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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years

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From Blood Love and Courage - Chapter Eight.

So... apart from my usual lovely people (you know who you are) I’ve noticed interest dwindling over the last few chapters. Sigh. Can I prompt a few more of you to interact if you’re enjoying this? I’m kinda feeling like I suck. Again :(

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven

Words - 4,195

Tag list - In the comments, please message to be added/removed

Warnings - Mentions of rape and the associated trauma of such to come in future chapters. While I do not plan on detailing these overtly graphically, there will be detailing of such and conversations surrounding the subject, so if this is a trigger for you, you’d be best not to begin reading the story. 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

When she awoke the next morning, Lily felt something sharp ping at her insides at remembering the day before. She didn’t want it to be difficult to move past, Angel’s behaviour spurred by his jealousy, but she knew it likely would be. Turning over, she saw him still sleeping beside her, reaching to stroke his face.

She loved him so much.

In dealing with it, she knew too that his behaviour wasn’t indicative of him loving her any less, there was no lack of sincerity on his part; it was because he loved her so much that he’d lost his mind out of jealousy and tried to sabotage them, all out of fear that he was going to lose her to another. She’d done the same, except without the vindictiveness, and his ease and swiftness to resort to such was a worry, she couldn’t deny that it was. His love didn’t make what he’d done right, it didn’t excuse it.

Sliding from her bed, she went about getting ready for her early training session, leaving him to sleep. With her match the following day, she couldn’t worry about Angel, or whether he’d freak out like that and do it again in the future. She just had to hope that he wouldn’t, because it was a side of him she really did not care for.

It was a side of him that if she saw again, there would be no him and her.

She felt it begin to piss her off, despite what they’d discussed, or the resolve they’d come to, because she knew for a fact she would never, ever have used another man to make him feel like shit, knowing his issues with rejection. He knew hers, and had done so anyway. Okay, so he didn’t have sex with the other girl, but seeing him kissing her had been bad enough.

What could she do, though? She’d said all she needed to, vented her anger, punched him in the eye for it as well. All she could do now was sit tight and see if he truly did intend on changing his ways. The man he’d been, the Angel she had seen prior to his falter was very much worth it, she couldn’t deny.

“Hey, sleepy,” she spoke softly as she sat down on the bed, bending to kiss his chest. “You have to take me back to get my car, remember?” He stirred, reaching for her, pulling her into a hug.

“I do, yeah,” he grunted, still half asleep. “Is that coffee I smell?”

She sat up, flicking the large mug on the nightstand she’d brought in for him with her fingernail. “Sure is.”

He stretched, sitting up properly, reaching for the mug and taking a swig. “You’re too good to me, mamacita. I don’t deserve you, especially after yesterday. Again, I’m so sorry. All I dreamed of last night was you walking out on me, and it sucked, even if it wasn’t real.”

She sighed softly, drawing her knees up to hug them. “That all depends on how you act, going forward.”

He acknowledged that. “I know. I mean, even just doing what you did with Sofia and having a little temperamental meltdown would have been preferrable, but I really hate myself for trying to hurt you and push you away. Everything has been going so great, and then I go act like a child and fucking wreck it all!” The fact that he could see how wrong he’d been and honestly was ashamed of himself went a long way for Lily, it really did. “I get it, that in light of all this you’re gonna have issues trusting me. I understand, sweet pea.”

Again, it was reassuring that he did.

After he’d gotten ready, they headed back to Santo Padre, Lily hopping off his bike in the quiet scrapyard, not a soul around given that it was still only 6:30am.

“So, I’ll meet you at your place at six tonight, then?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her waist. He hated it, seeing how her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Oh, if he’d fucked all this up, he wouldn’t easily forgive himself. His timing was awful, too, with her fight the following day. God, what an idiot he was!

“You will, yeah.”

“Want me to bring dinner?”

She brightened a little at his suggestion, but not by much. “Yeah, can you get Chinese so I can have brown rice, chicken and broccoli, please?”

“Yeah, no problem, baby. See you later, love you.”

“Love you, too.” The lack of enthusiasm in her speaking those words made his stomach drop, Angel sighing as she walked to her car, heading for the office and opening up to grab his work shirt. He might as well make an early start. There were several old cars that required crushing and heaping before the wagon arrived to take them away later that morning, so he got on it, admonishing himself with every moment that passed. He internally kicked himself, repeatedly, furious over what a fuck up he’d been.

He had a wonderful girl, and what had he done? Almost blown it. That’s what he’d done.

Hell, she might even turn around at some point soon and decide that no, she actually was worth more than an emotional headcase like him, and who’s fault would that be? His. Once the cars had been sorted, he turned his attention to a large container full of copper that needed sorting, jumping in over the side of the big, metal crate that had been lifted via crane into the yard, beginning to pull pieces of copper out from the mixture of steel, hearing footsteps approach.

“Feel like taking a break?” EZ asked, holding up the breakfast items he’d been to fetch in his hands. Coffee and a breakfast burrito; he could definitely do with such sustenance.

“Yeah, hold on.” Hauling himself up, he jumped down, removing his thick work gloves and jerking his head in the direction of the clubhouse, the brothers seating themselves on one of the old, battered couches out front on the porch. “Thanks for this, I appreciate it.”

EZ nodded, sipping his coffee. “What I really wish you’d appreciate is how much I care about you, and because of that, how I’d never make the moves on Lily.”

Angel laughed softly though his nose, closing his eyes for a moment. “You mad at me too?”

“A little,” he confirmed. “But I know it’s not really anything to do with me. It’s your toxic shit, biting you in the ass. It does bear me mentioning, though, that I wouldn’t ever do that to you. Look, Lily is great, and yeah, she’s beautiful as well, but we were just having fun, hanging out, pursuing a mutual interest in fitness and getting to know one another better. I thought it was important I do that, since I sense she’s gonna be around for the foreseeable. Unless you fuck it all up by acting like you did last night. I heard all about it, by the way. Taza filled me in.”

Of course, he had. Angel saw it quite clearly, the fatherly eye Taza watched over Lily with. “Then I extend an apology to you as well.”

“Appreciated,” EZ interjected with.

“And you’re right, it is my shit. I got so damned lucky with her; I really did. Anyone else would have just screamed at me and then told me to go fuck myself, but she didn’t, because she believes I’m capable of better. I know I am, too, I just gotta... ahh, you know.”

He did. “Not be all up in your head about everything?”

Angel fiddled with the lid on his coffee, his mouth tightening a little. “Yeah, exactly that.”

“It’s all that stands in the way of everything you want, and what I think you need,” EZ continued, Angel making an inquiring face as he bit into the burrito. “You need a steady girl in your life, someone you can start building a life with, have a family with eventually, too. Because that’s your goal, isn’t it? You wanna be a dad.”

It was true, Angel had to somewhat concede. “Maybe not yet, but yeah, eventually I’d love to have kids, see how much I fuck that up, too.”

Angel and his self-deprecation; that’s when EZ knew his elder brother was under no illusion of his wrong doings. “You won’t. Whether it’s with Lily or not – and that’s way too soon to even consider – you'll be great. Just maybe get the whole not fucking up being a good boyfriend bit out of the way first, huh?”

While Angel was beginning to feel a little better, Lily was in the ring, having a tap around with David, a young guy also coached by Larry, who looked on proudly from the floor.

“Hands up, pivot, great block, yes!” She had the speed, she had the power, and by god, she had an extra measure of ferocity, too. She was ready. “Okay, Lily. We’re calling it a day there. Cool down and relax, you’re looking perfect. The nemesis ain’t gonna know what’s hit her.”

With the fire in her belly at seeing the man she loved kissing another woman burning away savagely, Lily finally felt confident that Gabriella Martinez truly wouldn’t, either. Hell, something good had to come from the utter clusterfuck that was the previous evening. With her mind on her fight as well as all things coffee and light snack related while she worked her shift, she managed to keep her thoughts steered away from Angel for a few hours, returning home to let Charlie out onto her shoulder, feeding him his snacks and placing him on his perch, quickly tidying her apartment a little bit before crashing down and listening to music while she waited for him to arrive. For the first time since meeting him, she wasn’t really looking forward to it either.

After eating dinner in what was predominantly silence only punctuated by stunted conversation, Angel was glad in that moment that Lily didn’t smoke inside her apartment, letting himself out on the balcony and lighting up, blowing a plume of smoke down his nostrils as he scratched his forehead, contemplative. He hated that she was still angry at him, but completely understood. He didn’t expect immediate forgiveness, but the more immature side of him just wanted to smooth it all out, the uneasiness not sitting well within him. The grown man in him knew it was his punishment for acting like a complete asshole.

He also knew that Lily likely needed to vent a little more about it, that there was probably another talk they needed to have, and time to pass before she began to feel more secure in their relationship once more, but there was no way he wanted to rock the boat on the eve of her match; it was too important a fight to her for him to possibly unsettle her more than his actions already had. This left him between a rock and a hard place, and he knew he deserved to be there, too.

“It’s your learning curve, man,” he muttered, taking another long drag on his cigarette. “If you don’t want to feel like this again, then don’t fucking do what leads to it, you stupid fuck.” Groaning, it then hit him; he’d reverted to thinking of himself first, not her, or her hurt in the wake of it all. One learning curve after another, and he knew he had to continue going through them this time, because Lily was worth it. More than worth it. And, it was about time he started behaving like someone who was close to thirty-three years old.

The way he felt about her dictated he should feel like shit for as long as it took for her to feel comfortable and trusting of him again, while he’d learn each lesson as it came, rather than avoiding it via methods of sabotage, only destined to repeat his mistakes all over again with the next woman. He didn’t want there to be a next woman. Angel only wanted the woman who barely spoke more than a few words to him for the rest of the night, sitting lost in her phone, watching videos of her opponent’s fights on YouTube, studying her hard. He might as well have not been there, but he wasn’t about to bolt on her. That wouldn’t be an action befitting of his proving that she could rely on him.

His feelings of awkwardness were eased a little when they went to bed, Lily curling into a ball next to him to begin with, before relaxing, her hand moving to stroke his chest.

“You okay, mamacita?”

She hummed, sinking a little deeper into her pillow. “Yeah, just nervous about tomorrow.”

His hand covered hers, fingertips stroking the soft skin. “You’re gonna do great. Just look how well you did in your last fight, a knockout in less than a minute. I get that they’re different fighters, but you’re the same absolute savage. You’ll knock her flat, I believe in your capability to do just that.”

She smiled into the darkness, kissing his shoulder and settling, asleep much sooner than she expected to be with everything floating around in her mind. The next morning, she wasn’t quite as serene, doing a quick workout at home before hitting the shower, Angel sitting chatting with Diego, who was house sitting so Charlie had someone to care for him who he actually liked (Angie would have done it, but she and Ernesto were away in Cancun on vacation) while she got ready.

While drying off and applying her lotion, she noticed how chatty Angel was, knowing exactly why, too. Someone was there who he could actually talk to, because she knew why he wasn’t with her; he knew she was still stewing at him, and didn’t know how to handle that, likely didn’t want to piss her off any more than he already had either, so hadn’t wanted to stir things. How right she was in her guess, feeling a little bad for him sitting out there talking Diego’s ear off, knowing how gregarious he was with people whom he liked, probably relieved he was in the company of someone who talked back with more than five words.

She knew he was sorry, genuinely remorseful over his actions, but it still didn’t sit well with her, wishing she could hit the fast forward button to a time where she’d feel confident that he wasn’t about to get jealous, freak out and do it all over again. That wasn’t possible, though, so she just had to ride out the uncomfortableness, because she knew he was worth it. At that immediate time, though, she was keeping him somewhat at arm's length, because she knew if she engaged with him too much, she’d lose her focus on the fight, and she needed the tunnel vision. Gabriella Martinez had to be where her mind was one hundred percent, or as close to it as she could get.

However, in light of the fact she knew he was trying hard to do what he thought was right, she did let him know of her appreciation. “Thank you for this, for coming with me when things between us aren’t quite right,” she spoke, about halfway through the journey up to Anaheim.

It was small, but her recognition of that did go a way to make him feel a little more comfortable, in a situation where he felt anything but. “Of course, baby. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” He wouldn’t have either, although he found himself in the background a lot to her duties once they’d checked in at the hotel and arrived at the venue, Lily offering him an official introduction to Larry before she was absconded in her world, pre-fight prep and the like. Before Angel knew it, the venue had filled up, the first two fights had been and gone, and Lily was deep in focus mode as Larry wrapped her hands, turning into the girl who’d first barked at him on her way from the ring. Her focus was completely polarised.

Standing in the tunnel as she was announced, her entrance music beginning to filter through the speakers, Lily stared ahead unflinchingly, feeling Angel’s hand on her shoulder. “Go get her, tough girl.” Oh, she would. Confidence radiated through her, channelling her usual anger, this time adding to her normal mental repertoire by replaying the moment she’d watched Angel kissing the other girl, her fury burning as she strode for the octagon with fire in her heels, rage in her heart and determination pulsating through each and every muscle, entering the black cage with Larry, Angel waiting at the side, readying his phone so he could record her fight.

“Remember, she’ll strike strong to weaken, don’t give her the opportunity. Pull back, let her surge and then strike hard, catch her off guard. You got this, Lil.” Larry advised, slipping her tooth guard into her mouth before squeezing her shoulders, leaving the octagon, Lily pacing from foot to foot as she circled her neck, staring at Gabriella with the same venom filtered back in return from her opponent, the ref calling them to the centre as the crowd cheered.

Everything seemed to quieten as she reached out to touch mitts, the bell ringing, her guard going up immediately as the women began to circle one another. She moved forward, goading Gabriella to hit out, Lily leaning back and then ducking and elbow, her first shooting out to strike hard against her solar plexus, Gabriella countering with a fist to the side of her head. Fuck. She’d forgotten how hard she punched, her left leg immediately coming up, Lily blocking, seeing Angel kissing the girl in her mind’s eye, steaming in with four sharp punches, two hooks, a body shot and an uppercut that sent her backwards, but not to the canvas.

It was enough to rock her confidence a little, though, Lily blocking her next punch before steaming in to rain blows upon her face, push kicking her backwards, Gabriella growling in frustration before coming back with a kick that hit her shoulder hard, a fist catching her cheekbone, Lily side stepping neatly before turning, locking her arm and striking her in a spinning back fist that hit her hard, hard enough for Gabriella to stumble, Lily on her, her first hitting her nose so hard, blood spurted out as the bone broke, the ref dragging her back when she continued to thrash brutality upon her, her rage pumping like wildfire.

That was it, job done. Nemesis defeated in two minutes and forty-eight seconds, Lily ecstatic as she heard the bell ring, Larry charging into the octagon to bundle her into a huge hug, Angel cheering her from the floor, immensely proud. Her arm was raised in indication of her win, the crowd cheering, Gabriella looking absolutely destroyed, her nose dented and pouring, her coach attending to her with a cloth. After, and much to Lily’s surprise, she offered her hand to her in congratulations with a curt nod.

Exiting the octagon, she had her mitts removed by Larry, tooth guard too, turning to Angel and receiving a hug and kiss before quickly turning back to Larry and whispering something to him, her coach nodding. She then took her boyfriend by the hand and walked back up to the locker rooms, entering her designated space and locking the door behind them, hastily unwrapping her hands before drinking back a litre of water.

“Okay, so now I’ve gotten that done with, I can concentrate on this thing with you and me,” she began, Angel leaning back against the door, hooking his thumbs into his belt as he prepared himself for the likely tirade he expected. “I want to be alright with you, I do, but fuck, I’m so angry at you for daring use another woman against me. I thought I could just carry on, but I can’t just yet.”

She walked towards him with purpose, getting right in his face, adrenaline still rushing wildly through her, post-fight mode still in full swing. “I’m not going to labour the point about it, I won’t. But you’re going to show me whose man you are, Angel. You’re going to fuck me like you’re mine, and you’re not going to stop until I know for damned sure there’s no other woman in your mind other than me. Got it?”

Oh yes. He got it. He knew what this was, he knew it with every fibre of his being as he grasped her waist and launched himself forwards, kissing her with feverish intent. Lily needed to reclaim what was hers, mark her territory, and by all the stars in the damned sky, he’d let her. She needed him to show her that he belonged to no other than her, and the need to do such took over him completely as they pulled at each other’s clothes, bodies revealed as Lily dragged him back towards the shower, entering the block tiled construction and pulling the lever, cold water raining down over them before it finally turned warm.

It was all pawing hands and needy, messy kisses as the water soaked them, Angel pulling away from her for a moment, resting his forehead to hers. “I don’t wanna break you apart any more than life already has. All I want to do is mend all your broken pieces.” Her heart somersaulted in her chest at such a profound statement, her sore fingers from bruised knuckles that had shattered bone not ten minutes previously now gentle as they stroked at the neck of the man she was in love with. “I love you so much, Lily.”

She leaned forward, fingertips chasing water trails that ran in tiny currents down his chest. “Then show me.” The need to do it burned through him, his mouth on hers as he held her face in his hands, thumbs stroking over sore, bruised flesh, kissing her as if nothing else mattered, like his life depended on it, hands reaching for her legs and grasping, Lily jumping, locking her thighs as she gripped on around his waist, breaking their kiss with a gasp as he dropped her down onto his cock. It stoked the embers within her, the glow spreading as the feel of him back inside of her reignited the flames, his body the agent that set about the fire beginning to roar through her.

He paused, fighting through each of her legs to hold her spread on his forearms, fucking up into her hard, Lily biting his lower lip with a little cry that daggered right to the soft of his insides, nuzzling her nose, watching as water glittered on her long eyelashes. “I love you.” With that whisper, tenderness was cast aside as he began to drive into her furiously, teeth set in a carnivorous bite upon her jaw, her neck, her shoulder, her nails clawing through his hair and down his back, red marks left behind in their torrid wake. Yes, Lily would definitely let it be shown whose man he was.

It was just them, the outlaw and his fighter, bodies sliding together, earthy brown meeting glacial blue in a gaze of complete adoration and a raw flow of uncontained lust as he fucked her hard against the tiles, their moans rising along with the steam, the drag of rigidity against her soaking walls making her glimmer, pleasure winding tightly. A bonfire of lust to ravaged her senses, his hands gripping at her thighs roughly, body pounding against hers as he used it to tell her, to show her, how every last inch it was all hers.

She fizzed with the ecstasy of each deep, unfettered thrust right down to her very marrow, crying out as she clung to him, her cunt clenching onto him in a greedy grasp as he rutted her deeply, kissing her with blinding, hungry need. The undulatory motion of his hips began to lose their deep set, rolling rhythm, replaced by something much more staccato, but every last bit as brutal, Lily feeling herself pulse and throb as he chased cool fire through her, panting hard against her neck as they both rose on the huge wave that crested and then crashed, dragging them under, pleasure soaring through their bodies.

“Yeah,” she began in gasp, Angel moving to kiss her, his chest heaving against hers. “That’ll do it.”

He laughed in reply of those words, cock still gently trawling her, the little flutters around him feeling amazing. “Just you wait until I get you back to the hotel. That is, if I actually let you out of here any time soon.”

“Oh, you wanna go again?” she questioned as he placed her down. He smiled, kissing his way down her body until he was crouched before her, lifting her leg over his shoulder, tongue running a slow, firm drag over her clit.

And there she had her answer.

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honeymoonjin · 4 years

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 14k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: filmed sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, this time properly tho, unprotected sex, fingering, spanking, riding crop, dom!hoseok, sub!reader, i wasn’t even meant to write the hoseok scene it just happened, anal, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, sensory deprivation, edging, finger sucking, to whoever requested this woohoo here you go !, creampie, now get ready the FUCK for this, orgy : ), you’re welcome, oral (m receiving), more anal, more oral, handjobs, dry humping, Sexy Massage courtesy of taehyung’s golden hands, an atrocious amount of cumplay, mutual masturbation, sub!jungkook, dom!basically everyone else, i call this the koogy, yes i know that name sucks, no i won’t change it, enjoy

banner designer @jamaisjoons | ty sfhs bbs i’m so thankful that i got youniverse

DAY FIFTEEN

You wake to the feeling of fingers in your hair, plush lips pressing against your temple.

Eyes flying open, you suck in a breath to cry out in relief the moment you see Jimin’s face above you, but he quickly covers your mouth, a single finger over his to indicate you should be quiet.

He’s knelt up by your head, and so he appears upside down in your vision. Still, the cocktail of reassurance and concern in your chest brings tears to your eyes. Dried flakes of blood cover the underside of his nose and the skin on top is blooming red and purple, but there’s a strange calmness exuding him in his tender gaze and soft smile.

“Morning,” he whispers, reaching down to ruffle Taehyung’s hair as he curls into your side. “We need to wake Tae. I want to talk to you all before the others get up.”

You knit your brow in confusion, blinking away the last of your restless sleep. “We?” Sitting up gently, Taehyung’s head sliding down your torso to your lap, you glance around the room. It’s still dark, but there’s clearly no sign of the youngest.

Jimin reads your inquiring stare with ease. “I meant you and I. Jungkook’s still in Sejin’s van.”

You suck in a breath, heart hammering. “He’s not leaving, is he?”

Jimin lets out a breathy chuckle. “Jungkook’s in the van calling his roommate to let him know he isn’t moving back in yet. He’s not leaving us, Y/n.”

Your shoulders go lax in pure relief. “Thank god,” you gush, “and he’s okay?”

Jimin nods, face holding none of that icy resentment you saw last night. “We talked a lot. To Sejin, to each other. Jungkookie feels awful, and so do I, but we’ve come to an understanding, you know?” Jimin clears his throat, and leans over, gently rocking Taehyung’s shoulder to wake up. “But I need to make things right with you all, too.”

You nod slowly, worry returning as Taehyung wakes groggily, tearing up at the sight of JImin. While you’d love to assure Jimin that everything was fine, there were still rocks left unturned that you needed to deal with before you could move on.

“You’re here, Minnie?”

Jimin smiles at Taehyung’s look of sleepy disbelief, cupping the younger’s face. “I’m here. I want to talk to you and Y/n; let’s go upstairs.”

Taehyung’s brows furrow, a hand reaching forward to hover in front of Jimin’s face. “Your nose…”

Jimin brushes Taehyung’s hand off with a small smile. “I deserved it. I’ll live. Come on; before the others wake up.”

On your way upstairs, Jimin quietly answers Taehyung’s questions, the same one’s you’d had. The further away from the lounge you are, the less likely you are to wake up the others, but still the sound of water smacking the tiles of the shower in Jimin’s bathroom seems too loud.

Jimin’s shirt is stiff with dried blood on the front, and he winces as he tugs the hem over his head. “I figure we can talk in the shower,” Jimin explains, “we’ll feel better after we clean up.”

You and Taehyung share a curious look, Taehyung still slow from just waking up, but undress obediently.

“I’ve been thinking,” Jimin says emphatically, carelessly discarding his underwear and socks. He waits for the two of you, naked, the streaks of blood and black strokes of his tattoo even starker against his skin with nothing to hide it. “What happened yesterday was awful, yes, and I want to make my apologies to all seven of you, but it made me realise something about us.”

Slipping out of the last of your clothes, you feel your toes go numb from the chilly tile. Jimin glances over the two of you, both undressed, and takes it as time to get in. There’s not much room left once three of you crowd in there, but the spray of the water is a welcome warmth.

“I realised something while we were all fighting,” Jimin repeats. “I can’t stop the others from getting feelings for you. Jin with Y/n, Jungkook with Taehyung. And right now we can’t even act like we’re together in front of the others, and not all of us can be sexually exclusive because of the show. And it’s clear from yesterday that, well… Things are different inside this house. When we can’t leave, when we’re always together. When we don’t have any responsibilities outside of this building.”

Taehyung recoils, his back bumping into the shower rack. “Are you ending things?”

Jimin’s eyes widen, shaking his head hastily. “Of course not- Well, not really.” He tips his head back, letting the strong spray soak his hair and dislodge the blood off his chest. The water is dark pink at his feet, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care, all of his attention firmly on the two of you. “This isn’t a good time for a relationship for any of us. We can’t be committed or open, really, and it’s causing more pain to us.”

Your heart softens in sympathy. “I actually wanted to talk to you both about that too. I… I don’t want to end things, but if I’m honest, I can’t see this working as it is. I mean; how do we draw the line for cheating if we’re on a show where I have to be having sex with five other guys?”

Jimin perks up, relieved at your understanding. “That’s exactly it! And I have an idea,” he trails off when he sees Taehyung’s dejected look. “Pup, what’s wrong?”

“I just-” Taehyung sighs and shrugs, shifting to lean against the glass. “I agree with you both, I just don’t want us to drift apart. It’s hard enough to be close as it is.”

“Oh, Tae,” you coo, reaching out to interlock your fingers. “I don’t think any of us want to drift apart. But what we have now isn’t stable. C’mere.” Taehyung lets you maneuver him as you crack open a container of body wash, beginning to clean him off with a loofah.

Taehyung goes slack, though he continues to hold onto your hand with a needy grip. “Minnie, what’s your idea?” he asks softly.

“A promise,” Jimin explains hesitantly. “That on the final day, once we all walk out that front door, that the three of us give a relationship a real go. We can be free while we’re in here, do whatever or whoever we want. But when we leave this house, I can tell the world that you’re mine. And that I’m yours.”

You pause the soapy swoops of the loofah on Taehyung’s chest, turning fully to face Jimin. “A promise,” you repeat, the word feeling sweet on your tongue. “Jimin, that sounds perfect.”

Beside you, Taehyung gives a boyish grin, visibly relieved at Jimin’s idea. “Like a blood pact!” He pauses to wince at the stained water that runs in rivulets down Jimin’s chest. “Well, maybe less blood and more pact.”

“I think it’ll be good for us,” you offer up, guiding Taehyung forward into the stream of water to wash the suds off. “But… what about the others that still- that still have feelings for us? What if we start getting close to other people?”

Taehyung gently tugs the loofah out of your hand, and you shiver when you feel the graze of the plastic thread run down your chest. Tae smiles and does it again just to drink in your reaction, before he sobers up. “Would it really be so bad to get close to other people?” he asks softly.

Jimin winces. “It could get messy, pup. Especially if we’re still keeping this on the down-low.”

“It’s already messy,” Taehyung points out with a frown. He hands the sudsy loofah to Jimin, letting his fingers naturally slip into your hair, massaging your scalp. Even as your mind goes hazy with the pleasure of Tae washing your hair, you force yourself to listen to his words too. “Jungkook lost it yesterday because he felt like the rest of us were excluding him, that because I liked you so much that he’d be left alone. That’s fucking awful, Jimin. My heart ached for you too, but it hurt so much to see him that upset over something that doesn’t have to be true. If we’re going to let ourselves be free on this show, then I want to show him that I’m there for him, too. He’s important to me.”

You close your eyes. Behind your lids play images of the hurt on Jin’s face, of Jungkook’s look of betrayal and Namjoon’s tears. Hoseok’s lack of energy, Yoongi’s resignation. Your two boyfriends - boyfriends to-be now? - just as devastated as the rest of them. Every snapshot replayed over and over, making you feel sick. You couldn’t let things get to that point again. “He’s important to me too,” you murmur, Taehyung shifting you so that the water clears away the soap from your hair. “None of us did right by him. I wanna spend some quality time with Jungkookie today and cheer him up a bit. Show him that we do care.”

“I’d like that,” Jimin says. “Him and I talked a lot last night, you know? He’s a pretty smart kid. I’m sure he’s beating himself up right now for losing control like that.”

The two guys finish cleaning themselves up, the water finally running clear as you wring your hair out. Stepping out of the shower to grab a towel, Taehyung sits himself on the edge of the bath, giving you space to get your own towel and start drying off. “Minnie,” he calls out unsurely.

“Yeah, pup?” Jimin says with an easy smile. Taehyung pauses, chewing on the inside of his cheek, making the blue-haired man frown. “What is it, Tae?”

Taehyung looks down, his toes wiggling against the tile floor. “It’s great that you made up with Jungkookie, and I appreciate you talking to us, I really do. But you need to apologise to Hoseok.”

Jimin’s smile falters, a line deepening between his brows. “What do you mean?”

“You elbowed him right in the face, Min,” Taehyung says in exasperation, “you need to say sorry.”

You should bite your tongue, keep Hoseok’s business to himself. But your worry for the dom outweighs that instinct. “Hoseok thinks you really hate him now, Jimin,” you explain slowly. “He thought the two of you were playing up the rivalry for some good drama on the show, but now…”

Taehyung’s eyes are round, glittering. “Do you hate him, Minnie? Hobi-hyung is actually really nice once you get to know him.”

Jimin stiffens up, letting out a sigh as he lets his towel fall, stepping into some boxer briefs. “I just think he’s here for a good time instead of caring about the competition.”

“But do you hate him?” the masseuse presses. Jimin falls silent, getting dressed. Satisfied, Tae begins to dry himself off and dress too. “You at least owe him a conversation,” he finishes.

Jimin swallows, tugs a shirt over his head. “I do,” he admits, “and I’ll apologise.” He pauses with a sigh, eyes darting over Taehyung with a look akin to wonder. “You’re determined to make me a better person, huh?”

“I think you’re better than you give yourself credit for, that’s all,” Taehyung says lowly. “Anyways; the others are probably waking up by now.”

You finish changing quietly, your mind beginning to grow waterlogged with all the conflicts and relationships floating in your mind. Elimination was meant to be about the sex, sure, but things had grown so thorny that you knew that whoever you voted out tomorrow morning would have repercussions in everyone else. If you took out Hoseok like you were going to last week, would it make it more difficult for him and Jimin to smooth out their differences? If you voted out Jungkook, would he just spiral more, already so unstable? You could vote one of the older ones, but age didn’t mean it would hurt less. Yoongi would be so shocked coming off his win. Jin would probably think you were publicly rejecting him. To cut Namjoon off after he was finally finding his feet just seems cruel. And could you possibly vote off one of your boys?

“Are you okay? Y/n?”

You glance up, Jimin and Taehyung by the door, staring back at you. “Oh; are we going?”

Worry flits across their faces. “I just said we should head out,” Jimin explains, “are you alright?”

You push down your worries, taking a deep breath. “Stressed about elimination. At least I have another day to decide.”

Taehyung lets out a low sigh of empathy, stepping back in to link your arms. “Oh, petal,” he croons, leading you out into Jimin’s bedroom. “If you really can’t decide, you could flip a coin for it.”

“Tae,” Jimin chastises, though there’s no bite to his tone.

“I’m serious!” Taehyung insists, reluctantly letting go of you the further away you get from the privacy of Jimin’s room. “I hate seeing Y/n upset. It would be easier if she didn’t have to feel guilty about the decision, you know?”

Your heart sings at Taehyung’s thoughtfulness. “I think I’ll feel guilty either way, but I appreciate it, Tae. If I ask you for a coin, you know why.” He smiles at you, opening his mouth to reply, but your attention is quickly caught by the sight of a hunched figure sneaking in through the front door. You gasp. “Jungkookie?”

He looks a mess; eyes red, hair tangled and clothes wrinkled from a restless night. There are a hundred reasons you should be angry at him. He hit Jimin, he insulted you and everyone else in the house, he made Tae cry. But all you can think of is the devastation on his face when Sejin dragged him out of the room, the way his voice cracked on every apology.

Jungkook barely processes you rushing down the stairs before you’re colliding into him, the air punched out of his chest as you tuck your face against him and wrap your arms around his back tightly.

“Wha-?” Hesitantly, like he’s convinced you’re going to freak, he brings his own arms up, reciprocating the hug. “Y/n?”

You feel tears prick your eyes as you feel the tension leave his body, relief that you weren’t currently hitting or yelling at him. He presses his cheek against the crown of your head and sniffs back a sob, making you tighten your grip. “I’m so sorry, Gukkie,” the nickname leaving your mouth without thought.

He lets out a weak laugh of disbelief. “I’m the one that’s sorry,” he insists, voice still a shocked whisper. “I fucked up so bad, how do you not hate me right now?”

You feel pressure to your left; Taehyung joining the hug, arms around the two of you. “We all fucked up,” he says airily, like it’s of little importance. “What matters now is that we stick together and make sure not to do that ever again. We were so worried about you, you know? Sejin made it seem like you two might leave for good.”

You pull back just enough to take in Jungkook’s face as he gives the two of you a teary smile, before his eyes flit behind you to where Jimin stands. Eyes warming in understanding. “We aren’t leaving.”

You see Jimin’s hand reach out over you to squeeze Jungkook’s shoulder. Stepping closer, he gives the youngest a warm smile. “We should go in to the lounge. Both of us have some apologising to do.”

Jungkook swallows and nods, letting you and Tae go as the four of you make your way inside.

In the lounge blankets and pillows are still strewn over the carpet. While most of the guys are up in the kitchen, moving glumly, Yoongi and Jin are sitting on the floor with their backs against a couch, speaking quietly. They’re the first ones to notice you enter, the rest preoccupied with making breakfast.

Yoongi winces when his eyes land on Jimin, the doctor no doubt concerned about the blooming colour across the bridge of his nose. “Sejin said it’s not broken,” he says as way of greeting.

Jimin shakes his head ruefully.

“Then my sympathy for you is minimal. Come on; we should go to the table for this.”

This is unspoken but clear to all of you. The point where you had to make it right, assess the damages in the aftermath and do what had to be done.

Pulling the chairs out from the table in the space between the kitchen and the lounge, Jimin and Jungkook choose to sit beside each other, Taehyung scooting in close beside Jungkook, the two having stuck close together this whole time. Even in the solemnity of the situation, it warms your heart to see them almost back to their normal selves. Back to the time when they were like partners in crime. With the way Taehyung grins softly at what Jungkook says, the two leaning their heads in conspiratorially, you don’t doubt they’ll be back to their usual ways soon.

The squeak of the chairs has caught the attention of those in the kitchen by now, and Namjoon gasps at the sight of them. “Oh, Jimin!” he exclaims. “What happened to your nose?”

You have no doubt that the question slips out automatically without Namjoon even thinking about it. Jimin laughs, wincing when his nose crinkles. “I don’t know if you recall,” he jibes fondly, “but I got sucker punched in the face last night.”

Jungkook punches him on the shoulder lightly, though his strength still jostles the older man. “Nothing a good face mask can’t fix, hey?”

“I can’t stand you,” Jimin complains with a sigh.

“Thank god you’re sitting down then, hyung.” Jungkook grins cheekily, everyone else stunned into silence. It’s such a far cry from the screaming match last night that it’s hard to wrap your head around it.

As the rest of you sit - you at one end of the table adjacent to Jimin, Yoongi taking the opposite end and Namjoon and Jin following beside him, Hoseok is forced to sit directly across from Jimin. He watches the two of them cautiously, a bluish circle on his right cheek evidence of the altercation last night. Jimin’s smile drops when he sees it.

Yoongi waits for everyone to sit before he clears his throat lightly. As the calmest person yesterday, it doesn’t surprise you to see him speaking up first. “Yesterday was unacceptable,” he says lowly. “But the fault rests on no single person. We all made mistakes, so let’s just front up about it and try and move on. I don’t know about you, but I’ve seen enough pain to last me the show.”

“Can I start?” Jungkook asks softly, as the others nod in response to Yoongi. “I, uh, I have a lot to apologise for. But… I don’t apologise for telling you all how I felt. Because it really sucked feeling like the odd one out. I don’t want your pity now, I just want to be friends again, you know? I want to get close to everyone again and enjoy being here.”

“Oh, Jungkookie,” Taehyung coos, leaning over to rest his head on Jungkook’s shoulder. Instinctively, your eyes find Jimin’s, but instead of looking upset or irritated, he sends the pair a fond smile. No longer was it a bad thing that one of you was sharing affection with one of the other guys. Now you had the freedom to see it as a good thing; it was good that Taehyung cared for Jungkook, it was good that Jungkook was being cared for. Your heart feels full watching Taehyung be so loving of the youngest guy in the house.

Jungkook himself takes a bracing breath, grateful of the contact. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I took things too far. I was so wound up that I couldn’t think straight, and I know I need to work on not getting aggressive. What I did was so, so wrong. Telling Jin’s secret without permission and hitting Jimin? I’m so ashamed of myself. I don’t deserve your forgiveness or your trust but I do selfishly hope you’ll give it to me anyway.” He finishes with a self-deprecating shrug, eyes locked down on his lap.

Jimin reaches over to take Jungkook’s hand in his, patting it. “You know you already have my forgiveness.”

Eyes around the table shift to Jin, who shifts, face impassive. He stays silent for a few moments, jaw working. “I forgive you,” he says finally, “but that doesn’t mean I’m not upset at you for doing what you did.”

“I understand, hyung,” Jungkook replies in a low voice. Before he can speak further, the oldest clears his throat.

“Speaking on that,” Jin states, his face slightly stiff with discomfort, “I need to apologise too. I… At the start of this game, I told you all that my door was always open, that I wanted you to see me as somebody you could come to for advice anytime… I shouldn’t have done that. Of course I want to help you, but it wasn’t wise or healthy for me to commit to that. I’ve struggled a lot in my career with putting my own feelings and wellbeing on the backburner in order to prioritise my clients, and I fell in that hole yet again. I can’t stay objective when my emotions are so clearly compromised, and we saw the consequences of that last night. If I hadn’t have gotten so involved, perhaps I could’ve de-escalated the situation.” He clears his throat, takes a breath, and glances around the room with a small smile. “So with all due respect, I’m resigning as the show’s live-in therapist. Come to me if you wish, but please do it as a friend.”

You return the smile broadly. “I’m really proud of you, Jin, that sounds like a good idea.”

He laughs sheepishly, ears pinkening. “Anyways, that was all I had to say. Anyone else?”

Jimin raises a hand. “I’ll take that up,” he says warmly. “First of all, I want to say sorry to all of you. Jungkookie; I know we talked for a long time last night but I want to say again that I was far too harsh on you, and defensive when I should’ve been sympathetic. Everyone else, I apologise that you had to deal with me like that, being so nasty. It’s easy for me to let my- I don’t want to make excuses,” he says with a grimace, “but my experiences and my time in the porn industry made me a very negative and jaded person for a long time. I’m trying to get better, but I let my efforts slip last night and I’m so fucking sorry. You all have been so patient with me, and I wanna do right by you.”

Across from him, Hoseok listens intently. When it seems Jimin is done speaking, he presses his lips together and looks away.

But then Jimin says his name.

Hoseok glances up with a shocked look as Jimin lets out a regretful sigh. “Listen, me hitting you was so wrong,” Jimin admits plainly. “I wasn’t really thinking, it wasn’t a personal thing at all. But regardless of my intention yesterday, I wanna be really clear now. I think you’re a dipshit and an asshole, and you eat so fucking loudly, but I don’t hate you. I never have.”

Hoseok gapes for a moment or two, lips moving silently. “I- Jimin, I don’t hate you either,” he confesses. “You’re a wanker and too egotistical for your own good, but yeah. I don’t actually hate you either. You’re just fun to wind up, Peaches.”

Taehyung stares between the two of them; Hoseok wearing a self-satisfied but relieved smile as Jimin sputters. “You two should kiss,” he breathes dreamily.

“Tae,” Jimin protests, scandalised, but soon the entire table is joining in cracking up at the two rivals. “Guys!”

The sound of everyone laughing freely suddenly hits you in the chest, and you have to blink quickly to stop from tearing up. You’d missed this more than you even realised. “Can we just- Elimination isn’t until tomorrow now,” you remind everyone, hands wringing, “so can we just enjoy today? Spend it together? Of course not all of us may be over what happened, I don’t know, but I just want to really be with you guys.” You bite your lip as you glance around the fond looks of the guys, none of them sheltering the resentment you probably deserve. “I haven’t treated all of you fairly, and I want to make it right by spending more quality time with you… If you want to.”

Yoongi, who’s been pretty quiet this whole time, winks at you from the opposite end of the table. “I like the sound of that,” he supports with a heartfelt tone, “but if I’m going to be stuck with you jokers for the day, I need some food in me.” He turns to the youngest. “JK, could I request your assistance in the kitchen. I need your G.I. Joe muscles to chop some vegetables for me.”

“I can help?” Jungkook asks hopefully, before getting out of his chair with such enthusiasm that it just about falls to the ground. “I’ll go wash my hands, Chef Min!”

You’re so caught up in watching them banter back and forth, making their way to the pantry, that you don’t notice a whispered message spreading until Jimin leans into your side easily, lips brushing the lobe of your ear.

You jump, making him let out a breathy laugh. “We’re all taking extra special care of the baby today. Pass it on.”

You pull back with a bemused smile. “Is that so?”

Jimin rolls his eyes, but a smile quirks at his lips. “Taehyung’s idea. Are we surprised?”

Your eyes find Taehyung. He’s getting up himself, skipping over to the kitchen insisting that he’s going to help. “Not for a second.” Hoseok is to your left around the corner of the table, and you scoot over, placing a hand on his arm. The dom looks at you with wide eyes when you lean in close, though Jungkook is far enough away in the walk-in pantry that you just speak lowly. “Everyone’s gonna pamper Gukkie today, you in?”

Hoseok’s eyes crinkle prettily, beaming. “I’m game. The kid deserves it.”

You indicate to pass the message on to Namjoon, but Hoseok’s hand flies up to grip your elbow, keeping you close. “Hobi?”

His face is open, eyes pleading. “Spend some time with me today?”

Your heart warms even as guilt runs thinly through your veins. “Of course. We could go pick some board games?”

His beam returns, radiant. “Let’s go.”

As it stands, the one storage closet in the villa is filled with all the equipment you could possibly need. Larger cleaning supplies that didn’t fit in the laundry like a mop and broom, a small stack of games, some spare linen - and, as it seems, the collection of sex toys that the show provided.

Under the stairs, the closet is just big enough for you two to slip inside, you turning on a light and letting out a giggle at the set of drawers that houses the Bangasm collection. Each drawer is labeled with a plastic sticker - insertables, wearables, miscellaneous. Above, hanging on what looks like a coat hook nailed to the wall, are a number of riding crops and flogs.

“Far out,” you muse, “Monopoly and anal plugs, what a clo-oof!” The breath is kicked out of you as Hoseok grips you by the shoulders, whirls you around to face him and pushes you against the wall, his body caging you in. “Hoseok,” you gasp breathlessly.

He leans in, face cast in shadow from the naked bulb dangling behind him. “Is this okay?” he murmurs, lips barely brushing yours.

Your eyes flutter shut. “Fuck, yes it is!” You don’t even finish your sentence before he’s pressing his body against you fully, lips moving greedily against yours. You let out a satisfied hum, hand reaching up to anchor yourself, hooked on the nape of his neck.

You fall so fully into the kiss, going lax with every teasing swipe of his tongue that you struggle to keep track of his hands. It feels like they’re everywhere; running up your sides, tugging at your waistband, brushing over your jaw. You don’t come back to clarity until you feel one fisting in your hair, pulling your mouth away from him.

You moan wantonly into the quiet of the closet, but Hoseok tuts at the noise, slipping his thumb into your open mouth. With bleary eyes, you wrap your lips around the digit and suck automatically, making him curse.

“Are you gonna be quiet like a good little girl?” he questions. “Gonna let me fuck that pretty little ass of yours?”

Your eyes widen, making a strangled noise in the back of your throat even as your core aches.

He grins, wolfish. “Surprised? I thought I better give your pussy a rest. You’re lucky I’m so thoughtful, hm? Say, ‘thank you, Sir.’”

You open your mouth to pull back, but he keeps the pad of his thumb pressed against your tongue. “‘ankoo, thir.”

“That’s it, princess. Turn around now, hands on the wall.” Finally he removes his thumb from your mouth, giving you space to adjust yourself, but you can’t help but miss the feeling of fullness, of having something to suck on. You bite your lip as you crane your neck to glance behind you, but a dull bloom of pain on your ass makes you jump. “Did I say you could turn around?”

You shiver, the aching spot too small to be his hand. “No, sir.” It’s impossible to keep your head forward when you feel cold hands slipping your pants and panties down, letting them sit mid-thigh. You grit your teeth and stare ahead at the lightswitch.

“That’s it,” he repeats again. His voice is low, rhythmic timbre that has your mind smoothing out, giving over to him. “The walls of this closet are thin so you aren’t allowed to make any noises, got it? And keep your face forward.”

“Yes, sir,” you sigh out automatically, feeling a cold square of something run over you. It isn’t solid like plastic, but there’s a stiffness to it that makes your toes curl. The thought of it striking you again, without clothes to dull the impact, has your hips rocking back needily.

His free palm runs over your bared ass, slowly warming to your skin’s natural heat. You relax, sighing, and it’s in that moment of letting your guard down that he strikes you again, the sound echoing thinly in the small room.

You let out a throaty cry and jump away, even as you feel heat gather between your legs at the delicious sting.

“Shh,” Hoseok chastises, his hand now soothing the mark. “Now you know what it feels like. That’s a riding crop, princess. Never felt one of those before?”

Your head falls between your shoulders. You want to turn around so bad, and it makes him chuckle. “No, sir.”

“I’m sure we’ll be getting better acquainted with it,” the dom says airily, before you hear the crack of a plastic lid. The contents are immediately recognisable as the icy coolness of lube is spread down your center, Hoseok’s finger circling the tight muscle of your ass. “Relax for me, princess.”

You do your best to follow his command, willing yourself to go lax. The initial intrusion of his first finger feels so alien, invasive, that you let out a whine. Hoseok punishes the noise with a quick, light swat of the riding crop, and you inhale harshly through your nose, clenching around his finger as it slowly thrusts inside you.

“You’re doing so well for me, princess. I’m going to put in another finger now.”

Even with his warning, the added stretch has you trembling, knees struggling to support your weight. It feels right on the edge of how much you can take, not painful but so overwhelming, and you find yourself desperate for something to ground you. The riding crop… Taking your chance to seek out punishment, you crane your neck back to see him.

He’s not in the outfit you saw on him last Monday, but he’s still wearing mostly black, the only exception being a metallic belt cinched at his waist, glinting in the light from the bulb. The riding crop, one he’s no doubt taken from the coat hook, is an innocuous looking thin black rod with a squarish fold of leather at the end. His fingers grip the end gracefully, and the second he sees you glancing back, they tense and flick it, catching you on the thigh.

It hurts more there, but the pain feels like a warm anchor, and a dopey grin stretches across your face as you turn your head back. “Thank you, sir,” you sigh out happily, the consistent movement of his fingers inside you beginning to feel good.

Hoseok clicks his tongue, bemusement clouding his tone. “Is my princess a little pain slut, hm? I’ll spank you if you need it, baby, but if you turn your head around one more time, you’ll regret it. I don’t appreciate being deliberately disobeyed.”

True to his word, the hits begin to rain down more regularly. Each one stings for no more than a moment, his blows far from bruising, but still the ache has you muffling your moans in your throat, high on it.

So caught up in anticipating where the strip of leather would strike next, you barely even realise he’s moved up to three fingers before he’s slipping them out. Letting out an unbidden whine at the emptiness, you jump when a much sharper stroke lands on the back of your opposite thigh, your knee almost giving out.

Fingers curling on the walls of the closet, you pant out an apology as you listen in to the sound of his buckle and zip. Soon enough, the blunt head of his cock is pressing to your entrance.

Automatically, you tense up, resulting in a quick swat on the top of your ass. “Relax,” Hoseok commands gruffly, punctuating the word with another hit.

You barely manage to keep quiet as he sinks into you, so much deeper than his fingers could ever reach. Biting harshly into your bottom lip, you sink your chest further down, braced fully against the wall.

Hoseok seems to be just as affected as you, grunting as he bottoms out. “Fuck, so tight,” he growls, hands gripping your hips. The rod of the riding crop digs into your hipbone and you miss the feeling of it swatting you, even as your skin feels red hot. You moan out loud, hoping to incite punishment, but he just rocks into you and hisses at the snug fit. “God, taking it so well, princess.”

You moan again as he begins to thrust inside you, this time unintentionally. But still, he’s lost in the feeling of you clenching around him, and lets your breaking of the rule slide. With every slow stroke of his cock, your pussy feels empty, clit needy for contact. But the stretch of him in your ass has drool pooling on your tongue, hips rocking back against him in the hopes for more.

Wary of the thin walls Hoseok mentioned, but craving the sting of the riding crop, you let out quiet cries, even whining his name. The dom just chuckles, continuing his achingly slow speed. “Want something?”

Fuck. “You’re really going to make me beg?” you ask breathlessly. “You said we had to be fast.”

“You’re right.” Without ceremony, Hoseok pulls out of you. The absence causes you to immediately plead, feeling so empty without him. Luckily, your mindless babbling proves his point, and he slips himself back inside with one resolute snap of his hips. “If there’s something you want, you better hurry up and ask nicely, princess.”

You sob, back arching to feel him even deeper, his thrusts far too slow to get you anywhere. “Fuck, please spank me sir, I wanna feel it.”

“Since you said please,” Hoseok quips dryly, before his hips resume their pace, enough for your body to be bounced forward slightly on every upstroke. It’s then that he readies the crop and when he strikes, it’s without mercy.

One hand coming forward to slip his thumb back into your mouth - enough to muffle your cries but leaving sufficient space for you to safeword if you needed it - the other rains down countless hits on your sensitive ass and thighs, the skin on fire as each swat rings out in the small space. Paired with the smooth, constant stimulation inside you, the pain rackets your orgasm closer and closer, making you tremble and suck harshly on his thumb.

“Close, princess?” Hoseok asks with a breathy chuckle, and you nod frantically, moaning around his digit. Suddenly, he slows down to a teasing grind, and you hear the brittle clatter of the riding crop drop to the floor. Ignoring your disappointed cries, he runs his calloused palms over your sore skin. “Oh, look at you,” he coos, “I knew this ass would look perfect after a good spanking. Pretty in pink.”

It’s a trap. You know it’s a trap, but you’re so out of your mind from the edging that you turn around to look anyway.

You can’t even see your ass properly from that angle. The only thing you see is Hoseok’s predatory grin as he reaches the now-free hand out and flicks off the light. “I warned you,” his voice calls out lightly in the pitch darkness.

That brief moment of silence after he speaks is your only respite before he raises your chest so it presses up against the wall and fucks you into oblivion.

Unsure if your eyes are even open or closed, you can’t see a single thing, your heart-rate automatically rising as Hoseok replaces his thumb with two fingers pressing down on your tongue, keeping you steady as he rams you.

If his slow thrusts were mindblowing, the brutal pace of his hips now has you going crazy, unable to process anything other than the overwhelming, inescapable pleasure that runs through you viciously. Your ass stings every time his hips smack against it, and you feel drool running down your chin as you fail to properly suck.

It takes a single swipe of his fingers against your clit for you to jerk into a convulsive orgasm, shuddering and shaking wildly against him as he continues to rut into you without mercy. Even after your hands go tingly and your feet go numb, he continues to rub at the swollen bud, which can barely handle the pleasure it’s been denied for so long.

Too soon, that pleasure turns to pain, and not the fun kind. You sob, trying to wiggle away but the arm low over your hip keeps you in reach as Hoseok chases his own end. “S-suh-sensitive,” you stutter, barely noticing his fingers slipping from your mouth to grip your hip, giving him the leverage to fuck you harder.

“Princess is going to cum again for me,” Hoseok gruffly commands, and you cry, reluctantly turning over to the pleasure of a new orgasm approaching. How he brings you back to the edge so fast is beyond you, but you feel passive to the stimulation that electrifies your every nerve. And when he tells you to cum, you cum.

Like your body can’t handle all the sensations at once, your hearing drops away, your sense of balance or self-awareness. A burst of heat inside you signifies Hoseok’s orgasm, warm palms holding you steady as he lowers you to the floor.

Instead of dusty floorboards, your ass is met with a soft fabric, and you reach out, feeling the telltale smoothness of linen, what feels like a pillowcase. It’s the absurd thought of you leaking cum onto a pillowcase that brings you back from that floaty subspace, an exhausted chuckle bubbling out of your throat.

“You okay?” Hoseok checks in. “I’m going to turn the light back on; it’ll be bright.”

He’s right. The sharp light from the bulb - once seeming wan - stings your eyes, and you wince and shield them. “Fuck, Hoseok, you menace.”

He grins, though his eyes still furrow with worry. “Are you alright? I didn’t go too hard, did I? You responded well to it, so…”

Your eyes slip closed, starbursts behind your lids firing away. Letting your head knock back against the wall of the closet with a hollow thud, you sigh happily. “It was fucking incredible, holy shit.”

Hoseok chuckles, grabbing another pillowcase from the shelves of sheets and blankets. “Use this to clean yourself up if you want. I have something really important I need to ask you.”

You look back up with the serious tone in his voice. Frowning, you gingerly wipe the lube, cum and arousal from between your legs, wincing at the oversensitivity. “What’s up?”

Hoseok sighs slowly, turning away from you. “Pictionary or Charades?”

You have a few hours of innocent fun before things begin to turn.

As it turns out, the nonchalant Jeon Jungkook is a beast at any board game you can drag out from the closet, and he grins toothily every time things turn in his favour. He deciphers Namjoon’s chicken scratch drawing of a dentist that left the rest of you stumped, he seems to avoid every single owned property when you play Monopoly, he manages to come up with a 40-point word on Scrabble, much to everyone’s dismay.

It’s his choice for lunch as the game’s winner - though you suspect Jin was going to let him choose anyway - and so you have the pleasure of watching Jungkook’s cheeks fill with pork, tofu, potatoes, egg. Yoongi doesn’t even complain when he keeps talking through his mouthfuls, just handing the youngest a napkin when he struggles to chew it all.

Even Jimin seems content for the attention to be off him. While you were rendesvousing with Hoseok he must have ducked upstairs to put on some makeup, because he’s perfectly concealed the bruise on his nose, looking fresh and dewy even as he winces occasionally with the ache of it. He spends his time fawning over Jungkook like the rest of you, patting his cheeks and praising him in the games.

In the end, it’s Taehyung’s golden hands that signify the start of something a little less family friendly.

His offer for a massage is perfectly innocuous. Jungkook has a twinge in his shoulder from hitting the coffee table back-first, and then sleeping on the floor in the production van. He jumps at Taehyung’s generous suggestion, asking for the same massage oil as last time.

Whether he remembers it’s the oil that is safe to be used as lube, you don’t know, but by the time Taehyung returns with it, Jungkook is sitting on the couch with no shirt on, grinning eagerly.

Due to the unspoken rule to all be there for Jungkook, the other six of you remain. Or, perhaps, it’s the desire to watch the expressions on Jungkook’s face as Taehyung works away the toxins in his muscles.

Either way, you find yourself tucked between Namjoon and Jimin on one couch; Hoseok, Jin and Yoongi on the other as the two youngest take the middle one.

As the masseuse straddles Jungkook’s bare torso, perched on the back of the couch, you can’t help but be reminded of Jimin’s striptease. How much this felt like a performance just like that one.

Jungkook isn’t flexing, letting himself hunch over slightly to give Tae better access, but his body is still so perfectly proportioned. His abdomen ridged with muscle, his biceps curved to make you drool. As he tilts his head to one side and then the other, spine clicking, his hair brushes on his bare shoulders. You wonder if it’s normally this long, or if he just hasn’t got it cut in a while. You wonder if he likes to have it tugged. It’s the perfect length for it.

“This may feel cold,” Taehyung warns as he runs his palms together, the oil glistening in between. Jungkook sighs out when Tae finally puts his hands on him, spreading the slightly floral-scented oil over his skin.

“Feels nice, hyung,” Jungkook lets out airily, making Taehyung giggle.

“I haven’t even started yet. Stay still.”

Watching Taehyung massage Jungkook almost feels like watching live art. There’s a harmony in the way they unconsciously align their breathing so that their chests rise and fall in unison. A liveliness in the way Jungkook’s lips part and lashes flutter. Even a sensuality in those deep presses of Taehyung’s fingers, Jungkook’s flesh ripping under his touch.

In fact, it’s so enchanting watching those details in their faces and bodies that it takes you a few minutes to realise that Jungkook’s reactions are… perhaps more enthusiastic than the situation warrants.

His eyes are shut, head lolled back against Tae’s thigh as the masseuse begins to run his hands over his sternum, pressing out the tension in his chest. A guttural noise vibrates in his throat every time Taehyung’s fingers wander closer to his nipples, which are tight peaks, his breath shallow but quick.

“Deep breaths, Jungkookie,” Taehyung instructs quietly, guiding his head forward so that he can return to Jungkook’s back. Taehyung balls his hand into a fist, sliding it down the hollow between Jungkook’s spine and shoulder blade. The boy, with his head tipped forward, lets out a moan. Taehyung freezes.

Jungkook hisses, shuffling back to bump against Taehyung’s loosened fist. “Don’t stop, hyung. Feels so good.”

Taehyung’s eyes lift to the rest of you, who watch wide-eyed. He shrugs, silently asking your opinion, and Hoseok just gives a nod. Biting his lip, the masseuse continues.

Each swoop, stroke, and press of Taehyung’s fingers and knuckles wring open-mouthed moans from the shameless boy. Between locks of hair that obscure his face, you can see red cheeks and a satisfied grin. Dropping your gaze, you see the stiff outline that tents his sweatpants.

As you glance around the room, it seems the others are starting to realise too. Namjoon’s shyly hiding his own erection, Yoongi’s eyes are like two black furnaces as they watch the scene unfold. Hoseok, the first one to encourage it, licks his lips as he watches, clearly not satisfied from his time in the closet with you this morning. Your core aches at the reminder.

“A little lower, hyung?” Jungkook asks, his voice almost whiny as he makes his request. His breath hitches audibly as Taehyung begins to massage his lower back, just above his hips. The masseuse has to hunch down just to reach it, but he dutifully relieves the tension there, too. “Ah, thank you, Tae. Taking care of me so good.”

Beside you, Jimin sucks in a light breath, and you do the same. That, paired with his wanton moans and hard-on, is a clear indicator of what exactly he wants, and with the way Taehyung’s eyes widen, he knows it too.

“Do you just want hyung to take care of you, Jungkookie?” Taehyung questions lightly. “Or all of us?”

Jungkook whines at the words alone, his head lifting but eyes staying firmly shut. “All of you,” he admits lowly.

Beside you, Jimin lets out a pleased hum, his fingers winding into your hair. “Do you want to go help out our Jungkookie, little mouse?” He tugs lightly, your head tilting back willingly as he runs a finger over your lips. “Put this pretty little mouth to use?”

Your lips part, Jimin’s finger grazing over your teeth before he pulls away, letting you rise to your feet unsteadily. Patting you on your ass - probably not realising that it was as sensitive as it actually is - he sends you on your way.

The thought that Jimin was asking you to service Jungkook just makes you wetter, and you feel the whole room’s eyes on you as you sink to your knees between Jungkook’s lazily spread legs.

You meet Taehyung’s eyes, the masseuse smoothly running his palms up the expanse of Jungkook’s back before his fingers slip into his hair, guiding it to face down as he whispered in Jungkook’s ear, too quiet for even you to catch it.

Whatever he said makes Jungkook’s eyes fly open, unfocused before they land on you and widen. “Y/n,” he exclaims, groaning when your hand runs over his clothed cock, tracing the outline. “Fuck.”

You grin, remembering the last time you were between his legs. “Do you want my mouth, Gukkie, or my hands?”

He gulps, Taehyung sweetly tucking Jungkook’s hair behind his ear and pressing a kiss to his temple. “C-Can I have both?”

Your grin widens, exposing teeth as you grip him in his pants, making his breath hitch. “That’s very greedy of you,” you chastise, “it’s a good thing we’re treating you today.”

He sighs, lips twitching in a pleased smile once he realises he’s getting what he wants. Taehyung’s fingers run curved lines over Jungkook’s scalp, beginning to massage it as you pull back the waistband of Jungkook’s sweats.

He’s not wearing any underwear - the thought making you consider that perhaps he’d hoped or even planned for something like this to happen - and your mouth waters when you wrap your fingers around him. They don’t quite touch, and he’s not even the thickest cock in the house.

Precum makes his tip glossy, collecting in the small dip right at the top. You run your index finger over it, tapping it to watch the wet strings cling and stretch. Jungkook hisses, brows knitting as he bites down on his lip.

Though his weeping cock is a pretty sight, it isn’t quite enough lubricant to comfortably jerk him off, and so you lean forward, letting your spit drop off your tongue and run down him. He groans as you use it to coat his length, twisting your wrist just slightly under the head. There were many things that were new to you on this show, and so you’re more than ready to take advantage of something you’re well-versed in.

You hear a throat clear behind you; not the kind that seeks attention, but the quiet cough of forced restraint and composure. You can’t pin just who it is from the short sound alone, but the reminder that people are watching inspires you to put on a show.

Under the guise of getting comfortable, you shift on your knees to arch your back more, leaning in to press a kiss to Jungkook’s tip, blinking up at him innocently.

The camboy curses, head falling back into Taehyung’s lap. “You’re gonna kill me,” he moans, “that’s so fucking cute.”

You let out a laugh, Taehyung carding through Jungkook’s hair to break up the tangles he’s made. Jungkook watches you through his lashes, and you smile sweetly. “Is this cute?” Without waiting for an answer, you take a deep breath and wrap your lips around him, bobbing down enough to almost trigger your gag reflex.

His hips jerk as he groans, hands fisting at his sides. You continue to suck him off, tongue running the line of a vein on the underside of his shaft as your hand strokes what you can’t reach.

“So good, Y/n,” Jungkook praises, his hands slipping into your hair as he parts his legs wider. “Tae, ha-harder.”

Taehyung responds in kind, using his fingernails to scratch lightly, making the boy’s back arch. As you blink up through teary eyes, you can see the half-fond, half-aroused look on Tae’s face as he sits on the back of the couch, leaning in close enough that his chin almost reaches Jungkook’s head.

Doubling your efforts, you choose to close your eyes instead and focus on taking him deeper down your throat, swallowing when you feel his tip graze the back of it. With one hand on his base and the other gently rolling his balls, you feel him shiver helplessly, abs flexing.

The black-haired boy is delightfully vocal, and you use his melodic cries to guide you, Taehyung clearly doing the same as he tugs on Jungkook’s hair and massages his scalp. It’s no surprise to you all, then, when his moans suddenly reach a higher pitch and his thighs tense before going completely slack when he spills down the back of your throat.

You pull off him as he continues to pump out cum, the salty tang pooling on your tongue and soaking your lips, just before you swallow, you feel a hand on your shoulder and another pulling your face to the side as lips press against yours.

You let out a muffled squeak, opening your eyes briefly to see that it’s Yoongi who claims your mouth, tongue delving into your mouth and lapping up the last of Jungkook’s cum. You let your eyes flutter shut again and your jaw slacken as he licks up into you, sucking your tongue into his mouth shamelessly.

Above you, Jungkook - still panting from his orgasm - curses at the sight, his hand in your hair moving down to brush your cheek tenderly. “You two- fuck,” he swears, his voice cut off suddenly with a grunt.

You pull away and look up to see Jungkook’s neck arched back as Taehyung holds him there with two hands tugging his locks back as he claims the youngest man’s mouth. You can see glints of teeth as Taehyung nips at Jungkook’s lips, making them bloom dark pink as the camboy whimpers.

“Oh, Taehyung,” a voice calls out, and you don’t have to look over to recognise it as Jimin’s sultry timbre. “My muscles hurt, too. Won’t you give me a massage?”

Taehyung murmurs, pressing one final kiss to the corner of Jungkook’s mouth. “Sorry, Jungkookie, duty calls.”

Poor Jungkook looks like he’s been shocked awake when his head straightens up. With a drooling mouth, tangled hair and hazy eyes, he watches dumbly as Taehyung hops over him and over to Jimin, tugging him off the couch and back to the one Jungkook’s on, guiding him to get down in front of it so Taehyung can sit on the cushions.

As Jimin and Taehyung begin, Yoongi licks his lips and glances up at Jungkook. “Are you done, or do you wanna go again?”

Jungkook chokes, eyes like saucers. “Uh- y-you- I can go again.”

Yoongi raises his brow. “Do you want to?”

The camboy swallows and nods. “I want to. I want all of you.”

It’s Hoseok that comes over to join you first, combing Jungkook’s wild hair with his fingers. “What do you want from us, prince? Want to get fucked?”

Jungkook’s pupils dilate as he bites onto his lip. “Yeah, please. Will you fuck me, Seokie?”

Hoseok beams at the nickname, ruffling his hair fondly. “Can you lie down for me then? On the floor would be easiest, just on your back.”

Jungkook moves hastily with excitement, but as you give him space you can see how his neck cranes awkwardly off the floor to keep watching Hoseok. Shuffling forward, you pat his shoulder, getting him to sit up slightly so that he can rest his head on your lap. He blinks up at you with a toothy grin that you can’t help but return. “Better?” you ask, and he nods sweetly.

It doesn’t take Hoseok long to slip Jungkook’s sweats off, and he’s the first person in the room to be fully naked. Tucking his hands under his knees, he holds himself open for Hoseok, eyes widening when the dom pulls out a small travel-size bottle of lube from his pocket.

You raise your brow at him, recognising the click of the sound from the closet that morning. Hoseok shrugs. “What? Gotta be prepared.”

Jungkook laughs breathily at the quip, but it quickly morphs into a moan as Hoseok sinks a lubed-up finger inside him, straight to the knuckle. He’s softened slightly after his orgasm, but the stimulation quickly begins to plump him up again, his cock heavy on his stomach.

As Hoseok preps him, you glance up and over your shoulder. Behind you, Taehyung’s hands run over Jimin’s now-bare chest. As Jimin sighs in pleasure and arches, the masseuse’s mouth sucks an earlobe into his mouth, nipping at it and tugging at a small silver hoop that adorns it.

Yoongi watches them for a moment, before turning back to the couches, where only Jin and Namjoon remain. Calling them both over, only Jin stands up and joins you, Namjoon still too shy.

Jungkook whines prettily when Jin and Yoongi kneel beside him, caged between them and the couch. By now, Hoseok has already got three fingers inside him, thrusting them so loudly that the sound echoes in the room, the camboy squirming beneath him, fully hard again.

Wordlessly, he reaches out for the two oldest, one hand tugging at Yoongi’s jeans and his mouth falling open, tongue lolling out as he blinks up at Jin.

“Fuck, you’re a sin,” Jin curses, but hurriedly frees himself from his pants, tugging at his cock impatiently. You can barely breathe, the pressure of Jungkook’s cheek on your knee as Jin guides the tip of his dick into the boy’s awaiting mouth.

Brushing the hair back from his face, you watch those doe eyes tear up as Jin groans, hips slowly canting forward. He’s bigger than Jungkook, perhaps not longer but definitely wider, and you don’t envy how Jungkook’s jaw is going to feel after this.

Blindly, the youngest flails for Yoongi’s cock, only settling once the doctor slips his cock out and taps the length of it into Jungkook’s palm, letting him begin to jerk it lazily.

Hoseok waits until the three of them have reached their equilibrium before he begins to sink into Jungkook, keeping his cheeks spread as Jungkook holds one of his legs up and opened wide. You can tell the point that Hoseok’s cock hits his prostate as his back suddenly arches and his hand tightens on Yoongi, making the doctor hiss.

Letting out an apologetic whine, Jungkook drops his jaw wider and speeds his hand, doing his best as Hoseok steadies himself and starts fucking the youngest man.

You almost forget about those behind you until you feel an exploring pressure at your side. Turning, you see Jimin’s hand reaching out for yours. With a warm heart, you interlock your fingers quietly, and turn back. The small stolen intimacy takes your breath away, and you find yourself naturally tuning in to his songbird moans as Taehyung’s massage no doubt turns his body to jelly.

The moment you look back towards the boy in your lap with a bulging cheek and teary, euphoric eyes, you see Jin lean in. His lips join yours chastely, just a single testing kiss before he goes to draw back. Instead of letting him increase the distance, you latch onto his shirt with your free hand, pulling him in to meet your mouth again.

Even with his dick in someone else’s mouth, in the middle of the impromptu orgy - though with the way Jungkook eagerly squirms under the attention of three cocks you’re still not sure it was impromptu - Jin kisses you so sweetly.

With a thumb stroking your jaw, his plush lips claim yours with the patience of a god, every movement tender and thoughtful. It takes your breath away, makes you clench harder on Jimin’s hand and the cotton fabric in your other fist.

Jin’s mouth, the smile that stretches his lips and the moans from Jungkook’s ministrations that slip through, they make you lose track of time. No elimination, no cameras, no tears and bruises. You’re together, all-

Just as you recall Namjoon’s lack of participation, a sharp cry catches your attention, Jin and you parting to look behind.

Cross-legged in front of Jimin, Namjoon watches the younger man with wide eyes as one hand is buried in his pants, the other stretched out to wrap around Jimin’s cock.

With Taehyung rutting against his back as he massages Jimin’s scalp, the pornstar grins sleepily and licks his lips. “T-Tighter, Namjoon,” he pants, moaning again when his command is received.

With wide eyes, you watch Jimin reach down and wrap his own hand around Namjoon’s, the size difference almost comical. He guides the pace, legs parting and head tipping back into Taehyung’s hold.

Suddenly, Jin curses, and you glance back down to see Jungkook staring up at the two of you with pouty eyes, slurping more enthusiastically at Jin’s cock. Further down, Jungkook and Yoongi are helping each other out; the youngest jerks Yoongi off frantically while Yoongi thumbs at his nipples, making him squirm and let out muffled cries around Jin.

At the end, Hoseok watches you all carefully, making sure not to fuck Jungkook too harshly and risk him biting down. He plays lazily with the head of Jungkook’s cock as he gives steady thrusts, too loose to make him cum too soon but enough to keep the precum leaking onto his tensed stomach.

You feel Jin squeezing your shoulder, and you look back to see him eying you. “I could help you,” he offers, grunting as he begins to fuck Jungkook’s mouth in earnest.

Blinking in confusion, it takes you a second to realise what he’s volunteering his help for. Though the sight around you is undeniably erotic, getting to have a break while the others enjoy themselves is more than enough for you. “I’m good,” you decline with a grateful smile, eyes dipping, “though I would love to kiss you some more.”

Even as an endearing grin stretches across his face, he leans back in to claim your lips, no less sensually but certainly more needy as he gets close to orgasm. It’s addictive; feeling him groan into your mouth, teeth catching on your lips and tongue as he begins to lose his composure.

The hand you’re holding, tucked out of sight from the others, begins to tighten sporadically around your fingers, Jimin moans sounding more like pleasured breaths. As seven of you race towards orgasm, it’s him that comes first, the learned pleasure of masturbation mixed with the excitement of someone else’s hand clearly pitching him over the edge. He holds onto your hand for dear life as he rides the high, his loud moans triggering Jin, his hips stuttering and his mouth going still as he shoots his load down Jungkook’s throat.

Jungkook moans and gurgles happily, swallowing down every last drop before Jin pulls out. Mouth free, he rolls back fully onto your lap and gasps down lungfuls of air. The sudden rush of oxygen paired with stronger thrusts from Hoseok send him into a powerful orgasm.

Yoongi pauses his fucking into Jungkook’s fist as the camboy arches, eyes scrunched shut and mouth lax as he gives a loud cry. Drained from his first orgasm, his cum doesn’t shoot out like before, but pools steadily on his stomach, some of it dripping off his side onto the carpet.

Detaching Jungkook’s hand from his cock, Yoongi guides it to run over his own torso, slicked up in off-white before bringing it back. Once Jungkook begins to jerk him off in earnest with a hand covered in his own cum, Yoongi’s a goner.

As the camboy whimpers in overstimulation from Hoseok seeking his own edge, he milks Yoongi through his orgasm, painting Jungkook’s chest and stomach and mixing into the cum that’s already there.

Hoseok curses, hips stuttering, and - like some sort of chain reaction - him, Namjoon and Taehyung reach their ends one after the other. Hoseok with his cock deep inside Jungkook, Namjoon with a hand shoved in his pants and Jimin coquettishly licking the cum off his other, and Taehyung grinding against Jimin, slumping over as he cums in his pants.

In the silence that follows, the only thing you hear is the combined panting of the seven men around you, and Taehyung’s displeased groan as he shifts, a dark patch covering both his pants and the back of Jimin’s shirt.

“Holy fuck,” Hoseok breathes, “why didn’t we do that sooner?”

While some of the others express their agreement, Jungkook sits up with a self-satisfied grin, drips of cum running down to pool at the tops of his thighs. “Good job, team,” he cheers, “we should probably all go take a shower together to clean up. A long, hot shower.”

“You’re a menace,” Yoongi groans fondly. “You just came twice.”

Jungkook looks down at the cum smeared over his chest, then back up at Yoongi with an innocent blink. “Third time lucky?”

Behind you, Namjoon lets out a breathy chuckle. “I can’t turn down a shower,” he says, free from his usual shy demeanour. “But I don’t think I’m ready for a round two of that.”

Jungkook shrugs. “Understandable. Gotta let the dragon rest.”

While Namjoon sputters and then rest of you muffle your laughter, Jungkook nonchalantly stands up and shuffles into the kitchen.

You watch in disbelief as he grabs some paper towels and cleans himself up with a chipper bounce in his step. “Does anyone else feel like we got hoodwinked?”

Jimin rests his head on your shoulder with a sigh, tucking himself away. “Definitely,” he confirms. “At least if I ever want an orgy centred around me, I know how to act.”

Hoseok lets out a good-natured scoff. “You’ll be one short,” he jibes, “I wouldn’t kiss your ass if it was the last one on Earth.”

Jimin shoots him a level glare. “You haven’t earned it yet, princess.”

“Ladies, ladies, you’re both beautiful,” Jin coos smoothly, “and I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for a change of clothes and a nice movie to round out this fuckfest.”

“Ooh!” Jungkook cheeps from the kitchen, still strutting around naked like a showpony, even as his eyes glimmer in childlike enthusiasm. “Can we watch Frozen again?”

There isn’t a single person in the room that can say no.

——

“Ready?”

You grin at Yoongi, tightening your coat. “As I’ll ever be.”

Looking unbelievably sharp in a deep blue suit jacket and black wash jeans, the doctor extends his arm to you. “That doesn’t inspire confidence, but I’ll take it.”

Letting your hand curl around his arm, you make your way to the car by his side. He opens the door like a proper gentleman before slipping in on the other side. Without a moment's hesitation, his hand winds its way into yours as the driver pulls away down the driveway.

“Do I get to find out where we’re going?” you query with a gleeful smile.

“Of course,” Yoongi answers gracefully, glancing down at his phone, “in just over ten minutes.”

You groan with a pout, but you can’t help that smile from peeking out. “Good thing I’m patient.”

“Good thing you’re patient, because I’m doctor!” Yoongi grimaces the second the joke leaves his lips, shaking his head as if it left a foul taste in his mouth. “Fuck, I’m spending too much time with Jin-hyung.”

You shove him playfully. “I’ll sue you, Min Yoongi! That was shameful.”

“Shameful? A harsh critic, you are. Though I’m inclined to agree.”

There’s something hypnotic about the way the neon lights and streetlamps cast glowing patterns on Yoongi’s face as you drive through the streets of Seoul. You’re stuck at a red light now, and even the hellish shade doesn’t mar his soft smile and kind eyes. “You were really good yesterday,” you mumble without thinking.

He glances over to you as the car begins to move. “Hm? Oh, I don’t think so. But thank you.”

“You don’t?” you ask softly.

“People still got hurt,” Yoongi replies simply. He opens his mouth like he’s about to add something, but falls silent. You speak on and off for the rest of the short journey, but stay well away from yesterday’s events.

When the car pulls up on the side of the street, you glance outside. You’ve entered uptown Gangnam, parked in the drop-off zone of what looks like a very fancy restaurant. Yoongi instructing you to dress sharp suddenly made sense. “Out we get,” he says with a final squeeze of your hand, letting it go so that he can leave the car.

Once you exit the vehicle, it indicates and slips smoothly back into the flow of traffic, leaving the two of you alone on the sidewalk. Leading you into the restaurant, Yoongi looks totally at home in the upper class eatery. As you enter through a pair of gleaming glass doors edged in gold and wait in a tasteful entranceway for a server, he straightens his back and smiles in bemusement at your gobsmacked expression. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he jibes.

You gulp. “Maybe I have,” you utter under your breath, “my bank account just died.”

This is the type of place you’d only ever seen on a movie screen. The kind of place where you’d bump into Julia Roberts in the bathrooms or be served by a devastatingly handsome waiter who called you mademoiselle. Around the room, staff flitted from table to table in penguin tuxes, carting bottles of champagne and platters of lobster to the patrons, every single one dressed in labeled brands, not so much as a single lock of hair out of place in the whole room. As a smiling - and fuck, handsome - waiter approaches, you have the urge to hide your face in shame.

Yoongi just wraps an arm around your waist and leans in. “Who said you were paying?” he murmurs to you before smiling at the suited man. “Table for Min, 8pm.”

With a civil nod, the waiter flicks through a heavy leather-bound tome of bookings. “Ah, yes, Min booking for two, table thirty… seven.” He trails off, customer service smile faltering as he looks over at said table, and at the older couple that’s enjoying a glass of wine and some prosciutto at it. “Oh! Let me just…” With a hard swallow, he flicks through the book again, sucking in a breath with a concerned look. “My deepest apologies, sir, it seems like the table has been double-booked. When did you book in?”

Yoongi gives the man a strained smile. “First thing this morning.”

Your eyes lift in surprise. The waiter seems even more shocked than you, clearing his throat politely. “Uh… Forgive me, sir, but this restaurant is fully booked three to four months in advance. Who accepted your booking?”

Instead of blushing or huffing, Yoongi instead clicks his tongue at himself with an exasperated laugh. “My older brother owns the restaurant. Min Geum-jae. Must have set me up, the prick.”

You glance up at Yoongi in shock, but he doesn’t react, simply tightening his arm around your waist to keep you close.

The waiter’s eyes widen in recognition, before he coughs nervously. “Uh, I doubt that was it, sir. The Lees pay a premium to book table thirty-seven out every night. They usually come in much earlier, he probably thought it would be free by then. We can fit you in but, uh, it may be a while. They tend to pick our five-course meal.”

Yoongi runs his tongue along his teeth as he sighs. “Okay, that’s fine. We’ll go elsewhere; I appreciate your help.”

The waiter gives an apologetic bow. “I’m very sorry about the inconvenience, sir, I wish the two of you a pleasant evening.”

The air feels sharper outside, a northerly wind cutting through the fabric of your coat even as warmth radiates off Yoongi’s body. “Just our luck,” he bemoans, but you’re less than concerned about the restaurant.

“I didn’t know you had an older brother,” you chime, “certainly not a hotshot restaurant owner.”

“You never asked,” Yoongi points out, before wincing at how it sounds. “Sorry, that came off poorly. I guess it never really came up. And it would have been a cool surprise getting waited on like royalty from table thirty-fucking-seven.”

You poke him in the side playfully, grinning as he pouts. “Listen, I know a place around here that may just have a table free.”

“On such short notice?” Yoongi asks dubiously. You just grin, holding your arm out for him to take.

“We look like idiots,” Yoongi mutters petulantly for the thirtieth time.

You shrug. “Better overdressed than underdressed.”

The doctor miserably dips his Chicken McNugget in a puddle of sweet and sour sauce. “You know, half an hour ago I would have agreed with you.”

“Come on,” you cheer warmly, leaning over to steal some of his fries, yours already long gone. “We can still have a good time. We’re out away from the stresses of the villa, we’re spending some quality time together. Your Frozen Coke hasn’t even melted because the air-cons are blasting so much. Look on the bright side.”

Looking undeniably out-of-place in his expensive blazer and perfectly styled hair, Yoongi levels an accusatory chicken nugget at your face. “We could’ve gotten an Uber and gone to an actual restaurant and had something an actual chef produced. Instead, you lead me here. That’s entrapment.”

You tilt your head. “I don’t think it is,” you muse, “and besides. All due respect to your big bro, but I but his meals were way overpriced. Did you see that one lady who ordered something and the waiter set it on fire? I bet that ran her up at least sixty thousand won. Maybe even eighty.”

“That’s the thing,” Yoongi whines miserably, stuffing half a nugget in each cheek. “Jae-hyung tells the waiters not to charge me. Friends and family benefit, you know, since I don’t come visit often. You’ve actually put me more out of pocket by taking me to McDonalds. Do you know how embarrassing that is?”

You grin, reaching out to pinch his cheek. He swats at it with a disgruntled look that’s softened by his reluctant smile. “Cheer up, buttercup,” you chirp. “How about I treat you to a McFlurry, hm? The Oreo one.”

He blinks up at you with round cheeks and even rounder eyes. “That would make me feel better.”

After getting his anger out by viciously mixing the Oreo pieces with the soft serve, you and Yoongi manage to actually have a good time, joking around and feeding each other messy spoonfuls of melting dairy, feeling like two kids sneaking out after prom in your black tie attire.

It’s only once you return from discarding your trash in the bins that Yoongi sobers up, glancing over at you as you slide into the vinyl-upholstered booth. “Hey, Y/n?” he asks you softly.

“Mm?”

“I know Jin-hyung already asked you yesterday, but… Are you any closer to deciding who you vote out tomorrow?”

You flick him a pained smile. “You’re asking me this on our date?”

He furrows his brows, avoiding your gaze. “It’s just- I had such a great time tonight; even when things went wrong, you know, and… If it’s me you’re voting out, I understand, but I’d just like some warning in advance. You know.” He grimaces at the beat of silence that follows. “You don’t have to tell me, of course, it would just be easier to-”

“I don’t think it’ll be you,” you admit in a low voice. He glances up, eyes wide with surprise. “I mean, I haven’t actually decided for sure, but I don’t think I’ll pick you.” You swallow, actually feeling some relief in being able to talk candidly about it without the pressure of the other guys, or the cameras always listening in. “I really don’t know how I’m going to choose. At first, I thought I’ll just pick whoever will take it the best. Who won’t get angry or offended, you know? But then it wouldn’t be about the sex, so I try and think on it and see which of the times I had this week was the- the least best, and leave feelings out of it. But then feelings sometimes make it better. So it’s hard to pick a least best sexual interaction without those feelings. But then if I pick one honestly, with my emotions coming into play, then isn’t it just picking favourites? So I figure I should pick whoever wouldn’t feel like I was picking favourites over them, and I’m right back to where I started. I just didn’t expect the decision to be this hard.”

Yoongi listens to you intently, not saying a word until you finish with a sigh. Resting his elbows on the tabletop, he leans in with a sympathetic look. “Why don’t you run through the pros and cons? It might help talking it through.”

You take a deep breath and nod, heart warming at how much he cares. Perhaps he’s just trying to get insight on the other players, but judging how his eyes swim with emotion, you don’t think that’s the case. “Alright, well… Hoseok was first this week, so I guess I’ll start with him. Pros: he knows what he’s doing, I feel safe with him, I think he helps me push my boundaries and explore new things which is really exciting.” You count them off on your fingers as you go, mind reminiscing on both your time together with Jungkook last Monday, and the illicit closet encounter this morning. “But cons are that he never really talks to me that much, you know? Out of everyone in the house, I know the least about him. Sometimes I wonder if he actually cares about being here.”

Yoongi nods slowly, eyes glinting like he knows something you don’t, but he chooses to stay quiet and let you continue.

“Jin… pros are that he’s so passionate, he seems so mature and giving, and he has a massive-” you cut yourself off and glance around, checking for kids. Luckily at this time of night it’s mostly broke college students and tired businessmen. “Dick,” you finish with a hushed whisper, making Yoongi chuckle with a gummy grin. “And cons. He seems to play it kinda… run of the mill? Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but the most wild thing he’s done is take it outdoors, which when your prompt is poolboy, is not really negotiable.” You pause, mouth working but no sound coming out.

Yoongi seems to know exactly what’s on your mind. “And he has feelings for you,” he says softly.

“And he has feelings for me,” you repeat with a sad smile. “Which I can’t work out if it’s a good or a bad thing.”

“It’s probably a good thing if you feel the same way,” Yoongi offers.

You nod shortly. “Well. I can’t work that out either.”

The doctor shrugs. “If you can’t work it out, it’s probably a no.”

It makes sense when he puts it like that, and you hum in agreement. “I guess so. Anyways; I can’t remember who was next. I’ll do Namjoon. Pros are that he’s a fast learner, and so sweet, and once again is very well-endowed. The major con is his lack of experience. He’s cute when he’s shy, but I’ve seen glimpses of him taking control and I just wish he’d have the faith in this own abilities to be like that more.”

“Understandable. What about Jimin?”

You take a deep breath. “Jimin… Jimin is exciting and sexy and a force of nature. He’s a lot kinder than he lets people think, and I feel really comfortable around him.” Frowning, you continue to the negatives. “But he has a real temper, and a superiority complex. I know he doesn’t mean to, but he sometimes makes things uglier than they need to be.”

Yoongi lets out a low whistle. “I’m shocked and a little disappointed that you didn’t mean his ass as a pro.”

You grin. “I thought that was implied?”

“It deserves its own mention,” he insists with a wry grin, before sobering up. “Jungkook?”

You let out a low sigh. “Most of his cons are the same as Jimin’s. That competitive streak, the need to be better than everyone else. Jungkook has so much range though, he seems down for anything, and especially since the rest of you for the most part are so dommy, I really want to play around more with, you know, domming myself.”

“Domming yourself?” Yoongi asks incredulously. “I’d love to see that.”

“No-! I-” You break off with a groan, burying your face in your hands. “You know what I meant! I think it would be fun to be the one in control for a change. I just feel like more than anyone, Jungkook is so game for anything that I wanna keep playing with him.”

Yoongi nods slowly, processing everything. “Our local masseuse is lucky last, then. Unless you want to evaluate me right to my face.”

You wince. “I don’t know about that,” you deflect, “I’ll do Taehyung. Tae is… He’s so insanely affectionate, and giving, and is so ready to dote on everyone in the villa. I feel really relaxed and happy when I’m near him, and he has magical hands which I am definitely not ready to give up.” You chew on the inside of your cheek. The things you worry about with Taehyung aren’t things you can share with Yoongi. Shrugging, you avert your eyes casually. “Tae seems to take everything to heart. He wears his heart on his sleeve but I don’t know if that’s so safe for this competition. I worry about him.”

The doctor lets out a light laugh. “Worried he’ll drop you for Jimin or Jungkook?”

If only you knew. “Worried he’ll get himself hurt,” you explain instead, letting out a long breath to rid your body of the tension beginning to accumulate. “Should we head home? It’s getting late.”

Yoongi slides out of the booth. “Do you feel any closer to your decision?”

“Not at all,” you answer immediately, making him laugh, “but it was still helpful to talk it through.”

“I’ll take it,” Yoongi says with a smile. As you slide your phone out of your pocket to call an Uber, he clears his throat. “I was thinking…”

“That’s a relief.” You squeak as he shoves your shoulder playfully.

“I was thinking that we should bring the kids something. I’m sure Jin made some dinner for everyone, but I bet they’d be so happy to have some junk food for the first time in two weeks. What do you say?”

You beam up at him, at the way he tries to seem nonchalant about his acts of kindness. “I say I better add that to your list of pros.”

“Come on, we better join the queue. My con is impatience.”

As Yoongi gives Jin a call to get the orders in, and you type away in your Notes app, your heart warms at the domesticity of it. At how much you were beginning to feel together again. And from the fond grin on Yoongi’s face as he recites the lengthy order to the cashier, he feels it too.

#ficswithluv #bts smut #ot7 smut #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #jimin smut #namjoon smut #hoseok smut #yoongi smut #jin smut #yoonkook smut #hopekook smut #jinkook smut #taekook smut #vmin smut #minjoon smut #bts x reader #bts series #ot7 x reader

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

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Amoreena | Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: fluffiest fluff ever, jealous amoreena, jealous spencer, the LaMontagne family is in this too !!

word count: 3.8K

from the beginning <3

He went to work with Y/N on Tuesday to fill out all the paperwork and officially become an employee at the D.C Public Library. He signed a contract, he was switched over to a different government healthcare, answering a million calls and emails all morning, he was officially not an FBI agent.

They had lunch together in the park, buying some sandwiches and walking across the street to a picnic table to talk about their days while they ate. He liked her co-workers, they all were shocked to find out she was “married” to him after being single the whole time she’s worked there.

They had plans to go get Amoreena from school a few minutes early, before heading to meet his mother, not telling her about the plans unless Diana had a bad day last minute and couldn’t see them. So far, according to the nurses, she was lucid and having a great day waiting for them.

“So about yesterday morning,” Y/N changed the subject, biting her lip like she was avoiding this.

“What about it?”

“Amoreena really wants us to have a wedding, I was thinking we could go up to New York for fathers day and have another fake wedding?” Y/N hypothesized her plan, hoping for Spencer’s approval.

He couldn’t help but smile, about to answer when he got an email on his phone. “I’d love to do that, it would be nice to go on a vacation with just as the three of us.”

“You can check that,” she said, noticing he looked at his phone as it buzzed.

It was an email. Not from anyone he knew, it wasn’t about work or healthcare, it wasn’t his mom or Penelope sending him funny things from the internet…

No, it was from Taylor Swift. He tried his best to calm his facial reactions and micro-expressions so she’d think it was just something work-related. An emailed contract, updated health forms, nothing too serious.

To: Spencer Reid From: Taylor Swift Subject: Amoreena

Hey Spencer!

Portia reached out and said that your wife and daughter are huge fans and you were interested in some summer tickets in Virginia… I was thinking if you guys ever found yourself in Rhode Island you’d all want to come to my place, my doors always open for friends 💛 Love Taylor xx

“What?” Y/n asked, trying to read over his shoulder as he turned the phone away.

“It’s a surprise,” he said, locking his phone and putting it in his pocket to reply to her later. “Have you ever thought about a beach wedding? Rhode Island is pretty nice in June.”

She tilted her head as she bit back a smile, wondering what he was planning, “Amoreena will have us reenact the little mermaid 2 instead of Enchanted then, just fyi, but yeah that sounds fun, we should get a beach house on Airbnb for the weekend.”

“Okay, let me handle it all, you don’t need to plan a single thing, just show up with a dress?” Spencer offered, knowing how scared weddings made her now.

She kissed his cheek softly, resting her chin on his shoulder as she leaned over on him, “nothing fancy or crazy okay?”

“Define crazy?” He teased her… she really had no idea what was coming.

To: Taylor Swift From: Spencer Reid Subject: RE: Amoreena

Thank you so much for the quick response and generous offer, we were thinking of having a small elopement in Rhode Island with just the three of us over Father’s Day weekend if that works for you? Seven is the song we danced to at our intimate personal wedding, however, Amoreena’s pretty sad she didn’t get to witness it, that’s why we’re having another one with her. (And hopefully you!) Thank you for making my girls so happy over all the years that I didn’t know them yet, you’re probably their favourite person in the world, even more so than me! It would mean everything to them to meet you or see you in any way, you’re incredibly kind for this.

Thanks again, Spencer Reid x

He tried his best to be as calm and nice as possible in his response, still managing to rant a little even in text format. It was just how he communicated, either not at all or all at once. He was so excited for Y/N and Amoreena.

“So you said your mom has a scrapbook,” Y/N changed the subject after Spencer spent 5 minutes in silence, turned away from her as he answered an email.

“She does, she’s going to show you a lot of photos of me today,” he smiled at the fact she remembered.

“I know you want to tell her about Amoreena alone before we come in, so I made her something for her scrapbook, it’s back on my desk drying,” Y/N was so precious as she got excited, that same giddiness he see’s in Amoreena bursting through her.

“Okay, let’s go see it,” he put his phone in his pocket and followed her back across the street towards the library.

On some beautiful floral scrapbook paper, Y/N glued an array of photos of Amoreena from the beginning all the way to the museum trip last week.

A photo of her first round of IVF, dated February 19th, 2013. Exactly 1 month after he donated, she must have chosen his sample as soon as it entered the system, even a photo of the sample jar reading “sample 2319”, A photo of her crying in the garden with her grandma when she found it she was pregnant, wrapped in a big coat and surrounded by snow. Her pregnancy announcement being a baby sock on a stuffed toy Sully from Monsters Inc, "new door opening November 2013!" Amoreena has been surrounded by references to books and movies since the beginning.

There was a photo from the moment Amoreena was born, crying and brand-new, resting on Y/N’s chest as she sobbed, more beautiful than he’s ever seen her before, completely in love with the child she made.

Amoreena Margery Y/L/N - November 13th, 2013, 9:53 pm 7lbs 12oz, 21 inches of perfection

“Her middle name is Margery?”

“Yeah,” she smiled back at his ever glowing face, wondering why it was so important to him. “Like Margery Kempe, my grandma’s favourite.”

“She’s my mom’s favourite too,” Spencer couldn’t help but laugh, it was such a strange turn of events. He saw so much of his mother in Amoreena just for her to have a middle name related to her.

Y/N couldn’t believe it, “I’m so excited to meet her!”

“I just hope she’s okay today, truly,” Spencer worried. “She is my best friend and a great mother, don’t get me wrong. But some of the things she did to me on her bad days were scary, and I never want Amoreena to experience that.”

Y/N pulled him into a hug, “it’s hereditary isn’t it?” He nodded against her shoulder as she tried to soothe all the impending anxiety out of his body. “I’m not going anywhere, she won't have to raise herself and care for you, that’ll never happen to her.”

She guessed, and she was right. Reading his mind like she’s already been in there and watched all his trauma, she knew all the right words and how exactly to push his feelings away. She was sunshine clearing his grey skies once more, about to cause a drought so he’d no longer rain on his own parade. Marching beside him, hand in hand into the future.

—

They waited at the gate of Amoreena’s school, none of the other parents were waiting yet, giving Y/N a chance to show Spencer around the yard and tell him about her school. “She’s in senior kindergarten, she has a November birthday so I opted to send her in when she was 6 instead of 5, giving me an extra year of home pre-school.”

“That’s why she’s so smart, not my genes,” Spencer smiled, walking around the edge of the gate with her hand still in his.

“They want her to jump right into grade 5 next year, I said no, she deserves a childhood with children she doesn’t have to compete with or see her as a threat,” Y/N voice was stern even in the recounting like she knew from experience. “Because she’ll be 8 in November she’s going into grade 2 instead, then she’ll be in the same age range and mental level, but all her friends she knows in grade 1 will be in the same recess yard as her.”

“I went from kindergarten to grade 4, then I jumped to grade 6 when I was 9 and I graduated high school at 13, it was terrible,” Spencer agreed, not knowing if he had a place in the decision but wanting her to know he agreed with it.

“Let’s go inside and get her,” Y/N smiled at him, understanding his meaning perfectly and dragging him into the school.

“Hello miss Ludlough,” Y/N beamed as she entered the main office with her arm tucked under Spencers, showing him off slightly.

“Y/N, good afternoon! Do you need me to call that little angel down early?” The secretary was a lovely older woman, wrinkled and happy as she smiled back.

“No, I just need to get some paperwork to put her dad in the files?” Y/N surprised Spencer with that and he almost stopped breathing.

“Really?” He whispered, capturing her attention as her eyes twinkled up at him.

“I’d like you on her emergency contacts, if they can’t get ahold of me I’d like you to be with her,” Y/N confirmed, patting his shoulder softly as Miss Ludlough handed her a few forms.

Spencer signed everywhere he needed to, handing them his licence to be photocopied into her file for proof when he picked her up in the future. He was glad to see there was a system, that they cared for his little girl and she wasn’t going to be going home with anyone who wasn’t in that file. And if she did he had no problem hunting them down and getting her back in whatever way he had to…

He shook the thought out of his head as it arises, reminding himself that that isn’t who he is now and she would be fine. They lived in a happy world where bad things didn’t happen.

Y/N’s hand rubbing his lower back helped, he stood straight again and pushed the papers over the desk, smiling as he officially became her father on 3 different sheets of paper. That was as real as it could get.

“Spence?” He heard an all to familiar voice from behind him.

Turning to see JJ and Will smiling with wide arms, waiting for his embrace. “What are you doing here?” She asked him, voice high as she was clearly shocked.

He walked into her arms and held her quickly, “I’m here with my wife,” breaking the news to her in the most casual way possible. “Picking up our kid.”

“Y/N?” Will noticed her then, “holy shit, you’re the wife?”

She nodded with a smile, hugging will quickly like she has known him for years, “how are you, cowboy?”

Spencer and JJ looked at each other incredibly confused, JJ clearly didn’t know her so how did Will?

“Will and I have been on what, 6 school trips together? Michael and Amoreena are buddies,” Y/N explained with a soft smile, “I knew Henry and Michaels's names sounded familiar…”

“Nini thinks I’m a cowboy,” Will laughed lightly, smiling at Y/N the way he did at JJ and something in Spencer almost snapped thinking about Will being the one person between him and the girl he liked, once again.

Only this time she was his wife and not the cute media liaison who had no interest in him until he came out of prison.

“She was very upset when she found out that Will was already married, she wanted us to be Woody and Jessie from toy story,” Y/N had no problem ranting about how their kids got along and how good of friends they had become over the last 2 years of school trips.

Y/N noticed the anxiety in Spencer’s eyes as he pulled away from JJ and made sure no one was touching him, “luckily, our little girl’s got the best daddy in the whole world now and all her dreams came true.”

“She sure does,” JJ agreed, “Hey, I gave your mom all those books you gave me for the boys, when you were away, so she had something to keep remembering you with, you should give them to Amoreena.”

“I will, we’re going to see her tonight,” he was able to push past the feelings and enjoy the moment of his friends meeting his wife, even if the title was just pretend.

“I’m so excited,” Y/N shook her hands the same way Amoreena did, stepping into Spencer's space and wrapping her arm around him. “Can we pick her up from the room Miss Ludlough?”

“Sure thing, do you want me to call down and say Mikey’s parents are here too?”

“Yes, please,” JJ smiled over the counter.

With the four of them walking down the hall together to get their kids, Spencer felt like he was sleepwalking. Too many emotions were running through his veins to feel real, but then Y/N took his hand in hers and rested her cheek against his arm as they walked and he was fine.

She tugged on his arm and waited in the hallway while JJ and Will entered the classroom first, “what’s wrong, she’ll know you’re upset?”

He sighs, shaking the stupidity out of his mind. “I had a huge crush on JJ before they got pregnant with Henry, and when I came back from prison she told me she had always loved me and it got weird for a bit and I’m still kinda mad when I see Will bond with the people I love.”

“I was wondering when you’d get possessive,” she teased him, “I’m yours and I wouldn’t have your ring on if I wasn’t, no matter how another man looks at me, I only love you.”

“I’m sorry, I know.”

“It’s okay, you’re not used to this are you?” She saw right through it. “Am I your first real girlfriend?”

“Kinda, Maeve and I never even really met until she was kidnapped,” he admits and it sounds so childish in his mind.

“Okay we’ll talk about this later cause that sounds like a good story I should know,” she tried to smile, standing on her tiptoes to peck his lips softly before smiling more. “Let’s go get your kid?”

“Let's,” his smile returned.

They turned the corner into the vibrant room, Amoreena was talking to Will when she noticed Spencer at the door, running towards him and almost pushing Will over to do so, “Dad!”

He picked her up and snuggled right into the crook of her little neck, giving her the biggest hug he’s ever given and not realizing just how much he missed her until she was back in his arms again. His baby, the littlest life he’s ever held this close to his heart.

When he put her down he noticed all the women’s eyes were on him, hands over their hearts at the pure display of affection between father and daughter. They all saw him as her dad, they had no reason not to, giving him all the attention he’s never received before.

“What are you doing here?” Her tiny voice asked as she beamed at him with wonder.

He kneeled in front of her to get on her eye level when Michael came running over, “Hi uncle Spencer!” He tackled him into a hug.

“Uncle Spencer?” Amoreena’s brow furrowed as she scowled at the boy taking her dad’s attention, she pulled Michael back by his shirt. “That’s my dad!”

“Amoreena, honey,” Spencer tried not to laugh, she was definitely his kid, “Michels mom, JJ, is my best friend from work and I’m his older brother Henry’s godfather, they’re your cousins.”

She looked at him like he was insane, “what’s a godfather?”

“If anything bad happens to his mommy or daddy and they can’t take care of them, they’ll come live with us,” it was the simplest answer, “I’m not their father, I’m yours.”

She nodded and hugged him again, sticking her tongue out at Michael in the process, “why are you here?” She repeated the question.

Y/N was standing over him with a hand on his shoulder then, “we’re taking you to meet your other grandma.”

Amoreena started to shake with excitement, moving her hands and grinding her teeth as she smiles, shrieking with excitement, “I have another grandma!?”

JJ was watching from the corner of the room, secretly filming it on her phone for the rest of the team to see Spencer with his baby. A sight many of them never thought they’d ever see as he slowly lost hope, losing himself somewhere along the way and no longer wanting to accept their help. This was a big moment for the team too, their little brother was finally happy.

—

In the car, Spencer sat with Amoreena in the back seat so he could tell her everything about her new grandma. Or as Amoreena wanted to call her, Princess Diana, “I can’t believe you’re actually royalty!”

They all laugh at how her fantastic little brain works, “you can’t tell anyone that Princess Diana is in DC okay? It’s a government secret!” Y/N teased from the driver's seat.

“I’m like Princess Mia!” She screamed at the top of her lungs and Spencer was astounded she could be that loud.

“Okay, okay, not that loud! we can't scare any of the people who live here. They like it to be calm and quiet so the patients can be happy,” Y/N settled her down, “Dad is going to go in and tell grandma all about us for a little while and then we’ll go meet her okay? He wants to make sure she’s happy today before we go in.”

With that, they were pulling into his mother's care facility and he felt like he was going to be sick with excitement. He used to visit his mother with the fear of rage and disappointment in her eyes, he was too proud to let his anxiety take that from him today.

He kissed her forehead before getting out, Y/N handed him the scrapbook pages through the window and he leaned inside to give her a kiss too. Receiving a disgusted groan from Amoreena, he pulled away and walked into the building while they found a place to park.

She was waiting for him in the garden, sitting at a picnic table with her scrapbook and gifts for Amoreena. “Spencer!”

“Hey mom,” he smiled as he hugged her, “how are you feeling?”

“Fantastic, where is this family you made?” She was so ready to meet them, truly there inside her mind and willing to learn more about this life he was making.

“Sit down first,” he said softly, taking a seat beside her at the table and placing the scrapbook page on the table. “This is my Amoreena.”

Her fingers glided over the words, “Margery,” she repeated her middle name with a smile. “She has a sperm donor for a father?”

“I’m a sperm donor, mom,” he smiled softly as he broke the news.

She turned to him with shock, “she’s yours?”

“We think so, so that’s what we’re telling people, she’s mine regardless.”

Diana wrapped him up in another hug, “I’m so happy for you Spencer. You always deserved a perfect family, I’m sorry I couldn’t do that for you. I hope your dreams come true with her.”

Just like that Amoreena and Y/N were rounding the corner and walking over towards their table. She had a huge smile on her face and a card in her hand, walking right up to Diana and handing it to her.

“Hi, grandma, I’m Amoreena,” she introduced herself politely before stretching her arms out for a hug.

Diana wrapped her up in the softest little hug, trying not to cry in front of her brand new granddaughter, which was fine because Spencer was the one crying. Turning away from them so Amoreena wouldn’t see as Y/N patted his arm with a smile.

They were fast friends, Y/N and Diana bonding over Margery Kempe and while Amoreena opened the two gifts Diana got for her, a simple colouring book and Spencer's original copy of Matilda from when he was a child. She sat down in the grass and read it while they all caught up, lost in her own little world.

It was the most perfect afternoon, just him and his family, happier than he’s ever dreamed he could be.

—

He checked his phone one last time before bed, Y/N was sitting against the headboard reading a book and so deep in the story, he knew she wouldn’t be able to read over his shoulder.

Scrolling through everything from the day to see that yes, there was a response from Taylor Swift. It felt insane, but he opened it and started to read her plans.

Spencer!! You’re so sweet, I’m sure you make them incredibly happy! I’d love to have you stay in the guest house here, and I’m ordained if you need someone to make it real and official ♥︎ let me know what I can do, I’d love to help in any way to make some fairytale dreams come true! Taylor xx

Smiling like an idiot, he closed his phone. He’d reply tomorrow, till then he was going to snuggle into his wife and appreciate their time together.

She lifted an arm to let him lay against her chest, “today she woke up and decided to be an explorer, the little girl with the wildest imagination stormed out of her home and towards the unknown part of her land. It was her destiny to travel across the bridge and unite the people beyond the field, towards the pond that was swallowed by willow trees,” Y/N read the grandmother's thoughts from the page.

“With her wooden sword, she sliced and diced on the ivy that surrounded the gate. Freeing the hinges and allowing the entrance to swing open, unlocking a new area of the world for her mind to wander.

“For what the regular human eye saw, Amoreena saw it times a million. Every colour and then some, new colours appearing in the morning glow as she stared at the dew on the leaves she just chopped through. She saw the world in a way that made everything exciting, there was never a bad thing, only good things with interesting quirks.

“She passed every mushroom and toadstool, every strange-looking tree and human-shaped moss ball, greeting them with a good morning as she strolled through the once-forbidden forest. Her adventure only beginning, the objective not yet known.”

“Your grandma could see the future,” Spencer whispered as she turned the page, “that’s our wonderful little girl’s mind in words.”

Y/N kissed the top of his head, “our wonderful little girl.” She repeated the words, loving the way they sounded on his tongue as much as he loved how she said it.

Taglist: @shemarmooresfedora @spookyspence @spencers-dria @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #amoreena

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pretoriafics · 4 years

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Therapy sessions with the devil

I'd did this request yesterday on my Portuguese blog, and I thought that you guys would love it!

Anonymous asks: Y/N is a therapist who works for Vought and is doing a few evaluations on the Super.

Word count: 1.806 Contain: Therapist!Reader x Homelander Warnings: Mention of sexual violence, mention of serial killers, mention of cases of children with psychopathy, mental disorders. +16 only Versão em português aqui PART 2 THE BOYS MASTERLIST

Your profession was gratifying.

You loved the idea of helping people, getting to know each other better, and getting them to learn to deal with life's challenges. For you, being a kind of "confidant", where people could talk about their lives without any judgments, was an honor and your purpose. You believed that it would make the world a better place.

However, it also had its burdens. Some things were difficult to hear, even for you with all your knowledge and professional background. Patients who suffered from sexual violence, for example, demanded of you a stomach that you were not always able to have. It was something you talked to your therapist about, and you kept a mantra in mind: After all, you were still human, and it was okay to feel that way.

And when Vought invited you to work as a therapist for The Seven, you went nuts. It was the chance of a lifetime!

Or, at least, this was what you thought at the beginning.

It was not uncommon for you to hear things that made your stomach a little sick, just like when The Deep told you about the way he “welcomed” Starlight. You felt nauseous but, on the outside, remained impassive, just watching him as a silent request to continue to talk.

All of them were, simply, not only media products but also puppets of the advertising world. You already had some political patients, and in fact, you thought The Seven was a similar case: Both went to that market with the intention, many times, to help people. However, they ended up corrupted in the middle of the road, forgetting their whole purpose in helping others.

You saw a point in common between The Seven: Everyone, with perhaps the exception of Starlight, was too worried about their own egos to be real heroes. They were all too narcissistic.

But Homelander was the worst of them.

The childhood phase was the most important part of a person's life. A traumatic childhood could lead to a troubled adult, as in the case of Mary Bell and Beth Thomas. Homelander's case was no different: his non-affectionate childhood, being raised as a laboratory rat, was the bigger reason to make him that kind of man.

Although at the same time you were fascinated about to study a mind like that - since one of the reasons why you did psychology would be to unveil the secrets of the human mind - each therapy session was daunting and made you rethink your job at Vought.

In short, you were interviewing a serial killer. Easily one of the most cruel and unhealthy.

"Good morning, Homelander." Your voice was soft, just like the smile you gave to the super who just sat on the couch.

"Good morning, Doctor." He returned the smile to you, but the smile on his own way: The corners of your mouth pulled to the side in a smile that you recognized as fake.

"So..." You put your hands on your knee, looking at him with the best receptive look you could pretend. There, in that office, your sessions with Homelander made you feel you deserved an Oscar "How was your week?"

“Well…” He lay down on the couch, his blue eyes staring at the ceiling, and his hands joined in front of his stomach “Nothing new. In fact, he had a little incident with Maeve. Sometimes she is so… pathetic. ”

"What happened?"

It took a while for Homelander to actually get some confidence in you. In fact, he only started telling you things in detail when he realized he could get something out of the sessions. They were productive to him, they made him think. You didn't know if you were thanking God for getting something out of him, or if you should cursing yourself because of the horrors he tells you.

"Maybe you saw something about the 37 Flight on the news."

"The one who had been captured by the terrorists?"

"Exactly! Maeve and I had to rescue the plane. We managed to take down the terrorists, but when I killed the last one, in the Pilot's cabin, I hit the plane's controls with the lasers. And then, the flight was doomed. I told Maeve that our job was done and we should leave, but she was reluctant. He wanted me to save the passengers! ” He laughed, but a natural one. "Can you believe that?"

Oh, it was going to be a long therapy session...

"And what happened next?"

“What did she want me to do? That I fly 137 times from the plane to land? Ah, pathetic, pathetic! ” He shook his head, clearly humorous. "Now, just imagine: You are on a flight with 137 people shouting 'Help, Homelander!', While your stupid partner insists that you should do something to save everyone. I was losing patience so I threatened everyone with my eyes, and they finally settled down. I don't blame them, I mean, they are so vulnerable. They are bugs! ” He looked at you, the corners of his mouth pulled in a fake smile. "No offense."

Homelander was a cold-blooded killer. Not only, but like Ted Bundy, he was a narcissist. He liked the feeling of power that invaded his body when he saw that people feared him, and when he felt that he had the power to decide whether that person would live or not. He didn't mind if killing people just for fun was against the law. Homelander didn't care about the law or any kind of rules. Furthermore, just as Bundy believed he was fully capable of defending himself in his court's judgment and did not need lawyers, Homelander thought he was an incarnate God walking among the 'bugs', simply because he had powers.

"And how do you feel about Maeve?"

“She bothered me a little with the drama on the plane, but that's okay. I am sure that after I spoke to the journalists, near the wreckage of the flight, she understood. This is all going to be an excellent opportunity to make our presence in the army happen. ”

A sociopath.

Empathetic behaviors aren't part of him. He was unable to have that feeling. Self-centered, Homelander was unable to love. The relationship he had with Stiwell, for example, was far from loving. He didn't feel it, quite the opposite: Homelander had a feeling of possession with her. She was his, and nobody else's.

A doubt hammered in your head: Homelander was intending to drop the plane? Your stomach was upset, you felt bad about that therapy session. How could Vought leave someone like him in The Seven?

The answer was simple: They didn't care. Homelander was profitable, and that was all that mattered.

That was one of the times when you thanked God that Homelander was self-centered enough to lie on the couch and just think about your own life, instead of analyzing you and realizing that you were completely terrified. It was as if a misstep, a wrong word, was going to cost his life.

And you would end that today.

You conducted the therapy session normally. In the end, you shook hands with Homelander as you always did and closed the door. Tears invaded your face as you thought of each life that was lost in vain on that flight, and, worse, you were sure that Maeve would tell you about the flight at her therapy session, early next week. In an attempt to calm down, you took some coffee and sat down in front of your MacBook. There, sipping coffee, you wrote your resignation letter.

Alright. You were free.

Or at least this was what you thought.

* * *

Another week has started, and the fact that you worked at Vought made you get a more comfortable office, in addition to increasing your service price. You were ending your day. Your last patient had left the office, and you were about to go home when you heard a familiar voice from your couch.

"I miss you in the tower."

Homelander looked at you with his pairs of sick blue eyes, his fake smile, and his murderous hands behind his body. He was standing next to the couch, and you felt your whole body freeze. A lump formed in your throat, and your hands vibrated in pure dread.

So he would kill you there? In your office?

Trying to take control of the situation, you faked a slight smile.

“Sorry, Homelander. I didn't saw you here. Need something?"

"Actually, I do." He started walking towards you slowly. "I didn't want to end our sessions, so I came to ask you what our new schedule is going to be."

You narrowed your eyes.

"I thought Vought was going to hire someone else to work with The Seven in my place."

“In fact, they put an incompetent in your place. I really prefer that we continue where we left off. ” He stopped in front of you with his smile, his eyes emanating pure insanity "I like our therapy sessions."

“I'm glad that you like my job and that you appreciate our results, Homelander” You gave him a smile, but inside you were still in pure dread “But I don't have appointments available. My schedule filled up easily after I came to this new office. ”

“Oh, but I'm sure you can fit me in your schedule. I can pay you well. ”

How to say no to Homelander without putting your life at risk?

You walked over to your tablet, on your desk. You took it in hand and slid your finger on the screen, analyzing awhile. You didn't need him to tell you that you would be paid well. In fact, you were fully aware of that. The point was that you could exchange all the money in the world to be at peace, without having to deal with Homelander. Without much choice, you concluded that you would reserve a single day for your therapy sessions with him. That way, your head wouldn't get so tired when you still had to deal with other patients.

“Are you available on Friday morning? At nine."

He nodded, giving the same smile he did when he achieved something. One of pure contentment.

"Of course!"

"Great so." You typed 'Homelander' in the space corresponding to the hour. You put the tablet down on the table, next to your MacBook “There, it's done. Friday, at nine in the morning. ”

“Ah, perfect! Thank you. Have a good night."

"Good night, Homelander."

He walked over to your balcony. With a jump, he flew through the sky. You lay on your couch, terrified. Would you never get rid of him?

All that was left for you now was to be the therapist of the incarnate Devil.

#the boys imagines #the boys imagine #the boys fics #the boys fanfics #the boys fanfic #the boys fanfiction #homelander x you #homelander x reader #homelander x y/n #homelander imagine #homelander imagines #homelander fics #homelander fanfics #homelander fanfic

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sage-nebula · 2 years

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I wasn’t okay with talking about it much before, but now that things are looking a little better I think I can. Putting this under a cut, do not reblog it or I will delete it.

Basically what happened is, my parents are staying in Florida for the winter. (They have a place down there.) They left to Florida last Monday, both feeling a little under the weather. On Tuesday I came down with an illness myself, but I’m fully vaccinated against both covid and the flu so I didn’t think much of it.

Note: My parents are not vaccinated despite me telling them over and over again that they should be, especially since my dad is pretty old and has compromised lungs due to years of smoking.

Fast forward to this week. I’m mostly over my illness by this point. My mom asks if she can call me, I say yes. She calls me and tells me that they both tested positive for covid and that my dad is really, really sick. As in “has been in bed for 20 hours a day for the last four days” levels of sick. She also tells me that he refuses to go to the hospital. Why, I don’t know. My guess is that he was afraid of being put on a ventilator, but as I explained to my mom, ventilators are for people who can’t breathe on their own and are basically already dead (like your odds of survival once you’re on a ventilator are very low). The best way to ensure you get on a ventilator is by not seeking treatment before you get that bad. She agreed with me but said that he still refused to go to the hospital, that he’d had a fever for four days straight, that he couldn’t get out of bed, she had to force him to drink water, etc. I pleaded with her to tell him whatever she had to in order to get him to go to the hospital. She said she was trying and the call ended.

Well, I didn’t know when they had contracted covid, but since I was sick shortly after they left I went to the store and got an FDA-approved home covid test. I did both of the tests in the kit, both came up negative. So although I was sick, I didn’t have covid. This just goes to show how well vaccines work. If you haven’t gotten vaccinated already, get vaccinated.

That said, once the thought that I might have covid wore off, I was left with the reality that my dad had been bedridden for days, was running a high fever, and was refusing to go to the hospital despite having a very serious and deadly virus. And I spiraled. I have a very complicated relationship with my father that I won’t get into here, but suffice to say that the thought that he could be dead in the next day or two hit me a lot harder than I thought it would. I cried, and cried, and couldn’t stop crying. I hadn’t cried that hard in seven years. The fact that I was furious that he was going to die of a totally preventable disease because he listened to faux news pundits who insisted the vaccine was dangerous / didn’t work / wasn’t real, and because he was for some reason refusing to go to the hospital, didn’t change that fact. Yeah, he deserved covid, but that didn’t mean I was okay with him dying from it. I don’t want him to die. I want him to live and be better.

But anyway, tl;dr, that’s why I was so upset on Monday. I was pretty convinced my father was going to die, and he was all the way in another state and I couldn’t do anything about it. I really needed comfort, but because of my current moving situation I’m kind of far from all my IRL friends (also it was really late at night, and on a work night no less). So I reached out here on tumblr. Thank you to all who sent nice messages, I really appreciate them still.

Anyway, today is Thursday and my mom informed me this morning that she finally got my dad to go to the hospital yesterday. Dumbass that he is, he wanted to leave after 30 minutes because they were taking too long to see him, but my mom is still sick herself (though not as bad) so she convinced him to stay by pointing out that SHE wanted the treatment, and as long as she was getting it, he figured he might as well stay and get it, too. So they both got antibody infusions (which incidentally means—and I verified this on the CDC website to make sure she wasn’t bullshitting me—that they can’t get vaccinated for 3 months, but the antibodies will protect them until then). They spent about 6 or 7 hours at the hospital, and honestly I wouldn’t put it past my father to sign himself out AMA (against medical advice), but she said that he didn’t have fever / chills today, so I think the antibodies are working. At least, I feel more hopeful today than I did earlier this week. I can probably keep procrastinating the eulogy a little longer.

Once again, thank you for all the kind messages you sent, and sorry for being cryptic about why I needed them. It’s just been a lot to deal with, especially since my own feelings were so complicated. But again, thanks.

#and as a reminder: don't reblog or i'll just delete it and render your reblog moot anyway

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keanureevesisbae · 3 years

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Protection - Chapter 2

Summary: August might’ve made a pretty bad impression on Mia, however, will she help him when he has a slight problem?

August Walker x Mia Makaruku (ofc)

Wordcount: 3.5k

Warnings: None

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

The next morning I finally decide to do the smart thing: I get up at seven in the morning, to clean my apartment, start prepping some meals and work through the piles of laundry I have neglected these past few days.

Okay, I didn’t necessarily do that because I decided to be a productive woman for once and try to get most out of my day, but it is mostly because I couldn’t sleep anymore. I have been having nightmares since I can remember, which is probably since the fatal car crash that killed not only my parents, but also my brothers.

At least, that is what I’m told.

I remember crashing, I remember being out of the car and waiting for the emergency services, but I don’t remember my family maybe running away, their bodies being dragged away from me. They could be anywhere, really.

Dead or alive.

But ever since that crash, I have nightmares. Sometimes there is a loud crash or a fire I can’t escape or I’m drowning.

Usually I wake up at least once—but mostly twice—in the middle of the night, but last night I slept through. That seems nice, but I was woken up abruptly, since it felt like I was falling off a building.

While I’m putting the salad in the containers and I place them neatly in the fridge, I hear someone knocking on my door. This early? What idiot is up already and wants to bother me? I walk to the door and once I open it, a nasty surprise awaits me.

‘What do you want?’ I ask the one and only August Walker. After yesterday, I have decided that I don’t want to be his friendly neighbor. He hurt me feelings and doesn’t deserve anymore of my kindness.

‘My heater is broken,’ he simply announces.

And for that he knocks on my door? ‘Sucks to be you,’ I tell him.

‘I only have one blanket and my other clothes are coming in later this morning, just as the mechanic.’

I’m flabbergasted to say the least. ‘And you are sharing this information with me, because…?’ I know damn well why he is sharing this with me, but I’m not that easy.

August sighs, visibly annoyed. ‘Because I was hoping I could stay here with you for a while.’

I bark out a laugh. ‘Are you kidding me? After what you said to me yesterday, you honestly think I would let you in my apartment? I would be bat shit crazy if I did that. You insulted me, August.’

‘I barely insulted you.’

He has some nerves. ‘You said you hated women’s soccer to a professional female soccer player.’ I give him a do I need to explain any further-look.

‘You told me my moustache made me look like a pedophile.’

I cock an eyebrow. ‘That was only after you insulted me. Had you never been mean to me, I would’ve kept it to myself. But that is beyond the point, really. The real question is: why are you bothering me?’

He clenches his jaw. He probably thought that with his brooding look and broad build, he could intimidate me into letting him in my house. Well, he thought wrong. ‘I just want to stay here for a few hours, till eleven. I won’t bother you, I promise, but I’m really cold.’

I lean against the doorframe, as I check my watch. ‘That is three hours,’ I tell him. ‘I can barely deal with you for three minutes, let alone three hours. The answer is no. Just fuck off, will you?’

August wants to hold back a laugh, but fails miserably. ‘You sure mean that,’ he chuckles. I know I shouldn’t think like this, but he looks actually very friendly when he laughs, even if he is laughing at me. ‘Listen, I might’ve made a bad impression on you yesterday.’

‘You might’ve? Goodness gracious, do you have any self reflection? You definitely made a bad impression.’

He sighs, but almost has something from a growl. ‘It’s a few hours, Mia. What’s the big deal?’

What’s the big deal? This man has got quite some guts, it’s almost admirable. ‘Well,’ I say, incapable of saying no to him, ‘if I can get an apology, you can stay here. Saying sorry is not that hard, even you can do it.’

‘I don’t do apologies.’

Of course he doesn’t. I’m not even surprised. ‘And I don’t give shelter to my shitty neighbors, even if it’s only for three hours. Goodbye August. Please, freeze to death.’

I want to close the door, but he simply places his hand on the flat surface. Fuck, he is strong, those arms certainly are not lying. The battle August Walker vs Mia Makaruku is a quick one and not in my favor, I can tell you that. ‘I don’t want to freeze to death, so I’m gonna say this one time and one time only, so you better listen carefully: I’m sorry I was rude.’

I smile. ‘See, it wasn’t that hard. I also liked it that you really sincerely apologized, meaning in from the bottom of your heart.’

I know I’m pushing the limits here. August glares at me, but even through the death glare he is sending me, I can actually see some humanity in his light orbs. I actually feel a bit sorry for him. I know, that surprises me too.

‘Come on. Just don’t bother me too much and the second the mechanic is here, I want you out of my apartment.’

‘Doable.’ I have barely stepped aside, when he barges into my apartment. He has the audacity to plop on my couch, grab the remote and turn on the television.

‘Yes August, please make yourself at home. Do you want a coffee with that? Some homemade chocolate croissants? A fucking massage?’ I slam the door shut and when I look at him, I notice the smug smile on his face because of my offers. I let out a growl. ‘Don’t even think about it.’

Unbeknownst of the company, Bobo trots into the room. When his eyes land on the stranger on the couch, he arches his back with his hackles raised and hisses. I’m glad to know my furry companion thinks just as lowly of the—sort of—uninvited guest as I do. ‘I’m not a big fan of cates,’ August notes.

‘I’m almost assuming this is your first time you’re over at someones place,’ I say. ‘You sure know how to not behave yourself. If you don’t like him, go back to your own place.’

‘Okay, okay, I’ll stop. What do I do if he comes near me?’ August looks up at me. ‘Do I just hiss back?’

Thankfully I can manage to keep a straight face. ‘That’s an option,’ I tell him, as I walk back to my kitchen. Do I hiss back? It’s nearly endearing, especially since it’s coming from a tough looking guy like August Walker. I prepare my coffee machine and ask: ‘Do you want some coffee?’ While I don’t necessarily want him here, I might make most out of it. Besides, I can’t possibly imagine someone is as rude as him without a reason.

Maybe he had a shitty youth. I mean, I encountered my fair share of foster siblings and some of them were rude as hell, but when I learned about their family situation, prior to this foster home, I realized they had every reason to act like they did. While my coping mechanism is to charm my ass off and make a good impression on everyone (and I mean literally everyone), August’s way to dealing with his trauma’s can be to push people away. However, I do think he desperately wants to make a connection. Despite not totally getting it, he did come to me when his heater broke, so that must mean I’m maybe the only one who is trying to be nice to him? Give him a chance, while he might not deserve it?

Right?

‘Sure,’ August says, while keeping a close eye on Bobo, who stares at him with his back still arched. ‘What’s the cat’s name?’

‘Bobo,’ I answer him. ‘I got him from the shelter. Fun story: I was actually looking to adopt a dog, but when I walked passed Bobo’s cage, I couldn’t say no to him. Like it was an instant click between us.’

August doesn’t say anything, so apparently he doesn’t agree on this being a fun story. While the coffee is running, I walk back to the living room, but as I pass a mirror, I manage to hold in my gasp.

I look like crap! I’m still wearing my flannel pajamas that are actually three sizes too large for me and I actually don’t think I can call this frizzy mess on my head, hair. I also have not put on any moisturizer yet and it shows.

To kind of make myself a bit more presentable, I twist my hair in a bun, to sort of contain it.

Yesterday I looked pretty put together. Today I look like an utter mess. I can barely blame August for not taking me seriously. I plop on the seat and Bobo jumps on the armrest. The orange cat sits down, but continues to take August in.

‘The staring is making me uncomfortable,’ August mentions.

‘You seem so tough, but looks can be very deceiving,’ I chuckle.

‘That’s not funny.’

‘It’s hilarious, you should grow a sense of humor,’ I retort. ‘Okay, tell me something fun about yourself.’

August frowns. ‘Why on earth would I do that?’

‘Because I’m providing you shelter,’ I say. ‘Honestly, it’s the least you can do. Tell me something fun. There must be something fun about you.’

‘You have to give me more than that,’ he mutters. ‘I don’t like talking about myself and I certainly can’t do it on the spot.’

Okay, that’s fair, I can’t do that either. ‘From where did you move here?’

August lets out a deep breath, as I watch him caressing his own thigh. It almost looks like he is soothing himself. Is this question making him uncomfortable? ‘Montana,’ he says, but it’s not very convincing. Hearing from his tone, he doesn’t want to talk about it.

‘You want a pet?’ I continue trying to strike up a conversation. I don’t want to stare at him for three hours (not that I would complain about it, because the view is pretty okay, it’s just slightly weird) and I need him to talk, because otherwise I have to kick him out.

‘I’m not a big fan of animals. As a matter of fact, I don’t even like animals.’

‘That’s really sad,’ I say, as I scratch Bobo behind his ears, earning me some load purring. ‘Animals are very nice and you always have someone to cuddle with. Or doesn’t August Walker like cuddles either?’

He looks over at me, not amused. ‘Do we have to talk?’ he asks, expertly avoiding my question, sarcastic or not.

‘Yes, we do. If you don’t want to talk, ask me something and at least pretend to listen when I do so.’

August cocks an eyebrow, before he thinks about it for a while. ‘Are you ever afraid of life?’

‘Geez,’ I exclaim, ‘way to make it this depressing in the morning!’

He simply shrugs. ‘You wanted me to ask you something.’

I sink deeper into the backrest of my soft one person sofa. The question does make me think. I’d like to surround myself with positivity, ignoring the bad things happening in the world and not think about the darker aspects in life. I know that is not very healthy and you should be aware of the things happening around you, but it has helped me through tough times in life.

But when I think about it, about the uglier side of life, I realize one thing. ‘I am afraid of life,’ I say.

‘Why?’ he asks.

‘Because it can be scary sometimes. Unpredictable.’ The sounds of screeching tires, a loud crash and the car tumbling over all flashes through my mind. ‘It can be painful.’ Realizing how upsetting this all sounds, I grab a pillow from behind me and throw it to August. ‘Why are you so damn miserable?’ I ask him. ‘We should start the day on a happy note, not make it this depressing.’

August breaks out in a smile and when he does so, he looks approachable. Not like my shitty and rude neighbor, but like a nice guy. ‘Well, your questions were too generic.’

‘Yours are too depressing.’

For a few seconds we simply look at each other, before we both burst out in laughter. It’s nice to see August Walker like this. He doesn’t look stuffy anymore and he lost the arrogant glow. ‘Well, while you think of more lighter questions, I’ll get the coffee. You want milk or sugar in it?’

‘No, just black will do.’

I walk to the kitchen, pour in the coffee in two bright red mugs and hand him one. ‘There you go,’ I say to him.

He simply takes it out of my hand, but I continue to hold it. ‘What are you doing?’

‘One usually says thank you when he or she receives something from someone.’ I remember it clearly, when one of my first foster parents taught me some lessons in being polite. Back then it was said in a loving way. Now I recreate the entire scene in more of a mocking tone.

August rolls his eyes, exactly as I expected him to do. ‘Thank you,’ he grumbles. ‘You happy now?’

‘Absolutely delighted.’

◎ ◎ ◎

At eleven ‘o clock sharp, August left because the mechanic arrived. Not long after that, I had to go to practice. Because of the presence of my neighbor the entire morning, I actually forgot about having to train with Tristan on the side of the field. I wondered what on earth I did to displease coach Riley. Okay, I know she does this because it is for my own good, but for fuck’s sake, I have never felt so humiliated in my time I’ve trained with the Red Stars.

Thankfully the awful training finally ended and at around five in the late afternoon, I’m back at my apartment building. When the doors slid open, I see Harold standing behind the reception as usual. I glide through the hallway and manage to stop right in front of him on the other side of the desk. ‘Hello Harold,’ I say to him.

‘Hello miss Mia,’ he says to me, as he places his under arms on the flat surface of his desk. ‘You seem awfully cheery today. I thought you had to take it easy today during training.’

Am I cheery? My teammates said this to me as well today, before I remembered I had to train on the side of the field and now Harold mentions it too? I don’t really know why I would be— Oh no! Does this mean what I think it means?

Did I enjoy August’s company this morning?

Well, to be honest, it was actually quite nice from time to time. I have been spending most of my time alone in my apartment (actually all the time). I mean, I love my teammates and we hang out after practice sometimes, but they have their own lives, their own families.

I don’t want to intrude, though they invite me from time to time. It’s more that I’m scared to join them. What if they only ask me to join them, because they want to be nice and polite?

After we talked for a while this morning, August and I, we spend some time watching television. It was almost as if we were alone together and that felt quite nice.

‘Just woke up in a cheery mode,’ I say, though it’s not exactly the truth. ‘Is there any mail for me?’

He shakes his head. ‘No, miss.’

‘For my new neighbor then?’

Harold shakes his head again. ‘How is he anyways? Heard about his heater being broken.’

I smile. ‘Well, he quite nice actually. Bit stuffy, like you said, but once you get to know him, he can be nice from time to time.’

‘Is that why you are cheery?’ he asks.

‘What?’ I exclaim. How did Harold guess that right away? Yes! ‘No, what on earth would give you that impression?’

Harold tries to keep a straight face, but he fails and I realize I’ve been caught red handed. ‘Well, miss Mia,’ he says, thankfully not adding any fuel to this disastrous situation, ‘I’m glad to know that you manage to make even him likable. You are a very special lady.’

‘Right,’ I say, after I cleared my throat. ‘I’m gonna go. See you later, Harold.’

He chuckles. ‘Later, miss.’

When I step out on the right floor, I let out a deep sigh. Is it true? Am I cheery because of August Walker? Who would’ve guessed. When I pass his door and I fumble with my keys, I hear a door open. I look to my side and see August stepping into the hallway.

‘Good afternoon, neighbor,’ I say to him. ‘How are you?’

He doesn’t smile and the nice August I saw every so often this morning, has disappeared into thin air. While I want to be annoyed by it, I can’t help but notice to see the slight pain in his eyes. I saw it this morning and I see it now. From the looks of it, he is hurting and I relate. I know how it feels.

But what I also know is that deep down there is a lovely soul, it’s just protected by a very thick wall.

‘Good afternoon,’ he hums. ‘I realized I took this from you.’ He holds out the red mug I handed to him three times this morning. This man gulps down coffee as if it is water and for a second I was genuinely concerned he would have a caffeine overdose.

He seems to have managed just fine.

‘Oh, thank you,’ I say as I take it from him when he stepped closer to me. ‘I probably wouldn’t have missed it. I have way too many mugs, but thanks anyways.’

The way August is hot and cold within a matter of seconds, is something I should put up with from now on. I have decided to give this man with some pretty poor social skills the benefit of the doubt. Besides, I actually quite enjoy having him around.

No wonder I was cheery today.

August buries his hands in his pockets and is probably waiting for me to say something.

‘Your heater fixed?’ I ask.

He simply nods. ‘Yes, all good now.’

Is he waiting again for me to say something? This man… Before I can even think about the pros and cons of my very impulsive idea, I ask him: ‘Do you have plans tomorrow night?’

‘I don’t,’ he says, before he frowns. 'Why?’

‘I have two tickets for a Bulls game.’

He looks confused. ‘A what game?’

‘Bulls game. Chicago Bulls. Basketball,’ I clarify. ‘I mean, you can go with me if you want.’

‘And why would I want to do that?’

‘Because I’m the loveliest neighbor and human being for that matter, you have ever encountered in your life and you desperately want to spend more time with me.’

August doesn’t smile. Maybe he is conflicted, because he occasionally let his guard down this morning.

And maybe this question is way too much. I don’t really understand I was questioning his social skills this morning, while I’m out here overstepping all sorts of boundaries.

‘Sure,’ he however says to my surprise. ‘I can’t really think of worse things to do tomorrow.’

‘You’re such an asshole,’ I tell him. ‘You were quite nice this morning in my apartment. What changed?’ I don’t give him time to answer. ‘Oh wait, I think I get it. It’s this hallway that turns you into a complete asshole.’

‘You can still un-invite me,’ he says, with an amused glimmer in his eyes.

‘I can do that of course, however believe it or not, I barely have friends and the few I have, all have their own social circles and don’t like to go to Bulls games.’

‘Then why did you purchase two tickets?’

‘Because it was cheaper to buy two tickets and I’d like to live up to the stereotype that the Dutch are stingy cheapskates.’

‘I can tell you, Mia, it’s working,’ he says. ‘Someone without friends who want to go to Bulls games with her, purchases two tickets, simply because it’s cheaper.’

I stick out my tongue. ‘Well, whatever. It starts tomorrow at six and it’s within walking distance from here. You have time?’

‘I sure do.’

‘And you still want to go with me?’

He nods.

‘Well, see you tomorrow then, August.’

He looks at me, a long and intense stare, before he says: ‘See you tomorrow, Mia.’

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #Henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill x soccer player #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill x mia makaruku #august walker #august walker x ofc #august walker x asian ofc #august walker x oc #august walker x mia makaruku #august walker x soccer player #fic: protection #asian ofc #mia makaruku

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thelostguardianau · 4 years

Text

The Lost Guardian- Chapter Eight

“Heed the Silenced”

(Authors note: aha.. yknow I should probably stop making promises for this fic. Months later, w/ a chapter that doesn’t have Thomas in it, three different outlines down and i’m really just at the mercy of this fic at this point xD considering midway through writing this chapter I had to cut and rewrite an entire scene i’d spent a month on bc I’d decided that Dee had a chance at redemtion that added an actual direction and a tangable end goal to this story. So. Yeah. And!! A loud Thank You!! to @bumblebeekitten for helping me bounce ideas back & forth for this au and being my beta for this chapter!!)

Character Info & Art:

Chapter Seven | Chapter Nine

Fandom: Thomas Sanders Sides

Pairings: Eventual Polyamsanders (LAMPR/CALMR-a.k.a LAMP/CALM + Remy ‘Sleep’ Sanders)

Warnings: THIS CHAPTER IS KINDA DIALOG HEAVY!(sorry) Currently depicted as morally grey Deceit(subject to change in future chapters), though the side of Deceit from his first appearance doesnt make an appearance in this chapter and it is explained why, mentions of past betrayal and dark descriptions of bodily concepts, curses, limitations, and changes only really explained as possible through the lore of this au. Deceit speaks in riddles because he has to, ominous warnings. Virgil still isn’t okay mentally. Mentions of indifference to death, lack of selfworth or self preservation. (Let me know if I need to add anything!)

[[MORE]]

Brown eyes flutter open at the chilly breeze of a fan, and the ravenette’s mind comes to realize that he’s been moved from resting on his stomach to laying on his back. Groggy from his much too short nap, it takes a few moments to realize there are no warm bodies near him or under him, no breathing or chatter of familiar voices to sooth him.

The room, he realizes, is empty.

The room itself is, in fact, not Remy’s bedroom at all.

Shooting straight up, Virgil’s first clear thought is that he’s back at home. At his apartment, this time in his hoodie yet still roughed up from his latest ‘adventure’. The scene is eerily familiar, and yet he knows this time that work is not where he needs to be. It’s already daylight and his mind now knows this familiar scene, he should feel alone. Yet, this time he can hear the sound of honking cars and people, his loud neighbor from upstairs stomping around.

It doesn’t make sense as he walks to his window and peers out to see vague cars and people, he can’t even seem to make out any individual faces. It’s grey and raining outside, but there is no pattering sound against the foggy window. ‘What’s happening?’ Virgil wonders.

“Life seemed so simple a week ago, even months ago, did it not..?” A familiar voice drifts from behind him. Ice cold fear shoots down the ravenette’s spine as he recognizes the voice.

“I can hardly believe you were able to leave it, your routine. It was your everything, back when you came to terms with what you had left. Am I wrong, Virgil?” Whirling around to face the voice, Virgil finds the terrifying ex-Guardian sitting on his couch looking quite at home, if a little sheepish.

“What do you care?” He spat back, stepping back against his window.

“I am only looking out for you, you know. I have been protecting you all your life. Of all people I think I would know what is best for you, don't you think? We are connected after all, you and I.” The man sighed, making a surrendering motion with his hands.

“Why would I trust you?! You tried to kill me yesterday!” Virgil growled. “Why--h-how are you even here!?”

“False, my dear Virgil. I tried to warn you. Sure,” The guardian rolled his hand as he spoke, “I am forced to have a round-about way of speaking my truths, it is just part of my consequences it seems. But how else was I going to get you to listen to me after the others fed you lies about me? I do sincerely apologize for my other half being rough, though. I cannot quite.. Control.. Him.” The guardian tilted his bowler hat down to guiltily hide his eyes, regret briefly twisting his expression.

Finally the Guardian stood, dusting himself off as if his immaculate attire had acquired dust from just existing in his apartment. “I needed my physical body to reach yours and make our soul connection strong again, so that my soul could reach yours. However.. The pain I caused you was far from my intention. I am deeply regretful that it came down to.. That awful encounter.

“To answer your question though, Virgil, I am here because I created ‘here’. A realm made to form this illusion of being home, sweet home, just on the corner of the little street you had come to live on for the past year. It is all my doing. Where you stand is simply an illusion only you and I can access, a manipulation of your dreams and memories. The only place where the real me can talk to you mostly unhindered.” The guardian gestured to his surroundings.

“It takes only one person to flip your life on it’s head, a matter of hours to make the decision of a lifetime, and a matter of days to have completely changed your life’s direction,” He turned to Virgil, and looked him straight in the eyes, feeling distant and lost.

“And only a matter of years to succumb to the depression of the lonely consequences..”

Virgil blinked at that. The sad, longing tone had him thrown for a loop; it almost felt like the Guardian wasn't even quite talking to Virgil. “I-What..? I.. I don’t understand.”

The Guardian shook his head, snapping out of it and refocusing himself. "Nevermind that. It is time I talked to you for real, if you will have me?" The Guardian held out a hand politely, though there was no real expectation for Virgil to take it.

After a pause, Virgil gave a slight nod, still suspicious of the other's intent. The Guardian returned the nod, and his hand fell to his side.

“I am limited to the time that you rest and for now I will not be able to explain myself thoroughly, so, I ask you to understand that I do not expect you to trust me when I am done. I honestly do not expect you to ever trust me. With the mistakes I have made, I firmly believe I would not deserve it.”

Virgil blinked in surprise, not having expected his captor to admit to his faults straight off the bat.

“Okay.. Well, we’re here, might as well hear your side of the story. So.. Shoot.” Virgil said lightly, distrust and suspicion still evident in his tone and stance.

“I would assume at this point you are well aware of how the story you have been told paints me as the villain, a mastermind seeking power, immortality, and revenge? At least, that is what I am led to believe is still the story, it has been many years since I have heard the tale first hand… And... Well. Would that not be so lovely?” Virgil made a face, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“I am serious. Life would be so much easier if it was all black and white, true or false, good and bad, would it not? If those who meant well knew everything and those malicious few could not corrupt anything?” The Guardian frowned a bit, frustrated with his words that couldn’t seem to cooperate with him.

“Would it not be lovely if I could talk to you without fighting to keep from turning every honest thought into a question or theoretical statement just to let it be said? That my words could hold a meaning not forcibly disguised in the forms of fables and riddles?” The Guardian looked down lamely, his words tapering off in agitation. For a moment, Virgil waited as the Guardian was silent, contemplative. Then, the next moment the Guardian’s face scrunched up in sadness and his words were soft as he placed a hand over his golden wrist markings.

“My story is complicated, and twisted with shades of grey. One could say what I did was an attempt to keep you safe, another could say that what I did was outlandish and impulsive, and stupid. But no one will be able to tell you that what I did went according to the plan I had... at first. No one will tell you that my intention was to save you, to keep your fate safe. No one will tell you that my plan was ruined. Because there is no longer anyone who remembers what happened that night except for me,”

The Guardian’s eyes flicked up to meet the ravenette’s, a hurt look passing over his face as he continued. His steady voice now just barely trembled with uncertainty as he continued.

“No one but me and the soul who wants so desperately for everyone to forget. The soul who ripped my own in two to bury the secret, and ruin you and I both.”

“My final warning is this: Beware of the man who carries the world on his shoulders unflinchingly, he will be watching you closely. You have immunity to his power thanks to our connection, you might use this knowledge well to find the truth that lies in plain sight. However, your fate lies in the decisions you chose to make with this knowledge, I can only warn you of what might come.” The Guardian nodded solemnly, choosing to finish his cryptic warning there.

Virgil stood there, reeling with the information. Sure, he definitely wasn’t completely convinced he could trust this cryptic stranger, Guardian? Foe? Friend? Virgil wasn’t really sure what to call him anymore. But damn, his life was already so fucking crazy, this was all just fucking crazy! He could just be dreaming for all he knew.

But… Deep inside, he was hoping he wasn’t.

This was, well. This wasn’t what he’d been expecting to hear when facing the man whose, er, body? Had originally tried to strangle him? Now he’d heard his sob story and, well, Virgil wasn’t that easy to fool, but he’d also been told that it wasn’t expected that he’d trust the guy even in the end and he didn’t really want to.

He’d been on the path to death for so long, and then just two days ago everything had changed. So much was happening, it was frankly exhausting. What the fuck was he, some book protagonist? Couldn’t he get a little time to think about all this before he went crazy?

Still, something under all his incredulity begged to hear the guardian out. He vaguely wondered how Stockholm Syndrome worked before he gave in a little. What difference did a little more crazy make in his life at this point?

“Fine, I’ll heed your warning, or whatever the fuck. But only if you can tell me what you mean when you said that this guy ripped your, uh, soul? In two.” Virgil huffed, partially relaxing. It was odd how comforting he found it to be, floating in this weird feeling imaginary world, where he could interact with objects that weren’t real. It felt like he was really standing in his home, and yet it was just built from memory.

The guardian’s solemn expression formed into a grim smile, eyes distant once more before nodding. “I will do the best that my words will allow.” Virgil nodded, and waited for the now very familiar stranger to gather his words and take a breath. Then he began, his markings lightly flashing gold.

“You find yourself whole one day, as you have always been. To be whole of body, whole of mind, both human and guardian in nature. To have conscious thought and control over your whole physical being and soul..

“You find that yourself and others of the winged variety are capable of separating your soul from your being, though only the most Elite can do it well. You find out the family you made would soon be in danger. You then find yourself lost and alone when you once had a home to call your own.

“You find yourself knowing a truth, a perilous truth. Your home is in shambles now that you are gone, yet they do not know it. This truth is at fault, but the blame is not fully your own in a world built on lies.

“The source of truth tucks itself into blankets of grey, drawing itself further from discovery with each passing day. Now only you know the truth. The source of the truth finds you, it seeks to hide you too.

“You find yourself split one day, as you have never been before. Forced apart from the body, trapped within the mind. Guardian in nature, to have conscious thought and your dying soul trapped within, a false mind piloting the puppeteered confines of a broken body with a blind goal.”

“You find you cannot control what you used to, you are a prisoner to a body that is no longer your own, mostly unconscious to the world around it. Crazed by the false emotions that fuel it.”

“The you that used to be is no longer, and has not been for over a hundred years. The world that knew you knows not of what you’ve become. Knows not of the shackles that bind you.

“The you that used to be is no longer, and will never be again.” The Guardian finished, hesitant yellow eyes meeting Virgil’s carefully. Phantom goosebumps trail down Virgil's arms as the final sentence strikes a cord in him.

Virgil found he really wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, the rawness in the other’s tone spoke volumes of the sore spot they’d reached.

“Your body rests, but your mind also needs time to process today. I shall see you when you next rest, though only if you wish to seek me. Rest well knowing that you will not be scooped from your safety once more, as I hope I’m never to do so again. And...” The guardian paused, considering their next words very carefully.

“I know it is selfish to ask... but, I hope and wish that Thomas is alright, after all this time... Do take care of him, would you?”

Virgil paused and stared, finding only concern and longing in the guardian’s expression. And, well, fuck. What a way to pull at a guy’s heartstrings.

“Er, yes. Yeah. I’ll try my best.” Virgil gave his signature mock salute, the Guardian tipping his hat in return.

“Trying is all I could ever ask of you, Virgil. Rest well, you will need it.” And with that final sentence, the world around Virgil gently grew dark, and he sunk into the comforting arms of sleep.

Despite it all, Virgil still found his mind vaguely conscious. Sluggish at best, but awake nonetheless.

He figured it was likely some lingering effect from the Guardian’s dream realm, but didn’t dwell on it. His life had way too much else going on to be debating the side effects gained from Guardian powers.

First, he’d been pretty damn convinced two days ago that he was going to be a goner by the end of the month. Completely resigned to die believing that his very existence was scorned by the world he’d been unwillingly born into.

Then Patton had stumbled onto his shitty apartment’s roof, found him in all of his resigned and depressed glory, and changed his life forever.

They’d mostly skipped the whole ‘Human nature is a series of life, death, and rebirth’ spiel that guardians were known to give in these situations because... Well, It wasn’t like they’d really had time to address it before the truth about his soul had come out. That he wasn’t exactly human to begin with.

Virgil didn’t think that Guardians had ever had a situation like his before. There wasn’t a protocol for comforting a kidnapped guardian soul. It’d never been a possibility before!

So it wasn’t surprising then, that Virgil didn’t have any better of a time processing it.

His whole life, all that he’d known to be true, all that he’d believed in? Everything had been uprooted and turned on its head. He’d apparently been living a life that was not supposed to be.

Perhaps for the first time in two days, Virgil realized that the thought of his death at the end of the month had not been consistently worming into his brain. It had once been something he could never seem to stop thinking about.

The death indicated by his soul timer was now perhaps the farthest thing from his mind.

Perhaps the strangest thing so far was that he wasn’t alone anymore. He’d possibly had more physical contact with other people in the short two(three?) days since this adventure started then he’d had in the past 16 years.

And wasn’t it just the cherry on top that he’d also gotten nearly choked out by the very guardian accused of kidnapping his soul in the first place? And now he was considering trusting the damn guy.

Virgil hollowly wondered why he even cared.

Why did he care about staying alive now when he’s spent his whole life believing he never would? Up until two days ago, that belief had still been true. But now? Avoiding death was the goal, Logan had stated as much.

Really, would Virgil lose anything by trusting the banished guardian? Even if the guardian was trying to trick Virgil and got him killed, what difference would it make? That’d always been the goal before. What did he, Virgil, really have to lose?

If it happened that Virgil lived past his twentieth birthday, if he became a guardian like he was supposed to be in the first place. Would he want that? Did he want that?

He wasn’t sure. Didn’t know if he ever had been.

His life had been built on resignation to the inevitable. Nothing seemed to motivate him towards liking or hating that possibility. He was just that.

Indifferent.

And wasn’t that just the greatest revelation of the night? Finding out that you’re indifferent to living or dying.

Once this was all over, if Virgil lived that long, he would make a note to see a therapist. He knew very well that this kind of mindset was unhealthy to keep. It just couldn’t be helped that the nineteen years he’d lived with this particular affliction couldn’t be fixed by a few extra hugs and comforting words.

Even if he didn’t like the fact that death sounded like the more peaceful option.

His thoughts paused, mentally sighing at the downward spiral he’d caught himself in. It was tiring, and going nowhere.

‘For now,’ he decided, ‘I’m just going to see how this plays out. The Guardian said that none of the others remember the truth, or whatever. So, It’s a ‘he said-they said’ situation right now...’

‘I’ll have to keep an eye out for the guy that he warned me about, then. Who knows if he's as dangerous as The Guardian made him out to be. It’s hard to tell with the weird way he has to talk..’

Virgil paused again, a realization striking him. If he could have groaned, he would have. Not once had he been given or even remembered to ask for the name of said Guardian. What was he supposed to call the rogue Guardian now? He couldn’t just keep calling him The Guardian!

Amidst the disbelief of such a slip up, a foreign yet familiar feeling prodded questioningly at his conscious mind. Adding confusion into the mix of emotions, he returned the feeling with a questioning thought of his own.

He briefly heard the Guardian’s whispy voice once more, now acting with permission.

“You may call me Janus”

Then all at once, Virgil woke up.

Chapter Nine

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #lamp/calm #LAMPR/CALMR #LAMP/CALM + remy ‘sleep’ sanders #tw angst #tw long post #long fic #thelostguardianau #morally grey deceit #for the time being #the aim is that he reach sympathetic but trust aint that easy

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coliverxxx · 3 years

Text

Titanic - Johnny/OC story

Summary: Johnny has never worked with someone who has said two pick-up lines on him in thirty minutes after they met him while working until her.

Pairings: Johnny x OC or Johnny x Reader or Johnny x She (whoever she is, really)

Genre: Friendship, Romance

Words: 5,876

Warnings: None, hopefully

A/N: First of all, the story has nothing to do with the infamous movie. It's just that I suck with titles. I wouldn't also call this angst but to anyone who's lighthearted, there is a bit of angst in here, okay? But I promise, things will be okay.

I was supposed to write 500 words yesterday because I just can't get over Johnny's long blonde hair. It does things to me. (I still haven't gotten over it.) But stories tend to write themselves and before I knew it, I have little less than 6,000 words all because of Johnny's long blonde hair. It's strange what inspirations can do. Initially, I wanted to convert this into a ship fic but then, I thought it's good as it is. At least for me, haha. (Might still do in the future though.)

Let's keep supporting NCT. Let's keep loving Johnny (I have this awful feeling that he deserves more love than he's getting I don't know) and the rest of the group. They received their first daesang recently, too. Congratulations, boys!

Titanic - Johnny/OC story

Johnny has never worked with her. It’s not to say that he’s bothered by her — he’s met people who are most troublesome, to say the least — but he has never worked with someone who is so obvious in their interest on him. He gets it. Not to be a dick but he knows he’s got good looks and a to-die-for body but no one in his professional years has said two pick-up lines on him in thirty minutes after they met him while working.

He arrives at the station with the other members that morning. Only a little after six which means it’s too early for him to be thinking too much about anything besides getting his makeup done for today’s performance. That’s why he’s more than surprised when the person putting foundation on his face says, “Titanic.”

He’s not sure if he’s being talked to because he’s pretty certain there’s this rule among the members and the staff that no talking is allowed before eight but when he looks at the makeup artist, she is looking back at him in all seriousness and Johnny just mutters “What?” even though he knows he heard her say ‘Titanic.’

“Sorry, bad icebreaker,” she solemnly says and continues on the foundation like nothing happened.

Johnny stares at her in the mirror because he can’t move while things are being put on his face. Then, he thinks about what she just said and oh.

Oh.

He laughs. Like loudly. Like something that shouldn’t be done when everyone is either on a state of half awake-half asleep, or entirely sleep walking through the morning.

He ignores the sharp glances from the other members and looks at her through the mirror again to see her looking back at him already with a grin playing on her face.

Johnny thinks none of that exchange. It’s still funny whenever he remembers it and when he tries explaining it to the other members when they asked him what’s so funny he had to drag their souls from sleep state forcibly but he thinks there’s nothing to do about it. Just a new makeup artist who is a little funny too early in the morning.

Then, he’s changing his clothes and there should be someone helping him but when he looks around, all the stylists are busy with the other members. He tries to look for someone and sees one of the staff just fixing their massive makeup boxes.

“Hello,” Johnny says. He just needs to know where the jacket he is supposed to be wearing is. The sleeveless top he is wearing isn’t exactly making him uncomfortable given that he’s been on stage with practically nothing but it’s winter and it’s cold. He’s human.

He immediately recognises her when she turns around and is about to apologise because even though he is desperate to find that jacket, he knows she’s a makeup artist. Not a stylist. He knows the line. He’s about to say so when she says, “Your name must be Adele.”

“What?”

“Because you had me at hello.’”

Johnny can’t help the smile that’s creeping on his lips that turns into a light chuckle until he is effectively laughing again. At barely seven in the morning. He shakes his head at her a little and proceeds to his original dialogue, “I was going to ask for my jacket but I don’t think you —“

“Here,” she answers, handing him out his jacket.

“Oh, great, thanks,” he says, a little surprised, immediately putting on the jacket with a light shiver. “Are you new here?”

“I only started today, yes,” she tells him.

“By the way, my name is not Adele. It’s Johnny,” he states with a smile.

He waits for her to respond but she just stares at him — you know, that stare that’s like stripping him without touching him — and for someone who he just met today, it’s a little awkward. He’s about to tell her that when she speaks.

“Did the sun come out or did you just smile at me?”

Johnny can’t stop another smile, the initial awkwardness leaving him entirely, even though he answers, “Definitely just the sun.” He begins to walk away while shaking his head again at the exchange to change his shoes, murmuring, “That’s three strikes.”

He’s not bothered about it. It will take a whole lot more to bother him at this point of his career than harmless pick-up lines from their new makeup artist who does a pretty good job on their faces, by the way, and does nothing more than make Johnny smile or laugh whenever she tries another line on him.

They are pretty close with the rest of the staff, all of their managers, the stylists, and the other makeup artists, but she and Johnny had become quite of a duo. She never fails on a line on him whenever he is on at least five meters radius from her and it has become quite normal for everyone around them to heat her say something like “Are you my appendix? I don’t know what you do or how you work but I feel like I should take you out.” to Johnny.

He is not one to get flustered merely because of such lines. He will admit he likes hearing them though because some of her lines are funny, even weird. He would always laugh whenever she pulls a weird pick-up line on him.

“Did you just fart? Because you blow me away.”

Johnny’s laugh can literally be heard in the entire station.

“Do your lines ever work in real life?”

She looks a little confused before replying, “Who says this isn’t real?”

“Right,” Johnny says, shaking his head again but smiling.

He becomes quite used to her lines and her presence, looking forward to what cheesy or weird pick-up lines she picks for the day, that it’s stranger when she’s focused — too focused — on how she puts eyeshadow in Johnny’s eyes that she’s not speaking a word.

Johnny doesn’t know what to say though. Does he ask her why she’s not saying any lines on him like she used to before? Does that mean he’s looking forward to her lines now? Will that be appropriate between an idol and a makeup artist?

His makeup is finished before he can put an answer to any of his questions and she moves on to the next member in line, not saying a single word to Johnny. Much more a single pick-up line. Who knows pick-up lines can be missed?

The silence continues until the end of the schedule and he just can’t go home without saying anything to her.

He corners her on one of the changing room when she’s helping out the stylists clean after the stage costumes. It’s probably unfitting but Johnny just wants to ask, “Are you okay?”

Her expression looks depressed in a moment before it turns surprised until she’s finally smiling even though just barely. He still considers it a win when she answers, “I’m okay, Seo. Do you need anything?”

Johnny stares at her for a second before he answers. “Give me your phone.”

“What? Why?”

“Just give me your phone,” he demands, looking behind him because one of the managers are already calling everyone to pile out. They’re leaving ahead of the staff; they always do.

Even though she’s confused, she pulls her phone in her pocket and hands it to Johnny. She watches him warily as he fiddles with it for a minute before returning it to her.

“That’s my number,” Johnny states, as if it isn’t clear enough on the new contact saved on her phone. “If there’s anything that’s bothering you,” he continues, looking away because he has not rehearsed this part of the conversation. He only wants to ask if she’s okay. This isn’t planned at all. But now he has one of their makeup artists have his number. If that’s improper, it’s already done. “If you need someone to talk to, you can call me or message me, whatever suits you.”

She looks at the new contact saved on her phone: seo johnny. Then, she glances up at the said person in front of her who is looking at anything but her. She clutches her phone to her chest and slowly nods. “Okay,” she whispers, looking down at the floor with rosy cheeks.

Johnny turns around because they’re leaving. He hasn’t took five steps when his phone rings. It’s an unregistered number but he answers it anyway, having a good feeling about it.

He hasn’t said hello yet when he hears a familiar voice on the other end of the line and on the person standing five steps behind him.

“I have 1% battery remaining. I chose to call you. Did I choose wisely?”

Johnny turns around and meets her eyes. “I’m literally still here,” he says with a fond smile.

She smiles back. Then, her eyebrows knit together a little again and she sighs, “I’m fine, or I’ll be fine.” She chuckles at herself, looking at Johnny’s eyes again. “Whichever,” she continues, “but the bottomline is I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me, okay?”

He still looks concerned but nods anyway. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks.

She bits her lip before smiling again. “See you tomorrow, Johnny.”

They are just leaving the building when his phone buzzes with a new message.

12:39 pm to: seo johnny from: xxxxx aside from being sexy, what do you do for a living? >///<

Johnny has to stop for a moment to refocus his thoughts because he can’t be laughing by himself after receiving a one-line message in public. But the moment he glances at his phone to read it again, his shoulder begin to shake anyway.

7:27 am to: seo johnny from: xxxxx help, i’m lost!

7:27 am from: seo johnny to: xxxxx where are you?

7:28 am to: seo johnny from: xxxxx i don’t know but can you give me directions to your heart? :)))

7:29 am from: seo johnny to: xxxxx i thought you are really lost!!! -_-

He says that but he’s smiling a lot for someone who wakes up before five in the morning. He looks outside of the car — there’s still no horrible traffic and the sun is barely peaking out — and instead of sleeping like he always does, he thinks of how many minutes more before he sees her as he types another message to send her.

Johnny finds in her a comfortable friendship. And in a job that is as stressful as the one he has, having a friend nearby — someone that isn’t one of his members who also share the exact same stress as him and thus he can’t bother at times — who makes him laugh and smile and feel good all the time is heaven’s gift.

“On a scale of 1 to America, how free are you tonight?” she asks, appearing beside Johnny, when the group arrives at the set of that day’s first schedule.

He smiles and answers. “I think 0. But you know that, don’t you? You guys’ll be with us until the evening for tonight’s show, right?”

She looks at him for a moment and nods with a long sigh, “Yeah, today’s packed.” Then, she pulls out some utensils behind her and continues, “That’s why I prepared food. I’ve got all these chopsticks, forks, and knives. All I need is a little spoon.”

Johnny barely stifles a chuckle. And before his mind can process his action, his hand is already on top of her head. It’s such a gentle gesture but not one that happened to them before now. So he can understand if she flinches a little when he reaches his hand to her hair but she does not. She holds her beaming smile as she pats her head.

One pat. Two pats.

He pulls back quickly when he realises he’s probably acting unprofessional again. Even though he probably should have thought about that, too, when he gives her his number.

An entire day of schedule with her around means more than twenty pick-up lines in just half of the day. She always seems to have one around whenever Johnny is in the same breathing vicinity as her.

“Can I follow you home? Because my parents always tell me to follow my dreams,” she says to Johnny when they’re packing up from their first schedule to go to the next.

“We’re not going home yet though,” Johnny replies, chuckling and shaking his head.

“Is your dad a terrorist?” she asks after she’s done with Johnny’s makeup retouch on the second schedule. “‘Cause you’re the bomb.”

Johnny isn’t one to be embarrassed or to shy away from compliments, as weird as they come, but he’s learning to because of her pick-up lines. Even the other members are beginning to tease him about it, repeating what they heard her say to him at home. The worse thing is he’s not bothered by them at all. Not her lines. Not even when his members repeat it on him to tease him. He actually feels good about it. He thinks there must be something wrong with him.

He hears Jaehyun snickering with Yuta when they heard what she said, too.

The last schedule is just wrapping up. It’s a photoshoot for a cosmetic brand. Johnny already finished his part and is just waiting for the other members. He notices her standing beside him a few minutes ago, waiting for another pick-up line, but she hasn’t said a word.

He glances at her after a moment but she’s already looking at him.

“There must be something wrong with my eyes. I can’t take them off you.”

Johnny doesn’t know if it’s the light or the music that they’re playing on the set but the air is different that night, that time, that moment. When she says that, he thinks he can hear his heart thumping loudly, threatening to jump out of his chest. He has to force a laugh because he’s afraid she will hear how loud his heart is.

She doesn’t look away, not even when he laughs at her because he doesn’t know what to say. And Johnny can’t look away because she’s looking at him like she’s saying not just a pick-up line but what she truly thinks.

After what seems to be twenty-seven years of gazing at each other even though in reality, it’s only a minute at most, someone yells “Cut!” Every light opens and Johnny blinks, looking around them like he’s been caught doing something illegal, or improper. He lets out a deep breath he doesn’t know he’s holding and looks back at her.

She’s still looking at him. Then, she smiles at him for a moment before she turns to the members who just finished their shot, bowing at the photographers and director. “I’ll help them pack up,” she tells him, looking at him again.

“Oh, okay,” Johnny says, nodding.

But she doesn’t leave yet. She stands there for a second and says, “They say Disneyland is the happiest place on earth. Well, apparently, no one has ever been standing next to you.”

The lights have been changed and the music has already been shut. That’s why Johnny can’t understand what’s still different that he needs to remind himself to breathe after she walks away, leaving him there with a catapulting heart.

Those are still the same pick-up lines, aren’t they?

He has always been worried about Doyoung’s perceptive ability and his inability to keep his observations to himself but he doesn’t think he’ll receive the short stick of it until he does.

He can’t quite remember how the conversation begins — like most things that happen in our life that we want to forget. It just happens uncontrollably and goes out of hand in a split second. He just remembers talking to the other members until the conversation begins to get redirected, or misdirected to Johnny’s friendship with her.

“I think she likes you,” Doyoung states, yes, states, because there is no hesitation in his tone over what he is saying, “and you like her back.”

“What?” Johnny laughs, trying to keep his nerves in tact. “We’re just friends.”

“Really?” Doyoung raises a brow at him and even when he says that, it doesn’t sound like he’s confirming his thoughts but that he wants Johnny to confirm his.

He looks at the other members and sees them all waiting for his answer, expecting his answer. Then, before he can think it further, he laughs again and replies, “Really. As if I would date a makeup artist.”

Johnny expects arguments because even he wants to hit himself after he says that. He doesn’t know why he said that. There’s definitely nothing wrong if he falls in love with a bus driver, a bartender, or a makeup artist. He knows that but he’s nervous as hell because he thinks he’s going to get found out over something he’s not quite ready to admit to himself.

It’s been a lingering question ever since that time he feared his heart will escape from his chest. Does he really like her like that? Does he really like her as more than a friend? His makeup artist? Is that even appropriate?

But then, he hears nothing and as he searches for anything from the faces of the other members, he realises they are not looking at him but behind him.

Johnny turns to look behind him on the exact moment she’s turning around. He wishes he looked back a second later so he could have missed the way her eyes looks.

Hurt is an understatement.

Awkwardness is also putting is simply. Everyone has become used to their dynamics and when it suddenly stops, it’s like there’s something missing in the air. There are no corny or sweet or weird pick-up lines being said here and there. Johnny’s not laughing every time something is said to him, no matter if it’s honestly romantic or strange.

There are no messages like: Are you a parking ticket? ‘Cause you’ve got fine written all over you.

He thinks he misses the pick-up lines but he knows he misses her. Just her. Not the lines but the way her hand ghosts over his face carefully whenever he’s doing his makeup, the way she smiles whenever Johnny would laugh at her lines, or simply just stand there beside him if she could.

But he doesn’t know what to do about it. It doesn’t help that on their next schedule, a different makeup artist stands in front of him, holding up a brush.

Naturally, Johnny asks for her. Because she’s part of the staff. She’s been doing his makeup for months now. He also knows she’s professional. She even did his makeup retouch that time, when she heard Johnny, and she did it flawlessly even though she wouldn’t look at Johnny more than what’s necessary and she didn’t say a word throughout.

“She’s taking a day off,” the makeup artist who’s been with them longer answers, not even meeting Johnny’s eyes as she says so.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” she simply shrugs and proceeds on Johnny’s makeup.

They said she’s taking a day off but when she doesn’t come for a week-long schedule abroad, Johnny can’t take it anymore. He walks up to one of their managers and ask if she already quit or something.

“She didn’t,” he just tells Johnny.

He is close to demanding “Then, why isn’t she here?” but he swallows it inside him because what’s it to him anyway? Can he even call them friends after what he said? Because he’s pretty sure what he said can also be translated to “As if I would be friends with a makeup artist.”

He’s obviously not in the mood because Jaehyun approaches him and says, “She’s watching her sister in the hospital.”

He doesn’t even deny it anymore. That he’s thinking about her. That he’s only been thinking about her. That when they say she, it just means her. “How did you know about it? Did she talk to you?”

“No,” Jaehyun shakes his head, sitting beside Johnny. “I heard from one of our stylists.”

“What happened to her sister?”

“They said it’s cancer.”

Johnny’s mouth drops. “Jaehyun, don’t —“

“I’m not one to joke around someone’s sick sister, Johnny,” the other immediately says, sighing. “Remember that time she looks so down and won’t say anything? I think it’s when they found out about it. She probably didn’t come this time because,” Jaehyun stops and Johnny understands. He doesn’t want to say it.

He stares at his phone. Should he call her? Will she answer? Is it the right time to bother her? She already has so much to think about. She doesn’t have time to think about Johnny.

Or that’s what Johnny thinks as he puts down his phone and firmly closes his eyes, no hint of sleep in his veins. He doesn’t want to bother. He doesn’t want to put more in her plate. But he wants to know if she’s okay. He wants to make sure that she’s okay.

11:11 pm from: seo johnny to: xxxxx if you were a booger, i’d pick you.

Johnny stares at the message. He deletes it, then types it again. He deletes it, and then he types it again. It takes him about four more retypes until he forces his finger to just send it. Then, he wants to undo it but it’s already been sent and he thinks he might have lost his one chance of making things okay between them again.

He dumps his head on his pillow and screams, fortunately not waking up Mark who has been assigned his roommate for the entire week. He glances at the younger on the other side of the room sleeping soundly while he messes up again in the middle of the night. Who does that? Only Johnny Seo.

It takes him more courage to look at his phone again and the conversation it is opened to than the first time he tried bungee jumping.

The message isn’t read yet.

He falls asleep staring at his opened conversation with the last message still unread.

He wakes up to his alarm and the moment consciousness hits him, he sits up on the bed and opens his message conversation with her again. It’s already read at 4:19 am but there’s no response.

He’s contemplating if he should send another message. What will he say? The pick-up line didn’t work. Not that it’s a good pick-up line but he figures it might make her laugh, or even just smile. He wonders if she’s smiling enough these days, with her sister in the hospital and Johnny hurting her like that.

Johnny sighs, sinking himself on the bed again and holding the phone against his chest. Six more days and he’ll definitely see her again. Then, he’ll talk to her, apologise, ask how she is, make sure she’s eating alright even though she’s staying at the hospital. Six more days.

The first three days drag long and the fourth would have, too, if his phone doesn’t buzz on a familiar but one that he hasn’t heard for a little too long assigned tone.

11:22 am to: seo johnny from: xxxxx that’s a really bad one, seo.

Johnny’s eyes widen and he reads her message over and over again and there are so many things he wants to say. Is she okay? How’s her sister? Is someone staying at the hospital with her? Is she still mad at him? Will she forgive him?

11:24 am from: seo johnny to: xxxxx how’s your sister?

11:30 am to: seo johnny from: xxxxx she’s fine.

He wants to call her. He wants to hear her voice but he wants to give her time. He knows she’s thinking of her sister the most and he doesn’t want to take that away from her. He’s thankful enough that she didn’t completely ignore him.

11:31 am from: seo johnny to: xxxxx can i visit when we come back?

11:31 am to: seo johnny from: xxxxx you know you can’t.

That’s true. It’s part of his predicament. It’s part of the job.

11:32 am from: seo johnny to: xxxxx i’m going to tell the company someone called.

11:34 am to: seo johnny from: xxxxx what? who?

11:35 am from: seo johnny to: xxxxx cupid called. he wants to tell you that he needs my heart back.

He stares at his phone for about ten minutes until they are being called to shoot the next segment, waiting for her reply. He dives to his phone the moment they finished shooting but there’s no reply yet. It’s read though.

The next few days are frustrating not because Johnny doesn’t enjoy what he does but because even though he does, he wants them to be over so he can go home.

He honestly doesn’t think he can pull it off.

He confesses to Taeyong and their leader helps him talk to their manager who helps him get to the hospital in a time when literally no one is there besides the doctors and the nurses.

Johnny stands outside the door that’s supposed to be her sister’s room, fidgeting. It’s around two in the morning. He has about two hours until he needs to go home if he doesn’t want to be late for their morning schedule and get him, Taeyong, and their manager in deep trouble. He takes a deep breath, puts his hand against the door, and is about knock when it opens on him.

She’s rubbing her eyes sleepily but they widen in full alertness when she sees who’s standing by the door.

“Johnny? What are you doing here?” she asks, poking her head out of the door to check at the hallway if someone catches an idol in front of her sister’s hospital room. She immediately pulls him inside, worried that someone will see him. “What are you doing here?” she questions him again when they’re already inside the closed door.

“I told you. I’m visiting,” he casually answers. “How’s your sister?” Johnny asks, looking past her to the woman lying on the bed, asleep, looking a lot like her but thinner, paler, and walks towards her sister.

She looks like she’s about to question his intentions again for a second but then, she sighs, and follows Johnny to her sister. “She’s fine,” she answers but her voice sounds as fragile as the patient.

He looks at her and notices dark bags under her eyes. He gently lifts his arm and brings the back of his hand to the skin under her eyes. “How are you?” he asks her this time.

She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t move away. And Johnny doesn’t know what he’d do if she does any of those things. She just stands where her feet are and stares at him, searching for something. “I’m fine,” she finally says after a moment.

“Will you come to work anytime soon?”

“Did you come here to ask me to come to work?”

“No,” Johnny answers, shaking his head slowly. “I miss you.”

She takes a deep breath and just looks at him, like she’s looking for something beyond his brown eyes. He realises what she’s looking for and he can’t blame her after what he said. He realises he wants to make it right with her. He has to make it right with her.

“I was nervous,” he admits.

“What?”

“When they were asking me how I feel about you, I was nervous because I was pretty sure I was already falling in love with you but I didn’t know what to do about it. I said that and regretted it just as soon as it came out of my mouth. Even before I saw how hurt your eyes were when I found out you were behind me and you heard it. Because I’d fall in love with you whether you’re a bus driver, a bartender, or a makeup artist. I’d still fall in love with you.”

She opens her mouth to say something and then closes it again. She looks at Johnny for about ten years, or that’s what he feels under her gaze, before she speaks again. “Did you rehearse that?”

“Yes,” he confesses sheepishly. “I had to explain to Taeyong and to our manager everything. They need to understand what’s at stake here.”

“I can’t believe you told everyone you’re in love with me first before me,” she says, walking towards Johnny.

“No, I’m sure I told you first,” he argues, meeting her halfway.

“When?”

“When I said even if you’re a booger, I’d still pick you.”

She laughs, the laugh Johnny misses so much. The laugh Jonny loves to hear so much. “That’s not what you said,” she tells him, still laughing.

“It’s what I meant!” he says, wrapping his arms around her and when she wraps back her arms on his waist, he realises this is it. This is what he’s supposed to be feeling, light and happy and in love with her. He places a kiss on top of her head and mutters, “I’m sorry I was dumb and slow.”

She shakes his head and pulls him closer. “We’re both dumb and slow,” she whispers. “I should have told you I love you the first time I saw you.”

He pulls away, a little horrified in a good way and laughing. “Are you serious?”

“Why do you think I said all those pick-up lines to you the first time we met?”

Johnny visits her sister in the hospital as often as his schedule will allow it. She slowly comes back to work, too, one schedule at a time in the beginning to continue looking after her sister and fully when they find a donor for her sister. When she tells him over the phone that they found a donor at around twelve in the midnight, Johnny runs to the hospital just to hug her.

She tells him he shouldn’t have come over because she knows they have early schedule the following day but the way she clutches to his clothes when he hugs her — shaking because she’s so happy her sister is going to live that she doesn’t know how to put it into simple words — tells him he made the right decision to come.

He wants to share her happiness with her. He wants to share her worries, too. He wonders if that’s what love means.

His makeup is just about done. He’s already in his stage outfit but he comes back around and around to the mirrors where she’s still doing the makeup of the other members, checking himself over and over again.

“Hyung, you’re blocking the mirror!” Donghyuck exasperatedly complains at him the sixth time he comes back.

Johnny turns to look at the youngest and then at her who is still doing Donghyuck’s makeup, raising a brow at him as if she’s asking him what he is doing. He shrugs, biting his bottom lip, and walks away but not before saying, “Do you believe in love at first sight or should I pass by again?”

“Oh my god,” Taeil mutters from the seat beside Donghyuck, covering his face in embarrassment because it seems like Johnny can’f feel any.

But she smiles although she’s still completely focused Donghyuck’s face and Johnny considers it a win.

After the performance, he finds her putting the makeup pieces on the huge makeup box one by one, carefully, like each will break. He loves how much effort she puts in her job. He silently sits beside her and does the same after making sure that he’s already out of his stage costume and ready to go when they are called.

“Kiss me if I’m wrong but dinosaurs still exist, right?” Johnny suddenly asks.

Jungwoo who is within hearing distance hears it and gushes like he’s watching a romantic drama live while Jaehyun who is also within hearing distance loudly gags. “Someone stop Johnny please,” he mutters, faking another series of gags and walking away in distress.

She laughs at Jaehyun before turning to look at Johnny with a raised brow.

“I’m wrong, right?”

She shakes her head at him as well, still laughing. They have finished arranging the makeup in the makeup box and she stands up, him following after her. “Yes, you’re wrong, but there’s no consensual agreement over a kiss,” she tells him, walking past Johnny with a pat on his shoulder.

“Agreements are unnecessary with pick-up lines!”

They are just about to leave — everything’s already packed up and everyone’s already piling out of their waiting room. Actually, Johnny and the other members should have left earlier but they didn’t have any schedule after so they waited for the staff to have dinner together.

She looks around, checking if they left anything.

Then, her eyes land on the person in front of her. Johnny Seo.

She smiles at him, wondering what he’s thinking this time, standing and quiet like that. He has definitely not been quiet the entire day.

“If nothing lasts forever, will you be my nothing?”

They are in the middle of the room. Everyone is busy looking after things that they could have left but everyone turns silent when he says that. He doesn’t know if it’s weird fate or bad luck.

“Is that you asking her to be your girlfriend?” Doyoung asks with a tsk.

“Can't you just ask her that?” one of their stylists follows.

“And what do you mean will she be your ‘nothing,' hyung?” Mark questions, too.

“I know, right?” Jaehyun chimes. “Is that supposed to be positive?"

“What’s ‘nothing'?” Donghyuck confusedly asks, saying the word in question in English in an odd way of pronouncing.

“What’s so difficult with ‘Will you be my girlfriend?’” one of the other makeup artists shrugs.

Johnny’s face is burning and he could have answered all of their questions with “you know nothing” but his eyes are focused on her who is laughing her heart out at Johnny and his pick-up line proposal and at everyone for putting their cents in.

“Pick-up lines don’t work,” one of their managers says, shaking his head.

But she’s walking towards him and wrapping her arms on his neck and that would have been more romantic if they aren’t surrounded by people doubting and judging Johnny’s perfect proposal for her but it’s them and it’s enough and Johnny loves every bit of the moment. From the way she holds his neck towards him to the way she places a kiss on his cheek and softly answers, “Yes.”

Then, she pulls away a little to wink at him and adds, “Pick-up lines do work, right, John?”

Johnny grins and tightly hugs her, revelling on her scent and her warmth and everything her. “Of course they do, babe.” Then, he glances back at their manager and coyly asks, “Who hurt you, hyung?"

#nct johnny #johnny seo #johnny scenarios #johnny imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct imagines #johnny fanfic #nct 127 #nct 2020 #johnny x reader #long haired johnny is giving me the feeling #this story is because of johnny's hair #johnny deserves more love

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jjoutermaybanks · 4 years

Text

With You In My Head || Rafe Cameron x Reader

part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven part eight

summary: it’s going to be a long summer. living in the Outer Banks with your trailer park mom and fancy mansion dad, you know it’s going to be a tough three months. things only get harder when your best friend’s brother, the notorious Rafe Cameron, begins to complicate your life even more. but will the island’s biggest wildcard successfully steal your heart, or leave you more broken than before?

word count: 4k

warnings: good old fashioned smut

*not my gif, credit to owner*

PART FIVE

Once again, guilt consumed you like a wildfire. But this time, it wasn’t guilt over Rafe; it was guilt for Rafe. Kissing JJ was a rash, spur-of-the-moment decision that you instantly regretted as soon as you tore your lips away. For one thing, you had zero feelings for JJ, and knew that this would confuse the blonde to no end. For another, you had hoped it would ignite something in Rafe, but instead it seemed to extinguish what little fire for you he had left.

Groaning, you flopped onto your bed that night and stared up at the dark ceiling. There was a reason you weren’t spontaneous, and always thought things through. That careful mindset helped you avoid mistakes like this. Grabbing a pillow, you pressed it to your face and screamed into the cushy material, letting it absorb the sound of your frustration.

“You’re an idiot,” you whispered aloud, teeth grinding and head spinning. What’s worse, you didn’t know when you’d see Rafe again, if you even would. Sarah was bound and determined to avoid him at all cost, and she was your only real link to the blue-eyed boy.

Maybe it’s better this way, you tried telling yourself. It’s not like anything would’ve happened with Rafe. Repeating these thoughts in your head, you forced away any memory of blue eyes or dazzling smiles. Better off without him, you believed.

The next day, in order to keep your mind off of your latest mistake, you took your bike out for a spin. You used to love biking as a kid, and it was a serene hobby that was much-needed at the time. You wove through familiar neighborhoods until you were in the heart of The Cut, near JJ’s house. Almost out of instinct you veered onto his street to pass by his trailer.

As luck would have it, the Pogue was right outside his front door when you approached. Slowing to a halt, you hopped off your bike and sent him a wave.

“Well, well, well,” he started as you walked up to the step where he sat. “Come to steal another kiss?”

Blushing, you pushed a lock of hair behind your ear and sighed. “About that...” you began, wondering how on earth you’d explain the bold kiss.

JJ grinned, nudging you with his shoulder. “Hey, it’s all good. I liked it. A lot, actually.” His eyes sparkled, but this reaction only caused you to cringe inwardly. The last thing you had wanted was to get JJ’s hopes up, only to inevitably smash them.

“Look, JJ...” Words escaped you, and you stared down at your feet rather than at him. “I didn’t know what I was thinking when I kissed you.”

He shrugged. “Sometimes those are the best kisses. All I’m saying is I’m game to do it again. I always thought there was something special about you.” You felt him leaning in, and instantly turned your head away in rejection.

Closing your eyes in embarrassment, you sighed. “I’m so sorry, JJ. But...there’s someone else, okay?” The words slipped out before you could think them through. You figured saying you liked someone else would let JJ down easy, but you could tell it only made him more curious.

Cocking an eyebrow, JJ whistled. “Alright, so Y/N has a little crush. Who might it be?” He didn’t sound hurt at your rejection of his kiss, which was a minor plus side. But you also knew how stubborn he could be, and that he was not going to let this go.

“JJ--” you stalled, clearly trying to backtrack. “I-It’s nothing, I swear. I’ll be over it by tomorrow, honest.”

He shook his head firmly. “Nope, no way. I just got rejected, so I think I deserve a little explanation as to why.” Even though JJ was joking, you still did not want to reveal who you were ‘crushing’ on.

Hugging your knees to your chest, you sighed again. “You cannot tell the others,” you predicated, voice stern. “I mean it JJ. Not a word of this to them.”

JJ pretended to zip his lips.

“Especially not Sarah,” you added quickly, causing his brows to raise in question. Wincing, you knew you just had to spit it out, so you murmured, “It’s Rafe.”

There was a beat of shocked silence. And then JJ’s face twisted into a mixture of surprise and disgust, making your heart drop. “Rafe? As in Rafe Cameron?”

All you could do was nod miserably.

JJ snorted. “You’ve got to be kidding, Y/N. He’s such a dirt-bag Kook. I mean, you saw the shit Topper did yesterday.”

“He’s not Topper,” you tried to defend, but your voice was weak.

“Yeah but he’s friends with him,” JJ countered. “He’s a sleaze who only cares about partying and sleeping around. All the Kooks are the same.”

Hurt by his harsh words, you said feebly, “What about Sarah? She is a Kook, you know. Maybe Rafe has the same potential.”

JJ shook his head. “No, something about that guy is just off. And I have the bruises to prove it.” He tilted his head to show the residual blue spots on his face where Rafe had beat him. Feeling sick to your stomach, you looked away from him and out at the distant forest.

“He’s different around me. Or at least he was.” No matter how much you pretended to hate Rafe, there was a reason he was always on your mind. It was his easy smile, his captivating charm. He made you feel better than you ever had before.

“When have you hung out with Rafe Cameron?” JJ sounded shocked you’d ever even exchanged words with the guy.

You shrugged. “I don’t know, we’ve run into each other on the beach a few times. And then he invited me to one of his parties, where we...spent time together.” JJ definitely caught your drift, because he groaned in disgust.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, and you pushed at his arm.

“Don’t judge me JJ, alright? I already feel enough like shit.” Humiliation simmered in your stomach, and you felt sick just thinking about that night on the beach.

JJ put his hands up. “Alright, fine, no judgment. But seriously Y/N, he’s bad news.”

You frowned, resting your chin on your knees and wishing you were back in your bed. “I know. It’s not like we were ever gonna become anything, anyway,” you explained morbidly. JJ didn’t answer, probably not wanting to upset you any further. But your mood had already been ruined, and not even a serene bike ride could clear your cloudy thoughts.

You were so distracted by your disastrous talk with JJ that you failed to notice the fancy car parked outside your trailer when you got home. Instead you just walked right through the door and into an ambush.

“Sunshine!” Your dad stood in the middle of the living room, his smile plastered on so bright you took a minute to adjust. Your mother was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter almost for support. The look she gave you was full of sympathy, and you knew something bad was about to happen.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, skipping right over a greeting. Your dad almost never came over to The Cut, and it was strange seeing his expensive appearance in such a run-down trailer.

“Here to see you, of course,” he answered cheerfully. “I was just telling your mother about a dinner party I’m hosting at my place tonight. You’re both welcome to come.”

Your mother’s smile was pinched. “I have to work a double tonight,” she informed him. “But Y/N would love to go.”

Oh, would I? You wanted to strangle your mother for trying to force a relationship between you and your father. You knew her intentions were good, but the man was insufferable. After such a stressful few days, a dinner party with him might push you over the edge.

Working up the courage to speak, you said, “I really don’t think I can make it. I’m super tired--”

“So take a nap! It’s not till later tonight.”

Grimacing, you tried again. “Well, Sarah might want to do something--”

“Sarah will be there!” he interrupted. “It’s a joint dinner with Ward. Sort of a double family affair. All the Camerons will be there.”

This peaked your interest. Trying to mask your surprise, you cleared your throat. “Um, R-Rafe will be there? And Sarah?” you added quickly to cover your tracks.

“Of course. It’ll be fun, you’ve gotta come.” Your father’s exuberance was almost annoying enough to make you refuse. But the mere prospect of seeing Rafe again, and so soon, was tempting. You didn’t know if you’d ever get another opportunity to be relatively alone with him.

Finally nodding, you consented. “Okay, I’ll go.”

Your father’s eyes lit up. “Great! It’s a nice dinner party, so dress up a little. I’ve got a new suit I’ve been dying to try out.” You noticed your mother’s eye roll and stifled a smile. Your father left shortly after, and you exhaled as you fell against the door.

“I can’t believe you let him in here,” you told your mother, and she chuckled.

“I almost thought about keeping the door locked. But in all seriousness, Y/N, I want you and your father to spend time together. We have joint custody, you know.”

Scowling, you grumbled, “He’s barely even a parent to me anymore.” You didn’t say anything more before disappearing into your room. Preparing for this dinner would be an all afternoon task, and you set to work figuring out what to wear.

After tearing through your closet and attempting several awful makeup looks, you finally settled on the winning look. A thin-strapped, short white dress with vertical blue stripes and strappy sandals. The dress highlighted your shoulders and collarbone, and the shoes made your legs look tan and toned. Your tousled hair was thrown up into a bun that you hoped looked more put-together than it did in the mirror. As for makeup, you merely swiped on some mascara and lipgloss and walked out the door. The less dwelling you did on your appearance, the less terrified you’d be for the dinner.

The walk to Figure 8 was long but much-needed. You needed to mentally prepare for what was to come. First, putting up with your dad all night was bound to be a struggle. Second, figuring out what Rafe was thinking and if he was really mad at you. Third, and possibly most important, hiding your feelings about Rafe from Sarah. You knew if she ever found out what you’d done with her brother, she’s be furious. Somehow you had to get Rafe alone to talk.

Inhaling deeply as you approached the front door to your father’s house, you braced yourself for what was inside. You only knocked twice before the door swung open, but it was Ward who greeted you.

“Well hello there, Y/N,” he said with a grin. “Come on in; your dad’s almost done with the cooking.”

You smiled tightly. Your dad was an amazing cook, and your childhood was spent concocting the most fantastical recipes. Your heart clenched at the memories, and as you entered the kitchen it all but stopped at the sight of Rafe.

He was leaning nonchalantly against the cupboards, arms crossed. He wore a light blue suit complete with a dark bow-tie, looking clean and professional with his gelled hair and suave expression. He glimpsed you, and his smirk faltered slightly. You hoped it was because you looked good in your dress, and not because he was unhappy to see you.

“Y/N,” he said simply, tone unreadable.

“Rafe,” you responded, holding his gaze. His blue eyes stayed locked on yours, but then Sarah breezed by and the moment ended.

“Thank God you’re here,” she told you. “I’ve had to put up with dad jokes and Rafe all on my own.” She sent her brother a glare, and Rafe’s distant smile made butterflies spiral into your stomach.

“Happy to be here,” you forced out. Everyone gathered around the dining table, where a lavish array of food was already spread out. Rafe sat across from you, Sarah to your left and your father at the head of the table with Ward beside his son. You had no idea where to look since Rafe’s face was front and center.

“I hope everything tastes good,” your father admitted, feigning humility. “I haven’t cooked a full meal in forever.”

“It’s delicious,” Sarah commented. Ward nodded and raised his fork in agreement.

Distracted by Rafe’s proximity, you failed to realize everyone’s eyes were on you.

“Honey? What do you think?” Your father sounded hopeful, and you knew he considered you his number one critic.

“It’s good,” you confirmed, but you hadn’t even touched your plate yet. You pushed the food around with your fork, too nervous to eat.

“So, Rafe. You’re not enrolled in college and you don’t have a job--what are you doing?” your father asked. You knew he was trying to joke, but he was always one to make very blunt comments like this. Rafe swallowed roughly, caught off guard by the forward question.

“Um...” he started, pushing a hand through his hair. Once again it messed up the gel, and you bit your lip as a piece fell over his forehead. “Trying to figure it all out, I guess,” he said with a small laugh. “I like the idea of going into business, and a college degree isn’t necessarily a requirement.”

Your father considered this. “Yeah, I guess you make a fair point. Y/N here is definitely college-bound, aren’t you sunshine?”

With the attention on you now, you flushed. “Er, I guess so.”

“You want to be an engineer, right sweetie? You were always so obsessed with those building blocks as a kid. I swear, she’ll design the next wonder of the world.” He and Ward chuckled at this, and Sarah shot you a smile. Rafe was regarding you closely, eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher.

Since the beginning of dinner, tension had risen between you and the blue-eyed boy. It was almost palpable, making it hard to breathe. Whenever Rafe would move, you were acutely aware. You sensed every smile, every ruffling of hair. Whenever his eyes skimmed yours you felt electrified, and eventually you felt your cheeks grow warm. You prayed Sarah wasn’t picking up on your change in mood, and attempted to calm your racing heartbeat.

“Do you have a country club membership yet, Y/N?” Ward asked you. When you shook your head, he continued, “Gotta fix that, then. It’s one of the best perks of this island. We’ll get you a pass and then Rafe can show you around, since he knows it the best.” He elbowed his son, who gave you a long, meaningful look.

“Sure. I’ll do whatever she wants.” The words were heated, and they made your lips part in surprise. Rafe was bold with his choice of words, but fortunately only you had caught on to the innuendo.

“Oh, great!” your father responded. “That would be fun.”

Sarah snorted. “I’m sure hanging out with my brother is going to be loads of fun,” she joked, and you forced a chuckle to appease her. Glancing up at Rafe, you met his amused expression with a blush.

Dinner was winding to a close, and everyone was bringing their plates to the kitchen. Sarah’s phone rang, and she squealed as she went to answer it in the next room. It was probably John B., and you knew she’d be occupied for at least half an hour. Ward and your father were in an intense discussion about basketball brackets, so you and Rafe were on no one’s radar.

After leaving your empty plate in the sink, you turned to see Rafe striding down the hallway. Eyes narrowing, you didn’t want to miss this chance. So you rushed to catch up with him, surprising him by grabbing his arm and pulling him into the small bathroom just off the kitchen.

Once locked inside the tight space, you faced Rafe and folded your arms. He mussed his hair and gazed down at you, taking in your appearance in the yellow fluorescent lighting.

“’I’ll do whatever she wants’,” you stated, one brow raised. “Really, Rafe? Way to be subtle.”

His smirk widened, and he brought one hand to the wall so you felt surrounded by his presence. “It’s true. Whatever you want, baby.”

You ignored the way his words made your legs press together, and you shook your head incredulously. “You must be out of your mind.”

“Oh, I’m the one who’s out of my mind? What was that shit with JJ on the boat yesterday?”

Smiling evilly, you twirled the end of your hair innocently. “Saw that, did you?”

Rafe scoffed, jaw flexing as he controlled what you perceived to be as either anger or jealousy. “Don’t bullshit me. You wanted me to see it.”

Pursing your lips, you shrugged. “I don’t know, I don’t really think of you that often, to be honest.”

At your challenging words, Rafe took a step forward and closed the minimal space between your bodies. His head tilted down so you could stare deeply into his eyes, and the blue orbs had you captivated.

“Really? So you haven’t been thinking about me?” You shook your head. “You haven’t been thinking about how good I made you feel? How I had you calling my name into the night sky?”

Shivering, you closed your eyes and smiled. “You’re quite proud of yourself for that, aren’t you?”

Rafe’s eyes sparkled. “I made you crumble, Y/N. That’s a pretty impressive feat if I do say so myself.”

All of the tension and nerves from the night culminated into bravery. You channeled that energy into your next actions, refusing to let fear get in the way.

Grabbing his face, you brought Rafe’s lips down to yours. He melted into the kiss immediately, and his hands wrapped around your back until your chests were crushed together.

You pushed your tongue against his, and Rafe groaned into your mouth. Fingers holding his face against yours, you arched your body into his embrace. Rafe gripped your shoulders, surely leaving marks on the delicate skin. You moved your lips from his across his jaw and down to his neck, sucking and biting until he was breathing hard in your ear.

By now his back was pressed against the bathroom door, and you heard his fingers deftly turn the lock, ensuring no one would catch you. Kissing down his collarbone, you expertly undid his bow-tie and started on the buttons to his shirt.

“You don’t like the suit?” Rafe joked, his voice gravelly as you kissed down the skin you steadily exposed with each pop of a button. Pushing the suit and shirt off his shoulders, you smiled slyly up at him.

“I do. I just like it better off.” His eyes rolled back, a smile lighting up his face. You were kneeling before him know, face level with his crotch. You could already tell he was hard beneath his pants, and bit your lip before reaching out to undo his belt.

“Shit,” Rafe hissed, chest heaving with effort to control himself as you pulled his pants down. Feeling across the front of his boxers, you gently squeezed his hard length and caused him to flinch.

Grinning, you slowly dragged your fingers across the waistband of his boxers, teasing him slightly. Rafe was cursing under his breath, clearly hot and heavy and more than ready for you to actually touch him.

You brought down the final layer of clothing until his cock sprang free. He was rock hard, veins sticking out of the thick skin. You were slightly shocked by his side, but didn’t hesitate before reaching out and taking it in your hand.

Rafe exhaled harshly, mouth open as he gazed down at you. His eyes were dark with lust, pupils blown out from need. Your breath washed over the tip of his cock, making him twitch in your hand.

Tilting your head, you licked a long stripe up the side of his length. The skin was warm and taught, and you licked around his tip which was already slick with pre-cum. Closing your lips around the head, you hollowed out your cheeks and twisted your tongue against his hot member.

His hands were fisted by his sides, and you could tell he wanted to let out loud moans of pleasure. You moved your mouth to take in more of him, almost reaching the hilt before his tip hit the back of your throat. Rafe couldn’t resist, and a low moan left his lips.

Pulling his cock out of your mouth, you whispered, “Shhh” before pressing a light kiss to his slit. Rafe groaned, gripping his hair tightly as he tried to swallow his moans.

You moved your mouth up and down his length rhythmically, hands twisting at what you couldn’t reach. Your fingers gently curled around his balls, and in combination with your mouth this caused a string of curses to escape his lips.

“Fuck,” he murmured when you took him particularly deep, cheeks hollowed out as you tightened your lips around him. You worked him with your mouth and tongue for a minute longer, looking up at him through your lashes.

This look must have pushed him over the edge, because your name tumbled from his lips before his cock jerked, spurting out sticky liquid into the back your throat.

Working him down from his high, you kissed his hipbone before bringing his boxers and pants back up. With a triumphant smirk, you got to your feet and put your hands on your hips.

Rafe was still breathing hard, but his expression was quizzical now. “What does this mean?” he wondered, redoing his belt. His hair was messed up severely now, and you desperately wanted to run your fingers through the silky strands.

In the haze of your lust for him, you hadn’t actually considered what this meant. You hadn’t come tonight expecting to do this, but you didn’t exactly regret it either. Frowning, you answered, “I have no idea.”

He looked closely at you, a small smile playing across his lips. Rafe shrugged on his shirt and suit jacket, redoing the buttons while you watched. You recalled your conversation before you kissed him, and added, “I just wanted to be even. You made me crumble, and now I just made you crumble. We’re square.”

Rafe narrowed his eyes at this. A heartbeat passed, and then he grabbed you by the shoulders and ripped you towards him. Your lips smashed together, and his tongue instantly battled with yours. You moaned lightly, a hand resting against his chest. His fingers held your face against his, passion seeping from his movements. You were shocked by how electrified this kiss was, and when he finally broke it you could barely breathe.

Pushing a small lock of hair behind your ear, Rafe gazed deeply into your eyes. “I don’t want to be even,” he whispered, and your mouth fell open in surprise.

But then he was unlocking the door and disappearing into the hallway, leaving you alone and confused, lips still tingling with the after-effects of his kiss.

~ ~ ~

taglist (strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you)

@prejudic3 @afterglows7b-tch13 @beeeee06 @dysaneworld @we-are-all-lovely @luckypurpleunicorn @poguequeen @solko @freebiscuitdragonbear @sunflowerkxsses @tembo-ndoto @justcallmesams @theworldofimagines @rafescameron @jjs-housekeeping @spencereidbasis @sexytholland @odelia-d32 @ayybecca

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atlafan · 4 years

Text

Take it Slow - Part Seventy-Four

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Fluff and smut.

You woke up to the sound of yelling and laughing the next morning. You went into the bathroom to wash-up, threw on some shorts and t-shirt and headed into the kitchen. Anne, Harry, and Gemma were all making breakfast.

“Mornin’, love.” Anne says. “Sorry if we woke yeh.”

“Oh!” You laugh. “No it’s fine, needed to get up anyways.”

You all sit down to breakfast. It was nice having them here. Harry was the most relaxed he’d been in weeks.

“Think I’m gonna take Buster out for a good walk, it’s so nice out.” You say slipping your sneakers on.

“Mind if I join you?” Anne asks.

“Not at all! I’d love it.” You smile. She puts her sneakers on and the two of you head out.

“What’s all tha’ about?” Harry asks Gemma as they go out to sit on the balcony.

“Don’t know.” She shrugs. “Mum gave you a bit of a talk last night, she probably wants to do the same with her. See where her head’s at.”

“You know, I appreciate everyone being so concerned, but at the end of the day it’s our life together, not anyone else’s.”

“Yeah…but you’re her only son, and she’d like for you to only get married once, so she just wants to make sure she’s the right choice. You’ve had a lot of girlfriends Harry.”

“No, I’ve just had a lot of girls.” She punches him in the arm. “Oi!”

“Don’t be a pig.”

“M’not. Just sayin’, really haven’t had a lot of real relationships.”

“Exactly. Probably another concern of mum’s. I mean, you haven’t brought a girl to meet us since you were in high school, Harry.”

“Yeah, yeah. So I suppose you wanna have a private chat with her too?”

“How often are we here to do so?”

“Well, you can do that tomorrow. She told me she’s workin’ from home a couple days to spend time with you and mum.”

“Mum’s plannin’ to go to the studio with you tomorrow so she can watch you in action. She quite likes the park across the street, she’ll probably read there while you’re workin’. So I’ll spend the day with Y/N and Buster. It’ll be nice to have some girl time.”

“Good boy Buster!” You say as you pick up his droppings and throw them in the trash. “So much easier when he goes right away, now he can just enjoy the walk.” Anne laughs.

“He’s a very good dog.”

“Yeah, we got lucky.”

“Whose idea was it to get him?”

“Harry’s.” You sigh. “His friend Adam called him and told him he had a fresh litter and we could have one if we wanted. As soon as he showed me the picture I couldn’t say no.” Buster yips. “That’s right, mummy knew right away you were her baby.” You giggle. Anne raises an eyebrow at you. “Sorry, that must sound weird.”

“No, it’s sweet actually. You think of him as your own.”

“It’s hard not to.”

“If you don’t mind me askin’, do you think you’ll want children, eventually?”

“Yeah, eventually. Not anytime soon though. I’m only a couple of classes into my master’s program, and I’d like to have that all settled before I even think about it. I know a dog is way different than having a kid, but it’s already so much extra work making sure he’s taken care of on top of everything else.”

“Mm, and I know my son can be a handful. Quite the baby himself sometimes.” You both laugh.

“Only sometimes, he means well.”

“Can I ask, is this your first serious relationship?”

“Yes and no. This is the longest relationship I’ve had. I’ve certainly never lived with a guy before. I can’t really explain it, Anne, everything just felt right with Harry.”

“You didn’t feel like you were rushin’ when you moved in together or anythin’?”

“To be honest with you, we were practically living together as it was before he asked me if I wanted to.”

“It’s amazing to me. You know there was a girl he was seeing a couple years ago, they were together for like seven months, and he refused to even give her a key to his apartment. Granted, he was a little younger, but still. You’ve definitely had an effect on him.”

“I also chalk it up to a guy’s maturity level. He probably saw his life flash before his eyes you know? Now I think he’s a little more grown up, that’s what Niall tells me at least.” You laugh.

“Very good point. You know we talk weekly, and he always raves about you. Even from the beginning. I could tell he met someone. He didn’t come right out and say it, but he was in such high spirits.”

“Can I ask, when was the first time he mentioned me?”

“Oh god, I think he said he had been seein’ someone, and he was havin’ trouble finding a way to ask you to be his girlfriend. Like, make things official with you. He was scared you were gonna think it was too soon.” You nod and smile. “So I asked him why he wanted to make things official so soon, and he said he didn’t want to risk anyone else scoopin’ yeh up.”

“That sound like something he’d say.” You giggle.

“How did he ask you to be his girlfriend? He never told me, he just said he asked and you said yes.”

Your mind flashes to making out with Harry, drunk, in your old apartment. You let him go down on you for the first time that night.

“Um…we were just hanging out at my place and he asked me if he was my boyfriend…something like that.”

“Not that I didn’t like you before, you know when we met and all that, but when he told me about the party you threw for him for his birthday, and the pearls, that was when I knew I could really trust you with him. He was devastated when he had to sell that necklace. I felt awful for him. He loves his jewelry. He didn’t have the heart to replace it once he could.”

“That means a lot to me to hear you say that.” You both turn around and head back the other way.

“You’re quite the party planner, clearly.”

“I know how to organize a function, that’s for sure. I try to play to my strengths.” You laugh. “I feel like he’s always really happy when he has all of his friends around.”

“Definitely. So…I know it hasn’t quite been a year yet, but I’m a firm believer in when you know you know…” You nod. “If my son asks you to marry him some day…do you think you’d say yes?” You stop short and look at her.

“You mean when your son asks to marry me?” She chuckles and nods. “I would definitely say yes, zero hesitation.” You both start walking again. “Although, I got a bit nervous last night when he called me over to him. When he does it, I don’t want it to be in front of a bunch of people like that. I just want it to be the two of us, you know?”

“Oh definitely. Don’t worry, that certainly wasn’t his plan last night. I think he just wanted you to know you deserved to be celebrated just as much as him.”

“So…from all of this, you’re okay with me becoming part of your family some day?”

“More than okay with it, love.”

You get to the front of your building, and she gives you a hug.

“I’m hopin’ to find out how your mum feels about him. I’m havin’ lunch with her Tuesday.”

“Oh, that’ll be great.” You both enter the lobby and go into the elevator.

“Your dad wasn’t at the party last night.”

“No he was not. He was invited, but he generally doesn’t go to things if my mom is going to be there.”

“Ah, that can be difficult.”

“Do you and your ex husband get along?”

“Well enough, we always put the kids first, that’s all that mattered.” You go inside and Buster goes running towards Harry.

“Hey buddy.” He says petting him. “Good walk?”

“Yup.” You smile.

The next day you wish Harry a good first day at the studio and off he goes with Anne. You tell him you and Gemma will be by around lunchtime with Buster.

“So, I’ll be up in the loft working if you need anything.” You say to her.

“Perfect, I’ve got my laptop, I need to work as well, so I may spend some time in the guest room. Let me know when you take him for a walk though, I’ll go with you.”

“Sounds good.”

Buster stays by your side while you work. You zoom into a couple of early morning meetings. Around ten you get the leash on him and knock on the guest room door.

“Ready for a break?” You ask her.

“Yes! Definitely.”

You get to down to the street.

“God, the weather is so much warmer here already than it is back home. Might have to start comin’ here for the summer.” She laughs. “So, what did my mum wanna talk to you about yesterday?”

“What do you mean?”

“C’mon, Y/N, she obviously wanted to talk.”

“You’re very perceptive.” You laugh. “We just talked about your brother. I think she wanted a pulse-check on where I’m at with him.”

“And where are you?” You look at her. “Sorry, I’m sure you’re sick of getting grilled by everyone…he’s just my baby brother, you know?”

“No, no, it’s fine. Basically she asked me what I would say when he eventually proposes and I told her I would say yes.”

“And you don’t feel like it’s too soon or anything? You both are still so young.”

“I know, but neither of us want to be with anyone else. Plus, by the time he does propose, and we pick a date and all that it could be another couple of years before we actually get married.”

“I’ve never seen him so in love, it’s really nice. He’s always been so sweet and considerate, an ally to women’s rights and all that. But when it came to datin’, he was like every other fuck boy out there, I’ll never understand it.” She scoffs.

“I think a lot of guys go through that phase. I had some guy friends in college that were amazing friends, but would treat other girls like shit. It’s not right, but I guess it’s good to get all that out of your system, right?”

“I’m just glad he figured his shit out. Personally, I think you have a great deal of patience to be able to even live with him. He can be a bit of baby, you know?” You start laughing hysterically.

“Your mum said the exact same thing.”

You both turn back and head to the apartment.

“All in all I’m he’s found you. I hope your family feels the same way about him.”

“I think they do…” You get inside and take the leash off Buster. “It’s a bit more complicated with me and them. They’re…a little more apprehensive to trust someone in my life.”

“Why’s that? If you don’t mind me asking…”

It dawns on you that Harry probably never told Gemma about what happened to you.

“Um…I’ve just been burned in the past, and I’m the baby, I know Harry’s the youngest too, but my siblings actually helped change my diapers. I’m more than just a little sister, you know?”

“Oh sure. Plus I can imagine it’s tough for your parents to see their last kid growin’ up so much.”

“Exactly. I think they’re happy that I’m happy. I’ll be curious to see how our moms do at lunch together.”

“To be a fly on the wall, right?”

At noon you and Gemma head to the studio with Buster. Him and Mariah were working in separate areas, snapping away. You walk up to Isaac.

“Got a dog biscuit for him, can I give him one?”

“Only if he does a trick for you.”

“Alright, sit Buster.” He does so. “Good boy!” He gives him the biscuit. “Got a little bed for him right here behind my desk.”

“Go ahead baby, sit with Uncle Isaac.”

Buster looks at you and then goes to plop down in his bed.

“It’s been busy all morning. Lot of senior photos. It’s great having the park right there, they’ve both been able to take pictures of the kids by the trees and stuff.”

“That’s great!”

“Thought one girl was going to wet her pants when she first met Harry, poor thing.”

“Oh no, why?” Gemma asks.

“Oh, honey, I know he’s your brother, but he’s hotter than sin. If I were a little seventeen year old girl, my god, I don’t know what I’d do if I had that man standing right in front of me with a camera telling me to smile.” You burst out laughing, which catches Harry’s attention. He looks over at you and his sister and shakes his head. “He should be done any minute. He wanted to get some inside shots with that one.”

“No problem, it’s why there’s a waiting area right?” You and Gemma sit down on the comfy chairs.

Harry walks the young girl up to Isaac.

“When’s your mum gettin’ back?”

“I’ll text her now to let her know I’m done.” She smiles. “Thanks for showing me some of them. I’m gonna tell all my friends to come to you this summer.” Isaac hands her one of Harry’s business cards. Buster comes sniffing around. “Oh!” She squeals.

“That’s my boy, Buster. You can pet him if you want.” The girl beams at him and crouches down to pet him. Her mother comes rushing inside the studio.

“Sorry, honey, long line at Dunkin. All set?”

“Yeah! They look great already.”

“When can we expect them?”

“Couple of weeks, I’ll need to sit and edit them. Then you’ll get an email with a link to our site, and you can pick which ones you want to purchase. I’ll send you the files electronically cause I know the schools prefer that for the yearbook, and I’ll email you all the actual prints.”

“That sounds great. I have to say too, you have the fairest prices for everything. I’ve told a few of the other parents about you and Mariah.”

“Thanks! We really appreciate that.” He smiles. “Isaac, m’goin’ to lunch, can you wrap this up?”

“You got it.” He smiles.

“Wanna eat outside? It’s beautiful out…mum’s already out there.”

“Sure! What she pick up?”

“Salad and sandwiches I think.” He wraps an arm around you. “Buster!” He whistles to him and grabs his leash.

You all walk across the street to the park and sit with Anne at one of the picnic benches. It’s a great lunch. You like spending time with them.

The next day Anne borrows Harry’s car to go meet your mom for lunch at a halfway point. Harry had Mariah come pick him up so you’d have your car to go to therapy later.

“Hi, Lynn!” Anne says to your mom.

“Oh, hi!” she laughs. “Hope this wasn’t too hard for you to find.”

“Not at all.” She smiles. They’re both seated fairly fast. “I’m so glad we could do this.”

“Me too. Y/N speaks the world of you and Gemma, I was wondering when we’d get a chance to meet you. It was such a nice surprise for Harry.”

“I felt horrible keepin’ such a secret from him. But last month when Y/N called me told me she wanted to surprise him, I had to jump in on it.”

“She’s the queen of surprises.” Your mom laughs.

“They’re a lovely couple, don’t you think?” Your mom nods in agreement. “You met my son by accident, right? At the mall?”

“God, I completely forgot about that. That’s right, we bumped into him and Niall. He was very funny, and he wouldn’t let me pay for lunch, quite the gentleman.” She smiles.

“What did you think about when they moved in together so quickly?”

“Well…to be honest I wasn’t thrilled, but it’s not my life.” She shrugs. “It wasn’t that I didn’t like Harry either, I would have been concerned with anyone she was dating.” Anne nods. “Y/N’s always been very independent, moves to the beat of her own drum. She’s got a different way of seeing things.”

“She’s very bright.”

“You have no idea! I feel like each one of my kids just kept getting smarter and smarter.” She laughs and then sighs. “I can’t get too much into it because I know she’d be upset with me if I tell you this, but my daughter has been through…something tragic…something I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Something I never thought would happen to any of my kids. She’s made it through and she’s very strong, but when her and Harry started getting serious, I did get worried. I’m not worried anymore though. I can see how much he cares for her, and she’s happy. Her siblings are very protective of her too, as I’m sure Gemma is of Harry.”

“Oh my, of course. I’m sorry to hear she’s been through something…” She looks down at her food then back to your mom. “She’s the baby of your family too, I can see you all wanting to watch her like a hawk.”

“Her father especially so.” She takes a sip of water. “I’m sorry he wasn’t there last night for you to meet him.”

“That’s alright, I’m sure in time we will. Harry told me he was a great help in gettin’ the studio together.”

“He’s nothing if not handy.” She smiles.

“Lynn…my son wants to marry your daughter.” Your mom nearly spits out her drink. “Jesus, I’m sorry.” She hands her a napkin.

“When exactly does he plan to do that?”

“I’m not sure…he’s not plannin’ to propose for another few months, but it’s comin’. I gave him my blessing. I think the world of your daughter.” There’s an awkward pause. “I hope you’ll accept my son the way I’ve accepted her.”

“It’s not that I don’t accept him…it just feels so fast!” She sighs. “But who am I to say anything? At the end of the day she’s going to be asked a question, and it’s her choice to say yes or no. I’ll back her up no matter what.” She chews on her lip. “Her father, however, he’ll be happy for her at first, but he’ll find a way to ruin it. I try not to speak poorly of my ex, but he’s an asshole.”

Anne bursts out laughing.

“That’s quite alright.”

“He just always finds a way to be negative, and he’ll ask them a million questions. Everything always comes down to money. I know she’ll want a nice, big wedding too. And he’ll say ‘well, wouldn’t you rather save that money and put it towards something important’. As if he and I didn’t have a wedding like everyone else.”

“Did you get married in a temple?”

“We did.” She smiles. “It was really informal. I wore a purple pantsuit.” She laughs. “I was already pregnant with our first daughter, Bridget, so I didn’t exactly want to be a in a white dress. It was a nice ceremony though, good reception.”

“Harry told me if they have kids they’d raise them as Jewish…”

“Are you okay with that? Having Jewish grand-babies?”

“Sure.” She shrugs. “He said they’d still do Christmas and Easter, of course.”

“My son’s wife isn’t Jewish, they make it work just fine. Erica’s boyfriend isn’t Jewish either, we’re not a super conservative family in that sense. Do you think he’d want the wedding overseas?”

“No, not with so much of your family here. We have a small family. And a lot of his friends are here now anyways, only a few he sees back home.” She takes a sip of her drink. “I know this conversation may seem a little premature, but I wanted to have it with you in person while I was here.”

“I understand completely. I’m glad we were able to do this.”

You and Gemma cook dinner together so Harry would have something to eat when he got home. You’d mostly likely be home after him.

“Well, I’ll see you both in a bit.” You smile. You had your gym clothes on, you didn’t really feel like explaining you were going to therapy.

“Alright dear, see you soon.” Anne says.

She told you all about her lunch with your mom and how well it went. You texted your mom a big thank you right after.

“How are you Y/N?”

“Really good actually.”

“Did you just come from the gym?”

“No, I just put this on because Harry’s mum and sister are staying with us, and I didn’t want to explain I was going to therapy…”

“Ah, I see.”

“I didn’t know if they’d ask why I was going to therapy, and I just didn’t want to get into it.”

“I understand.” She smiles. “How did the studio opening go?”

“Oh my god, it was incredible!”

Harry gets in around 6:30, and smiles when he sees his sister and mum. He grabs the dinner you had texted him about and sits down on the sofa with them.

“How was day two?” Gemma asks.

“Great! It was nice to have Buster with me the whole day, right buddy?” He hips and sits at their feet. “Sure he misses his mum though.”

“She’s been at the gym a while.” Anne says. “Does she always go for so long?”

“Gym?”

“Yeah, she had her gym clothes on, I just assumed that’s where she went.”

“Hm.”

You get in around 7PM and see them all watching TV. Harry gets up after you say hello and follows you to the bedroom.

“Hi.” He says.

“Hi, how was your day?”

“Good, busy.” You hum your response and find some sweats to put on.

“A.C.’s up a bit high.” You chuckle as you pulls some sweatpants on.

“Did you go to the gym?”

“So, I went to see Dr. Mara, why?”

“My mum said you went to the gym, that’s all.”

“No, I just put gym clothes on to make them think that’s where I was going. They don’t know I go to therapy Harry, and then don’t need to.”

“It’s a perfectly normal thing to say you’re doin’.”

“Yeah, but what if they asked why?” You look at him. “See? Not a good answer for that, is there. I don’t exactly feel comfortable telling your mum and sister that I was assaulted.” You whisper.

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair.” He wraps his arms around you. “I feel like I miss you.” He buries his face in your neck.

“Aw, why?” You rub his back up and down.

“I don’t know…haven’t been able to cuddle much.”

“Can’t cuddle with your mum and sister sitting on the sofa with us.” You kiss his cheek and hold him tight. “They probably think something’s going on here as it is, let’s go sit with them, hm?”

“No.”

“Harry.”

“No, I’m tired, and I’m sick of TV for the night. I feel like readin’.”

“So, we can watch TV and you can read. We’ll go to bed early so we can cuddle for a bit, okay?”

“Fine.” He grabs his book and his glasses and follows you out.

Harry sits down and yanks you into his lap.

“Harry, I-“

“S’fine, love, you can sit with him.” Anne says. “It’s your home, after all.”

The three of you watch TV for a bit while Harry reads. Around nine you and Harry tell them you’re heading to bed. You say goodnight to Buster and go into your room. You both do your usual routine and get into bed.

“Wouldja just lay on top of me?”

“I know what that’s going to lead to, and I don’t feel-“

“Y/N! I’m not fuckin’ around, come here!” He pulls you on top of him and you swat at his chest.

“Shhhh, do you want them to hear you?”

“I don’t give a fuck.” He holds you tight to his chest and strokes the back of your head. You relax into him. “See, isn’t this nice?” You both chuckle.

“Shut up.” He kisses your hairline as you nuzzle into him. “They’ll only be here two more days, Harry. You should make the most of it.”

“I am makin’ the most of it. Mum and Gem are both comin’ to the studio tomorrow since you’re back to work. I just think we should be able to do whatever we want even if they’re here.”

“Well, I feel weird about it. It’s icky.”

“Icky?” He laughs.

“Yeah, do you really want them to know what it sounds like when we’re fucking?”

“Babe, I’m sure they’ve heard me before. I used to sneak my girlfriends over all the time.”

“How nice for you.” You say sarcastically.

“I just wanna love on yeh, is that so bad?”

You smile at him and kiss him. His hands slide down to your ass, and he lightly squeezes you. You moan softly against his lips. You feel him getting hard against you and you can’t help but grind against him. He pushes his hips up towards you as you grind down again. You put your hand over his mouth just as he’s about to moan.

“We have to be so quiet.”

Harry nods yes. You tug his boxers down slightly, and move your panties over. He slides right in.

“Oh my g-“ You put put your hand back over his mouth.

“Yes, I’m really wet, we been knew, now shh.” You whisper in his ear.

You keep your hand on his mouth, and your face is buried in his neck. His hands move to your hips to rock you back and forth on him. You both were under the covers, causing you to sweat more than usual, but it helped muffle the noise.

Harry wanted it to last as long as possible, you just felt so good. He wanted to tell you how good you felt, but your hand was still over his mouth. Your other hand moves to grip at his hair when he takes a hand to rub at your clit. You bite down on his shoulder. Your hand moves from his mouth to grip the pillow bellow him. You grind against him faster and he does all he can to not let out a noise.

“I needja to kiss me.” He breathes. “Please.”

You crash your lips to his and you both moan into each other. He rubs his fingers faster on your clit. Your back arches and you gasp as you release around him. As you tighten around him he comes up inside you, causing you to moan. You clap your hand over your mouth and press your forehead to his as he thrusts up one last time.

“Shit.” You say against his lips.

“So fucking good.” He breathes.

You get off him slowly and roll onto your back. You wiggles your panties off and sigh. You get up and go use the toilet. When you’re done you come back over to him and lay your head on his chest. He rubs your back slowly.

“Do you ever think…neither of us zero self control?” You ask giggling. “I mean, we can’t go two nights without fucking? What other couples do you know have sex as often as we do?” Harry starts laughing too, and kisses your forehead.

“I hope to God we always stay one of those couples that can’t keep their hands off each other.”

The next morning you’re up and out early. You decide to bring Buster to work with you since you missed him so much yesterday. Anne is out on the balcony sipping her coffee while Harry and Gemma have breakfast.

“Sleep well?” He asks her.

“Yeah, it’s a comfy bed. You?”

“Mhm.”

“I’ll bet.” She smirks. Harry raises an eyebrow at her while he sips his coffee.

“What do yeh mean by tha’?” She puts her hand on his shoulder.

“I think you know.” She winks and walks out of the kitchen.

“Thank god you’re back.” Niall says, coming into your office. “Hate when you take two days off in a row.” He pouts.

“Technically I wasn’t off.” Buster runs towards Niall.

“I was talkin’ to the dog.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” You both laugh.

“So how have the last couple days been with Anne and Gem here?”

“Really good actually. I’ve had some good talks with them. I think Harry’s been enjoying spending time with them. I think it really helped relax him, you know?”

“Yeah I’ve texted him a bit, he’s really busy with work already, it’s great.”

“I’m so proud of him. I think he prefers getting to take pictures of people.”

“Oh, for sure.”

Before you know it, you and Harry are driving Anne and Gemma to the airport Thursday evening. Everyone hugs and kisses goodbye.

“So, we’ll see you in July?” Anne asks.

“Yup.” Harry smiles. “Have a safe flight, let me know when you land.”

You both get back in the car. Harry kisses your hand as he drives off.

“Thanks again for gettin’ them here. It was great.”

“Of course! I know it meant a lot to you to have them there for the opening.” You take your phone out and connect it to the Bluetooth. “Now, we need to listen to the Weeknd because the concert is only a month away and I want to make sure you know all of the songs, okay?”

“I know quite a few.”

“Not off his new album! We’re going to be so close to the stage, what if he looks out to us and doesn’t see you mouthing the words because you don’t know it? You’ll look like such a local.”

“A local?” He laughs. “What the fuck is a local?” You sigh heavily. “Okay, okay, why don’t we play it when we get home? I’ll fuck you to it how you like.” Your mouth falls open. “Would yeh like that?”

“Yes.” You nod excitedly.

Harry takes Buster out quick when you get home and you run off to the bedroom. You decide to put some lingerie on. The black lace bodysuit. You get the music started and lay on your stomach. Harry gets Buster tucked into his dog bed and sprints to the bedroom.

“Oh, wow.” He says. You make a come here motion with your finger and sit up on your knees.

He cups your face in his hands and kisses you, like really kisses you. His tongue molds to yours and you moan into his mouth. You tug at the hem of his shirt and he lifts it off. You run your hands over his tattoos. You felt like you hadn’t been able to really touch him for a while.

“Tonight.” He says against your lips. “We’re takin’ our time.”

#take it slow #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles smut fic #harry styles fic #i feel like this was a filler episode

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #452

“what i’ve felt, what i’ve known, never shined doing what i’ve shown / never free, never me, so i dub thee unforgiven”

Are you a part of the LGBTQ+ community? I am. Do you have Tiktok? Are you addicted? I don't. Do you enjoy being outside? IF it's cool outside, yes. Do you like being around kids? No, not really. Have you ever gotten Covid-19? No. What's your ethnicity? Caucasian. If you were president, what's the first change you would make? I'd probably put in place free healthcare first. What is an animal that you'd like to have as a pet but it's not allowed? If an animal shouldn't be a pet, there's a reason. So none. What was your favorite meal as as kid? Has it changed now? It was spaghetti. I still love it, but it's not my favorite now. Which doctor is your least favorite? Primary, eye, dentist, gynecologist, etc. Potential TMI answer follows. So, the VERY easy answer is gynecologist. Like, I've never even BEEN to one because I'm too scared. Not because I think they'll find anything wrong, but because I'm just very self-conscious about stuff like that and I do fucking not want some random stranger laying a goddamn finger on me like that. My doctor is really pushing me to go by now though as a safety precaution, but I just really, really don't want to. Do you feel that you'd be any good at solving a murder? No. I'm so clueless. You own a dragon, but it doesn't breathe fire; what comes out instead? Water, I guess? That could be beneficial in a lot of ways. Have you ever been sprayed by a giant rain puddle when a car passed by? No. Do you remember the last movie you saw while on a date? Yeah, IT with Girt. What color is your iPod? Hot pink. Do you think baby clothes are adorable? Ha ha yeah, I just tend to like miniature things in general, and babies are just... miniature humans lmao. Whose house did you last sleep over at? Sara's. If you could adopt 3 unique pets, what would you get? A plains hognose morph (probably a lavender, or snow?), a Brazilian black tarantula, andddd... an African fat-tailed gecko morph. What grade are you in, if you’re still in school? I'm not in school. Do you get a lot of tourists in the area where you live? Hell no, there's not shit here. Do you enjoy watching vlogs? Only occasionally by certain people I like. What was the last new video game you were excited about? It really sucks I don't have the appropriate console to play it myself, but I was SUPER stoked for Resident Evil 8: Village to be released and literally watched like four different playthroughs at the same time, ha ha. Have you ever talked about your period with a guy? Were they okay with it, or grossed out? In a three-and-a-half years intimate relationship, it obviously came up before. He didn't care, because he wasn't 12. Have you ever been to small church/bible group/study? Forced to or wanted to? I was forced to go to Sunday school, as well as church. Have you ever been to an Asian (any type) market? If so, what is the closest one to you? I've never seen one here, even. How would you feel if your significant other had tattoos? That'd be a bonus to how physically attracted I was to them, probably, lol. I just love tattoos. Where was the last place on your body that you felt physical pain? My uterus is screaming. :') What are you listening to right now? I am fucking unhealthily obsessed with Violet Orlandi & Skar's cover of "The Unforgiven" by Metallica lkasdjkflawjerwr like I will not stop listening to it lol. Last person you texted? My mom. Have you ever gone out of your way to make someone happy? Yes. Is there a certain person that makes you feel safe? My mom. Have you ever used a chainsaw? Nooo, and I don't want to. Do you celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, or Kwanzaa? crihmuh Ever been so stunned, no words came out? Oh yes. Ever written that you were going to end your life? I have. I was fucking stupid and made a suicide note on Facebook. I genuinely wanted everyone on there to know what they meant to me, so like it seriously wasn't for attention, which I still worry people think that. Ever put fake bugs around your house to scare someone? Not to scare people, no. I have two faux tarantulas in my room as decor, though. Is there a reason you have the name you do? Not particularly. My parents just liked it, ig. Choose: the best song by Green Day? Aw, that's way too hard! I love Green Day. I guess if I absolutely had to pick, maybe "21 Guns." It's just a truly beautiful song. Have you ever tried to “save”, or “fix” someone, before? No. I don't believe that works and only damages you. Were ethics discovered or invented? That's a good question. I really can't say I know. Do you put effort into getting tan during the summer? Nah. Are you a fairly self-motivated person? NO. I need external motivation pretty badly. Be honest, does the person you like actually deserve you? Or are they actually not worthy of your affections? I don't deserve him. List 5 things that have been on your mind most recently. 1.) wtf I feel about Girt and wtf to do about it; 2.) my weight; 3.) what job I'm going to search for once I make progress at the gym; 4.) whether or not to quit photography and focus my efforts elsewhere; and 5.), as always, Jason. What is better, history or science? Science is way more interesting. Do you flinch at the sight of blood? No. Do you enjoy swimming? Yeah. When you swear, is it usually in general or directed at someone? In general. I don't generally swear at people. Are any of your friends hoping to be famous one day? Yeah; I've got a couple of musician friends. Who would you kiss right now if you could kiss anyone? GO AWAY Ever slapped a guy in the face? No. I don't hit people. Do you think you’re a good friend? I sure try to be. Have you ever thrown your cell phone in anger? When? I have on only one occasion when I Jason and I were texting and he pissed me off. I don't remember what we were even talking about now. My phone was fine btw, ha ha, I didn't like, chuck it. What color of hair do you find the sexiest on the opposite gender? Out of the natural hair colors, black. But I really like hair that's dyed exotic colors on like... anyone. Have you slept over at a member of the opposite sex’s house in their bed? Yeah. When you lost your virginity, were you sober? Yeah. Have you ever given your phone number to somebody you met online? Quite a few people, actually. Most of my friendships are online. On average, how much does gas cost where you live? When I was out today, it was $2.99. Why are you happy? Who said I was? I'm not happy. What is in your pocket? Nothing. What was the worst feeling you last felt? Severe indecision. Worthlessness. Yesterday had some grim periods. What would you name your future son? I always answer with the first name, "Damien," so let's see about a middle name... uhhhh... maybe Damien James? I'm not really sure about a middle name, but that sounds nice. What are you waiting for? Girt to message me back. He barely touches Facebook, so I can't blame him, but I wanna plan a day for him to visit and we can hang and I can decide what the fuck it is I feel towards him. What takes your breath away? Big waterfalls, to name a major one. What fact of life would you rather not know about? That the world doesn't give a fuck about you. It sounds super pessimistic, I know, but it doesn't. There is no sentience to it, no will to keep you safe and happy, it just... exists, and we're thrown onto it to figure it out. Unfair things happen. That's life. ... Damn, this answer was dark lol. What’re a few things that automatically make you go, “Awww?” Meerkat pups doing so much as blinking, guys being really cute with kids, seeing elderly couples holding hands and just generally being precious, proposals (especially gay ones just because of how hard that was fought for), seeing literally any picture in existence of Mark and Amy together, veterans coming home and their dogs freaking out... Man, a lot of things. This question brightened my mood to think about. :') Are you easily scared by horror movies? Nah. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go? Illinois to visit Sara. :') I really wanna hang. Do you know anyone with the same birthday as you? No, but a former best friend had her bday a day before mine. Are you wearing a ring? I always wear two. Do you hate to hug people? No, I love hugs. How many rooms does your house consist of? Seven. If you could be on any TV show, which would it be and why? Can I be a Pokemon trainer, pls???? What would you want to be famous for? Most ideally, a great wildlife photographer. The kind photography students would see and be inspired by. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? No, I sleep with a real animal, ha ha. What is your favorite brand of hairspray? I don’t have one. What is in your backyard? Not very much... I'm barely ever even out there, so I barely know. There's one shed, a small tree, and uh... idk. Who is/was your favorite teacher? I have a few. Mrs. Whitley, Mr. Proctor, Coach Collie, and Miss Tobey are some. What’s your favorite non-sexual thing to do with a girl/boy? Play video games together. Do you cheer for the bad guy? Ha, I have a tendency to do that... Would you rather start a new career or a new relationship? Career. I want one so very badly. Something on the human body that grossest you out the most: So even though I am sexually attracted to any gender, nevertheless, genitalia gross me the fuck out. Either kind. Penises especially though like what the fuck- Do you think it’s easier to raise a boy a girl? Why? From most parents, I've heard boys are much easier because girls (supposedly) tend to have more of an attitude. What is your favorite strawberry flavored food? Strawberry is generally my favorite flavor for like, everything, so this is just about impossible. Maybe uhhh slushies? What is the oldest video game system you’ve played? An Atari.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''the unforgiven'' by metallica

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elexica · 3 years

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Second Chance Christmas {{ December 26 }} - Last Chapter -

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27832405/chapters/69446895

"I can promise that I am not giving up on us.”

Full chapter under the read more!

Joey had awoken either alone or to the sounds of needy children almost every morning for the last three years. At first, waking up without Seto there was a relief—he didn’t have to deal with him or any of the intensity that came with Seto Kaiba.

Eventually, he did miss him in that bleary moment. It was frustrating that the first few minutes of his morning, every morning, were dedicated to a feeling of loss.

Even that had faded away. For a while now, waking up in his own bed didn’t inspire any thoughts of Seto. Joey had returned to a state where his mornings were not tarnished by Kaiba’s absence.

But his taste of Christmas with the man—the kind one who had so graciously been a part of his family, not the cold one, who left into the snow without a second thought—was enough to leave Joey tormented.

Waking up alone had never seemed as empty than the morning of that day after Christmas. He opened his phone screen, tapped the world clock app, and saw that it was already late in the evening in Domino. Kaiba had no doubt already landed and returned to his life, as if nothing had happened.

The entire good experience melted right off of Kaiba. Back to his old life, his old ways. Unchanged, unaffected.

It felt like there was broken glass inside Joey's chest. It was almost nauseating to feel so disconnected after everything that had happened.

But something had happened. Something had changed, Joey was sure of it. And things could be different.

He had gone to sleep so troubled with these conflicting thoughts, but sitting in his quiet bed, watching the snow sprinkle down, he had a new sense of clarity.

When he closed his eyes, he could see their future stretch in front of him, days and weeks and years sprawling across the room.

Joey would never get rid of all of those things that Kaiba had left behind. He was a sentimental bastard, and at least he knew who he was. Joey’s eyes hit the wedding photo lingering in his room. If Joey couldn’t even toss out the extra turtlenecks after three years, Joey was not optimistic he’d ever fully clean out the house and wipe all the traces of Kaiba from the home.

And goddamn it, he knew Kaiba too.

That man wasn’t going to move on either.

So, Joey supposed, they might just keep doing this. Every time they exchanged the kids, would Kaiba tag along for some ill-advised tryst? Like an addiction, circling back for another self-destructive hit, knowing nothing could really change.

Or would he avoid Joey like the plague, and instead every few years fall into some act of God that would leave them to another excruciatingly loving experience.

How many times would his life be uprooted by falling back in love with that asshole? How many longing touches would they scatter across decades?

Playing enemies while secretly pining for each other? Damn it, hadn’t they already gotten that out of their system?

Joey was so fucking sick of missing him.

Kaiba was too stubborn, and maybe too hurt, to make the move. Joey hated the emotional responsibility that fell on his shoulders.

But, Joey wondered, had he actually laid it all on the line? He never once asked Kaiba not to return to Japan. He blocked the door, but he didn’t actually say it. He showed up at the airport, but he didn’t actually say it.

His ex-husband had the emotional intelligence of a brick on a good day. Joey wasn’t just as bad as Kaiba for not just saying it. But Joey sat in bed, the cold covers pooling around him, and considered that he could be part of the problem.

And maybe, if he wanted them to be back together, he had to do it. If he didn’t want to live this way forever—he was in a position to change it. He wasn’t corporation stock, he wasn’t an asset, something without any control over what Kaiba did.

So Joey got up. He made himself some coffee. It was seven in the morning, but he was sitting at the kitchen counter, dated laptop jammed open, on the speakerphone with Serenity before the hour was over.

Everyone always admired Kaiba’s force of will. A personality that could overcome every adversity, defy reality itself, control space and time. Master the global marketplace, dominate the NASDAQ, and change the fabric of society.

But Joey’s force of will was something else too. And he wasn’t going to wait for however many years it took for Kaiba to admit that he wanted to stay there, in their home, raising their children together.

If he had to, he’d drag the bastard straight from Japan. His dumb husband was just waiting there, getting old and sad in some fancy condo.

And so he spent the entire plane ride to Domino city trying to figure out exactly what it was that he wanted to say to set his stupid, stupid man straight.

. . .

“Mokuba?” Joey hoped it was still the right phone number. The Kaiba brothers were always updating things, changing software, making their communication methods that much trickier to obtain. It was a real possibility that this phone number now only went to a stranger.

“Jounouchi! What’s up? How are you doing? The kids are growing up so freakin’ cute!”

Joey was disarmed by how warm Mokuba always was. And it laid bare just how little he’d really thought through the plan. “Um, well, I’m in Domino. I’m here to see…” Joey almost said Kaiba. But it was off-putting to refer to their shared last name. It never bothered him as a teen, but as an adult it sometimes hit Joey that Mokuba probably didn’t love the traces of language that made it clear that he was the secondary Kaiba when it came to these affairs. Still, Joey wasn’t sure he was allowed to call him Seto anymore.

“Ah, I see. Nii-sama just got back yesterday. Seto didn’t tell me any of the details, but…” Mokuba’s tone shifted. “Everything okay?”

The question was stingingly sincere.

Joey sighed on the other end of the line. “Yeah, you know your brother. I mean. Look. I’m in Domino and I guess I just need to see him. It’s dumb—”

“It’s not dumb,” Mokuba interrupted, sounding more adult than Joey had ever heard. It was like he really was getting an edict from the esteemed Vice President of Kaiba Corporation.

“Yeah. Can you get me a badge or whatever to visit his office. We need to talk and…”

“I see. He can’t be allowed to dodge it, huh?”

Joey laughed, despite himself. It was a bit mournful, but it wasn’t totally devoid of life. “Nope.”

“Yeah, I can hook you up. I’ll get the pass sent to your phone.”

Joey nodded, even though his phone was conventional, and Mokuba couldn’t see him. “Thanks. And congrats on getting married. From what I’ve heard, she sounds like a keeper.”

Joey could hear the glowing smile on the other end of the phone. “Yeah, I think so too.”

. . .

The lobby of Kaiba Corp. HQ was mostly unchanged since the last time Joey had seen it, though it looked somewhat creepy in the dark. It was lightly, tastefully, decorated for the season. Twinkle lights on some of the pillars, echoing in the dark like suspended lightening bugs.

So close to his goal, Joey stalled. He paced in the empty cavern of the lobby. Maybe he shouldn’t bother. Maybe this whole adventure was some twisted flight of fancy, brought on by watching one holiday film too many. Did he look too closely at the snowflakes trapped in Kaiba’s eyelashes and see something that wasn’t really there?

In the middle of his troubled, nervous walking, Isono appeared. Put together and just like Joey had seen him when last trading off the kids. Sunglasses on—even though it was the dead of night in the deepest part of winter. Stern and silent, Isono directed him to the elevator.

Isono never had much of a relationship with Joey. The man had watched him at most major life events outside of his house for the fifteen years preceding the divorce. Joey realized that his presence was somewhat more comfortable than all of the anonymous faces Joey had passed by in the once-familiar city.

The floor indicator increased quickly as the two men rocketed toward the top floor, where Kaiba could properly brood over the entirety of Domino.

In the stilted silence, they arrived at the top floor, and Isono put his arm out to stop the elevator doors.

“It is good you are here,” Isono said. Something about his voice sounded reflective, and it gave Joey the confidence he wished he did not need.

The city glowed in the background, pulsing like magma. Kaiba sat at his broad desk, illuminated by the blue light laptop in front of him and the ethereal glow of the city at his back. Joey was pissed that when he walked in, Kaiba didn’t bat an eye. It felt as if Kaiba had set the appointment.

Joey wondered to himself whether Mokuba had messaged him, or inadvertently triggered some alarm in procuring the pass. Even so, Kaiba was where he was supposed to be, sitting in his dark office, typing away at whatever it was he did all day.

Since the grand entrance did not have the desired effect, Joey proceeded to stomp over to Kaiba’s desk, push down the screen of the laptop, and kiss him.

This succeeded in starling Kaiba, his blue eyes wide in surprise. Almost too shocked to kiss back. Almost. Kaiba still reached a hand across, thumb skimming over Joey’s cheek.

“Y’know why I did that?” Joey asked, breaking the kiss.

Kaiba shook his head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “No, I—what are you doing here?”

Joey propped himself up on Kaiba’s desk, sweatpants-clad butt shifting a stack of papers.

“I kissed you because I wanted to. And I’m here because I want to be. And I didn’t buy a return ticket, Kaiba. Because I want to fly back with you.”

Kaiba opened his mouth to speak, but Joey silenced him with a hand.

“I’m gonna make it really simple for you, cause apparently this is hard for you.” Joey announced. “Here’s the situation: I broke up with you because you refused to be part of the family in the way that I needed. You were acting like a bad partner, and I did not deserve that. But… You… you proved that you could be a good partner. So here’s the deal.”

Joey walked forward, completely enveloped by Kaiba’s heated stare. “I want you. I want you to be at the house. I want to raise our kids together. I want to go to sleep in the same bed with you, I want to wake up in your arms, I want a lot of other things.”

Kaiba wisely kept his mouth shut, opting to watch Joey with soft, sad eyes. Joey wasn’t going to let it get to him.

“And I think you want that too. You were happy this week. A lot. And this is sappy but I’m gonna lay it out.”

Kaiba gestured with one hand that Joey should continue. The darkness didn’t leave much for Joey to see, but the way that the glare of the city glinted off of his eyes… it looked a little like water was pooling. Joey took that to mean that his evaluation was correct, enough—Kaiba did love to correct people.

“I don’t know how many special moments, or special people we get. And I don’t know how many days I’ll get to look over and see you. And what a mess you are and how strangely you hide that and… and you know what?!”

Kaiba opened his lips a little, but didn’t have anything to say. So Joey dismounted from the desk and continued.

“I came here, cause I’m done wasting my time. You talk so much about your precious time, how busy you are. But my time is mine, and I’m sick of watching the kids grow up without you. I’m sick of not seeing the magic parts of you, and the genius and the… we fit together, damn it! We’re both fucked up, we’ve got no idea how to do any of this. But I want to figure it out with you.”

Joey realized he hadn’t been breathing as he let it out. He took a breather, trying to collect his thoughts, wiping at his own face.

“So. Yeah. I have a proposal for you. Fly with me back to New York. Let’s try again. Like, really try. You actually be part of this—like my partner. We’re too old for the on-again off-again bullshit. I don’t want to have to get over you. And honestly, I’m worried you’ll never get over me.” Joey shrugged, “You’re not really the moving on kinda guy.”

Finally, Kaiba stood up behind the desk. His shadow was so imposing, a terrifying mixture of height and darkness. “So what? You want me to be on vacation forever?”

Joey hadn’t anticipated that much vitriol in his voice. He had been pretty proud of his speech.

“No. But... you are just as free as you want to be.”

Joey wanted to run, felt the fight or flight instinct lighting up in his gut. But he was finally done retreating. Joey walked towards the silhouette.

“I’m going to ask you—just once more—do you want to do this? Not my way, and definitely not your way. But some new way that we can find together.”

“I am not a man of compromises, Jounouchi.” Kaiba turned away.

“When you want something, really want something, nothing can stop you. That’s what I’m counting on.”

“When have you known me to do anything by halves, Jounouchi?”

“The last year of our marriage.” The answer had been given almost instantaneously, but it hung in the air for a full minute. “But you’re right, I don’t think that’s really who you are. So, come back to New York. And prove it to me.”

Joey took one more step forward. He could feel Kaiba’s tense breath, they were so close. “You can be emotionally constipated on your own time. I’ll go first: I’m sorry for not being more honest and just telling you what was going on. Now it’s your turn to apologize.”

“What do you want me to apologize for?” Kaiba demanded.

“You’re the genius. Whatever you think will be enough to convince me to let you come back to the house so that we can live our lives together. The way we were meant to.”

“I don’t—” Kaiba started.

“Do not call my bluff, Kaiba. You really don’t feel sorry about any of this?” Joey waved his arms, gesturing at everything.

“… I…” Kaiba looked out at the vast city below, glowing electric with holograms and New Year’s decorations.

“You don’t have to say it. The best apology is shaping up. And I know you get it. I’ve seen you get it. So please. Just… was it that bad? Just being my husband for a few days?”

“No.” Kaiba refocused, look drilling into Joey. “I regret allowing you to labor under the assumption that our relationship was not important to me. That you were not the brightest light in my life.”

Finally, achingly slow and gentle, Kaiba tilted his head down and pressed a kiss to Joey’s forehead.

“I cannot promise that it will never happen again. But I can promise that I am not giving up on us.”

Fin.

#puppyshipping #Violetshipping #seto kaiba #Kaiba Seto #Jounouchi Katsuya #Joey Wheeler #it's FINALLY OVER #i worry it is a little threadbare #maybe I'll revise it someday #but for now #hope y'all enjoy

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madamebaggio · 4 years

Photo

Notes: Previously...

Hello, everyone!

I did say I was working on my Jonsa, but I hit a snag there, so I tried writing in other places and this is the one that came out first.

I've been out for a while -between writer's block and other things -so not everything went as planned. I had said -on AO3- this chapter would get a bit hotter, but in the end it didn't feel appropriate and it was already getting really long.

But next chapter is the one! We'll have more insight about Willas and Oberyn and Sansa will start to rediscover her sexuality ;)

****

Chapter 3

Sansa ended up in Willas' apartment. Oberyn insisted she just had to go there after dinner to try this Dornish wine.

Willas had just sighed at his friend’s antics, but assured Sansa it’d be lovely to have her over.

It was a bit out of character for her to do something like that; she barely knew Oberyn well enough, and Willas… She’d had few real conversations with him. Normally they made polite small talk at parties. Those few conversations were, however, more than enough to make her heart beat faster every time she saw him.

All the Tyrells were good-looking, but Willas… Maybe he was just the one that really called to her, but Sansa could think of few men more handsome than him. And it wasn’t only his sharp eyes and perfect facial lines; he also dressed so well. His suits were all taylor made and even the canes he used were stylish.

He was intelligent and kind. He wasn’t one for silly smiles or flattery. Marge had always said he was the serious one of the family, downright grumpy. Perhaps he wasn’t as effortlessly charming as Marge and Lora were, but he wasn’t an ogre. Sansa had even seen him smiling once or twice -generally at Marge and Oberyn.

She’d chosen to not make her interest known. She felt like a silly girl around him, and imagined he thought the same. Willas was always polite to her, and that was it.

But it’d been a while -a long while -since any men had treated her the way those two had during dinner. Oberyn flirted like there was no tomorrow and Willas asked her questions and actually listened to her answers. That much attention was intoxicating, and she saw herself following both men back to Willas’ apartment.

The wine was as wonderful as Oberyn had promised. Between the three of them, the bottle was quickly finished and a second one was opened. In the middle of it, Oberyn pulled Sansa up and danced with her in the middle of the room. She’d kicked off her shoes earlier on, and the carpet felt amazing under her bare feet. Willas watched them from the couch, an amused grin on his lips.

She didn’t remember what happened after that.

Therefore, waking up in a strange room was a little bit concerning.

Sansa looked around the room: it was clearly a guest bedroom, since it lacked any personal touch. The walls had delicate wallpaper, and the bedspread was light green. The bed was quite big and Sansa was happy to notice she had obviously slept alone in it.

She was also wearing a pajama set clearly made for a man.

What the hell had happened?

She looked around again and saw her dress from the night before left on the floor by her shoes. She got up from the bed, wincing at the headache she had and opened the door quietly. She heard male voices talking instinctively. She’d slept at Willas’.

Oh Seven. Please, she hoped she hadn’t embarrassed herself too much in front of them. Again.

Sansa went to the bathroom where she found a hairbrush and some leftover beauty products. She cleaned off her old makeup and brushed her hair. As it was now, her hair was an unsaveable mess, so she braided it. There were also brand new toothbrushes on the cabinet under the sink, so she brushed her teeth.

Finally, feeling as ready as she’d ever was going to be for this situation, she left the room. Willas and Oberyn were in the dining room.

“There she is!” Oberyn grinned upon seeing her. “Just in time for breakfast.” He got up and pulled a chair for her.

“Good morning.” Sansa said to both men, a smile on her face.

“Good morning, Lady Sansa.” Oberyn winked at her, then pushed her chair in.

“Good morning.” Willas offered with a smile, but Sansa could see it was a bit forced. Then she noticed the wheelchair. Sansa remembered Margaery saying that Willas only used the chair when the pain on his leg was particularly bad. He did look tired and a bit pale.

Suddenly, she felt like a terrible intruder. “I…”

“I was about to wake you up for breakfast.” Oberyn cut her. “Willas wanted to let you sleep longer, but I strongly believed you wouldn’t want to miss out on my pancakes.”

“Pancakes?” Sansa perked up.

“With a Dornish touch.” He told her as he passed her a plate, then took his place again.

Sansa cleared her throat. “How did I end up sleeping here?”

“You had too much wine and we didn’t want to put you alone in a taxi.” Oberyn told her as Willas remained quiet.

“Oh.” That made sense. “And the pajamas?”

“They’re mine.” Willas spoke up. “You didn’t want to sleep in your dress.”

“And you look quite fetching in them.” Oberyn teased.

Sansa rolled her eyes. “I’ll bet.” Sansa turned to Willas, remembering the manners her mother had always insisted upon. “Thank you for letting me use your guest bedroom.” Then a thought occurred to her. “Where did you sleep?” She asked Oberyn.

“Spooning Willas.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Oberyn.” Willas frowned.

“Fine. He spooned me.” He whispered to Sansa, making her giggle. “The sad truth was that he wouldn’t let me share the bed with you, so I had to share it with him.”

“Was that an option?” She asked amused.

“You offered to share.” Oberyn told her. “You said you wouldn’t mind because I smelled good.”

Sansa’s jaw almost hit the table. She turned so fast to Willas she almost had whiplash. “I did?”

There was a tiny grin on the corner of the eldest Tyrell. “You did.”

“And I might be a decent enough man, I am no saint.” Oberyn carried on. “It’d be way too much temptation. Not that you aren’t, Willas my friend, but I gave up on you years ago.” Oberyn patted Willas’ hand.

Willas rolled his eyes. “Oh, how will I live knowing that?” He asked dryly.

“Well, thank you for protecting my honor. However unnecessary that was.” Sansa told Oberyn.

“That isn’t to say that I wouldn’t bed you given the chance, love, but you were way too drunk yesterday.”

“Is this really necessary?” Willas snapped.

Sansa, however, seemed surprised by the notion. “You would?”

Oberyn frowned at her. “You have to know how attractive you are.”

“Objectively speaking?” She asked.

Oberyn put his fork down. “I know we said we wouldn’t discuss this further, but we need to.” He declared.

“Oberyn.” Willas’ voice was full of warning.

Oberyn ignored him -as usual. “Sansa, darling. We heard your conversation with Margaery. That wasn’t right of us, of course, and we know and understand you’re embarrassed by that. But I can’t let you go on thinking there’s something wrong with you.”

“Ok…” Sansa nodded carefully.

“You’re a beautiful, charming and intelligent young woman. From what I’ve heard, it’s hardly your fault you had bad experiences before. And, at any rate, you can use them as a learning opportunity, not as an excuse to give up.” Oberyn pressed.

“It isn’t an excuse!” Sansa protested.

“You’re scared and that’s fine. You can be scared.” Oberyn continued. “But don’t let these moments rob you from the chance of really connecting to someone.”

Sansa got quiet, staring down at her plate.

“This sounds so self-serving when you just said you wouldn’t mind bedding her, Oberyn.” Willas glared at his friend, clearly unhappy.

Oberyn nodded. “You’re right.” He conceded, then turned to Sansa. “I am sorry, Sansa. I have no right to push you like this.”

“It’s okay.” She said softly. Her eyes met Willas’. “You agree with him, don’t you? You think I’m using those things as an excuse.”

“No.” Willas told her easily. “I think you’re young and you already went through a lot. As much as I’d like to forget what I heard, if only because I know how uncomfortable it makes you, I remember what you said. The men in your life were all rats, and you deserve much better. If you need time, take it. Just don’t give up, okay? One day, you’ll find someone and you’ll be thankful you didn’t give up.”

Although there was a part of her heart that felt warmer because of his words, they mostly broke her down a bit. Willas was amazingly kind… And he did see her as a little girl.

He’d never look at her as a woman.

#madame baggio #crackship #gifs not mine #fanfiction #posted on AO3 #modern au #game of thrones #Sansa Stark #willas tyrell #Oberyn Martell #future Sansa x Willas x Oberyn #my delirium

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and-it-freezes-me · 3 years

Text

Accidents Happen - Mothers, Maggots, and Manacles

Summary: Roman finally visits Remus in search of answers, and doesn’t like what he finds. Ah - if anybody is fluent in Korean and wants to correct me on anything, please do!

Content: Discussions of drug and alcohol use and misuse, some bad parenting, mentions of skipping meals

Word count: 5,433

{Part 2} {Part 4}

Janus knew Remus.

Roman didn’t remember standing up, but he was definitely glad for the fact that he was pacing. He felt that his brain was about to explode.

Janus, the ideal student, the one with perfect grades and a small fleet of academic awards (they were in a glass-fronted cabinet in his home - Roman had seen them when he had been trying to find the toilet), who headed the debate club and had every teacher at their school eating out of the palm of his hand, knew Remus the walking hazard.

Roman turned sharply in front of his dresser, caught sight of his notebook still lying open on the bed, and scowled.

Not only did Janus know Remus, but he knew him well. Well enough, at any rate, to have Remus being the person to call if he lost his phone.

He was back beside his bedside table, turning to pace the room again.

What did that mean?

Did it mean that they spent a lot of time together? No, that couldn’t be right. Roman would know if Janus and Remus were friends. Remus had no filter, was incapable of keeping a secret - he was almost like Patton in that regard, Roman reflected. The fastest way to make sure that everybody knew something was to tell Remus or Patton. And if Remus and Janus were friends and did spend time together, why didn’t one of them say something at the trial?

Maybe Roman had typed the wrong number. He was so used to calling Remus in fruitless attempts to find out what exactly the substance in his slippers was, or whether he should be concerned about the red smudges on his brother’s door handle, that maybe he hadn’t typed the number he had thought he was typing. His fingers had fallen into a pattern they recognised, the same way his feet had done, carrying him from bed to dresser and from dresser to bed and back again.

That made sense, didn’t it?

“No! No, it doesn’t!” Roman gave his phone a vengeful glare, as though it were the one at fault here. He never dialled Remus’ phone number, preferring to do what any self-respecting person born since the invention of a contacts list did and simply stab the name he wanted to call with his forefinger.

The tips of his fingers felt stiff and tingly, and he paused by the bed to take a long, slow breath. Letting stress overwhelm him now was not going to be productive.

“Roman? Everything alright in here?” There was a soft tap at his bedroom door, and Roman had the foresight to flip his notebook to a blank page before his mother’s floral scent and tired eyes entered the room.

“I… Yes? Is something the matter, Mum?”

“I just…” She paused, covering her mouth with one hand to catch a yawn, and then continued. “Thought I heard you shouting.”

Roman winced. Had he woken her up? Dae Wang’s short hair was matted against one side of her head, and she was wearing a rumpled nightshirt and sweatpants despite it being the middle of the afternoon. “Oh… Yeah, I was just practicing for a part in the play. I know I’m not actually in it this year, but I… Enjoy being able to coach the younger students.”

The lie had rolled from his tongue almost without hesitation, and his mother’s eyes softened slightly. She reached out and ruffled his hair affectionately, and Roman batted her away automatically, the static feeling spreading up to his wrists. “Try to keep it down, Ro? I didn’t get home until around one, and I’ve got another shift this evening…”

“Sorry. Actually, I was just thinking about going for a walk - it’s such a nice day, and I can take some flashcards through the woods. Might be nice to revise with a bit of a change of scenery, huh?” More lies. Sure, Roman was used to lying a little bit, but now it felt as though every other thing that came out of his mouth was deliberate misdirection. First with Janus, and now with his parents…

“You work so hard… I’m so proud of you, Roman.” Those were words that Roman was used to hearing; usually, he revelled in them. Now, however, they only made him feel more guilty. What about Remus? Yes, he was a screw-up, but… Roman couldn’t remember the last time either of his parents had said something positive to his brother. Worse, he couldn’t remember the last time he had said something properly positive to him.

The words were out of his mouth before he had made a proper decision about them. “Can I borrow your car tomorrow? I’d like to visit Remus.”

Dae looked at him for a second, apparently stunned by the fact that he wanted to visit his identical twin. Then she nodded slowly. “You can, but… Roman, saja saekki, are you sure you want to?”

“He hasn’t hurt me, Mum. He’s my brother.” And he shouldn’t be left to rot, Roman added silently. There’s something we don’t know yet.

“I know. You’re always so kind to people, even when they don’t deserve it, I just… I don’t want him dragging you down, Ro. He’s only going to get worse, and maybe… Maybe this is the time for a clean break for you.” Roman stared at her, the shock clear on his face. She sighed. “Being associated with Remus… It’s not going to be good for your future, is it?”

It looked as though she was waiting for him to say something now, and Roman refused to give her anything. Was this what his parents really thought of Remus? Sure, he knew that Remus had been getting into more and bigger problems as he had gotten older, but… It hadn’t quite sunk in, when they had asked Remus not to come home, that they didn’t want him to be part of their family any more.

What sort of family were they? Why hadn’t Roman tried talking Remus out of his chaos sooner, rather than pinning all of his own misdeeds on him? It felt as though his torso had been emptied out and refilled with ice cubes.

Eventually, his mother seemed to translate Roman’s silent staring as something less than what she had been hoping for. “Okay. Don’t stay too late, though. It is finals week, after all.”

Roman nodded stiffly. “Of course.”

He leaned forward to allow her to kiss his forehead, then watched her leave, numb, the breath frozen in his chest.

He needed to get out of here. All of the colours had leached out of the world around him. Usually so spacious, his bedroom seemed to have shrunk to the size of a broom cupboard, and Roman was so much too big for it, and everything inside him was threatening to brim over, to spill from his fingertips and his mouth and his eyes in a burning torrent of… Of what?

As he moved, he started counting in his head, trying to focus on just getting the numbers in the right order. One, two, three and he was groping under his mattress for his re-hidden supply of weed, purloined from the kitchen table when nobody had been looking. His parents had just been going to burn it, after all.

Four, five, six, seven, phone in his pocket and taking the stairs two at a time, eight, nine, not stopping as he grabbed Remus’ keys and threw the back door open. Ten, and he was down the steps; eleven-twelve-thirteen brought him across the backyard, and by fifteen he was in the greyscale woods behind their house and running as fast as he could.

Maybe if he ran fast enough, he could turn back the hands of the clock, back the four weeks - six weeks? How long had it been since Remus had turned his car and Janus into a fiery wreck? Turn the clock back past that, back to when things were okay. But three weeks wouldn’t do it, would it? Things hadn’t been okay for a long time before that. When was the last time he had had a real conversation with Remus?

When he hit thirty-nine, Roman skidded to an abrupt halt. Small black spots decorated the trees around him and he realised with a start that he hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning either, too preoccupied with his raging internal debate about Janus’ moral standings to feel hungry. It didn’t matter. Just then, his whole body was too frozen in black-and-white, fizzingly numb static to even think about eating. He wasn’t sure if he could even swallow just then.

Putting his back to the nearest pine and sliding to the floor, Roman took a few deep breaths to steady his hands before pulling the clear plastic bag from his pockets.

It took longer than usual to shake some of the dark flakes onto one of the small paper rectangles and roll it shut; with his numb hands, it took several tries to get a flame on the lighter attached to Remus’ keychain, and when he did manage it he burned two of his fingers before managing to light the joint. Finally, though, Roman closed his eyes and focused on inhaling, exhaling, just breathing, allowing colour to bleed first back into his own body, and then the forest floor, still strewn with pine needles from last autumn, and then back up to the blue sky. The ice in his torso warmed, thawed a little, and then melted completely as calm washed over him.

He didn’t talk to Janus the next day.

It was the opposite of everything he had told himself he would do yesterday, going against all of his thoughts and notes about not making Janus feel as though he had scared Roman away or that Roman was tired of him or thought he was a freak. It was the opposite of what he wanted to do, which was concerning. Maybe he was getting too close to the role he was playing, because he kept finding himself wanting to go to find Janus, to make stupid little jibes at him and watch them be passed effortlessly back to him. He even thought he might have enjoyed studying with him. No matter how much he told himself that it was just nerves, that he was just worrying that he was losing time on getting closer to whatever truth Janus had been hiding, there was a small part of Roman arguing that that wasn’t the truth.

Janus didn’t try to talk to him, either, which only reinforced his guilt.

He saw him once, on his way out of his Physics final. Janus had half raised his left hand in what could have been a nervous greeting, but dropped it when Roman caught his eye but walked passed without responding otherwise.

He felt like an arse for doing it.

It didn’t help that he had been feeling slightly lightheaded all day. It had been hot in the exam hall, and halfway through his English paper that afternoon Roman found that he couldn’t read anything he was writing. The printed text at the top of the page had blurred into a wavy black bar, and his own ink had become a colony of spiders, crawling over the page in unintelligible shapes. He had blinked hard, then ground the bases of his palms into his eyes and counted (one, two, three… All the way up to thirty-nine). When he looked back at his paper, his handwriting had returned to its usual semi-legible scrawl.

He blamed it on the stress from his afternoon plans.

The previous evening, once he had calmed down a little, Roman had taken a long, meandering walk through the trees, pondering his situation. Eventually he had reached the conclusion that he should go ahead and visit Remus anyway, and that he could ask about Janus then. Remus wouldn’t lie to him.

Or would he? How much of his brother had become a mystery to him?

When he walked into the visitors room and saw Remus, Roman had to admit that the answer was probably a far higher proportion than he would have liked it to be. He actually had to stop and ask himself how long it had been since he had taken a good look at the man that was supposed to be his mirror reflection, because Remus looked almost nothing like him anymore.

The crooked nose was still there, and the pale scar that ran across its bridge, and the jaggedy line down one of Remus’ cheeks from a barbed-wire sledding accident, but there were other marks too, smaller but still there. Roman could count no less than seven piercing holes in Remus’ right ear (Roman’s right, Remus’ left), for example, and another in his left eyebrow. There were several acne scars that looked as though Remus had picked them until they refused to heal properly, and what looked like a burn was poking out from the next of his jumpsuit. His hands and knuckles were littered with mostly healed scabs, easy to see because they were pressed palms-down on the table, a nervous habit that Roman remembered from when they were small. Deep bags hung under Remus’ bloodshot eyes.

All in all, it was a bit of a surprise when Remus opened his mouth before Roman got a chance to say anything, and commented, “You look like shit, brother mine. Come to trade places with me?” There was another piercing hole in his tongue.

The statement startled a chuckle out of Roman, and he sat down across the table and smiled weakly at him. “I look like shit? Have you checked in a mirror lately, dude? It doesn’t look like you’ve slept since… You know.”

“Since I drove the fine piece of ass that is Janus Sinclaire into a telephone pole and turned him into crispy bacon? What’s a little more nightmare fodder, huh Ro? At least I still look like I’m getting a decent meal.” Remus cackled briefly and lifted a hand to rub at the empty shell of his pierced ear while Roman tried to figure out which part of Remus’ statement to poke at. Since when did Remus think Janus was a ‘fine piece of ass’ - since when did Remus even think about Janus? And what right did Remus have to talk about him like that, anyway?

In the end, he just blurted, “You’ve been having nightmares again?”

Leaning back in his chair so that its front legs left the ground, Remus raised an eyebrow. “That’s how it’s gonna be, huh? This is a fucking welfare check? Did the right honorable parents send you?” He lifted one hand to inspect his nails - nails that Roman could now see had been bitten until the cuticles bled. He winced.

“The right honorable… I’ll answer your questions if you’ll answer mine. You’ve been having nightmares again?” Roman had a strong feeling that he wouldn’t get anything out of his reflection unless he bribed him; his deal was met with another cackle, and Remus tipped further back on his chair.

“Fine. Want to shake on it?”

“Thanks, but I’d rather not, given the unspeakable places those hands have been. So, nightmares?”

Remus looked up from his nails, flicked his middle finger up, then turned his attention to the ceiling above them. “You know the nightmares never stopped, Ro-ro. Did the spawners send you?”

“The what? Oh - no, I’m here on my own.” Roman glanced over his shoulder briefly. There were only three other people in the visitation room - discounting the two guards, one on either door - and they were on the other side of the room. “What do you mean, never stopped? You stopped having nightmares when we were thirteen.”

He felt as though he were being watched. Was this how Remus felt all the time? No wonder his nightmares had gotten worse.

“You’re yanking my dick, right? Of course they didn’t stop. I just figured out how to stop screaming. If you’re not here for the womb and the sperm, why are you here?”

Roman wrinkled his nose at that, then shrugged. “You… Figured out how to stop screaming? How? Nothing we tried ever worked. And I’m here because I wanted to ask you some stuff.”

“About my nightmares?” The incredulity in Remus’ voice was so overdone that Roman had to laugh again.

“No, you idiot. And you didn’t answer my question.” Roman brought his thumb up to his mouth and bit down on the nail, realised what he was doing, and laced his fingers together in front of him.

Remus was still addressing his nails. “What did you want to ask me? Because I can tell you any number of better places to hide your pot - didn’t know you did that, by the way, since when? - and can probably hook you up with a cheaper dealer if that’s what you need.”

“No, that’s not - maybe a year now? Helps with the…” Roman waved a hand, and Remus nodded wisely.

“The ball-twisting stomach-gnawing digit-freezing stress-moths.”

“That’s… Not how I would have phrased it, but… Wait, why am I answering all the questions?” Remus finally looked at Roman again, meeting his look of frustration with a shit-eating grin.

“Don’t know. Why are you answering all the questions, Ro-ro?”

“Because you keep -” Roman started automatically, then clamped his mouth shut and glared.

Remus threw his head back and cackled so hard that his chair teetered precariously on its hind legs. When he finally stopped, he flicked his fingers briefly at Roman in a gesture that he took as ‘continue’. Taking a deep breath, Roman opened with the question that he had finally decided was the best one to start with.

“Did you know Janus well?”

For a heartbeat, he thought he saw Remus’ face, bold despite its scars and hollowed eyes, crease into something he didn’t recognise. Then the grin was back, and the chair was tilted so far that Remus was practically horizontal in the air, face to the ceiling.

“Alcohol. Started getting wasted.”

“What?”

“To get the screaming to stop. If I clocked out pissed, I didn’t scream. Didn’t wake up all night, actually. Did start getting headaches, felt sick all the time. It sucked. Did that for about six months, if I recall correctly, which I do, because my brain hasn’t been eaten by maggots.”

Roman was staring at his twin with his mouth hanging open. “What?”

“The nightmares, Ro-ro. To stop screaming. Is this hard for you to follow?” Remus’ head lifted to look at him, then his wild eyes shifted to something behind Roman. The front legs of his chair returned to the floor with a snap.

“I asked about Janus, Rem. The guy you just described as crispy bacon?” The words grated against Roman’s conscience. Janus deserved better than being mocked like that.

Remus nodded slowly, then continued as though Roman hadn’t said anything. “So I quit drinking myself to sleep and started trying to stay up all night instead. Did a lot of coffee. Who needs sleep, I said. Very wise, me. Started hallucinating, though. That was an interesting few days. Eventually I just collapsed, and then I started screaming again, so no go there.”

Roman groaned quietly, resigned to listening to the tangent that Remus had apparently decided was more important than Janus was. He vaguely remembered that his brother used to jump between conversations with the rapidity of a highly skilled traceur. His verbal parkour had never been anything but annoying.

“So I started playing with drugs. Nothing major, obviously. Nothing fun. Bit of weed, didn’t help at all. Sure, helped calm me down, but once I fell asleep, poof. Screaming.” Remus snapped his fingers a few times, and Roman nodded slowly.

“So then, after a lot of experimentation that didn’t -”

“Wait.” Roman held up a hand as the maths fell into place, and Remus paused obediently, tilting his head to look at him. His hand had returned to tug at his pierced ear. “You’re telling me you started drinking when you were thirteen?”

Remus gave him a look that he recognised as one Janus had given him several times. It said “You’re not really the brightest here, but that’s alright, I’m still fond of you.” Actually, it probably said “You’re a fucking idiot, but I tolerate you.” When he spoke again, his voice reminded Roman very faintly of the sound a thin sheet of ice across a pond makes when it gets trodden on.

“Yes. Keep up, Roman. Sheesh. As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted, I eventually found that Xanax works fairly well for me - no hangovers, no puke, no spikes through my skull or pissing blood, and no screaming. Just nightmares and sleep paralysis, but y’know, I was getting more sleep.”

“Xanax,” Roman repeated stoically. “Where did you-” His question was interrupted as Remus steamrollered on.

“Then I got here, and obviously they don’t let us screw around with that stuff without a prescription, so I’m back to the old scream’n’stay-awake-’til-morning routine. Happy?” Remus tilted his chair back, seemed to remember that he wasn’t supposed to, and compromised by tilting it sideways instead. He allowed a couple of seconds to pass before raising an eyebrow at Roman. “Or are you just going to leer? You a gargoyle now?”

Shaking himself, Roman rubbed a hand through his hair and glanced at the clock. It was later than he had thought it was, and he was certain that visiting hours were going to be over soon. Licking his lower lip, he nodded slowly, then shook his head. “Happy, no. You should’a said something, Rem? We could have…”

“Could have done what?” The brittle quality was still there, but now Remus’ voice was sharper, colder. Roman knew he had said the wrong thing. “Could have helped? Found some pill that would’ve lobotomized me so I’m just a cud-muching sheep?” There was another crack as Remus’ chair legs returned to the ground, and then his palms were pressed to the table once more. He was leaning forwards, voice so low Roman had to crane his neck to hear it, and for the first time Roman actually saw a shadow of something truly frightening on Remus’ face. “Our parents were too busy wondering where they went wrong with me and rewarding you for being perfect. Too busy trying to erase me from our fucked-up family. And you were too busy letting them, getting me to take your falls for you, using me to wipe away all the shit stains on your perfect little bubble. And look where I am now! Just where you always expected me to end up. So fuck off with your empty regret, Ro. I don’t expect anyone from our house to help me, got it?”

Remus’ voice cracked on the last word, and he jerked to his feet, one hand rising to scrub roughly across his dark eyes. “We’re done here. Fuck off.” A guard had started moving toward them the moment he had stood.

Roman stood as well, expression frozen to one between shock and horror, something hot and painful rising in his throat. It wasn’t vomit - he’d been too stressed to eat lunch. “Remus, I…”

“Save it,” his twin snapped. The guard was right beside them now, ready to escort Remus away again, and Roman had no idea how to make anything right. “And Roman?”

His heart rose, but his hopes were dashed almost immediately by the raw expression on Remus’ face. “Leave Jan alone.”

Roman spent almost thirty minutes just sitting in the parking lot, racking sobs forcing their way from his body. He wasn’t even sure who he was crying for, only that the emotions were going to force themselves from his chest whether he liked it or not. It was probably safer not to drive and cry so hard the world was blurry around him.

He could have been crying for Remus as he had been, thirteen and aware that their parents had chosen Roman as their favourite, wracked by nightmares and trying to teach himself to stay silent at night to avoid disturbing anybody, repeatedly told that he was a bad kid until he truly became one.

He could have been crying for his own blindness, his refusal to see that he was trading Remus’ pain for his every time he was too panicked to own up to his own wrongdoings, the damage he had done to their relationship - the damage that Remus had pretended he hadn’t minded. Why? Why hadn’t he said something?

He could have been crying for their parents, not sure what to do with a son that skipped school and went shoplifting, drinking, setting things on fire, foulmouthed and reckless, their confusion turning to regret and then something approaching neglect.

He could have been crying for Janus, eighteen and burned, his once honey-like voice raspy and hoarse. It hurt for Janus to swallow now - he had noticed it over the last few weeks, the slight wince after every bite.

He could have been crying for Remus as he was now, just as lost as he had been at fifteen, at thirteen, at ten, but now his pain was manifesting in bigger and bigger disasters. Remus, the scape-goat, who didn’t trust their parents, who didn’t trust him.

It wasn’t as though he deserved Remus’ trust, though. As far as his twin knew, Roman would probably have taken the trust Remus placed in him and turned it into more ammunition to make himself seem ever closer to heaven and demonise Remus even further.

No - no, he shouldn’t be crying for Janus. It had taken him until now, but as Roman’s sobs finally subsided he realised that he did recognise the expression that had passed over his brother’s face when he had asked about Janus.

It was fear.

Remus was… Remus was afraid of Janus. (Roman hadn’t thought that Remus was afraid of anything - but he clearly didn’t know his brother at all anymore.) What could Janus have done to inspire fear in somebody as wild, as dangerous, as bold and brash and reckless as Remus?

But if Remus had done what he had out of fear of Janus doing something worse, an attempt to be free of him, why hadn’t he at least spoken up at the hearing? Janus couldn’t have hurt him from all the way across a courtroom.

The answer came to Roman as a cold fist around his heart, the icy fingers making him gasp in shock. That was why Remus was so afraid - “Leave Janus alone”, he had said. Leave Janus alone, because Janus was holding something over him, and whatever it was could ruin Remus for good.

Janus was blackmailing his twin, and Roman wasn’t going to stand by and let it happen now that he knew.

No, Janus didn’t deserve his tears. Janus deserved everything he had gotten, and more, and Roman was going to make sure that karma was delivered right to his door.

When he got home that evening, he found that somebody had left a voicemail on his phone (he had left it in his room, not needing it while he was visiting Remus). He thought he knew who it was even before the worm-ridden chainsaw-murderer voice curled into the room with him.

“Hey, Roman. Didn’t see you much at school today. Uh.”

A second of silence, as though Janus was awkwardly trying to work out what to say. Masterful. Janus had played him like a master.

“We were both pretty busy, I guess.”

Another pause. How had Janus gotten his number? Maybe he was blackmailing Virgil, too, and had forced him to give it over. (Or he could just have asked. Virgil probably had Roman’s number, and would probably just hand it over for a price.)

“Anyway, I was wondering if you’d… Um, want to do something on Friday. Y’know, to celebrate the end of finals, and… Stuff. Not much point us revising once the exams are done, eh, Princey?”

The nervous, teasing tone was making Roman’s teeth grate. I’m coming for you, you snake. You viper.

“We could… See a movie, or something. Or just hang out. Pat gave me the recipe for his toffee cookies, we could try making them!”

Yet another pause. Roman wanted to throw his phone across the room - but if Janus was asking to see him, that probably meant that he didn’t know that Roman was onto him, and that he was going to continue his sinister plans. Only now, Roman knew what was going on.

Janus’ voice lost it’s jovial quality, becoming possibly slightly sad. There was a chance that he was a better actor than even Roman. “Of course… If you don’t want to, that’s… I mean, I know yesterday wasn’t ideal. I’m… Really sorry you had to see that. If you don’t want to hang around me now, that’s… That’s okay.” There had even been a slight hitch in his breathing as he spoke, as though the idea of not talking to Roman anymore had pushed him to the verge of tears. He really was putting on a whole performance for him, wasn’t he?

“Um, anyway. Call me, or… Whatever. Text. Leave me a note, stalk me to my locker. Or don’t, if you’d rather not. I won’t bother you if you don’t want to see me anymore. Um. I’m going to hang up now. Oh - this is Janus, by the way, but I… I’d hope you’d already figured that out now. It just occurred to me that you probably didn’t have my number. Yeah. I’m hanging up.”

The call lasted for another few seconds, the only sound being Janus’ breathing - which Roman suddenly noticed had a laboured quality to it, the breaths sounding dry and scratchy. Then there was a click, and the automated voice asking Roman if he wanted to delete the message.

Well, then. He should get back to work. He wouldn’t mention having visited Remus to Janus - not yet, anyway - just in case he went ahead with whatever threat he had hanging over him, but he could make up some excuse for why he had all but ignored Janus that day. As much as he wanted to slam Janus against the wall the next time he saw him, hold him there by the front of his shirt and force him to explain, to apologise, to leave him and his brother alone, he couldn’t do that, either.

If Janus already wanted to hang out on Friday, he probably wouldn’t mind if Roman suggested they did something. Now that he knew just how evil Janus was, Roman pushed away shrieks and squeals from his moral compass with almost no regret. All he had to do was get Janus to talk, hopefully enough to get something on him to make him drop his case against Remus - and whilst Janus was usually so guarded with his words, Roman knew a way to get people to relax. There was nothing to feel guilty about, he told himself firmly. It wasn’t like he’d force Janus to do anything, of course - he wasn’t going to stoop to his level. He’d just mention that the woods were a good place to smoke and blow off some steam, and invite Janus to join him.

It had taken him a while to compose the text; when he was finished, he threw his phone back on his bed and went downstairs to have dinner with his parents. They had already removed Remus’ chair from the circular dining table: it was sitting out in the hallway, holding his dad’s briefcase and his mum’s coat, and the remaining chairs had been arranged in a triangle. Neither of his parents asked how his visit to Remus had been - in fact, Remus wasn’t mentioned at all. Already, it was as though he may as well not exist.

Janus had done this, Roman told himself, and that fact did something to calm the slimy ball of worms writhing inside him. Yes, he had contributed, but it had been Janus who had dealt the final blow to erase his twin from their lives. Janus was going to pay, and Roman would spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to Remus.

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@bloodymari-0666

#roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #AccidentsHappenAU #drug use #alcohol mention

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