed glare at his boyfriend, who paled a little.

Somewhere in the middle of the sea, a certain straw-hat-wearing pirate sneezed.

“We’re not having much fun here, and it’s really obvious,” Gray continued, a spark in his eyes. “So why don’t we do this? Each one of us takes a turn suggesting a place or a thing we can do, and we decide on one, then do it. Afterwards, we split paths and go home after a fulfilling night, to more fulfilling things.”

“Not in the mood,” Natsu droned.

“I’m asexual,” Freed said.

Gray’s face flattened into a betrayed glare, which he directed at Natsu. “You were the one who couldn’t wait to get some this morning! You woke me up at five because you were horny!”

Natsu pouted. “Well, now I’m not,”

Gray rolled his eyes. “And anyway, there are other fulfilling things you can do. It’s not just sex. Like, I don’t know, watch something on the TV, or just cuddle on the couch or something,” His voice had dropped when he reached the last bit, and he was blushing furiously.

“Aww,” Freed teased, reaching forward to pinch the younger’s red cheek. “Gray is so cute. You lucked out, Natsu, unlike me.” he said jokingly.

Natsu kissed Gray’s temple and smiled. “I really did,” he said, sounding faraway.

Laxus shot up, indignantly asking, “What do you mean you didn’t luck out?”

Freed laughed. “Well, if we’re spending quality time together, we always go out on a date. We never just sit at home and watch trashy soap operas and comment on them, or cuddle, or things like that. There are some days I’d prefer to stay home and relax, you know?”

“Oh,” Laxus said in a strangled voice. “Sorry.”

A slightly awkward silence fell over the table, broken by Natsu clapping his hands loudly and saying, “All right, let’s all think of something. After five minutes, we say ours out loud.”

“Okay,” Gray shrugged.

“It’s your idea,” Laxus pointed out, putting Freed’s words to the back of his mind. Surely, he hadn’t meant it. Laxus could think on that later. “You could be a little more excited.”

“I could, but I don’t want to.” Gray said flatly.

Natsu smacked his arm. “Don’t be mean,” he chided.

Gray rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay. I suggest we go to a bar and get drunk.”

“No,” Laxus shouted immediately, aghast. Getting drunk was the worst idea when you were around a certain Rune Mage, because there were two kinds of Freed. Normal Freed, and Drunk Freed.

Now, Normal Freed was the regular sweet, gentle, intelligent but also dangerous man Laxus loved. Drunk Freed… well, that was another story entirely.

“Yeah, I don’t feel like it either,” Natsu added, and Freed nodded in agreement.

“A’right,” Gray shrugged and went back to staring out of the window.

A few minutes later, Natsu shot up, chirping, “Ooh! Ooh! I got one!”

They all turned towards him, Freed asking, “What is it?”

“We could go watch How to Train Your Dragon!” he said excitedly. “It’s really good.”

“Seen it,” droned Gray, Laxus and Freed in unison.

Natsu stared at his boyfriend in betrayal. “Gray…” he whispered, tears welling up in his eyes. “How could you watch it without me?”

“We went together, you dumbass!” Gray shouted, throwing his hands up. “You went thrice, for God’s sake.”

Natsu frowned for a minute, then scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “Ah, you’re right. I forgot.”

Gray face-palmed. “You idiot.”

“We could all go home,” Laxus suggested out of sheer boredom. “And call an end to this bullshit.”

Freed elbowed him again. “Laxus, no.”

“Why not? It’s not working anyway,” he whined.

“That’s why Gray came up with this plan. So that we could make it work,” Freed emphasised the last three words and shot one of his deadly glares at Laxus, who gulped and nodded.

“Yes, sir,”

“Freed, you’re the only one who hasn’t said something yet. Do you have an idea or what? Should we just go with Laxus’ plan?” Gray asked.

Natsu stamped on his foot.

“Quit abusing me!” Gray cried, and smacked Natsu’s head. The two began to brawl in their seats, and Laxus sighed. Was it possible for them to stop fighting for even a minute?

Meanwhile, Freed had adopted a thoughtful expression, tilting his head to one side, one brow dipping.

Laxus could only think, This is why I love him.

That thought was dashed within a second when Freed proposed, “Karaoke?”

What the hell?!

“That’s… not bad, actually,” Natsu piped up. “I know where the nearest one is, I went with Macao and Wakaba once. It might be fun, and Gray has the best singing voice,” he added, nudging his boyfriend, who’d miraculously kept his clothes on so far.

“I can carry a tune well enough, but I’m not as good as Natsu says I am.” Gray muttered shyly.

“Shut up, you are,” Natsu retorted. “Have you heard yourself sing? It’s one of the few things I can’t find something to tease you about.”

Gray looked away, cheeks red. “You shut up,” he retorted weakly.

“Everyone’s on board, then?” Freed asked, clapping his hands together.

Gray nodded slightly. Natsu hummed in response. Laxus sat quietly, still not believing what was going on.

Karaoke?! Are you serious?! Freed, you’ve had some crazy ideas before, but karaoke with Gray and Natsu can be explained by nothing but you having gone off your damned rocker!

“Laxus?” Freed almost shouted, waving a hand in his boyfriend’s face. “We’re doing karaoke.”

“No way in hell!” Laxus recoiled. “It’s a shitty idea.” He nodded at Gray and Natsu, who were arguing quietly – or as quiet as they could get – about something or the other. “Karaoke. With those two. How can that be anything but trouble?”

Freed sighed through his nose. “Just… come with us. It might be fun. Plus, I’ll get to hear you sing! You always say no when I ask you to. Lighten up a little.”

“I like singing.” Laxus argued back. “I just don’t want to do it in front of… people.”

Freed pressed his lips together and glared at Laxus. “You’re making a scene,” he spat quietly.

And indeed, both Gray and Natsu had stopped fighting and were staring at Laxus and Freed, eyes flicking from one to the other as if they were spectators in a match of tennis.

“Okay. But I’m not singing,” Laxus warned finally.

“Aw,” whined Natsu. “I was so looking forward to seeing him! Laxus never loosens up.” Gray nodded in agreement.

Freed grinned. “Laxus is just being grumpy,” he said lightly. “Let’s go, come on!”

“I am not,” Laxus hissed under his breath, “being grumpy. I just… don’t like singing karaoke, okay?!”

Natsu got up and led Gray out of the café, Freed and Laxus following, the latter being dragged unwillingly by the former.

“Do we have to?” grumbled Laxus to his boyfriend.

Freed gave him a look. “Just do it. It won’t be that bad.”

“Yes, it will.”

Freed let out an exasperated sigh and yanked Laxus along with him. “Honestly,” he muttered, half to himself. “Couldn’t you just be cooperative for once? Drama queen.”

Laxus raised an eyebrow. “Oh, look who’s talking.”

Freed stopped abruptly. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” the blonde said nonchalantly, starting to walk at a steady pace. He stopped about a few feet from the still-frozen Freed and added over his shoulder with a sly smile, “We’ll be late if you keep standing there, you know. You might just melt like a candle, who knows?”

Freed turned red, lunging for the taller. “I’m going to kill you!”

But Laxus, surprisingly nimble for his large size, danced out of the way of Freed’s wrath just in time.

“Come on, slowpoke!” he called, continuing to follow Natsu and Gray. “Are you coming or not?”

Freed’s hands shook in barely controlled rage, but he stormed after his boyfriend anyway, not wanting to cause a bigger scene than he had already.

Damn Laxus. Knows just how to push all my buttons. he thought darkly as he stalked down the cobbled street, too busy stewing in his irritation to pay any attention to his surroundings.

And as a result, he promptly walked into six half-naked feet of Gray Fullbuster.

“Whoa!” Gray yelped, wheeling around to face him. “Freed, man, are you all right? You’ve got to watch where you’re going,”

“I’m fine,” growled Freed. “Just fine.”

Gray eyed him suspiciously. “…If you say so,” he eventually gave in, and trotted off behind Natsu.

Freed’s foul mood had mostly evaporated by the time they got to the karaoke bar, nearly an hour later. Of course, Laxus’ smug smirk did nothing to help, but Freed decided to be the bigger person and let it go.

It was proving to be harder than he’d thought. All Freed wanted to do was punch that little smile off Laxus’ face (and it wouldn’t hurt to knock in a few teeth too.)

“Uh… who’s paying?” Gray suddenly asked. “I’m… kind of broke.” Understandable. That engagement ring that was hiding in his and Natsu’s rarely-opened book cupboard had probably cost a fortune.

“Me too,” Natsu said with a shrug.

“Me as well,” Freed chimed in, grinning wickedly. Of course he wasn’t, but it would be nice to see the miserly Laxus shell out some Jewel for once.

They all looked at Laxus pleadingly. Natsu’s puppy eyes were dialled up to max power, and the Lightning Dragon Slayer found himself melting under that gaze.

“All right,” he relented. “I’ll pay. How many hours?”

“Three?” suggested Freed. “That should be enough. It’s already six, we can be done by nine and home by ten.”

Laxus sighed through his nose and paid, grumbling to himself all the while. A key was shoved into his hand, and he stared at the number before lumbering along the corridors, the other three following.

“One zero six,” he murmured to himself and unlocked the door. Natsu danced in, Freed smiling in amusement at the younger’s antics.

“All right,” Gray clapped his hands. “Natsu’s going first.”

“I am not! Why don’t you?” Natsu shouted indignantly, good mood disappearing in an instant.

“Why don’t you two do a duet?” suggested Freed, ever the mediator.

The couple exchanged dubious glances. Gray looked like he was about to puke; his face had taken on a greenish tint, and his eyes were wide and fearful as he shook his head at Natsu, who just shrugged and lifted his palms up in a ‘what can you do’ gesture.

“We’re doing it,” announced Natsu finally, grabbing Gray’s hand.

“Then it’s settled!” Freed smiled. “Pick a song and let’s go!”

Natsu flicked the TV on and scrolled through the list, stopping on ‘Close to Me’.

Gray recoiled. “No. No way. I hate that song!”

“Come on, it’s just… two minutes long,” Natsu whined. “Please?”

“No!”

“I’m sure Freed and I would be better at karaoke than you,” Laxus called in a brief moment of insanity. “You don’t need to be so worried. We’d out-sing you any day!”

The greenish tint vanished completely, and Gray’s eyes shone with a dark gleam. “That sounded a lot like a challenge. And I don’t turn down a challenge.”

That was when Laxus knew for sure that this night was going to hell.

Gray and Natsu both grabbed a microphone each. Natsu clicked on the ‘play’ button, and music began to blare from the speakers.

Natsu had been right; Gray really did sing well. His strong voice flowed over each and every note, gracefully dipping low in the deeper parts and soaring in the higher ones. Each syllable was sung confidently, and his breaths were barely heard. Natsu was equally good, swooping in just when Gray stopped, timing his singing perfectly with that of his boyfriend’s. His lighter, higher voice made for an excellent combination with Gray’s baritone.

When they finished the song, both Laxus and Freed couldn’t help but clap till their hands were sore.

“That was amazing!” Freed complimented, walking over to high-five both Gray and Natsu. “Gray, you’re a dark horse! Why do you never sing at guild events? Your voice would go so well with Mira’s,”

Gray shook his head, a small smile on his face.

“Ah, I don’t like singing much.”

“Points: 9/10,” said the robotic voice of the karaoke machine.

Gray and Natsu high-fived each other. “Yes!”

“Guess it’s our turn,” said Laxus noncommittally, getting up and slinking over to the playlist.

Freed made a face when he saw the song Laxus had chosen. “Seriously?”

Laxus nodded, grinning evilly. “It’s called ‘payback’, Freed.”

“No. No. We are not doing this!”

Gray craned his neck over Laxus’ shoulder and promptly burst into raucous laughter.

“Oh my God, this is going to be priceless,” he cackled.

Laxus smirked and pressed ‘play’.

The lyrics flashed on the large TV screen, and Natsu took one look at it before joining his boyfriend in hysterics on the floor.

“I have a pen,” Laxus began, holding one hand up with a wicked grin on his face. “I have an apple!”

“Laxus, no!” Freed shoved an elbow into Laxus’ gut.

Laxus brought his hands together. “Apple pen! Come on, Freed, do you really want to lose?”

The look Freed gave him stated clearly that he was so going to pay for this later. Ah, well. Might as well go crazy when he could. This night was going to hell anyway; whatever he did now couldn’t possibly make it worse.

And if he had to do this, he was going to make it as embarrassing as possible.

“I have a pen, I have a pineapple,” Laxus sang, completely out of tune.

Freed gave him a miserable look, but joined in. “Pineapple pen.”

“Apple pen,” Laxus continued.

“Pineapple pen,”

“Boom! Pen pineapple apple pen!”

With a start, Laxus realised he was actually enjoying this. A grin had made its way onto his face at some point.

The fact that he could not actually sing, however, was a bit of a drawback. But Laxus had never been one to worry about drawbacks.

And so, he continued to sing (or rather, bray the lyrics of PPAP).

Well, at least Freed had started trying somewhere along the second repetition of ‘Pen pineapple apple pen!’

When they finally finished, three whole minutes later, Gray and Natsu just stared dumbly at the older two.

“What?” Laxus demanded.

Natsu shook his head and burst into laughter.

“That was hilarious, man!” Gray added, giggling as well. “I didn’t know you sang that well, Laxus,”

“Shut up,” Laxus grumbled.

“Points: 5/10,” said the machine.

“You shut up too!” Laxus shouted, pointing an accusing finger at the thing.

Freed glared at his boyfriend. “I can’t believe you picked that song. Seriously?”

Laxus shrugged. “Like I said. Payback.”

“Is anyone hungry?” Natsu asked excitedly. “We could get food.”

Gray grunted. “Hn.”

Somewhere in heaven, about five hundred people with dark hair and red eyes all sneezed at the same time.

Freed nodded. “That seems like a good idea.”

They all looked at Laxus, who was out cold on the floor at the thought of having to spend more money.

Then Freed shrugged and pulled Laxus’ credit card out of his pocket. “Eh, it’s on him anyways.”

“Great,” Natsu grinned and picked up the menu card, an evil glint in his eye.

When Laxus finally came to, he would regret ever agreeing to pay for anything that involved food and one Natsu Dragneel.

The first thing Laxus saw when he opened his eyes were piles and piles of empty plates.

The smell of shrimp tempura hung in the air, and Laxus’ stomach grumbled. Natsu lay comatose on the couch, one hand on his belly. A half-empty bottle of wine was clenched in the other hand. Gray had his hands behind his head, eyes trained on Laxus, and Freed… Freed was passed out next to Natsu. An empty bottle lay near his head.

It didn’t take long for Laxus to connect the dots.

“What. Is. This.” he ground out.

Natsu’s eyes fluttered open at the sound, and he looked up hazily. “Oh, we o’dered food ‘cause we got ‘ungry,” he slurred.

“And are you drunk?!” Laxus bellowed in outrage, getting up and snatching the bottle out of his hand. “How do you get drunk off half a bottle of wine?!”

But Natsu’s eyes had slid shut again; he was unconscious.

“One and a half,” Gray corrected. “He downed it like water. Freed had two.”

“Freed’s a lightweight!” Laxus threw his hands up in the air. “How did you not know this? Why didn’t you stop him?!”

Gray smirked. “Of course I knew. I just like watching people make fools out of themselves. It was really hilarious, you know; they were lurching and swaying, they couldn’t even stand up straight, and then they put on party music and tried to dance, but Natsu bonked his head on the handle of the couch, and Freed just kind of… fainted.”

Laxus pinched his nose and sighed. “We should get them home.”

Gray gave the two drunk, unconscious men a once-over. “I wish I could just leave them here, but you’re right.” He rose and stretched, then walked over to Natsu, pulling the Fire Dragon Slayer’s entire weight onto his back. “Come on, Flame Brain. Time to go home.”

Laxus kneeled down in front of the couch, his back to Freed, and slid Freed’s legs under his arms. He laced Freed’s hands around his neck, making sure the smaller boy was secure, and stood up.

“La-zus?” Freed slurred. “I – wh-”

“Shh,” Laxus said gruffly. “Hold on tight. We’re going home.”

He felt Freed’s head settle comfortably in the crook of his neck, like always. The soft, steady breathing told him Freed was asleep. Laxus looked over at Gray, who’d given up on dragging Natsu home and was holding him princess-style.

He wore the same smile as Laxus.

Gray turned his head, catching Laxus’ eye, and they both smiled.

“They’re idiots,” Gray said.

Laxus nodded. “But they’re our idiots.”

Gray hummed in agreement. “I actually ended up having some fun. Not that I ever want to do this again,” he added, shuddering.

Laxus shivered. “Hell no. If either Freed or Natsu comes up with the idea of a double date again, we do all we can to stop them.”

“It’s a deal,” Gray agreed quickly, face pale. “Let’s get out of here.”

And both Mages hightailed their way out of the karaoke bar to their respective homes, carrying their boyfriends all the way.

Little did they know that Freed and Natsu had heard everything they’d said, and were already planning more evil things to do to Gray and Laxus.

After all, as Freed said, tomorrow was a new day, and brought with it a whole new host of plans to torture their boyfriends.

@ftlgbtales

#fairy tail #gratsu #fraxus #natsu dragneel #freed justine #laxus dreyar #ftlgbtales raffle #ceru writes #gray fullbuster #FTLGBTales

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sikhyes · 6 years

Text

bitchcraft ━ yeri

a/n: i’ve been wanting to write this for so long (esp since i feel really proud of the title lmao) but i hope you guys enjoy!! genre: supernatural!au , witch!au , college!au , fluff pairing: yeri x reader (red velvet) word count: 2,023 summary: they said that every pizza boy that walks in never comes out. that’s why they sent you, a pizza girl. warnings: none

bitchcraft (n.) - a specialty of witchcraft only perfected and practiced by a supreme ‘bitch’

It was particularly rare finding a decently priced house only a few blocks away from campus (not counting the glorified suburban homes that housed the frats and sororities) so you knew that there had to be a catch to the entire ordeal. Whether it be a creepy landlord or inescapably loud parties, you and your friends braced yourself for the worst once all of you had signed the lease.

However, one month in and the only weird thing about the entire block had to be the eerily decorated house across the street. It was the biggest one compared to the rows of the picket-fences, two tall trees bordering the left and right corner of the front yard with three sets of stairs leading up to the mahogany double doors. While the rest of the houses were painted a fresh spring color, the house across was a dark shadow amongst its sisters on the block. With only grey tiles that covered the roof, everything else was accented with darker wood and ledger stone tiles as pillars that held up the porch.

No one really spoke much about it at first. Your next door neighbors situated on the right was a sweet couple, living the longest on the block compared to the rest of the street. When you and the other three people living with you now (Chaeyoung, Taehyung, and Jimin) went to drop off french macarons (instead of the usual rice cakes) out of courtesy, mostly everyone gave silent warnings to not approach the dark house. It wasn’t until Taehyung’s curiosity got the best of him and finally asked the other college students that inhabited the apartment complex a couple houses down yours.

“Is it like a ‘Boo Radley’ situation?” Jimin asked as he handed the delicately wrapped boxes over to the guy named Hoseok.

Namjoon, the taller one, shook his head as Hoseok retreated in their home to set the gift aside. “No, not necessarily. At least, the rumors haven’t reached to murder yet.” At the sight of yours and Chaeyoung’s expression, the boy quickly hurried on to explain. “The most popular one is that anyone that enters that house never comes out.”

Taehyung’s laugh bellowed, carefree as he flicked a few loose strands of his bangs aside. “I call bullshit. This is LA, dude, not some shitty town in the middle of nowhere.”

“It’s your choice to believe it or not,” Hoseok shrugged. “But there’s one piece of evidence that can actually support that rumor.”

“What is it?” You found yourself asking.

“Any pizza boy that comes by that house goes missing.”

“So there’s five of them?”

You didn’t bother rolling your eyes - the world seemed to spin with how often you’ve done it in the past ten minutes - and kept your attention on your notes. With your frame curled up on the left side of the couch and Chaeyoung’s slender legs stretched out on the rest of the piece of furniture, Taehyung occupied the armchair closest to you with his gangly stature sprawled all over it. His head dangled off the edge of the armrest, his hair comically standing on end as though he was electrocuted, as he tossed a baseball only to catch with precision a few seconds later.

“Yes. There’s five,” Chaeyoung answered kindly, her voice never betraying the hidden frustration that was growing beneath her expression. That had to be the tenth time Taehyung had asked to reiterate what Namjoon told them only moments prior. “And before you ask, we don’t know their names. All we know is that they attend our university, appears to be filthy rich, and likes to order pizza.”

“Which is how they lure in their prey,” Jimin cut in as he padded from the bathroom with only a loose towel tied haphazardly around his lean waist. The sight of the shirtless male would’ve made you blush but you’ve lived with him (as well as the other two) too long to feel any surprise at any state of his undress. “They’re like black widows, hot and dangerous.”

You couldn’t bite back the snort that escaped you. “How do you know they’re hot?”

“I just do. It’s a vibe thing.”

At this point, you were sure that your eyes would’ve fallen out with how much you’ve rolled them.

Two months in and still no sign of the mysterious five that lived in the house across the street. Every morning, you stuck to a serious and sharp routine that you followed religiously. Wake up at 6:30 AM, jog a couple laps around the street, return back by 7:00 AM to start on breakfast with Jimin and be ready by your first class (regardless if it was a nine am class or a two pm class). With how often you’re actually out and about, you were positive that you’d have at least bumped into them once.

But you were just as unsuccessful (you were ashamed to admit that you even took an extra lap one morning in hopes of catching a glimpse of any one of them) as the rest of your housemates, despite being placated that you weren’t the only one obsessed with finding more about your secretive neighbors.

“Y/N?” Chaeyoung came bounding into your shared room, her orange hair askew beneath a large tacky trucker’s cap that advertised ‘Pizza Palace’ in a fading red font across the yellowing white fabric. You tore your attention away from the bright screen of your laptop, a little disoriented from writing an essay, and took in your roommate’s appearance in completely. With her cheeks flushed and her chest rising and dropping in unsteady intervals, you immediately jumped off the bed and led her to her own.

“Hey, you alright? What happened?” Your mind instantly jumped to the worst-case scenarios, kickstarting your anxious heart as you waited for Chaeyoung to fill you in.

“I’m fine,” she wheezed, trying her best to catch her breathe as she removed her cap to place on your head. “I need you to do me a favor. Can you fill in the rest of my hours for tonight at the pizza place a few streets away? I got an email from my TA reminding me of my paper that’s due tonight, which I completely forgot about so I-”

“Hold on, slow down, Chae… slow down. Don’t tell me you just ditched your shift! Did you tell your boss at least?”

“I did, but I need you to cover for me.”

You scooted backwards to shoot her the most incredulous look. “Chae, I don’t even work there! How am I supposed to cover your shift?”

“You’re not making any pizza,” she hurriedly answered. “Just deliveries! Please, please, please!”

No matter how long you’ve lived with Chaeyoung, you just didn’t seem to have the kind of immunity against her pitiful expressions you thought you might’ve acquired by now. “Oh, fine. Give me the stupid hat.”

It must’ve been a regular occurrence for random strangers in employee gear to show up at the pizza parlor because Chaeyoung’s supervisor didn’t bat an eye when you arrived behind the counter in her uniform. Your own hair was pulled into a messy knot at the nape of your neck, loose strands of hair framing your face as you pushed up the large cap up to properly keep eye contact.

“Here are the orders, here are the addresses, and here’s the keys to the pizza car. Not a scratch,” she ordered firmly before sending you on your way. Once you found the designated vehicle, you scoffed as you remembered her last piece of instruction.

A scratch would’ve actually been an improvement with how shitty the car’s state was.

The first few addresses were simple enough; the entire area was mostly separate houses rather than confusing apartment complexes, making your temporary job much more easier. The list of orders began to decrease and the monstrous amount of boxes in the backseat disappeared one by one with each stop. Reaching the end of the list, your heart nearly dropped to your chest once you recognized the address.

It was the house across the street.

“When’s the pizza coming?” Yeri’s whining echoed throughout the spacious house as she lounged on one of the chaises in the sitting room, a picture of relaxation as she fiddled with a pistol crossbow. Irene wrinkled her nose at the mess she caused when she passed by. Stray arrows scattered the area around the youngest as grease-stained rags laid upon her mahogany tables where the tools were placed on.

“Soon.” It was Wendy who answered from her position by the window seat at the east side of the house once she noticed the displeased look on the eldest’s features. It’s been a couple months since their last ‘order’ and whenever Irene hasn’t had her appetite filled, she became cranky enough that Seulgi and Joy would retreat to their room until her ‘hangry’ phase subsides. “Be patient. It should be here any moment.”

Although they barely entertained any guests, the five women were dressed in their finest. It was a bland Thursday evening but with the high-end cocktail dresses that adorned their ideal figures, you’d think they’d be off to attend some VVIP, private gala in the city. Irene was dressed in a sequined long sleeve dress with bloody red heels. Yeri kept things simple with a crochet dress and flats while Seulgi chose a lace blouse and leather pants. Joy loved her little black dresses that accentuated her curves. Wendy opted for a vintage velvet blouse and leather skirt.

Despite their oddly fancy attire, it blended well with the artistic pieces carefully placed around their home. Irene had picked up art curating as a new hobby, a way to pass the time as they juggled their unorthodox lives.

Right when Seulgi finally slid down the tall flight of stairs by the banister, the doorbell chimed around their house. “Dinner time,” she hummed as a devilish grin crossed her scarlet lips. She stepped aside and retreated to the living room with Joy at her tail when Yeri bounded up to open the door with a grotesque teddy bear tucked in the crook of her arm. As her hand reached for the doorknob, an adorable expression settled upon her visage as she prepared herself to come face to face with another pizza boy.

The door swung open and her practiced smile was what greeted you… only for it to fall in surprise only seconds later when Yeri realized you weren’t a pizza boy.

“For… Yeri?” You read the post-it note on the top of the box as you stretched your arms out to hand the pizza over. “That’ll be fifteen-”

“Excuse me,” the pretty girl cut you off before she slammed the door in your face.

“Wait… repeat that again. They just took the pizza and paid you…?”

Your swung your legs as you sat on the counter, munching on a leftover pizza as you nodded. The closing crew had asked you to retell the story for the tenth time now but you didn’t really mind repeating it, not when you had a slice of pizza in your hand. Although it was a good half hour since you’ve finished the rest of Chae’s shift, you’ve befriended her coworkers when they realized you made a stop at Hell House (a funny little nickname they dubbed the creepy place). While you sat on the counter, the four others had grabbed chairs to circle around you with their own late dinners in hand.

“Yeah, they seemed a little confused but that’s it,” you answered patiently, nibbling at the crust as the youngest coworker tentatively raised his hand.

“Really?” Mark asked, dropping his hand with a little bashful chuckle. “That’s it?”

You nodded and they all finally dispersed, somewhat content with the first witness story of the odd happenings in hell house. “Really. That’s it.

Yes, that was it… and the slip of paper that held the pretty girl’s number in your pocket.

#thekpopnet #kfluffnet #red velvet scenario #gg scenario #red velvet fanfic #gg fanfic #red velvet au #red velvet fluff #red velvet x reader #yeri x reader #yeri fanfic #yeri au #niniwrites.#mine.

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bubblet-ea · 6 years

Text

something foreign but altogether completely familiar

“the fuck?”

“please?” jimin all but whined, head tucked comfortably atop yoongi’s lap as both sets of fingers moved rapid-fire against his ps4 game controller.

“no,” yoongi’s green humanoid blob managed to shove jimin’s blue twerky thing to go plunging to his doom off a rotating blimp.

”hah!” taehyung’s screech could be heard through his headset. “team taegi wildin’ out!”

“come on, just one time,” jimin’s eyes remained glued to the tv screen where he adamantly tried to body flop his way over taehyung’s yellow goop man that tried to throw him off again ”hoseok! you fuckin’ suck! you’re supposed to have my back!”

the only response received was a high pitched cackle-scream hybrid that had jimin flinching, probably bursting one of his eardrums as well. hoseok’s little red floppy dude went plummeting to his doom all on his own at the opposite end of the screen far from the melee going on between the other three players.

“yoongi please,” jimin was just that close of chucking his controller at the tv, nostrils flaring with annoyance at how crap he was at this game. “three hours, tops.”

“fuck no,” yoongi effectively managed to nudge both jimin’s and taehyung’s characters off the blimp, sacrificing his own partner with no remorse. (”hey! what the heck!”). “what part of no don’t you understand?”

“but i said please,” jimin finally tossed his controller and waved his metaphoric white flag of surrender. he opted for rolling flat on his back and lifting his gaze to stare up at the underside of yoongi’s chin with the softest puppy pout he could muster. “i thought we were bros.”

“no,” yoongi somehow managed to continue playing with a single hand, freeing the other to produce a swift flick on jimin’s forehead (”ow.”). “i am your elder, and you are a pint-sized peanut stuffed full of teenage gay angst and i don’t know why i put up with you.”

granted, jimin supposed that was true. yoongi was technically two years his senior. but they’d been practically biffles for life since childhood because their dads were fishing buddies. and jimin would rather have every last one of his teeth pulled out with steel pliers than to actually admit, but he picked this university for the sole purpose that it contained one min yoongi.

because.

best bros.

“but i thought you were my fam,” jimin plopped his body like deadweight and stretched his full height across the couch. “my homie for life, piña to my colada, the half to my whole, soy to my latte-”

“you can fuck right off with that.”

“and after all i’ve done for you,” jimin swooned, arm tossed over his eyes in a dramatic effect. he snuck a peak to glance up at the pointy end of yoongi’s nose.

the elder’s eyebrow was in serious danger of shooting up and out through the roof. if jimin didn’t know any better, and he liked to think he knew better than most, yoongi’s expression was definitely in danger of being permanently fixed the way it was, what with yoongi’s constant skepticism and no-fucking-nonsense-stick-up-his-ass-you-mess-with-me-i-will-shove-this-lamp-pole-up-your-fucking-dickhole attitude.

“pray tell, what exactly have you done for me?”

“like that one time,” jimin started, straightening out from his maiden’s swoon and poking up at yoongi’s left piercing. “you were thirsting over taehyung hardcore like the dehydrated prune ass bitch you are. and i had to step in and play cupid so you could finally man up the courage to tap dat.”

“damn boiiiii!” hoseok screeched.

“exposed!” taehyung followed. “i know i’m hot shit and all but daaaaang!”

“i will literally set your hair on fire, you oversized carrot top,” yoongi gritted through clenched teeth where jimin caught a muscle twitch. (”you love my glorious orange hair, don’t lie.”)

jimin could truly say that episode had been one helluva fuckin’ ride, an experience. to be honest, yoongi seemed to be hellbent on pretending the entirety of last winter holidays had never happened, it was that embarrassing. in the end, jimin’s efforts had been in vain and yoongi snapped right the fuck out of it when he realized taehyung was not the soft, sweet cotton fluff he thought and a whole lot of nasty, panty dropping extra that could not be contained.

yoongi shot him a brief, tight lipped smile that looked more constipated than anything else.

“it’s true though,” hoseok’s mirth was clearly visible even through the shitty wifi connection. “jimin did do you a solid.”

“the sex was really good though, you gotta admit.”

“first of all, you piece of shit,” yoongi’s game controller went to join jimin’s across the coffee table. “i did not thirst after taehyung-”

“you were so thirsty your skin was flaking,” jimin smirked, shortly before he was shoved off the couch to land in a puddle at yoongi’s feet. “ow, fuck that really hurt.”

“i am the king of gang beasts!” taehyung’s shrill deep voice echoed in jimin’s ears. “all hail king tae! bow, peasants, and kiss my feet!”

“the fucking disrespect,” yoongi’s toe nudge into jimin’s side, making him jerk sideways half under the table. “it was mid winter and i have eczema you snot rag. second of all,” yoongi continued on his tirade and jimin wheezed with laughter. “what you managed to do was set everyone up for fuckin’ centuries of cringeworthy humiliation that is bound to have my descendants curling in misery.”

“you’re so dramatic,” jimin smiled fondly, rolling back out from under the table and sitting himself up. he rested his chin along his arms crossed on the edge of the sofa by yoongi’s knees. “i totally helped you get dat ass. i am the best wingman.”

“you are a fucking nightmare, is what you are,” yoongi deadpanned, ruffling jimin’s already mussed up, pitch black hair.

“i know, but please,” jimin tried again, throwing on his best sulk face and capitalizing on the best asset god bequeathed him with. his plush, pouty lips. “just this one time,” he bat his lashes, just for good measure. “how often do i ask for favors?”

“all the fuckin’ time!”

“like when do you not?”

“did i ask for your opinion?! i think the fuck not!” jimin straightened out like a snapped spring and bellowed into his headset mic. through his peripheral vision, he saw yoongi take of his own headset and slowly rub at his temples.

“why do i put up with all of you,” yoongi let out a long suffering sigh.

“because you lo-”

jimin turned off the tv, remote arm out, cutting hoseok off mid-sentence. yoongi looked at him like he might kiss him. or not. with a shrug, jimin tossed the remote on the carpet by his feet.

“back to the subject,” he licked his lips, settling against the coffee table with his knees drawn to his chest. yoongi let out another heavy sigh, but that didn’t deter jimin. “just one time please. one date,” he attempted the most forlorn look, like stepped on flowers, run over a dog’s tail, cookies got burnt disconsolate. “taemin is gonna be there.”

“how do you even know this,” yoongi sighed. again.

“with jongin.”

jimin pouted extra hard.

“who the fuck is jongin,” yoongi rubbed his temples with his middle and forefinger, as if he was warding off an oncoming migraine. which is nonsense. because jimin is the light of yoongi’s life. he could attest to this.

“who is,” jimin's face crumpled. “who the fuck. jongin!” his arms shot up into the air. “kim jongin! the third year ballet twink with the good ass thighs and facial structure crafted by the gods! dance prodigy jongin!” jimin’s voice escalated with every syllable, in speed, pitch, and volume.

“that kim jongin. the one taemin dumped me for,” jimin was now truly feeling really sad. this was not how he’d anticipated this conversation to go down.

it still hurt. three weeks had passed since the evening that shall not be spoken of. and jimin’s chest still throbbed with an empty longing at the memories of how taemin had broken up with him at their favorite mom-and-pop cafe that had been the center point of almost a year’s worth of happy memories. the sacrilege, how dare?

“i found someone else,” taemin had said.

“well good riddance! ‘cause i was gonna break up with you first!” jimin’s brain to mouth filter completely went on vacation, leaving him with utter regret and despair. but why stop there? “i found someone else too!”

the look of surprise on taemin’s face had almost been worth it.

almost.

now jimin was stuck with empty words and no boyfriend to show for it.

“please,” jimin tried again, clutching at yoongi’s artfully ripped jeans, which was saying something as they were so tight they clung to the elder’s very legs like second skin. “i just gotta prove to him that i do have somebody else and i’m not like desperate-taylor-swift-binge-eating-sobfest-heartbroken.”

“you are heartbroken,” yoongi muttered, pulling off his headset and running a hand through his soft brown hair. “there’s nothing wrong with that. the asshole literally broke your heart. i’m pretty sure that’s the definition of heartbroken.”

“just to prove i have a boyfriend,” jimin could sense victory in the soft sigh leaving yoongi’s lips.

“but you don't.”

“minor detail,” jimin waved a nonchalant hand.

“i’d say that’s a big fucking detail,” yoongi replied gruffly, rubbing his face with his open hand.

“i’ll buy you dinner,” jimin enticed, coming up to his knees and peering up into yoongi’s face.

“it better be a good fucking dinner,” yoongi sighed, finally relenting.

success.

“i can't believe i let you talk me into this,” yoongi shook his head, jimin chancing furtive glances over his menu to look for that familiar face.

“just,” jimin finally caught taemin and his new boyfriend at the far side of the cafe, tucked away in a discreet corner booth. “pick something to eat while i do some recon.”

“fucking ridiculous,” yoongi released a long, deep breath but picked up his own menu and began to look through the list of foods. “recon,” yoongi snorted, a crease forming in between jimin’s brows as he tried to subtly, not so subtly, crane his neck as if he could actually catch what the other two were talking about if he stretched far enough.

he didn’t even notice as the waitress stopped by to take their order, squinting as he attempted to lipread what taemin was saying to jongin.

damn, it was hard to see exactly what words were being exchanged from this angle and distance.

but what wasn't too difficult to see, even for jimin from this length of space between, was the brilliant laughter playing on taemin’s lips and the way his eyes curved into that precious moon smile that was jimin’s favorite and had always been reserved for him and him only.

the dull thud in his chest echoed like a bucket dropped all the way to the bottom of an empty well.

he watched, breath held, as taemin pulled the other’s hand and pressed butterfly kisses along every knuckle. something he used to do for jimin too.

it felt as if he’d fallen into that empty well along with the bucket.

it hurt.

like a fucking bitch, it hurt.

he really thought he could do this. but he couldn't. not when taemin looked for all the world like a man completely smitten. and the other person wasn't jimin.

a sharp kick to the shin finally jolted his attention away from the other couple, a startled whine escaping through his parted lips as a bright hot pain traveled up his leg from the point of abuse.

“what the fuck,” jimin’s expression puckered, rubbing at the sore spot on his shin that was very likely to bruise. yoongi’s brow quirked, arms crossed over his chest looking bored as hell while jimin’s world came crashing down around his feet for what was probably the thousandth time since he’d been dumped.

“you’re supposed to be having a good time,” yoongi’s face softened when jimin bit down on his lower lip that had started to quiver. he blinked repeatedly, forcing back the burn that had begun to emerge around the corners of his eyes. it was becoming somewhat hard to breathe.

“do you want me to take you home?” the elder asked gently, and jimin shook his head faintly. “then what do you want to do?” yoongi enquired, head tilted to the side.

inhaling a shaky breath, jimin willed himself to calm. “can you just,” he answered after a moment of silence. “talk. just talk. about anything, i don't care. just please,” jimin didn’t really know what he was begging for. he just needed the pain in his chest to stop.

so yoongi began talking.

he started with a teacher aide in his music comp class that none of the students liked because he was a total pompous bitch. he talked about his latest assignment that was due in a few day’s time, but he’d procrastinated up until now because who fuck care anyways? he commented on the weather, about Pokémon GO, about a new movie that had come out, about the upcoming spring break and how their mothers expected them back home because yoongi’s older brother wanted him to meet his fiancé’s family and how jimin was going to come with him or else he’d die of boredom and the younger owed him a favor after this anyway.

the words flowed freely, and jimin was content to just listen to that deep silken voice wrap him softly like a bandaid over a wound.

he listened and he ate as yoongi talked, gradually forgetting the reason that he was here in the first place and began to actually engage in the conversation.

“do i get a free meal out of it?” jimin tipped his head to the side, popping a french fry in his mouth and licking the bit of ketchup off the end of his middle finger. at that, he thought he caught a near imperceptible dip in the elder’s adam’s apple. but he waved it off as just his imagination.

“freeloader,” a hand leaned over the table to ruffle jimin’s hair before he could swing out of yoongi’s reach.

“knock it off,” jimin huffed, batting the hand away. “and no i’m not.”

“you are soft as fuck,” yoongi laughed at the excitement that lit up jimin’s face. “yes, you’re getting a free meal out of my brother so you’re ass is coming.”

“okay.”

“and you act like you never get a free meal whenever you come banging on my doorstep anyway,” yoongi said in a deadpan tone, sliding his credit card into the check folder the waitress brought over. “you know how much my mom loves you.”

“i can’t wait to play with holly,” jimin hummed with a content smile, sipping on his watered down coke zero.

“thanks for, you know,” jimin stared down at his feet, scuffing the point of his right shoe against the concrete. he glanced up to see yoongi shrug, hands tucked away into the pockets of his jeans while they stood outside of jimin’s dorm.

they’d done this a million and trillion times before in the past. but why did jimin feel somewhat nervous?

yoongi was as familiar to him as his own right arm, or his favorite blanket back home.

there was something different though, hanging in the crisp night air between them... something that was never there before.

“thank you for being the best fucking bro in the whole fucking world?” yoongi prompted when he’d paused for long enough, jimin snorting with amusement and retuning somewhat back to planet earth.

“yeah, that,” he conceded, fingers clasped behind his back for lack of anything better to do with them. “thank you.”

something warmed inside jimin’s chest at the soft grin that spread across yoongi’s face, eyes traveling down his side profile as the elder looked up into the starry deep sky above.

when their eyes met again, it was as if jimin hadn’t known yoongi his entire life, since toddlerhood, something foreign yet altogether completely familiar thrumming in his chest.

“’night.”

“good night,” jimin licked his suddenly dry lips. he watched as yoongi turned, breaking into a light jog as he moved back towards his car parked in the no-parking zone with the emergency lights flashing.

what the hell?

“i’ve been doing some thinking.”

silence.

“can i ask you something?”

the only response jimin received was a muted grunt.

“and hear me out, okay? don’t just completely write this off,” jimin continued, staring at yoongi’s back from his current position of lying perpendicular across the elder’s bed, head hanging upside down over the edge.

yoongi didn’t even glance up from the composition project he was working on. the one he’d procrastinated on for weeks now. the one that was due within the next twenty-four hours, holy fucking shit rest in pieces.

“i think we should try kissing a go,” jimin blurted out, body tensed, as he watched for yoongi’s response.

there was the briefest of pause in his constantly moving hand, the soft pen scratches going even quieter still until it had completely stopped.

jimin held his breath, if only to not break the utter silence. the room was so thick with it, he thought he could put a knife right through it and cut a slice straight out of the air.

cricket cricket bitch.

after several minutes had passed, jimin was about to laugh it off as a joke when yoongi finally responded, “don’t be stupid,” and resumed his work once again as if jimin hadn’t said anything at all.

“but i’m being serious,” jimin rolled over onto his front, chin propped up on his clasped fingers and boring holes in the elder’s back between his shoulder blades.

yoongi finally turned, shooting jimin a long, searching look that had him squirming to the very tips of his toes.

without another word, the elder lobbed a crumbled up composition sheet that landed squarely in the center of jimin’s forehead.

“ow what the fuck?!”

“i cannot believe,” yoongi exhaled a sigh of resignation, glaring up at the ceiling flashing technicolor strobe lights as if it had done him some personal great injustice.

“is that jongin over there? can y’see him? i can’t tell if it’s him or not,” jimin was just this close to overbalancing and tipping over the barstool with how far he was stretching his neck to catch a glance of the familiar looking couple dancing amongst the drunken crowd.

he’d lost count of how many shots of tito’s he’d downed in the past few hours they’d been camped out at the congested bar. jimin was a man on a mission. and yoongi’s palm was warm against the small of his back, propped there to prevent his fall, made all the warmer by the inebriating flush that spread across his cheeks.

nibbling on his parched lips, jimin leaned even further out to squint at the blond haired man that looked kind of like taemin and kind of didn’t, only breaking his stare when taehyung dipped by to pass him another shot of something or other.

“drink bitch!”

“i think not,” yoongi swooped in before jimin could reach to intercept the small glass rimmed with salt.

“ooh tequila?” jimin pivoted on the stool without warning, nearly knocking the drink out of yoongi’s hand and quite suddenly placing the elder to stand in between his legs.

“but i have limes!” taehyung’s boxy smile stretched so wide, jimin couldn’t help but grin back as he tried to grab the shot.

“i think you’ve had enough,” yoongi stretched his arm away from jimin’s circumference of reach.

“but i have limes!” taehyung repeated as if that tidbit of fact made it even more important. and quite frankly, jimin couldn't help but agree.

“give it,” he pouted, one hand grasping onto yoongi’s shoulder and the other reaching out making grabby hands at the glass.

“why you gotta cock block?” taehyung whined, having already downed his own and cramming the lime wedge into his mouth.

“no,” yoongi said in a no-nonsense tone that should've brooked no argument.

but jimin was buzzed and had no shits to give at the moment, completely forgetting that his best bro for life had promised to please, please, please play designated let’s-not-let-jimin-do-anything-utterly-stupid-whilst-in-his-intoxicated-state.

however, that was besides the point.

what was the point again?

instead, jimin opted for wrapping his legs around yoongi’s waist to bring him even closer, extending his wiggling arm to the best of its somewhat stunted abilities to reach, reach, reach...

oh.

“shit!”

“ow.”

“y’okay?”

the stool ended up tipping over, both of them landing in a puddle of confused limbs and pained grunts. but jimin’s fall had been miraculously cushioned by yoongi’s chest, the elder having fallen flat on his back against what jimin could only imagine was the disgustingly alcohol-sticky tiled floor. gross.

yoongi groaned, his voice barely audible over the pounding bass intermixed with taehyung’s loud shrieking.

“hey,” jimin rested his chin on yoongi’s chest, his already muddled brain just a tiny bit overwhelmed by the stale and bitter scent of beer that lingered on the other’s lips. “you’re kinda cute, how did i never notice before.”

yoongi snorted, groaned, jimin couldn't tell which.

“i’m gonna kiss you,” jimin said before his consciousness could actually catch up with his brain. “y’know, not because we’re best bros or anything, but like because you’re kinda cute right now and i’m kinda drunk and i couldn't think about anything but this for the past few days since-”

“just fucking shut up,” yoongi leaned up and pressed his lips onto jimin’s.

it tasted bitter, but it was warm and soft. and it tasted like something foreign but altogether completely familiar, like a promise of the past and present and future.

it tasted like home.

“literally you are such a piece of shit,” yoongi smiled fondly when they finally came up for air.

yup, definitely felt like home.

#yoonmin #bts fic #pre-relationship #fluff #mini mini mini angst #slice of life #literally have no idea what this is #there's a lot of cursing involved #past 2min

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nhlhoser · 7 years

Text

On The Rocks - 16

Part 15 Masterlist

Word Count: 3328

minor swearing as usual

Driving through Toronto is frustrating, traffic sucks - especially if you're exhausted and your annoying little brother keeps flipping through radio stations and singing along horribly when he finds something but changing it right after.

Speaking of changing stations as he's hand inches towards the knob again I swat his hand away with force, he gets the message and silently sits in his seat.

"Party girls don't get hurt..."

I don't have to see Ricky's face to know he's smirking, slowly he reaches the hand to the knob to turn up the SIA song but I beat him to it with volume control on the stirring wheel.

"IM GONNA SWIIING FROM THE CHANDELIER!!!!!!!!" I belt out the familiar lyrics with a huge grin despite the exhaustion weighing on my shoulders, at this moment I am carefree singing horribly as I drive my brother to his lacrosse practice, He's lucky the Arena is 5 minutes away from my apartment or he'd be shit out of luck.

I am way out of breath by the time the song finishes. I am in fits of laughter and so it Ricky, my core just gets more and more sore with every laugh.

"Oh, my....My abs....they hurt" I wheezed leaning my head on the wheel as I stop in front of the lacrosse arena, Ricky's still incomplete fits his head leaning against the window, tears rolling down his cheeks as he tries to catch his breath but going into fresh hysterics every time.

"Okay...get out of my car before you make me suffocate because I can-I can't breathe," I laugh out some more before finally getting some control, resting my hands on my clenched belly, taking deep calming breaths.

"Okay, okay I am going but I have a question," He's tone gets serious at the end making my brows furrow, slightly worried at what is next to come out of his mouth.

"So... My birthday is coming up and I was hoping I could have a party........at your place?" Ricky's puppy dog eyes have always been a weakness those big baby blues can make anyone weak. Right now that is what I am facing, the infamous begging face that Ricky only pulls when he really wants something.

"Did you ask Dad or your mom already?" I quizzed not really want my place to be overrun by Rick and his buddies. Ricky's shoulder slump and he don't look me in the eye, I raised my brow at him.

"..no..."

We lock in a staring contest, my face 'are you kidding me' Ricky's eyes are pleading. My eyes narrow at him.

"Why my place?" I whined pouting.

"Uhm Have you see the view? also, your place is fucking amazing!" He grins sensing he's winning the battle but I am not giving up that hard.

"I hate you" I started as his face morphs into sheer happiness making my heart swell, happy people are the best.

"You clean everything whether it's you personally or someone else, as long I am not doing it. Something goes missing you're replacing it, same goes for if anything breaks. The last call is 3 am everyone out by 4 and we'll discuss a date when I am not this exhausted and if I say it's over you bet your little ass IT IS OVER," I raised a brow challenging him to disagree with anything i just said. Ricky instantly jerked up and hit his head on the roof in excitement before literally tumbling out my car and onto the sidewalk before getting up and jumping up.

"AH! Yes, okay we'll talk when you're no longer a zombie," Ricky was all smiles as we said our goodbyes as he got his gear from my truck and into the facilities where some of his teammates met and him. By the cheers, I am guessing he told them that I said Yes- with conditions. I honk and wave before leaving for my apartment where I have food to make and a bed to sleep in.

Pissed is an understatement.

I was livid.

Mitchell Marner the little shit that he is is eating the food that he watched me meal prep last Sunday, and he is well aware that the food he is eating is the last of my prep for this week.

He sat at the barstool at the counter looking like a deer caught in headlights, a guilty look in his eyes as the empty container lay on the surface before him before he pushes it towards an unsuspecting William who is eating a salad.

"Nope, this is your problem," the words slightly muffled by the salad he's shoveling into his mouth as he pushes the container back to him shaking his head.

Taking a deep- a very deep breathe, I lock my eyes with Mitchells scared ones. Emotionless I approach the man-child.

"I am going to shower because I have had a long day, I would love to of been able to eat relaxed for the rest of the night. Having worked out this morning, gone to work and more training after. Thinking 'Oh I have food ready at home' otherwise I wouldn't have gone to training but now here's how we're gonna do this, so I don't murder you. The only reason you're still breathing is that I have burned all the energy in my body and I can't replenish unless I have the specific amount of protein, calories, and carbs." My face and voice level and calm, making Mitch squirm as William watches with wide eyes.

"You are going to go get me food, and it's going to match my nutation plan, reasonable if I say so myself," I held back a smile as Mitch's shoulder slump in relief when he learns that he gets to live for another day, only because all of Toronto would kill me.

After giving Mitch earful of the exact grams and ml of what needs to be in my food and what food I do or do not like. Like a little puppy with, his tail between his legs he retreats out of the apartment collect his jacket and keys.

"Thanks for not killing my boyfriend! I would of if I was you, No one touches my food," Steph said coming down the stairs, by her still wet hair she just out of the shower.

"Will, Honey you know you don't live here right?" Stephanie approached her fellow blonde with a teasing smile as she throws her arm around his shoulders giving him a side hug. A red tint started to spread across his cheeks as he's still eating. He takes moment to swollen the contents in his mouth before responding.

"That I am aware, but that brings up what I was meaning to ask Amelia this morning," He pauses and his face looking shyer than I have ever seen it. My brows furrow with concern, Steph face mirroring mine.

"Uhm.... well Can I stay in the guest room tonight?" His eyes big and sad.

I responded the same time as Steph.

"Of course,"

"Why?"

Steph's face morphs into one of confusion and suspicion as she steps away from the poor boy, as if William burned her, making William frown and making my heart ache.

Sad William is the worst and most terrible thing I have ever witnessed and if there's a way for him to not be sad, I'd most likely do. I am a pushover, especially when I am this tired.

"Awe Steph don't be mean to him," I whined as I brought Will into a hug squish him, resting my chin on his head. "How can you be mean to this face?" I squish his cheeks as he narrowed his eyes at me not impressed.

"Nylander you broke my roommate," Steph giggled as I rolled my eyes and playfully push him away but he in return almost fell off the stool.

"I am starting to think I should have just asked Marty," Will huffed regaining his position on the stool.

"Don't worry, William. Amelia is just in delirium right now from a lack of multiple things." Stephanie teased bringing me into an awkward side hug and it's my turn to glare. Gently pushing her off towards the couch where she dramatically threw herself over to watch TV.

"Whatever, Where you want to stay if up to you. I am going to have that shower now. Will, the room should be made already if not just bugged Steph," I smirked as Steph huffed from the couch but didn't protest.

Collecting my gear that I dropped at the front door when I caught the food thief, I toss my nasty gym clothes into the wash and then poured some baby powder into my box gloves and my gym shoes to absorb the sweat and the odor. Empty the bag I take with me to the rink, my collection of oils, creams, and physio tapes tumble out onto the folding table before I rearrange the bottle back into place in my medicine cabinet where I keep all my first aid gear and massage oils.

Grabbing my massage chair I bring it out of the laundry room and lay it against the wall before grabbing sanitizer spray to spray it down for tomorrow because Morgan will be over for his pre-game shoulder massage which has become a vital part of his routine or that's what he says at least.

Finally having everything set for the morning, I'm gassed. I yawn leaning against the door frame of the room watching Steph click through the movies on Netflix and William disagreeing with anything she suggests before she smacks him and chooses the notebook much to Williams dismay and whining.

"Have you even watched the Notebook?" Steph snapped at the hockey player who silently shook his head and both of us girls groaned.

Grabbing the box of tissues from the cabinet to myself I push myself off the doorframe and hand the box to Will who passes it to Steph but Steph hands them back before smirking.

"There for you, big boy," I clapped him on the back before head to my awaiting shower.

I'm practically sleepwalking by the time my shower is done, the hot water relaxed me to the core. Mindlessly drying myself off, brushing my hair and going into my closet, I throw on a soft loose shirt and black shorts before yawning extra hard and walking to my bed throwing myself over to another side to Check my phone on the side table.

Somewhere between reading a text message from Ricky and my dad, I must have fallen asleep because I'm slowly blinking open my eyes when there's a soft knocking on my bedroom door.

"M'come in" I sit up in time to realize I never actually put on my shirt, quickly tossing the white fabric over my head as a blonde I head pokes in followed by the rest of his body, a shaker bottle in hand.

"I thought you might want a protein shake to tide you over until Mitch returns," William offers the bottle, shyly standing in the doorway. I wave him over eyeing the shake with heart eyes, I practically snatch it from him when he gets closer. Drinking about half in the first go earning a chuckle from Will.

"Mmm so goood, thank you Will," I tiredly beam at the blonde.

"It's no problem, I got bored with the movie and Steph was really into," Will casually shrugs his shoulders before flopping in my bed face first with a groan and a giggle from me.

"You good?" I poke his tense shoulder as he lets out a sigh and turns his head to face me exposing a frown.

"I'm scared," He confesses making my heart ache for him.

"Of tomorrow?" slightly shocked

"Yeah, just its scary if we don't win tomorrow we're so screwed, it's just some much easier for us tomorrow than have to win on Sunday and hope Tampa loses. The what if we don't win tomorrow or the next and Tampa wins. We're so potentially screwed but not it hurts my head," Will groans in the pillows before his shoulders slump and facing me again still sad.

My head hurts for him and all the leafs but the rookie's success brings this added pressure for them. Now that they've done big things, that's all people expect is great.

"Well, Willy you have to remember you're only human just like everyone else on the team and on the ice. You're also not alone out there, you guys have already proved yourself all you can do is play your damn heart out and if that's not enough- well fuck them. As long as you played your hardest screw everyone else," My voice firm and soft like I was with Auston earlier.

"You're also not the only one freaking the fuck out, Auston was hiding in a private therapy room and told him almost the same thing," I chuckle at the memory from earlier. William flips on his back staring up at the light gray ceiling before looking back at me with a soft smile making his feature look much younger.

"Amelia you're really good at this making people feel relax thing, Auston told me about his little meditation session but didn't tell me about his freak out," Will's lips quirk up into a smirk at the end earning him a glare.

"If you think you can chirp him for being a human being with emotions, I'll personally let the team know about your freak out, William Nylander." I threaten the smirk right off his face making him pout.

Before anything else could be said the door of my apartment is slammed open then closed with a yell from Mitch about my food and probably a grumble that only could be heard by Steph because of an auditable slap and a yelp from Mitch.

"He's whipped," William laughs.

"And you wouldn't be?" I tease giggling at Williams grumpy face.

"You know you're just as good at making people feel bad as you can good," William whines getting up from my bed before dragging me up too, grabbing the almost empty bottle of shake and finishing it off much to my protests.

"Hey!"

"Shouldn't have been mean," William taunted pushing me out of the room.

I near attacked Mitch for my food when I get to the living room, leaving the poor boy wide-eyed as I attack my steak, broccoli and salad the smell assaulting my nose and making my stomach roar in hunger so loud I was now the one left Wide-eyed as everyone laughed.

"Down girl," I muttered rubbing my tummy as I set my food on the dining table and plopping down into a chair ready to devour the delicious contents but stopping in my greedy quest id chew to thank Mitch even though he is his own reason for going out.

"Thank chew," My words muffled.

"No problem," Mitch smiles as he plops between the empty space between William and Steph throw his arm around his girlfriend.

"Better not be a problem YOU ate her food," Steph poked his chest with gusto before cuddling into it. shaking my head now over the little episode from earlier now that I am eating.

Food and showers work wonders.

Halfway through my food the familiar sound of hockey starts coming from the Tv meaning Mitch probably is watching gameplay, Williams confession earlier makes me stop mid-chew to look over to Will practically hiding in the couch now looking at the screen, making my heart ache. Looking at food then back at Will, I sigh before finishing my salad and closing the container before sticking it in the fridge with a longing stare.

"Hey, Uhm Amelia my shoulder is stiff do you have any of the shoulder cream?" Williams' voice breaks me from my staring contest with my food, startling me. Turning around and almost knocked into him he's so close.

"Jesus William, Yeah it's either in the cabinet or upstairs," I know it's down here but I think he just wants to not be watching hockey. Heading to the laundry room with William in tow, I pull him in and open the cabinet door open blocking off the view into the room.

"Actually need this," Holding the A535 in my hand "Or just don't wanna be here?" I said ridiculously gesturing around the apartment. Will's shoulders drop relief.

"Just don't wanna hockey, you know?" His expression pained and sad.

"Well, let's go upstairs and 'work on the shoulder' leave these love sickos alone," I teased closing the cabinet, nudging Will with wink pushing him towards the stairs. Wishing Mitch and Steph a good night.

William gets to my bed before I do and lays starfish taking up the entire queen sized bed.

"Better move your ass over boy,"

"or what?" William challenged like a child wagging his brows getting more comfortable on the bed. Rolling my eyes at the man-child that is William Nylander. Turning my back to him to set up my laptop to my tv and turn on netlix and queueing up Pirates of the Caribbean, turning back to bed where William is still taking up the bed eyes closed. Turning the lights off, I jump on the unprepared blonde.

"ah," He groaned.

I laid on my stomach across his giggling as his arms surround me and flip me over to his side and adjusts us so my head lays on his chest his arms still around me. He's incredibly warm making a chill run down my spine.

A good chill.

I reach down the bed to pull my fuzzy blanket that I keep folded at the end, pulling it over us. Making me snuggle closer to William because of the heat his producing and the fabric of the blanket still cold from the air.

"Thank you for letting me stay over," William whispered halfway through the movie slightly starling me, forgetting my personal heater is, in fact, a person. Tilting my head up lazily, my blue eyes connect with him, full of emotions that I can't pinpoint.

"It's not a problem," I smiled softly up at him as he smiles down, his large surprisingly soft hand (not that surprising knowing Will) brushes the hair from my eyes to behind my ear before his handsets under my jaw. My cheeks are on fire due to my blush, I am not used to-to this type of intimate-IS THIS INTIMATE?- contact. Williams thumb faintly brushes over my lip before leaning his head down brushing his lips against mine softly.

This would have been great if I didn't squeak causing him to jerk his head smashing his head down against my nose spring instant tears and another squeak. My hands fly to my face instinctively protecting my nose from more damage.

"Oh my- are you okay? are you bleeding?" Came Williams frantic words helping me sit up straight, my hand's still over my face as I stare wide-eyed into Williams equally wide eyes. Embarrassed being an understanding.

"I am so sorry, just I thought there was a moment, I, I just went for it. Oh, man, that's one way to say you don't wanna kiss," Will ramble trailing off at the end look dejected.

"No, it's not that its - I-" I paused taking my hands from my face a tiny bit of blood on my hands, grabbing a tissue from the nightstand to my left cleaning up a little, stopping the bleeding before going on. "You're hot, believe me- but I don't like you like that," My face was scolding hot with a blush.

"Thank god," William huffed falling back in the pillows. "I thought there was a moment then nothing- I felt nothing it was like kissing a relative," a chuckle and a snort turns into a fit of laughter only stop by my aching my nose.

#auston matthews imagine #auston matthews #william nylander #482754 #on the rocks

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my-mystic-messenger · 7 years

Note

Asthmatic MC about to have sex with RFA (V+Saeran included) but they start to have an asthma attack. Like, they can't breath and they have to get talked through it to breath again.

Thank you so much for the ask :D It was rather challenging, since I don’t know much about asthma so I had to ask my best friend Google for help there, but I like a challenge. I also hope that it’s okay that not all of them ‘talked her through it’ per se…some people handle stress situation better than others :P

|| REQUEST ARE (ALWAYS) OPEN!! ||

Zen:

♬ you were very excited as Zen was above you, giving you that dirty smirk you knew meant fun

♬ he began trailing kisses down your body, nibbling at skin and leaving his mark

♬ you weren’t allowed to do that, because he’d just have to cover it up with make-up, but he fucking loved doing it to you

♬ a private mark to remind him that you were his

♬ he kissed your thighs, his hot breath tickling your skin

♬ you could feel the arousal soaring through you, heart rate picking up

♬ when he goes down on you it’s like an explosion, really

♬ he’s damn good at it, sucking and licking at your clit while fingering you

♬ that is when you first start noticing that maybe you gasping for air wasn’t just a reaction to the overwhelming pleasure

♬ you brush it off at first

♬ you haven’t had an asthma attack in years

♬ instead you attempt to focus on the pleasure, rocking onto his wicked tongue licking inside of you now

♬ that is when you start to notice that damn familiar tight feeling in your chest

♬ soon followed by panting

♬ and then the damn wheezing sets in

♬ fuck

♬ you feel Zen freeze between your legs and look up at you in confusion

♬ you know what he must be thinking right now; what kind of unsexy sex noises is she producing

♬ what you didn’t expect was to him to immediately stop and to pull you up into a sitting position

♬ he kneeled in front of you, looking up at you with worry in his eyes

♬ he cupped your face, inspecting you before nodding with determination

♬ apparently he figured out what exactly the problem was

♬ “Do you have an inhaler with you?”

♬ you tried to answer, but only more wheezing came out so you shook your head

♬ another short nod on his part

♬ “Breathe with me. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. 3 seconds in, hold it and 3 seconds out. Yes, just like that.”

♬ he talked you through the entire thing and you’ve never been more thankful for anything

♬ or more embarrassed, for that matter

♬ you apologized a couple of times, but he stopped you every time

♬ “The only thing you should be apologizing for is not having told me you used to have asthma attacks”, he says, voice gentle.

♬ Despite you reassuring him that you were alright he insisted on bringing you to the nearest hospital

♬ not only that, but he carried you there

♬ in his arms

♬ the entire way

♬ once there the doctor gave you a new inhaler, suggested some treatments and told Zen he did good

♬ it made him feel proud to know he’d done good by you

♬ you thanked him for a kiss to the cheek

♬ he blushed

♬ “Lucky for you actors get stage fright so I know about a million different way to breathe and calm you down!”

Yoosung:

★ when the two of you decided to finally share your first time together both of you were nervous

★ neither of you really knew what you were doing

★ it didn’t matter though, since you loved each other and were happy to share such a special moment

★ you’d gone about it a little methodically, reading up on the internet, preparing condoms, lube, music and such

★ you were still nervous though, because you’d read that the first time hurt and you were so bad with pain

★ both of you decided that it was best to start with making out, take your time and get into it

★ everything was fine at first

★ you were kissing, slow and sweet

★ then things started becoming a little more heated, passion taking over, tongues fighting for dominance

★ you could feel yourself getting wet, turned on, but also breathless

★ when he broke the kiss and started kissing down your neck your breath started to get faster

★ and faster

★ and yet your lungs didn’t seem to be filling with air

★ damn it

★ you began wheezing and apparently that got Yoosung’s attention because he stopped and stared up at you

★ had this not been such a serious situation, you might have laughed at his expression

★ he looked like a deer caught in the headlight, really

★ sadly this wasn’t funny and breathing became even harder

★ then Yoosung started to panic as well, gripping your shoulders and shaking you

★ what on earth was he doing

★ “Oh my God, breathe! You have to breathe! Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God.”

★ you sincerely hoped that animals didn’t have asthma…because they would have been dead

★ “Oh God, you’re not breathing. Why aren’t you breathing?”

★ possibly because he was shaking you like a rag-doll, but you weren’t quite sure

★ when he noticed that telling you to breathe and calm didn’t help when he himself was a wreck of nerves and anxiety you began pointing towards your bag

★ luckily you still carried your inhaler

★ at first he was confused but after about half a minute he finally got what you were getting at

★ he ran towards your bag and took the poor thing apart until he finally found the inhaler

★ he handed it to you, watching you take a puff from it every thirty seconds

★ usually you’d only have to do it once a minute, but he’d gotten you worked up

★ after ten puffs you stop, finally feeling like you can breathe again, and exhale

★ meanwhile Yoosung is kneeling in front of you, head hanging low

★ you reach out and brush through his messy hair

★ “I really messed that up, didn’t I? Man, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll do better next time.”

Jaehee:

♨ this woman is literally prepared for anything, even things you’d never expect

♨ when you first decided to have sex with one another you were both knew to it

♨ not sex, but sex with other women

♨ you’d gone in head first, Jaehee had read up on it on the internet

♨ you were a good team, calm meeting crazy

♨ which is why it didn’t surprise you at all when she pulled out an inhaler during your asthma attack

♨ you’d been getting cozy on the couch, watching the latest of Zen’s play on DVD

♨ one thing led to the other and you were kissing

♨ you were straddling Jaehee, grinding against her in desperate need for friction

♨ it felt great and you wanted more than just that, wanted to feel her against you bare and naked

♨ the thought got you aroused, worked up even

♨ sadly, a little too much, as it seemed

♨ suddenly you found herself coughing and wheezing

♨ the fact that you were having an asthma attack when it’d been years worked you up

♨ you got nervous, and the symptoms got worse

♨ luckily Jaehee reacted quickly

♨ she gently pushed you off herself to sit upright on the couch

♨ she calmly disappeared for a couple of seconds only to return from the bathroom with an inhaler in hand

♨ you didn’t have a lot of time to worry about where she’d gotten it from or why

♨ you accepted it, putting it into your mouth and inhaled

♨ meanwhile she held up her wrist, staring at her watch

♨ “You’re not too far gone so I’d say one puff every forty seconds should be enough.”

♨ You had no idea how she remained so calm, but you appreciated it a lot

♨ “Take another puff exactly…now!”

♨ you did and about five minutes later you felt much much better

♨ once you could breathe and talk again you couldn’t help but ask

♨ Jaehee merely shrugged, a sweet blush to her cheeks

♨ “I noticed that you run out of breath at work much quicker than I do. I wasn’t sure whether I was right with my asthma theory, but when I googled the symptoms did add up and I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

Jumin:

♛ it had taken months to convince Jumin to have sex

♛ even just thinking it made you feel dirty

♛ not that he’d been repelled by you or the idea of sex with you, but he really wanted to wait until marriage

♛ when you explained to him that you weren’t quite ready to say yes though, he soon caved

♛ maybe the cat ears, tail and little bell to wear around your neck had something to do with it too…

♛ but who cares about minor details like that

♛ the second he came home and saw you in that outfit, his moral soon flew out of the window

♛ honestly, he just did it because he wanted to be better than his father anyway

♛ Jumin had admitted to never having had sex before, so you’d been worried it might not be good

♛ you worried for nothing, let me tell you

♛ you couldn’t tell whether he’d watched porn recently or read up on it or whether it was just pure talent

♛ but he was wicked good and you hadn’t even been naked at that time

♛ he was worshipping your body, touching you everywhere, feathery light

♛ caressing every inch of skin he could get his hands on, always tender and loving

♛ you were so overwhelmed with emotion you felt like you might actually cry

♛ especially when he stopped the naughty bits to press a kiss to your hand, just as a reminder that it wasn’t just about sex

♛ that is when you felt like all air got sucked out of your lungs…

♛ …and no new air was coming in

♛ how unfortunate

♛ he’d stopped when he’d noticed something was off, that you’d gone tense

♛ you weren’t wheezing yet, but from how you remembered your attacks, it would set in soon

♛ Jumin was looking at you, frowning slightly as he didn’t seem to understand what the issue was

♛ when you gasped out for an inhaler, it quickly made click

♛ he got out his phone and called for his servants employees to get you an inhaler

♛ while waiting for them he talked you through the attack

♛ his voice had always been low and soothing, but in that moment it was even more so

♛ by the time someone came the inhaler you were mostly calmed down again

♛ he still told you to take a puff or two for good measures

♛ “See, that is what happens when you have sex before marriage. Now please tell your doctor to send me your medical records immediately. I need to take precautions.”

Saeyoung/Seven

☼ he’d been holed up in his room for almost a week

☼ apparently working on some virus that was harder to program than he’d anticipated

☼ when he’d finally come out, Seven had been stressed and tense

☼ you’d figured it’d be a nice gesture to…relief some of the stress

☼ you’d pushed him down onto the couch, straddling him

☼ after making out for a while, things turning heated rather quick, you decided to climb down and go

☼ you went on his knees, ready to give him the blowjob of his life

☼ Seven’s looked wrecked from the kiss alone, so you were hoping that would blow his mind entirely

☼ his eyes were half lidded, lips parted and spit slick and God was that vision hot

☼ when you took him into your mouth he moaned, hand coming to fist your hair

☼ you groaned around his length, sending vibrations down his shaft

☼ apparently he liked that a lot, because he bucked his hips and thrust into your mouth

☼ you didn’t like that

☼ mainly because for even just a split second you felt like you were choking

☼ and that set you off

☼ you found yourself pulling off, panting and gasping for air

☼ then the wheezing set in and Seven finally reacted

☼ not that it was optimal

☼ in his half-panic he reached for an empty bag of Honey Buddha Chips and pressed it to your mouth

☼ you really would have loved to been able to roll your eyes

☼ however, all you could was breathe in and out of the damn bag

☼ you could still taste the faint note of chips with every breath

☼ eventually you’d calmed down enough to get rid of the bag, glaring daggers at your idiot of a boyfriend

☼ “Did you seriously just press a dirty chips bag against my face to breathe into?”

☼ at least he had the decency to look ashamed, scratching the back of his head nervously

☼ “Not really clever of me. In my defense, I’m sleep deprived. Still…not my prouder moment. Sorry.”

Saeran:

☀ You were lying in bed, wrapped up in your own world

☀ making out with Saeran was something you appreciated a lot

☀ for one it took a lot of trust in you to let you this close

☀ he also was a great kisser

☀ whether it be feathery light and just a brush of lips or passionate, licking into your mouth and claiming it with his tongue

☀ this time, however, you were surprised when he began touching you

☀ his hand disappeared under your shirt, slowly roaming upwards

☀ his touch left a pleasant shiver behind wherever it went

☀ when his hand wrapped around your bare breast, fingers playfully twisting your nipple you gasped

☀ you arched into the touch, biting your lip to muffle any embarrassing sounds

☀ you hadn’t been touched like that in a long time, so your body was hypersensitive

☀ suddenly his hand was gone though and you were about to pout when you felt it sneak under your skirt and ~ oh!

☀ He used two fingers to push inside you while his thumb circled your clit

☀ it took your breath away

☀ which was fine, until he literally took your breath away

☀ this attack came so fast you barely saw it coming

☀ clutching your chest you gasped for air

☀ Saeran just blinked and calmly removed his hand from your body

☀ he then turned around leaving you facing his back

☀ you felt hurt for a moment, almost close to tears until suddenly he turned back and pressed an inhaler between your lips and pressed it, forcing you to inhale a deep breath

☀ a minute later he did it again, expression almost eerily calm and neutral

☀ you calmed soon after, still staring at him with wide eyes though

☀ what had just happened?

☀ when you asked him where he’d gotten the inhaler from he told you he’d brought it a couple of months ago

☀ you asked him whether he had asthma but he said that wasn’t the case, leaving you even more confused

☀ “I hacked into your medical record and saw that you had asthma so I took care of it. I need you alive. you also didn’t tell me you were allergic to eggs. That was reckless of you.”

☀ you just kind of gaped at him at that admission

☀ well, he certainly had a unique way of showing you that he loved you

☀ “And look, I got it in your favourite colour too.”

Jihyun Kim/V

📷 the entire day you’d felt somewhat breathless

📷 it had been rather stressful at the party, so you figured that must have been the reason

📷 especially as you’d watch V get on stage to sell his last photographs

📷 now he had none saved and left to sell and was incapable of taking more

📷 while he’d moved on from Rika and you’d actually gotten him to agree to the surgery, it’d been to late

📷 at that point, a couple of years after the actual incident, the doctors had said there was nothing they could do anymore, it was permanent

📷 you figured the heavy feeling on your chest was your heart sinking at said fact

📷 when you’d gotten home you’d still felt somewhat sad, but V had just laughed and shaken his head

📷 he’d seen this event as something to be celebrated, to be happy about

📷 after all he’d been able to follow his dreams and passions and take photographs until the very end

📷 when he put it that way, you couldn’t help but agree

📷 you’d kissed him then, innocent and light

📷 V, however, had other things in mind

📷 soon you’d found yourself pressed against the nearest wall, a leg between yours for you to grind against

📷 you shamelessly did so, panting and gradually getting more out of breath

📷 by the time you noticed what was going on, that you’d been wrong about those signs throughout the day it was too late

📷 the asthma attack hit you hard, the weight on your chest almost unbearable, forcing you to your knees

📷 you’d felt like you were suffocating and no matter how often you took breaths, nothing stuck

📷 to your surprise, V had remained completely calm

📷 he’d followed you on your knees and didn’t come too close, instead keeping enough distance to let you breathe

📷 he breathed along with you, showed you how to do it, soother you with his calm words

📷 when you’d calmed enough not to choke on him he got up and returned with an old looking inhaler

📷 you’d taken a couple of puffs and handed the inhaler back

📷 “I used to have asthma as a kid. This thing is old though, so we better get you a new one just in case.”

|| REQUEST ARE (ALWAYS) OPEN!! ||

I’m sorry if there are some mistakes, I’m hella tired at this point and have been staring at this for hours XD I really hope you like it nevertheless

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